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another quiz

You Are Kip!


Which Napoleon Dynamite Character Are You?
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Lovely People

After classes let out today, I had a group of teachers in the library to teach them about webquests.

One teacher remarked to me, "Wow, Kim, you're finally looking pregnant."

Mind you, I'm 33 weeks along. I thought I looked pregnant around Christmas.

I just looked at her and said with sarcasm, "Um, thanks."

That was probably the most backhanded compliment I've ever received. After all, what did I look like before today?

But It's My Day Off...

I feel like Dante from the movie "Clerks" today. Although I didn't get called into work, the day has already turned out to be way too exciting.

During work this week, I made sure to get all my tasks done so I didn't have to come in on Friday. You see, it's exam week. Teachers don't need to come in on Friday because it's a grading day. Dani said that the librarians traditionally didn't come in on that day either. I took her word for it. I told the v.p. I wouldn't be in on Friday because Dani and I would be doing "teambuilding exercises" at the mall.

All week, Dani and I laid out our shopping game plan. We would start at the Target-Babies R Us plaza in Henrietta, break for lunch, hit the bookstore and craft store and have a fabulous day out. Since, for the past two weekends, I couldn't leave the house because of the snow, I was chomping at the bit to get out.

And then at 6:45 this morning...

Mark got up and showered. I heard the banging of the pipes, which signal that someone is using the hot water. I heard the faucet turn and the banging stop. However, the water did not stop.

Mark came into the bedroom. "Um...the hot water isn't shutting off."

I threw off the covers, grabbed my glasses and went to look at the sink. Using a pair of pliers, I tried to tighten up the washer under the sink.

It didn't do a damn thing.

This is my day off!, I protested mentally, I am supposed to be able to sleep in and then lounge around the house until I go out. What is this crap?

I called my father to get the number for the plumber. He didn't have it on him. While I waited for him to call back, I flipped open the yellow pages to look for a plumber on call 24 hours. Meanwhile, Mark decided it would be a smart thing to turn off the house's water supply so we wouldn't have to contend with a huge heating bill.

The one plumbing company I called said they would have a guy out by 8:30. I was ecstatic that I wouldn't have to wait too long.

I went into the kitchen to patch up my morning routine the best I could. I found a can of coffee in the fridge, grabbed the pot and turned on the water.

Nothing came out of the spigot.

This was the tipping point.

I practically collapsed in sobs in front of the sink. I became hysterical. No matter how hard I tried to suppress my crying, I cried that much harder. I couldn't breathe because my lungs were filled with phlegm. I bawled.

Mark went downstairs to turn on the water so I could brew the coffee. I filled up the pot, and he turned the water off again.

I was still a mess.

It seems to me that as I get closer to delivering the baby, I become more like an infant. The world around me has become nothing but emotional stimuli. For example, when we took the tour of the maternity unit of the hospital, I felt myself tearing up as I saw a family gathered around a new mom and baby. I can't explain why I get upset; I am usually so good at keeping my emotions in check.

They were definitely out of check this morning.

When Mark left for work, he tried to give me a hug and a kiss--I knew he felt bad for everything, but I growled at him. I told him he would be lucky if I were home when he returned from work, as I was harboring a fantasy about running away.

I can be such a mean person.

I then went upstairs and put on Mark's bathrobe. My robe is in the wash. Since I couldn't shower and I was wearing a dirty t-shirt that I've had since sophomore year of college, I though I would look at little more put together wearing my husband's robe over my pajamas.

The plumber showed up at 8. He is a genial guy. Right away, he was able to tell what was wrong with the sink and how he was going to fix it. The interior mechanisms of the faucet were stripped--go figure, the faucet is 100 years old. He said he could just rig it to work for a few weeks and it would be cheap, but he felt more comfortable replacing the faucet guts.

We agreed to replace the guts.

So he is upstairs now, replacing faucet guts. When he is done, no matter what the cost, I am STILL going shopping with Dani. I believe I deserve something nice...

...or at least that's my emotional reaction to the situation.

No one thinks I'm funny...

I like to crack jokes with people. I think I am funnier than Bernie Mac. However, the problem is that NO ONE THINKS I AM FUNNY.

Case in point....

Yesterday, I was monitoring the computers in the library during the break between exams. Two girls were sharing a chair at one of the computer pods and laughing. I snuck up behind them. They were taking a quiz at seventeen.com about whether one's boyfriend was a "pet". I watched them for a few minutes and said, "Gee, I wouldn't want my boyfriend to be a pet. When he would come to visit my house, he would poop in the yard and I would have to clean up after him."

The two girls rolled their eyes. A senior on the computer next to them cracked up. The girls kept on with the quiz while I stood over them. I couldn't believe how bold they were! I said, "If you don't split up and find something productive to do, I will kick you out of the library."

They moved.

Anyhoo, I thought the boyfriend response was cute. Today, I had a meeting with the president of the school, a guidance counselor and a vice principal about the tutoring program I run. I was recounting about how the girls really just use the media center to fart around online (I didn't quite put it into those words). I told them the anecdote about the boyfriend as a pet and my clever response.

The president looked confused. The v-p was pissed because the girls were supposed to be at a mandatory presentation in the auditorium. And the guidance counselor giggled.

I thought I was a scream.

Another incident, which is kinda funny in retrospect, happened today.

I was reading the paper and glanced through the obituaries. I notices that an older woman with the surname "Testa" had passed away on Saturday. I quickly thought about how the Testa's, the older couple who lives across the street, had a lot of visitors lately, including family who were staying with them. I then realized sadly that Mrs. Testa had passed on.

I called my dad, since he knew the Testa's. Since he wasn't actually in, I left a message on his machine. I then emailed Mark, telling him about Mrs. Testa and that the obit said the wake hadn't been planned yet.

About an hour later, my father called.

Dad: Kim?

Me: Yeah?

Dad: (miffed) Mrs. Testa is not dead.

Me: Well, I wasn't really sure if it was her. And then I started thinking about how many visitors they had lately and--

Dad: The Testa's have eight or nine kids. The woman who passed away only had one.

Me: I thought they had more than one kid, but I didn't know for sure.

Dad: Besides, Mrs. Testa's first name is Mary, not Genevieve.

Me: (quietly) Uh...well, I didn't know that.

I really didn't mean to kill off my neighbor, but am thrilled to find that she rose from the dead so quickly. She is a very nice lady. When I moved in, she sent me a card and when I married, she clipped and laminated the announcement in the newspaper.

After I got off the phone with Dad, I emailed Mark, letting him know that Mrs. Testa was okay.

This is the response from Mark:

So...

We almost went to a wake for someone we knew even less well than Mrs. Testa?

Love,

Mr. Testy


I apologized to him.

I was just trying to do the right thing. There is no reason for everyone to get upset that I started a rumor that Mrs. Testa died.

It is kinda cute in retrospect.

Making Babies

For childbirth education class on Thursday, our homework was to pack our labor bag. This bag is to contain everything that would be useful to me when I go into labor, like a washcloth, lollipops, massage lotion, chapstick, etc. I had every intention of packing the bag for class...I really did. When I finally got around to it on Tuesday night, I was dead tired. I found a dirty towel, a washcloth and my PowerPuff Girls slipper socks. I threw them in a laundry basket because I didn't have a bag. It was depressing. Then I laid down on the bed and started reading the class manual about c-sections and other medical procedures. That made me even more depressed. Then I read about how the father becomes the "go-fer" after the baby is born and he doesn't get any attention. This made me cry.

I think I fell asleep like this.

As we drove to class on Thursday, Mark asked me about the bag. "It's not done," I said, "I'm just going to pull a Nate Adams."

Nate Adams was one of my students who graduated last year. One thing I really liked about Nate was that he never lied to me. He would come into class and say, "Listen, I didn't do my homework last night. Give me a zero if you have to." I found his honesty refreshing compared to other students who weasled around the subject.

However, Nate always got a zero. It was my homework policy.

"Oh," Mark said, indignantly, "It always seemed to work for Nate. You're probably the only person who bought that line."

"No," I replied, "I always gave him a zero. I just appreciated that he didn't try to lie. Besides, what are they going to do? Fail me. It's not like we get credit or a grade for this class."

As Diane the instructor took attendance, my classmates opened their labor bags and showed what they were bringing to the hospital with them. Diane called my name.

"Listen, Diane," I said, "I'm not going to lie to you. I started to put together the labor bag on Tuesday, but all I had was a dirty towel, a washcloth and a pair of PowerPuff Girls slipper socks. It made me depressed so I left the stuff home." Most of the class, including Mark, laughed.

She just looked at me for a moment and then called the next mom-to-be.

I really get the feeling she doesn't think I'm funny.

Call Me Crank

Okay, so I know I shouldn't obsess over this, but I gave $100 for a scholarship to Aquinas when I left in June. Today, I received the semi-annual alumni newsletter. It's the first one that has come out since I left the school. Guess whose name was left out of contributors to the scholarship fund? What the fuck?! Isn't my money as good as anyone else's? I don't believe that the other people who donated ALL donated above $100. Now, I'm starting to get paranoid that maybe they didn't put my money toward the scholarship.

Okay, I'm done griping.

The ride into work was surreal. I felt like I was in some sort of video game. A school bus got stuck in some construction mess on the corner of Flower City and Lake Ave. It just couldn't make the turn. Then on the 104 expressway, there was some broken wood in the roadway. I had to navigate around the debris. All the while, I'm watching the clock, wondering if I could stop at Tim Horton's for coffee, and make it to work on time. I think the pressure of time gave the commute it's "Crazy Taxi" elements. Anyway, I stopped for coffee and a bagel and made it to work about 7 minutes late. I would have ended up losing the game or getting a class-D license.