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The kindergarten classes at the baby’s school had a little Thanksgiving pageant thing today. I was pretty excited for it…so excited, in fact, that I left the house without some key accessories: my purse, which housed my wallet and my phone, and my camera. I also left some yummy leftover spaghetti at the house that I had planned to eat for lunch but, figuring I would have my wallet, decided on my way out the door that I would just buy something for lunch.

I blame this partially on the fact that I had a paper due today and when I left the house this morning it was only 1/3 done. That kind of thing is distracting. For what it’s worth, I just turned the paper in and I’m pretty confident that it sucks. But mentally I’m in no position to make it any better. Oh, well.

The pageant was extremely cute. I know it’s instinctual to groan at the idea of kids dressed up in homemade costumes and singing songs all off-key and distracted. But as a parent it was the best thing I’ve seen all year. I absolutely can not wait to go to every single one of those corny things.

The baby was a turkey and many of the songs that they sang were about eating turkey or the turkey’s sneaky methods for avoiding the oven. They sounded cute but really what kind of morbid shit is that? It’s all very close to this.

There were also pilgrims and, of course, “Indians.” I really couldn’t believe when the principal referred to them that way. Perpetuating Thanksgiving myths is one thing. Using terms for people that are known to be offensive is another.

I was very sad not to have my camera, nonetheless. But I managed to persuade some staff members to hook me up with some doubles and whatnot.

On a completely unrelated note, there is apparently a stomach virus going around these parts. This I am not at all cool with. Several faculty members were out yesterday and my officemate just went home sick after ralphing in the bathroom. I now get to be paranoid because I’m irrationally terrified of the stomach virus* and being that close to someone who might have it makes me very, very uneasy.

However, said officemate had lunched on leftover shrimp from Red Lobster, so I’m hoping it was just that. And seriously, how little regard can you have for your gastrointestinal integrity if you’re eating leftover shrimp from Red Lobster. Ugh. It’s like a 20/20 undercover report just waiting to happen.

I’m mostly worried because I’ve been talking about how much I’m going to eat on Thursday for about two months and if I have to miss it, or worse, barf it all up unintentionally afterward, I’m going to be extremely pissed.

*Everyone hates me for this.

My afternoon class was canceled so that means that I don’t have any classes this week. Yesssss. It was a highly needed reprieve, too. This morning, as I was dragging the baby to the bus stop, I was thinking, “God, I just don’t want to do anything anymore. I don’t want to go to work, I don’t want to go to class, I don’t want to be married, I don’t want to be a mom, I don’t want a house, I don’t even want to be a daughter. I just want to stay in bed all day and watch whatever is on TV.”

Healthy, yes? But apparently, all it took was for that 1:30 - 2:50 block to be freed up and I’m all on top of life again.

The baby also told me this morning that he didn’t think he should go to school because he wasn’t feeling well. I asked him what was wrong and he said, “I feel like I’m losing my mind.” Uh, okay.

The wedding on Saturday was very nice. On the drive up, the husband and I ranted about stuff. The ceremony was very short. The minister was a little strange, though. He kept stumbling on his words (”Who brings this woman to be buried…I mean, married,”), and when he asked for the rings he said, “Can you bring me those rings so I can bless them?” Christ, dude, act like you’ve done this before or at least be a little cheerier.

I didn’t take too many pictures because my batteries died, even though when my mom borrowed it last week she said she put new batteries in. I don’t know why she has to be such a dirty liar. I will post this one that I took of this really awesome garage door that was smack in the middle of Creepy Church Country, OH. What is up with Ohio and Jesus? They love that dude there. Multiple churches on every block. Like Lewis Black said, “He is the Coca-Cola of Ohio.”

On our way to the reception, the husband spotted a record store so we stopped in there for a few minutes, such is his addiction. He did manage to find a rare record so I guess it was worth it.

The reception was nice. The minister showed up in a pastel blue and yellow plaid suit and muttered grace. There was another woman there who wore this red satin dress for the ceremony and then changed into this yellow chiffon number for the reception. Diva! Someday I want to be badass enough to need a wardrobe change.

The DJ was kind of meh. He kept playing line dance songs, like whatever idiotic Dirty South-lite crap has come out in the past six months. That was fine, but it was an older crowd. The mostly sat around looking amused. Until he played the Electric Slide. Then things got serious. At the beginning, he had all of the married couples come out on the dance floor for this thing he likes to do called “Lessons in Love” or something. He played “Here and Now” by Luther Vandross (Luther!) then slowly eliminated all of the couples by years of marriage until there was one couple left dancing. The DJ asked them how long they had been married and the wife said, “I don’t know, sixty some years?” Ha! The husband and I got eliminated in the first round since we’ve been married less than five years, but it was nice to dance with that dude for a second.

Also, I apparently cry at weddings very easily now. Awesome.

I fell asleep in the car on the ride home (3 glasses of red wine) and when we got home we watched The Wickerman, which was pretty messed up.

Is it time for turkey yet?

They discontinued Mr. Pibb? I did not know this, but then I never really kept tabs on the stuff. I’m a Coca-Cola purist and only recently have deviated from that paradigm because I suddenly developed an addiction to Diet Dr. Pepper out of nowhere. They also discontinued Josta, which is a total tragedy for…uh…the 14 people who ever drank it. I think John Cougar Mellencamp was one of them.

But, not to worry. I can still buy a case of Mr. Pibb for a little less than $600. Sweet! And Josta’s a bargain at $175 a six-pack.

Aside: who are these “they” I keep referring to? The Overlords of Pop? I know not.

Also: Crystal Pepsi Wall Clock. Want. Even though Crystal Gravy was superior.

Crystal Gravy

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The baby has gotten better about letting me sleep in a little bit on the weekends. He’ll entertain himself by babbling in his bed, listening to music, playing in his room or just plopping on the couch to watch some TV.

The cat? Not so much. About 10 minutes after the baby went downstairs and I was well into a weird little dream about receiving drunken, incoherent gmail chats from Angela, the cat jumped up on me and started cooing and chirping and meowing in my face and sticking his cold nose into my ear. When that didn’t work, he started swatting at my head with his claws slightly extended, as if to say, “Betch, you better come correct with some Iam’s tout suite or I will cut you.”

We’re going to Akron today for a friend’s wedding. I was all excited about it but now I’m feeling worn out and lazy. Oh, well.

Flying Spaghetti Monsterists earn a spot on the agenda of the American Academy of Religion’s annual meeting.

The superintendent of schools wants to close my alma mater, and the students are fighting to save it. We drove past this rally the other night and honked in support. It was really awesome to hear the cheers that came in response. Apparently there is a new ninth-grade civics class called “Be the Change,” which, I’m guessing, teaches students how to create change themselves, not wait for it happen to them by someone else’s hands. The rallying students took their lessons to the streets.

I’m so proud of them. The district seems intent on closing the school and splitting it up, no matter how many sensible arguments they hear from the opposition. Perhaps this is inevitable. But at this time in history, when governments seem to feel that they can do whatever they want because they receive no resistance from the people they serve, it’s wonderful to hear someone say, “No!”

These kids are smack dab in the middle of one of the most self-centered and passive generations that the world has ever seen. And they’re not taking it. They’re not selling themselves short. They know what they have and they know that the school is THEIRS, not Mark Roosevelt’s.

What was so wonderful and unique about Schenley was that you had every single socioeconomic group represented there and they all got along. There were no static cliques. There was no popular crowd. Sure, there were groups of people that gravitated to one another, but it was never like, “Well, you’re really smart and you’re headed to college, therefore you can’t hang out with the kids that sneak out to smoke,” or “You’re a jock, therefore you can’t hang out with the pimply kid playing Magic.” People moved between groups like water. And, yes, we had school spirit because we knew how uncommon it is to fit 3,000 extremely different people into one building and have only minor incidents. We knew how uncommon it is for people to have a sense of pride in their high school. We knew how uncommon it is to find a place where a guy can come to school wearing a dress and make it through the day intact. We knew how uncommon it is to see rough kids from the ‘hood working in pottery class next to ballerinas from the suburbs.

That is what these kids are trying to save. And if the district really cares about them, they better damn well listen. Because if we’re not going to fight for our kids and their wellbeing, then what the hell is there worth fighting for?

For the past five years, my friend Karen has run a really awesome business called Girls Night In. She and former partner Alison have hosted educational lectures and parties, which are like Tupperware parties but with sex toys. Best of all, GNI is based on feminist ideals, so instead of a Cosmo-tinged “how to make your man go wild,” their focus was on helping the ladies ensure that they made themselves go wild.

Sadly, the party aspect of GNI will be no more. Karen will be holding a “going out of business” sale tonight in the hopes of sending all of those dildos and vibrators to loving holes homes.

The sale will be held at Amani International Coffeehouse from 8:00pm-10:00pm.

Any additional details that you might need can be found on the GNI site.

If you are in the Pittsburgh area, check it out. Your vagina will thank you. And so will Karen, probably.

I went to Student Health today for a UTI. I feel 19 again! Heh.

The husband and I watched a Paul Mooney stand-up special on Showtime last night. Oh my god. I was in tears, it was so funny. We saw him live a couple of years ago and I nearly peed myself. He’s hilarious…and insane. When we saw him he wore this military coat and a big hat with ear flaps the whole time.

So, yeah, I updated my links page the other day…

Sigh.

I really don’t know how people work from home. Aside from all of the distractions luring me away from being productive, there are other people who live here. And those other people are…how can I put this nicely and in a way that doesn’t diminish my love for them?

Those other people are obnoxious.

I have a new freelance gig and had squeezed in a phone interview yesterday. When I called the guy I got his voice mail, so I left a message telling him to call me back. He did a few hours later.

My voice recorder kicked the bucket a few weeks ago and I didn’t really grasp how much I would miss it until I was on the phone with this guy, furiously typing away notes, when the baby came upstairs.

He has a “sandwich” he had made for me and wants me to “eat” it right away. My silent shoos kind of work…but then he goes to the bathroom where the husband is taking a shower. So the husband starts yelling at the baby to close the door before the smoke alarm goes off (a charming quirk) and the baby starts whining back and they’re being incredibly loud. The guy on the phone is talking and talking and I’m saying “Mmhmm. Mmhmm,” even though I can’t hear anything and trying to close the door which doesn’t really close because our house is old and crooked. The baby sees this and pushes his way through. I give up and go back to my computer…and the cat is curled up on the keyboard.

I’m going to have, like, one vague quote for this article and whatever my cat managed to type out with its stomach. Great.