Gold Tooth Guy

I came across a new saying a couple of days ago. I was walking behind two guys on Ludlow Ave, and I was shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. One guy was talking about how he used to be the best football player on his high school team. He was saying how he would do anything for the team and the team really counted on him to do whatever they needed. Then he said something that truly perplexed me. He said, "Man, I was the Gold Tooth Guy." What? What on earth could this possibly mean? He clearly said Gold Tooth Guy. His friend just nodded in recognition,so he must have known what it meant. Then I realized that this man meant that he was the Go To Guy on the team. Other phrases like this have changed in the past. A chest of drawers had now become Chester drawers. Some people have started calling Alzheimer's disease Old-timers disease. I'm sure we have all heard that it is a Doggy dog world instead of a dog eat dog world. But Gold Tooth Guy? This was really interesting to me and more than just a tad hilarious.

I've only had two linguistics classes in my life and I couldn't think of a term for what I had just heard. I raced home and told David, our resident linguist, the entire story. I then asked him what the term was for this kind of mispronunciation. David told me, "I don't know. That doesn't even sound like real linguistics. It sounds more like sociolinguistics." Great. A linguistics elitist. Anyhow, when I get home tonight (I'm at school right now) I'm going to look through my linguistics books to see if their is a more professional term for what I heard.

But something else came out of this discussion of Gold Tooth Guy Vs. Go To Guy. Apparently, I don't know what the term "Go To Guy" even means. I told David that it meant a person on the team who would "Go to it." He's the guy who does what the coaches ask of him no matter what. The Go To Guy is a hard worker. David found this about as hilarious as the original Good Tooth Guy discussion. He told me that, in fact, this is not what Go To Guy means. David says Go To Guy means that there is a person on the team that everyone "Goes to" in a clutch or important situation. We had a half hour long discussion about it. I'll admit that David has better evidence, but I've decided that I think it means both. What do you think? Also, if you have ever heard the expression Gold Tooth Guy or any other mispronunciation of a common phrase, leave a comment and tell me all about it.

CVS Psychic?

We live right across the street from a CVS. Most of you know my hatred for CVS. I worked at Osco for eight years. I didn't love, love, love the job, but it was really very little work. Most times I would go to work, hang out in the stock room talking to my supervisors, ignore calls for price checks, take a long break and call it a day. I'm sure most of you are getting a bad impression of my work ethic. I assure you that it is good, but only for non-corporate things. I'm not one to complain about "the man," but I'm really bad at memorising stupid corporate acronyms such as "P.R.I.D.E." and the like. I think "P.R.I.D.E" had something to do with customer service, but I can't remember. I'm also not good at smiling just because someone tells me to smile. Anyhow, after eight years, I actually formed a loyalty to Osco. I told myself that Osco was much better than Walgreen's and it was certainly better than those crappy CVS stores. I mean really, who the hell carpets a drug store? It's wrong.

Well, I quit when I got the job teaching Latin, and less than 6 months later, CVS bought out Osco. I was crushed. Any company that let me get away with so little work for eight years had my sympathy. I also felt guilt. Had I played a part in Osco's demise? Did I take one 45 minute break too many? And I was worried that CVS would try to screw over my aunt, who worked for Osco for 27 years and had loads saved up in retirement. CVS fired lots of people, including my favorite supervisor, but they did keep my aunt. But I've heard that they have awful employment practices and everyone is always in fear of being fired.

So it is hard for me to go into a CVS. But as I live in a big(ger) city now, I feel that I should walk to the places I can because I don't want to move my non-power steering truck and come back to wrestle this vehicle in between two Jettas.

Last night I needed quarters to do laundry, and I thought I would go to CVS to get them. David says there is a man who works Sunday nights there and he is really friendly. Not only that, but when David went to buy aluminum foil at CVS, this man guessed that he needed the foil for grilling. Without a word from David hinting at such. Weird. So I'm in CVS and I pick up a tube of toothpaste and take it up to this friendly guy. He rings up the toothpaste and I debit five dollars back. Without a word from me, he says, "Doing laundry? I can give that back to you in quarters." My jaw dropped. I said that that would be great. I could have wanted the five dollars for anything, but this man knew it was for laundry. It's not like he said "Oh toothpaste. You gonna brush your teeth?" Just like the foil, it was not obvious what I was going to do with this money.

So I've devised this plan to find out for sure whether this guy has some kind of extra sense. The next time I have indigestion, I'm going to go in and buy a box of baking soda. It works wonders on an upset stomach. My dad uses baking soda for any stomach ailment. If he'd ever get an ulcer he'd just drink some baking soda and water, and I half believe it would repair the ulcer. Well, there have been entire books written about the thousands of uses of baking soda. Will the man from CVS "guess" that I have indigestion, or will he kindly posit that I'm trying to clean the grout between my bathroom tile? Or will he just flat out tell me that he knows I'm running an experiment to see if he's psychic? I'll be sure to let you know.

I Came, I Saw, I Worked, I Quit

The job at the bagel place did not work out. I'm sure many of you are gearing up the parental phrase, "If you commit to something, you have to stick with it." So ground me. This job sucked in every way imaginable. I knew after two hours that I didn't want to work there, and I stuck with it for three days.

Here's what I thought working at a bagel shop would be like- Setting: A sleepy little corner bagel shop. A couple of old people would come in and ask me to make them a toasted bagel with some cream cheese. I'd smile and tell a funny anecdote while I poured a fresh cup of coffee for the both of them. Ten minutes later, another couple of people would drift in, and I would start the process over again. Well, this surely did not happen.

I was told on the day I started that this was the busiest Bruegger's Bagels in the country. I worried a little at that, but I asked myself, "How many people could possibly want to eat bagels?" A freaking lot! The "rush" at this store lasted from 9 am to 2pm. My shoe came untied at 9:30 and I did not have a chance to tie it until I clocked out to go home. Some people might be able to handle this pace, but I cannot. I don't think I'm lazy. I just can't handle the "bustle," as David calls it. And what does it mean that I can't handle the bustle? Does it mean I pout? No. Does it mean I get tired? No. Does it mean I want to yell curse words at the patrons? Well, sometimes. But mostly when I have to rush around for hours on end, it means I get panic attacks. So while I'm making some lady's $2.19 cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese, she doesn't know that I'm so hot I could pass out, my left arm is going numb, and I'm envisioning that my windpipe is closing up. So yeah, I get panic attacks from bagels. After two days of this, I started asking myself if panic attacks and constantly smelling like red onions were worth $7.25 an hour. I determined that they are not. I don't think I'm above that type of work. I don't think I'm better than anybody who does that work. I'm just not good at it. Perhaps if I was 16 and this was my first job I could stand it. But as it is, I hated it with a passion.

So on my second (and second to last day), I pulled the manager aside and told her that I hated working at the bagel place. My mom asked if I really used the work "hate" when I told the manager. Yeah, I did. Why beat around the bush? I told the manager I would finish out my schedule, which was only one more day, and then I would not be returning. She was frustrated but nice about it. I felt bad because they went through all the trouble to "train" me(i.e. show me videos from the 90's and then throw me into the fray). But I did hate it and didn't want to go back.

I'll start looking for another second job soon, but David says I don't have to if I don't want to.

Well, admonish me in a parental fashion if you must.

The Grindstone

I should most definitely be preparing for class that starts in an hour right now, but instead I want to write to my pals.

I got the job at the bagel place and I start tomorrow. I am promised 15-20 hours a week with no Sundays and two or three Saturdays a month off. I told the manager that I wanted to keep every other weekend completely free so I could come home frequently if I wanted. At the interview, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that I had the job, but that didn't stop me from being nervous. I was almost as nervous about this bagel job as I was about my interview for the college. I guess I'm just an equal opportunity worrier.

I got a chance to see how lonely I am getting at the interview. I haven't talked to anyone in Cincinnati but David for more than two sentences. So while I was being interviewed, I found myself wanting to elaborate on anything and everything just to talk to someone. I tried to cap myself off, but I'm sure I rambled a couple of times. Oh well, maybe they'll just think I'm friendly. The bagel place might be a good place to meet people, too. I don't really have a chance to talk to any of my co-workers at the college and I can't just strike up a casual conversation with my students outside of class. Having no friends will definitely lend itself work, work, work, and paying off debt. I guess there's an upside.

Oh, I did meet the chair of the English department yesterday. Again, I found myself wanting to ramble to him, but I kept it short. He's a pretty cool, young-ish, punk rock kind of a guy. As I was leaving his office, I saw that he had a Guided By Voices bumper sticker on the wall. I wanted to launch into a spiel about how they were one of my favorite bands, and how we should talk about music sometime, ect, but I didn't. Instead I just said, "You like Guided By Voices? Thumbs up." Then I walked off. I am soooooo cool.

My students are having a class discussion today about the essays we read. I really hope that these guys want to talk because I'm not good at prodding responses out of people. I assigned reading questions that specific people in class are personally responsible for answering during the discussion. I hope that facilitates discussion. Does anyone out there have any other suggestions for getting people to talk in class? I might not need it, but I want to be on the safe side. I can't remember my teachers employing any special methods, but I usually had my mind made up before class whether or not I was going to talk about anything we read the day before.

Well, I really should prepare now.

Assault Rifle for Debt

Okay, so I finally have regular internet that will let me sign in on blogger again. I just finished planning my first lesson, which I will introduce tomorrow. It is on the completely boring topic of prewriting. Hey, you gotta start somewhere. Wednesday was my real first day, but I just went over the syllabus and stuff like that. I was nervous, but i wasn't nearly as nervous as I thought I would be. I'm really liking work so far. CState buildings and campus reminds me more of a small four year college than a community college, but I only have Ivy Tech to compare. Actually, I thought Ivy Tech was a nice school, but it doesn't have anything on CState. All their classrooms are smart and easily workable and they have really awesome cafeterias and cafes on campus. Oh, this is cool. All the culinary arts majors have to take a class on pastry making. They don't do anything with all the pastries they make afterward so they just haul them to the cafe. So there are gourmet pastries available to everyone. This could be good or bad for me. Anyway, it seems like a really cool place. I still have no idea who my boss is or where the English adjuncts' office is, but I figure someone will tell me when they get angry that I didn't report somewhere or do something I was supposed to.

In other news, David has decided he wants to take a machine gun approach to our debt and gun it down all in one Ramboesque blaze of glory. What sparked this proposed debt massacre? Well, there's this talk radio station down here that has The Dave Ramsey Show on. David loves this guy. I think he's kind of a jerk who just gives people common sense advise.

Example: Person in debt: Hi Dave. Love the show. Listen, I've got 50,000 dollars in credit card debt, a $1200 a month mortgage, and three new cars. How do I get out of debt?

Dave Ramsey, Debt Management Guru: Wow, stupid isn't illegal, but it should be. Sell your house, sell your cars, cut up the credit cards, and get three jobs. If you do this, you can have your debt paid off in four years.

Person in debt: Gee, why didn't I think of that? Dave you're a genius.

Anyway, all of this means that David already has himself a second job and is on the lookout for another and now it is my turn. So, I have applied and gotten an interview for the glamorous world of Bruegger's Bagels. Basically, it's Einstein Bagels with a different name. It's located just down the street and I'll be able to walk to work if I get the job. I hope I'm qualified enough. I hope the manager doesn't google my name and see this post. Oh well if she does. I really do want the job. I'm hoping there will be some cool perk like free coffee.

That's pretty much it for now.

From Cinci

Greetings from The Queen City, The City of Seven Hills, The Blue Chip City, Cin Cin Naughty, The 'Nati, or my personal favorite, Porkopolis. We're in Cinci now and we are trying to work, move, and adjust to the city all at the same time. What I've seen of Cincinnati I like so far. Our street is even more eclectic than I first described. Everyone who lives, works, or shops on our street has multiple tattoos and looks like they belong to a band I'd listen to. I am definitely feeling uncool. Orientation at work yesterday long and unhelpful, as those things always are. I came to work today to get some unresolved issues out of the way. You know, little things like what time I teach, where I teach, who my boss is. Mostly everyone just looked at me like I was in the way and was worrying about nothing. So now I've annoyed everyone in my department. Awesome. The walk to work will be great exercise,and I'm actually happy about that. It's a little over a mile each way and it's uphill on the way back. Oh, and once I've walked my mile to work I still have 126 steps to climb before I get to the building. (Cincinnati is a very hilly town.) So I might not even have to join an exercise class. Though if I want to, there is a yoga studio connected to our apartment.

Basically everywhere I go I feel like the woman in the Visa commercial who tries to pay with cash. Everything is running like clockwork until I show up. Then I mess up the finely tuned routine everyone is in by asking for directions, getting in the wrong line for coffee, driving the wrong way down one way streets, etc. It will be nice once we are settled. We come back to Lafayette tonight in order to pack the moving truck tomorrow. We'll start packing the truck around 9:30 and leave, I hope, around 1:00. If you want to stop by during that time to say goodbye, please do. Although, I have to warn you that you might be contracted to move a box or two.

Panem et Circenses

After a couple of months of consideration, I've decided to change the name of my blog. I don't really write about anything too important on this blog, so "Panem et Circenses" seems fitting. Plus, I just like the sound of it. The quote comes from Juvenal:

nam qui dabat olim
imperium, fasces, legiones, omnia, nunc se
continet atque duas tantum res anxius optat,
panem et circenses.

Basically he's saying that Romans used to value their form of government and did their duties as citizens. But now everyone cares about just two things: bread and circuses. Since it's the title of my blog, I suppose I should really put it in nominative case, but "Panis et Circenses" doesn't have the same ring. Anyway, I'm going to keep the title on a trial basis to see how I like it. If I don't like it after a couple of weeks,(or if the fact that it's in the wrong case starts to bug me)I'll change it or go back to the old title. Feel free to tell me what you think of the new title! Does it have the ring of a person lording their worthless education over other people? One can only hope.

Thanks

Thanks to everyone who came out to our party last night. We had so much fun and were glad to properly say goodbye to so many of you. The party didn't officially end until 5:00 this morning when the last of the revelers pulled up a piece of floor in our living room and slept there. I, on the other hand, have not slept in 31 hours. After the party ended I had to switch over to Long Walk Matron and make breakfast for all the participants. This amounted to 5 dozen scrambled eggs (I went a little over board there), two packages of bacon, and two packages of hash browns. How is the Long Walk going? Well, I'll leave that to David, though I am planning a psychological deconstruction of the whole thing in a couple of days. Now I must prepare for my nephew's baby shower this evening.

Thanks again to everyone who came. It was a blast. Seeing all of you at once will certainly make it harder to leave, but it reminded us of how truly blessed we are to have so many wonderful friends.

On Tolerance

From the title of the post you might be thinking that I'll be lecturing people about accepting everyone as they are and cooperating to make this world a better place. You might especially assume this if you have been reading or participating in the recent debates on Anne's blog, where the topics of "craziness" and "big boy beds" have incited near riots. But I'm actually writing on something much more important. Alcohol.

When I was younger, say around 19-21, I could drink 8 beers and a couple of mixed drinks, fall asleep on somebody's kitchen floor with a sombrero on around 3:00 am, and wake up around 8:00 am and go for a jog. Perhaps it was because I was partying with a bunch of guys at an all guys school, but I felt like I had to keep up. And keep up I did. After the Wabash days, I furthered my drinking career by becoming the Irish Car Bomb drinking champ. This is a title I still hold today, and although I drink considerably less, I plan to defend it until death or pregnancy. Though it has a crude name, the concoction is quite a good if you imbibe it quickly enough. If you don't drink it quickly enough, it becomes a demon in a glass. This drink consists of a Guinness, a half shot of Irish whiskey and a half shot of Irish cream. When quaffed correctly it tastes like an alcoholic chocolate milkshake. When consumed incorrectly it tastes and looks like expired chocolate cottage cheese. Now, obviously, I've never seen myself drink one of these things, but I've heard I'm fast. I have, however, seen my biggest competition, Grant Freeman and my own cousin Matthew Arnett, drink one. I am amazed at the speed with which they drink, and if I can consistently beat them, then I must really have an amazing talent. Some people have genius IQs, some people can drink beer really fast. All talents are God-given, right? That's what I keep telling myself.

I have to insert at this point that after my college partying days, I never strove to "get drunk". This is a mortal sin and by the time I turned 22, I realized it. So if you drink and can't be drunk, how do you monitor yourself? There are many names for the point of non-drunkenness. I call it the "grey area". This is the large area between sober and drunkenness that you can rightfully stay in without shaming yourself. John Russell calls it the "point of hilarity". This is where you drink until you are in good spirits, but you stop once you are at that point.

Now I am at the ripe old age of almost 26, and I can count the times I have consumed more than one drink in a sitting on one hand, no maybe one ands a half hands, in the past year. I just don't like drinking all that much anymore. A statement like this would get my Catholic card revoked in many communities and parishes, so I have kept this a secret for a bit. I mean, what's the point of drinking? If I am only going to have one drink, then it just amounts to extra calories. If I have more then that, I risk drunkenness. Further, I say stupid things, embarrass myself, and trip over stuff daily. I don't need alcohol to help me do that anymore.

And with this revelation, my tolerance has taken a huge hit over the years. In fact, I had four drinks last night over the course of 6 or 7 hours. This morning I woke up convinced that a little man with a jackhammer had started a construction project on my skull. While trying to block out the pulse-like throbbing in my head, I reflected on my earlier days when last night's expedition would have been considered "pre-gaming" for the real party. This brought on equal parts of awe and horror.

I am so glad I don't drink like I did in college. It's funny to say it that way because I have only been out of college for three months. Perhaps I should say "early college". Alcohol has lots of empty calories, it is bad for organs(internal and musical. Don't ask.), and it usually makes me look like an even bigger idiot than I already am. And I say all of this knowing full well that I will drink, probably right up the the edge of the grey-black area, at the party tonight. See you there!

Party On. Excellent.

David and I have decided to throw a going away party.... for ourselves. Yes, we'll be the guests of honor and all of you out there reading are invited (that is if we know you).

We went to the store last night and bought burgers, chicken, steaks, soda, chips, beer, brownies, cookies, etc. There will be music and beanbag toss too. We want everyone to come, so spread the word to all who you think might like to wish us goodbye. Here's the vital information.

David and Monica's Going Away Party

Date- Friday, August 24th

Place- O'Neil Castle. Call or email if you need directions.

Time- Cookout starts at 5:00 so all you people with little ones can make it. At 8:30 we will take a couple of minutes to send off the Long Walkers. Party will resume around 8:45 or 9:00 sans Long Walkers.

We have all the main dishes, but if you'd like to bring a side that would be great.

We decided to have the going away party the same night as the Long Walk commencement because a bunch of our friends are going to be in town for that anyway. RSVP here on the blog, or call, or just come. But please do come. We want to see all of you one last time.

Packing

Well, we started packing today. All I have to say is that we have WAAAAAAAAAAY too many books. Doesn't sound possible, does it? It's true. I brought an entire truck bed full of boxes home today, and all but the very biggest boxes have been filled to the brim with books. I can't imagine what it's like when professors have to move.

What's in a Name?

Ol' Shakesy asked the above question in Romeo and Juliet, and I've been thinking about names, specifically naming children, since Laura posted last week on the name Lawrence. You see, I have scores of great names picked out for our future children. I want to name my children after early saints and classical and literary figures. But whenever I let slip a name I'm contemplating, the same trite argument rears its head. This argument is known as The Infallible Playground Doctrine set forth by the Senate of Concerned Grandparents, Nosy Friends, and Boring Aunts in 1895. The argument can be summed up as the following: "You can't name your child that!!! He'll be made fun of and be beaten up on the playground for sure." And from this argument, many great names have been shot down in favor of more normal or common names. I'm here today to write against the above doctrine and promote a new one. This new argument is called They Are My Kids and I am Going to Name Them Whatever The Hell I Want, So Shut Up. I have three basic arguments against the Playground Doctrine.

1. They are my kids and I am going to name them whatever the hell I want, so shut up.
If my husband and I agree to name our first son Xenophanes Hezekiah Milkbone BB Gun Josephus Snowglobe O'Neil, that's what we're going to name him. Why? Because it's our baby, we made him, and we're going to name him. I must say that I have no problem with common names. In fact, I like a lot of them. I love the names John, Michael, David, etc. And I am not going to purposely give my child an uncommon name just for the sake of it being uncommon. But if I find myself drawn to an uncommon name, I'm not going to be detracted by some old lady.

2. EVERYONE IS MADE FUN OF ON THE PLAYGROUND. EVERYONE.
Let's do a little informal poll. How many of you were ever made fun of on the playground? I'm guessing 100%. Now, how many of you were made fun of on the playground for something other than your name? I'm guessing close to 100%. From this we can deduce that giving your child a common name will not prevent him or her from being made fun of on the playground. My children are going to have red hair, pale skin, little knowledge of pop culture, and possibly 700 food allergies. If they are made fun of for their name only, it would be a massive blessing. I mean, children are made fun of for coming to school with dried up snot rivers mixed with dirt running down their faces, and yet parents still send them to school that way. Kids are made fun of for weighing 300 pounds in the 2nd grade, and yet parents still send them to school that way. So what, in God's name, is wrong with sending your kid to school with a name like Aloysius? And yet the parents of the 300 pound 2nd grader with snot rivers are the people telling me that I just can't name my kid Augustine Leonidas O'Neil. Well, I can and I will.

3. An odd name with personal meaning and importance is preferable to a common or popular one without.
Go to the mall and yell out the name Dakota. See how many children turn their heads. If it's less than 4,000 I'd be surprised. Now yell out the name Augustine. If one kid turns his head I would be equally surprised. Perhaps all 4,000 children were named Dakota because their parents were inspired by that part of the country. That's fine, but I am not inspired by that part of the country. At least, not enough to name my kid that. Maybe my cat. Nah, I wouldn't even name my cat that. The point is that the name should mean something to the parents and they should pass that meaning on to their child.

Finally, I've known lots of people with odd names, and as far as I know none of them died of shame one the playground. These names include Leaf, Patience, Song, Glade, Prentice, and so on. When contemplating the names of your children, disregard the playground argument, and whatever you do, don't regurgitate it.

It Turned on Hot

My mother has this weird saying whenever the weather cools down quickly. She'll say, "It turned off cold". I would just attribute this to a regional saying, but I've never heard anyone but my mother and her twin sister say it. And now David and I say it because we think it's funny and it reminds me of my mom. It's not a mean spirited funny. We just think it's a neat saying. Well, it has not turned off cold in about a week here, so David and I have taken the saying one step further. We've started saying that "it turned on hot". Obviously it doesn't have quite the same ring, but it works just the same. Anyway, it has turned on hot, and as Laura says, there isn't much to do when it's this hot besides stay in and watch movies.

Movies I have watched in the past week include Diary of a Country Priest, The Cutting Edge, Rob Roy, a documentary on the Green Berets, and a documentary on Angola prison in Louisiana, a prison where 85% of the inmates will die there. On Friday, while David is walking in honor of the BVM on the pilgrimage, I'll be hosting a deconstruction of the movie 300. Perhaps a better word for what we are doing would be, in the words of Clayton Lein, an excavation. Yes, I know that this movie is based more on a graphic novel and less on the actual battle of Thermopylae, but dammit, I was a classics major and I have got to use my degree somehow. We'll be pointing out the inconsistencies in the movie compared to the historical account. A little snarky and misguided perhaps, but like I said, what the hell else am I supposed to do with this degree? On Saturday I have committed myself to walking the last eight miles of the pilgrimage for the BVM and OLSJC. On Sunday, I'll be heading down to Indy to watch Harry Potter in the IMAX theater. Also slated for this week is a documentary on the salt farmers of Tibet and another documentary on an anthropological hoax in Brittan. Documentaries are quickly becoming my favorite genre of movie. Many of my friends already giggle when I start a conversations by saying "I was just watching a documentary on...." Well, this is as good a place to end the post as any. Pray it turns off cold soon.

Survey says...

I guess I'm trying to avoid writing a real post. This was originally a list of 70 questions, but I picked out the ones I felt like answering. So here.

Initials:
MLBAO

Do you believe in God:
I believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen. I believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, one in being with the Father. Through Him all things were made. For us men and our salvation He came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit, He was born of the Virgin Mary , and became man. For our sake He was crucified under Pontius Pilate; He suffered, died, and was buried. On the third day He rose again in fulfillment of the scriptures: He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son. With the Father and the Son, He is worshiped and glorified. He has spoken through the Prophets. I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. I acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

Ever lived outside of the US:
I wouldn't say lived. More like extended visits.

What is your dad's name:
Joseph Anthony Matthew Arnett

What are your siblings' names:
Anthony Ross Ignatius Arnett
Alexander Nicholas Joseph Arnett

What is your dream car:
Dictator Mercedes. You know the type. All the cool despots have one.

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
Patagonia, New Zealand, Chipotle.

Favorite type of Food?
Sugar. Refined and granulated.

Song you are listening to right now:
"I Am a Scientist" -Guided by Voices version, not the Dandy Warhols version.

What are your current fav songs?:
"I Am a Scientist" I've had it in my head for weeks now. "Cemetery Gates"- The Smiths, "Silent Fortress"- Pinback.

What was the last movie you watched?:
Diary of a Country Priest. Tonight I'm watching The Cutting Edge with some girlfriends. Toe Pick!!

What are you afraid of?
Terminal illness, germs, having children.

How many pets do you have:
I have an imaginary orange kitten named Graham after Graham Greene. I hope to make him real once we move to Cincinnati.

Have you ever loved someone:
Yes, and I happen to be married to him.

What do you usually order from Starbucks:
Iced Mocha

Are you missing someone?
I'm already missing all my family and friends and I haven't even moved yet. I think my friend Buffy could relate.

Whats your mom's name?
Rebecca Carlene Crowell Arnett

What books are you reading:
How Right You Are, Jeeves- PG Wodehouse. Mrs. Schafer loaned it to me and I have to read it and give it back before I leave.

Favorite basketball team:
Actually, I am a really big fan of Purdue Women's basketball team.

Favorite cereal:
I don't eat cereal anymore. David convinced me that cereal is loaded with too much sugar (even the kinds that are supposed to be good for you). So now I just drink iced coffees for breakfast.

Do you drive:
Yes. I kind of like driving as long as it isn't on 26, 52, or any major highway where people drive way too fast. I drive a 1991 Ford Ranger with a chrome cobra head for a shifter and a "Papist" bumper sticker.

The End

I'm subbing for David at work today. Our last day at Ivy Tech and David decided to visit a friend in South Bend and bestow the honors of turning out the lights one last time in the LRC to me. Well, I didn't have any coffee this morning, and I feel like I'm dying. So I decided to take a quiz to see what my obituary will say.

'What will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

I think that's pretty much correct, but I haven't explored what the full implications of "their lover" means.

*&@#$%^!

I just dropped the F-bomb in front of Keeney. Again. This time it was at work. I don't even think I use the F--- word that often. Why do I have to say it in front of a person who has probably only ever heard that word when it is coming from my mouth? We weren't even playing Scrabble this time. Sheesh.

Job Found

Well, I didn't get the job at Brown Mackie College. They finally called back yesterday and told me they didn't want me. Instead, I got a better job at a better community college this morning. You are looking at the newest English Comp. teacher for Cincinnati State Community College. I couldn't be happier. This is the school I originally wanted to work for and I had some misgivings about Brown Mackie. Brown Mackie is in a dumpy location in a bad neighborhood and all the teachers talk about their students like these kids just escaped from prison. Cincinnati State, on the other hand, is on the same street that we live on about a mile down the road. The funniest part is when I was fretting, stewing, and waiting around for Brown Mackie to call back yesterday, Cincinnati State called to say they wanted an interview. I did a phone interview this morning and they hired me on the spot. I guess it was meant to be. CSCC is a really nice facility with a great library, gym, pool, athletic teams, and clean classrooms. It definitely seems like the place I want to be. They said that in addition to teaching two English courses this fall I could also pick up some extra hours in the writing lab. Best of all, the people who interviewed me seemed genuinely nice and happy to talk to me.

So Good I Can't Pick It Up

I've owned the new Harry Potter book since Saturday. I'm on page 34. I do think the book is pretty good so far, but I'm a little scared to see if my worst fears about Snape will be confirmed. My book 6 is damaged from when I threw the it across the room. That's when I found out Dumbledore was "dead". Also, and I'm going to go out on a limb here and criticise Rowling, I think ever since book 4 all of the books have started out a tad slow. *wince* Comment if you must. I'm sure the fault actually falls on my 1st grade level reading comprehension or my lack of imagination and not on the writing skills of the author.

I did buy the book on Saturday, but I didn't start reading it until yesterday because I had to prepare for my second job interview, which did not turn out perfectly by any means. At the end of the interview yesterday, I was told that I would hear back by the end of the day either way it turned out. I'm still waiting on a phone call. Oh well, I'm not going to die if I don't get this job. I'm just going to keep applying and get a better one. Failure is not fatal. Like that saying? I heard it yesterday on the ride back from Cincinnati when we were listening to conservative talk radio. I hate conservative talk radio, and I almost hate myself for listening to it. Those guys are such terrible jerks and I always want to turn the station, but I keep listening because I want to see what awful or absurd statement they say next. Anyway, one guy said, "failure is not fatal" in the context of a bad job interview, bad grade, broken heart, that kind of thing. It was the only statement I happened to agree with the entire time I listened to that station. So, we'll see what happens. I'll be sure to let you know when I find out.

Apartment Found

David and I went to Cincinnati yesterday for my job interview and to look for an apartment. The apartment we found is so cool and I can't wait to move in. First, our building is in Cincinnati's Gaslight district. This district is the artistic, bohemian center of the city. We will live three buildings down from an independent movie theater, across the street from a branch of the library, and a short walk from a beautiful park. Our street is lined with ethnic restaurants, interesting boutiques, and cool coffee houses. We are also just a couple of buildings away from a grocery store. And we live very close to UC's campus. Our apartment has wood floors, a beautiful fireplace, large closets, and a huge balcony. If you are interested in looking at pictures of our apartment, click here. The only drawback is that the kitchen is smaller than the one we have now! But it's just such a neat place.

My job interview went really well. I interviewed at 1:00 and by 6:00 they had called me back for a second interview. So next Monday I'll go back to Cincinnati and give a 15-20 minute mock lesson to the English faculty of the college. I'll be teaching on the "critical elements of personal narrative". After that, I'll know whether or not I have the job. Wish me luck!

No News is Good News

I don't watch the news that often. We don't have cable, so that keeps me blissfully unaware most of the time. I read the newspaper semi-regularly, but it's not the same as the non-stop news blitz on the TV. Well today David and I went over to my parents' house to check our email. Actually, I usually drop him off at the McAllister center and he works out while I go to my parents' house one block away, and he meets me there after his workouts.

Anyway, while he was checking his email I decided to turn on my parents' TV and it was on CNN. The first story I see is an uplifting little ditty about a seven year old boy who is getting a face transplant. He has silicone implants in his cheeks so his skin will stretch out over other parts of his face. The skin around his eyes is so tight that I don't think the poor thing can blink. Why is this boy getting a face transplant? Oh, because a flesh eating bacteria ate his face off. It ate his whole face off. How did this boy come to be infected with a flesh eating bacteria? Was he slashing his way through the rainforest? Nope. Was he playing around at a hazardous waste site? No. He bumped his lip while playing basketball with his friends. And he got his face eaten off. I called to David in the other room and told him all about it. He replied, "See, that just goes to show you that you shouldn't worry about such things because no one knows when or how they will happen". I'm a hypochondriac by the way. To me, this story meant just the opposite: I should live in a bubble and bathe in Purell because you never know when or how these things will happen.

Next story up- A huge toothpaste recall. Anyone who has any toothpaste made in China (this includes all the major American brands) should throw it out because it could have poison in it. Specifically, it has an ingredient in it that is usually reserved for non-mouth cleansing items like antifreeze. So now I'm freaking out because I don't know if our ghetto Pepsodent toothpaste has poison in it or if I'll even have a mouth to use it on because of some crazy flesh eating bacteria.

At this point David told me that I should not under any circumstances watch the news. And I know this is pretty much true. I am a sucker for sensationalism. A couple of years ago he said I shouldn't watch Dateline or 20/20 because every time I did I became convinced that I would die under mysterious circumstances or be stricken with a rare but fatal form of cancer or both. So I guess I'll just stick to reading the newspaper for now. Did I mention that just yesterday I was reading that the parents of a 15 year old Indian boy were arrested because they let their child perform a C-section on one of their patients?