I'm a single woman again.
And I think I even managed it without creating an enemy.
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IL-Sen: The Republican Purity Crusade Strikes Again
36 minutes ago
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Lolo Update
For the (thousands of) curious, lovely readers out there, Lolo and I just had a knock-down drag-out over the phone. I am pleased to announce that I initiated this, which is saying something when you consider how non-confrontational I am.
I used the, "I feel..." and, "I think..." key phrases that are supposed to help diffuse these kinds of things. He responded with the height of meanness by saying, "This whole conversation is nothing but 'you, you, you.'"
The whole fucking relationship has been about him.
And I was reminded of this when I pointed out that we actually never talk about any of my interests, although I am a new expert on all of his, and he responded that it's because I don't have any. Any that I mentioned he dismissed as not being "real interests" (aka his interests). Wow, I never knew until just this minute that I was that boring and lame.
To be fair, though, he never knew about my secret writing skillz.
He lectured me while we were arguing about his conversational tone. I mean, sure, it's not like I can blame every single thing on him. Maybe if I had stood up for myself more since day 1 things would be casi perfecto. But probably not.
Finally we both got so upset that we had to postpone the conclusion of this conversation. Actually, I was ready to put the last nail in the coffin but he accused me of being rash. He asked me to, "at least give [him] the respect to think about why I was picking this fight with [him] for a few hours." You know, since I have wasted so much of his valuable (unemployed) time over the last 5 months.
Sorry that you have to read this bilious entry, dear readers. It's mostly to remind myself of some of the highlights of our conversation so I am strong when we talk the next time.
I've been treated better than this before; I will be treated better than this in the future. By someone else, I'm thinking.
A Seinfeld quote came on tv tonight. I'm going to butcher it, but it went something like this: Jerry asked George, "She cried and you gave in, didn't you?" George said, "Yeah..." and Jerry responded, "Eh. You've gotta break up two or three times; you have to build up an immunity over time." G-d I hope I'm immune enough to finish things off once and for all next time we talk. I think maybe now I'm angry enough for that to be the case.
And thanks to those of you who have offered me advice, moral support, empathy, and most importantly have put up with my oversharing and wimpiness without offering up anything but kind words.
Now I'm going to go cry myself to sleep (from frustration/nerves, not sadness!)
I used the, "I feel..." and, "I think..." key phrases that are supposed to help diffuse these kinds of things. He responded with the height of meanness by saying, "This whole conversation is nothing but 'you, you, you.'"
The whole fucking relationship has been about him.
And I was reminded of this when I pointed out that we actually never talk about any of my interests, although I am a new expert on all of his, and he responded that it's because I don't have any. Any that I mentioned he dismissed as not being "real interests" (aka his interests). Wow, I never knew until just this minute that I was that boring and lame.
To be fair, though, he never knew about my secret writing skillz.
He lectured me while we were arguing about his conversational tone. I mean, sure, it's not like I can blame every single thing on him. Maybe if I had stood up for myself more since day 1 things would be casi perfecto. But probably not.
Finally we both got so upset that we had to postpone the conclusion of this conversation. Actually, I was ready to put the last nail in the coffin but he accused me of being rash. He asked me to, "at least give [him] the respect to think about why I was picking this fight with [him] for a few hours." You know, since I have wasted so much of his valuable (unemployed) time over the last 5 months.
Sorry that you have to read this bilious entry, dear readers. It's mostly to remind myself of some of the highlights of our conversation so I am strong when we talk the next time.
I've been treated better than this before; I will be treated better than this in the future. By someone else, I'm thinking.
A Seinfeld quote came on tv tonight. I'm going to butcher it, but it went something like this: Jerry asked George, "She cried and you gave in, didn't you?" George said, "Yeah..." and Jerry responded, "Eh. You've gotta break up two or three times; you have to build up an immunity over time." G-d I hope I'm immune enough to finish things off once and for all next time we talk. I think maybe now I'm angry enough for that to be the case.
And thanks to those of you who have offered me advice, moral support, empathy, and most importantly have put up with my oversharing and wimpiness without offering up anything but kind words.
Now I'm going to go cry myself to sleep (from frustration/nerves, not sadness!)
Friday, July 3, 2009
Steamy Melty Storytime
Yesterday night I returned from one of the longest weeks of my life. I was dogsitting for an aunt in a godforsaken suburb (I will write about this shortly), and she had neglected to reveal the true nature of her dogs as hellions disguised as fluffy, loveable creatures.
After a long, trafficky, exhaust-filled drive home, I pulled into my apartment complex and climbed the stairs. I was looking forward to a short but refreshing nap in my own delicious bed, curtains drawn and fan whirring. I was sleep-deprived and my cheeks were hot and dry from the weather and dehydration.
I unlocked the door and I had to lean hard into it to force it open, because it was sticky with disuse and humidity. The air smelled stale, and I ditched my belongings on the living room floor and walked over to turn on the ac. I turned on last week's TAL episode and started unpacking my things.
An hour later, I realized it wasn't getting any cooler. It was too hot to sleep, so I took a cool shower. When I got out and started drying my hair, I started sweating so much that the shower seemed pointless. My bangs, which had been cut too-short the day before, curled against my forehead and any makeup I tried to put on ran off my face in rivulets. I went back and checked the thermostat. It was holding at a steady 87 degrees.
I went out for dinner and a few beers with Lori and her boyfriend, and when I got back around ten it still seemed hot. It was still 87 degrees. I could hear the ac unit running, so I was still thinking that maybe it was just taking a long time for my apartment to cool off given the extreme temperatures outside.
I slept in my underwear, on top of the covers, with my fan on full speed, and I was still sweating. I got up and checked the thermostat; it had finally cooled down to about 78 degrees, which is not much warmer than where I usually keep it when I am home. But by 9:00, when I got up after a night of dreams in which I was suffocating and suffering from strange diseases, the temperature had crept back up to 85 degrees.
This is when I knew I had a problem.
Where I live, ac is not a luxury; it is a necessity. In the hottest months of the summer, the city sets up shelters for people who cannot afford to pay their electric bills or fix their units. The heat here right now is like a natural disaster, with heat indexes that make 100 degrees look pleasant. People don't even go swimming except at night.
I went to the grocery store and left a message for my apartment management. When I got back it was up to 90 degrees, even with the sunlight blocked by my heavy curtains. I called the management again and unpacked my groceries. Then I found a fruit smoothie I had made and frozen and sat on the couch to eat it with a spoon. It was too hot to read, so I just sat there and thought. Lolo called me twice and I ignored his calls.
Around noon I was bored and a little hungry, and I wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything appetizing. I remembered I had bought a bar of dark chocolate at the store and decided to eat a square of it. It was sitting on the kitchen counter. When I went to open it I discovered that the bar was squishy and melted all the way through. Disgusted, I threw it into the fridge.
At last my salvation came, in the form of my BFF maintenance guy. When I opened the door he said, "Hey girl, how you been!?" as if we were long lost amigos. He asked me if I liked living in my new apartment, and then he said, "So where is your friend? She got married?" I said that she had. He said, "You got a lot of stuff in your closet?" I opened the door to show him and he said, "Oh, you have to move some of that."
So as I was tossing empty bags and boxes onto my bed he asked, "So when are you going to get married?" I laughed and said, "Oh, I don't know..." He said, "Well, I guess you need a boyfriend first, right?" And I said, "Yeah, I actually have one of those." I didn't tell him that I probably wouldn't have one of those for much longer.
He screeched, "What!? You do!? But I thought you didn't. I never see you with a boy, you know?" I responded as I squeezed around him to deposit another load of closet crap on the bed, "Oh, yeah, he comes around sometimes..."
Then he said, "Oh, well, you still have time, right? You're young, right? Like 20?" I laughed and said, "Um, not quite. I mean I'm 24." I looked up at him; he was frowning and looked confused. He said, "Oh, yeah, I guess you have a little time then...I mean you have until you're like 30, maybe, I guess...but in ten years you'll be 34, you know? Don't you want kids?" He trailed off. "I'm 34," he said. I nodded and crossed my arms and walked into the living room. I turned on MSNBC, one of the only channels I get, and watched more Michael Jackson coverage as he worked. After a trip up to the roof he had my ac working again. He walked back in and said, "OH, it's freezing in here now. I might get hypothermia, you know? It's like Alaska in here, like where Sarah Palin lives."
And then I thanked him and he left, on his way to maintain other things, and maybe to tell other single girls that if they didn't want to vestir santos they better get on with things.
After a long, trafficky, exhaust-filled drive home, I pulled into my apartment complex and climbed the stairs. I was looking forward to a short but refreshing nap in my own delicious bed, curtains drawn and fan whirring. I was sleep-deprived and my cheeks were hot and dry from the weather and dehydration.
I unlocked the door and I had to lean hard into it to force it open, because it was sticky with disuse and humidity. The air smelled stale, and I ditched my belongings on the living room floor and walked over to turn on the ac. I turned on last week's TAL episode and started unpacking my things.
An hour later, I realized it wasn't getting any cooler. It was too hot to sleep, so I took a cool shower. When I got out and started drying my hair, I started sweating so much that the shower seemed pointless. My bangs, which had been cut too-short the day before, curled against my forehead and any makeup I tried to put on ran off my face in rivulets. I went back and checked the thermostat. It was holding at a steady 87 degrees.
I went out for dinner and a few beers with Lori and her boyfriend, and when I got back around ten it still seemed hot. It was still 87 degrees. I could hear the ac unit running, so I was still thinking that maybe it was just taking a long time for my apartment to cool off given the extreme temperatures outside.
I slept in my underwear, on top of the covers, with my fan on full speed, and I was still sweating. I got up and checked the thermostat; it had finally cooled down to about 78 degrees, which is not much warmer than where I usually keep it when I am home. But by 9:00, when I got up after a night of dreams in which I was suffocating and suffering from strange diseases, the temperature had crept back up to 85 degrees.
This is when I knew I had a problem.
Where I live, ac is not a luxury; it is a necessity. In the hottest months of the summer, the city sets up shelters for people who cannot afford to pay their electric bills or fix their units. The heat here right now is like a natural disaster, with heat indexes that make 100 degrees look pleasant. People don't even go swimming except at night.
I went to the grocery store and left a message for my apartment management. When I got back it was up to 90 degrees, even with the sunlight blocked by my heavy curtains. I called the management again and unpacked my groceries. Then I found a fruit smoothie I had made and frozen and sat on the couch to eat it with a spoon. It was too hot to read, so I just sat there and thought. Lolo called me twice and I ignored his calls.
Around noon I was bored and a little hungry, and I wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything appetizing. I remembered I had bought a bar of dark chocolate at the store and decided to eat a square of it. It was sitting on the kitchen counter. When I went to open it I discovered that the bar was squishy and melted all the way through. Disgusted, I threw it into the fridge.
At last my salvation came, in the form of my BFF maintenance guy. When I opened the door he said, "Hey girl, how you been!?" as if we were long lost amigos. He asked me if I liked living in my new apartment, and then he said, "So where is your friend? She got married?" I said that she had. He said, "You got a lot of stuff in your closet?" I opened the door to show him and he said, "Oh, you have to move some of that."
So as I was tossing empty bags and boxes onto my bed he asked, "So when are you going to get married?" I laughed and said, "Oh, I don't know..." He said, "Well, I guess you need a boyfriend first, right?" And I said, "Yeah, I actually have one of those." I didn't tell him that I probably wouldn't have one of those for much longer.
He screeched, "What!? You do!? But I thought you didn't. I never see you with a boy, you know?" I responded as I squeezed around him to deposit another load of closet crap on the bed, "Oh, yeah, he comes around sometimes..."
Then he said, "Oh, well, you still have time, right? You're young, right? Like 20?" I laughed and said, "Um, not quite. I mean I'm 24." I looked up at him; he was frowning and looked confused. He said, "Oh, yeah, I guess you have a little time then...I mean you have until you're like 30, maybe, I guess...but in ten years you'll be 34, you know? Don't you want kids?" He trailed off. "I'm 34," he said. I nodded and crossed my arms and walked into the living room. I turned on MSNBC, one of the only channels I get, and watched more Michael Jackson coverage as he worked. After a trip up to the roof he had my ac working again. He walked back in and said, "OH, it's freezing in here now. I might get hypothermia, you know? It's like Alaska in here, like where Sarah Palin lives."
And then I thanked him and he left, on his way to maintain other things, and maybe to tell other single girls that if they didn't want to vestir santos they better get on with things.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Yet Another Pathetic Cry For Help (Literally)
Sorry to get all Dear Diary on you here, but I have to for a moment. All the real people out there have lives and I'm here obsessing over boy problems when it's too late to call anyone.
Lately Lolo has not been making me feel especially happy. I know dude has a PhD and ten years on me, but I also know I'm not dumb. And he kind of has been treating me like I am either very stupid or six years old.
Exhibit A: On Sunday we went to see Hangover (hilarious) and as we were driving home I mentioned that one of the characters in the movie plays a role in The Office. He started telling me about how much he hated the show, and I suggested that perhaps we have different tastes. He reprimanded me and explained that it's not a matter of taste; The Office simply sucks (and apparently he has the authority to make this judgment while I do not). I gave up arguing after awhile.
We got back to his place and we were sitting on his balcony having a glass of wine. He points across the way to a girl sitting on her balcony smoking a cigarette and says he is going to move in with her. He doesn't know her but they have a mutual friend and he needs to save money on rent. (Am I crazy to be irritated that my boyfriend of five months is moving in with another chick without even mentioning it to me before signing a lease?! I mean I think I'm among the coolest girlfriends ever, but even I have limits.)
After springing this on me, I was a little quiet and Lolo asked me the dreaded question, "What are you thinking?" Ugh I HATE that question! It doesn't seem sensitive to me; it just seems invasive. Ask me something more specific, like, "What do you think about me rooming with a random woman?" So I told him what was occupying one little part of my brain to change the subject. And what I told him was that I am restless, that I want to go somewhere but I don't know where. I told him that one day I almost packed a suitcase and left, but then I couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to go alone, and I also had to be back in a few days anyway since I had promised to housesit for my aunt. His reaction was to chastise me for not following my gut, and we bickered for awhile about whether I was being justified in postponing my adventuring for a few weeks or not.
At some point I stopped talking and stared straight ahead while he droned. When he finally stopped, I said, "Sometimes when we talk I feel like you are lecturing me. You know there is a difference between saying, 'I don't agree,' and saying, 'You're wrong,' don't you?" And then I started crying. At first it was the heavy silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I hate crying in front of people, especially boys, and I was trying to hide it. As soon as he noticed, though, it got worse. I went inside to try to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes, but he convinced me to come out and sit on the couch with him and he held me as he admitted he was wrong to talk to me like that and apologized. He told me to cut him off whenever he did that. He was really sweet for a little while.
Exhibit B: Yesterday I asked him, "So what did you do today? Did you just get ready for your interview?" and he shot back, "Ever. No. I sat and stared at a wall all day. Why do you always ask me what I do during the days? You know I'm an economist. I read all day. That's all I ever do. And I have economist friends that I talk to about what I read. It pisses me off that you always ask what I did during the day when I do the same thing every day." And then he spent a good period of time telling me I am wasting my life because I'm not taking scuba diving lessons or golf lessons or something this summer (zero interest in either one).
Exhibit C: Today he had an interview. I know he is superstitious about talking about his interviews, so I just asked, "Did you have your interview this morning?" I didn't even ask how it went. And he replied, "I DO NOT want to talk about it, Ever. You know that, why do you always ask me? I'm going to start lying about those things." He also asked me what I did at the gym today and when I told him about my 40 minutes of cardio followed by weights he told me that it was all useless because I don't have a heart rate monitor and so probably I didn't do it right. These two topics of conversation occupied like...an hour long phone call.
Ugh. I can't tell if he is going through some sort of a male PMS period that will pass or what. He has an appointment with his shrink tomorrow; maybe that will make him nicer. And to be fair, he did say he responds well to criticism (actually he said, "So tell me to shut up when I start doing that.") It's just not really in my nature to ask people not to express themselves, even if what they are saying bothers me. Free speech and all. I'm a little on the too-passive side when it comes to these things.
I know that the long and short of it is I need to break up with him. But I honestly tried once and he talked me out of it. (We are seriously over-educated.) I told him that I didn't have strong feelings for him and that I didn't know if it was a good idea or even worth it to keep trying to make things work, especially given the uncertainty of his immediate future. He begged me to give it a little more time, looked all devastated and everything. I gave in.
Because of his job situation I kind of had thought he would have moved by now and fate could decide these things for us. Instead he is just unemployed and bitchy and not going anywhere anytime soon. I still have not discovered a topic about which we can agree I might know a little more, or about which I may have a valid opinion that is different from his. Really, it's exhausting.
Part of me is tempted to let it be until August, when school will distract me again. I'm worried that if I end it now I will be pitiful for the rest of the summer, and maybe bored and sexually frustrated enough to call him now and then and make the situation even worse. Lolo is not a bad person; we're just not for each other. And I only have like three friends here, so I hate to alienate one of them (and by extension my whole little Colombian community), especially when summer is making me vulnerable.
Help.
Lately Lolo has not been making me feel especially happy. I know dude has a PhD and ten years on me, but I also know I'm not dumb. And he kind of has been treating me like I am either very stupid or six years old.
Exhibit A: On Sunday we went to see Hangover (hilarious) and as we were driving home I mentioned that one of the characters in the movie plays a role in The Office. He started telling me about how much he hated the show, and I suggested that perhaps we have different tastes. He reprimanded me and explained that it's not a matter of taste; The Office simply sucks (and apparently he has the authority to make this judgment while I do not). I gave up arguing after awhile.
We got back to his place and we were sitting on his balcony having a glass of wine. He points across the way to a girl sitting on her balcony smoking a cigarette and says he is going to move in with her. He doesn't know her but they have a mutual friend and he needs to save money on rent. (Am I crazy to be irritated that my boyfriend of five months is moving in with another chick without even mentioning it to me before signing a lease?! I mean I think I'm among the coolest girlfriends ever, but even I have limits.)
After springing this on me, I was a little quiet and Lolo asked me the dreaded question, "What are you thinking?" Ugh I HATE that question! It doesn't seem sensitive to me; it just seems invasive. Ask me something more specific, like, "What do you think about me rooming with a random woman?" So I told him what was occupying one little part of my brain to change the subject. And what I told him was that I am restless, that I want to go somewhere but I don't know where. I told him that one day I almost packed a suitcase and left, but then I couldn't think of anywhere I wanted to go alone, and I also had to be back in a few days anyway since I had promised to housesit for my aunt. His reaction was to chastise me for not following my gut, and we bickered for awhile about whether I was being justified in postponing my adventuring for a few weeks or not.
At some point I stopped talking and stared straight ahead while he droned. When he finally stopped, I said, "Sometimes when we talk I feel like you are lecturing me. You know there is a difference between saying, 'I don't agree,' and saying, 'You're wrong,' don't you?" And then I started crying. At first it was the heavy silent tears rolling down my cheeks. I hate crying in front of people, especially boys, and I was trying to hide it. As soon as he noticed, though, it got worse. I went inside to try to hide in the bathroom for a few minutes, but he convinced me to come out and sit on the couch with him and he held me as he admitted he was wrong to talk to me like that and apologized. He told me to cut him off whenever he did that. He was really sweet for a little while.
Exhibit B: Yesterday I asked him, "So what did you do today? Did you just get ready for your interview?" and he shot back, "Ever. No. I sat and stared at a wall all day. Why do you always ask me what I do during the days? You know I'm an economist. I read all day. That's all I ever do. And I have economist friends that I talk to about what I read. It pisses me off that you always ask what I did during the day when I do the same thing every day." And then he spent a good period of time telling me I am wasting my life because I'm not taking scuba diving lessons or golf lessons or something this summer (zero interest in either one).
Exhibit C: Today he had an interview. I know he is superstitious about talking about his interviews, so I just asked, "Did you have your interview this morning?" I didn't even ask how it went. And he replied, "I DO NOT want to talk about it, Ever. You know that, why do you always ask me? I'm going to start lying about those things." He also asked me what I did at the gym today and when I told him about my 40 minutes of cardio followed by weights he told me that it was all useless because I don't have a heart rate monitor and so probably I didn't do it right. These two topics of conversation occupied like...an hour long phone call.
Ugh. I can't tell if he is going through some sort of a male PMS period that will pass or what. He has an appointment with his shrink tomorrow; maybe that will make him nicer. And to be fair, he did say he responds well to criticism (actually he said, "So tell me to shut up when I start doing that.") It's just not really in my nature to ask people not to express themselves, even if what they are saying bothers me. Free speech and all. I'm a little on the too-passive side when it comes to these things.
I know that the long and short of it is I need to break up with him. But I honestly tried once and he talked me out of it. (We are seriously over-educated.) I told him that I didn't have strong feelings for him and that I didn't know if it was a good idea or even worth it to keep trying to make things work, especially given the uncertainty of his immediate future. He begged me to give it a little more time, looked all devastated and everything. I gave in.
Because of his job situation I kind of had thought he would have moved by now and fate could decide these things for us. Instead he is just unemployed and bitchy and not going anywhere anytime soon. I still have not discovered a topic about which we can agree I might know a little more, or about which I may have a valid opinion that is different from his. Really, it's exhausting.
Part of me is tempted to let it be until August, when school will distract me again. I'm worried that if I end it now I will be pitiful for the rest of the summer, and maybe bored and sexually frustrated enough to call him now and then and make the situation even worse. Lolo is not a bad person; we're just not for each other. And I only have like three friends here, so I hate to alienate one of them (and by extension my whole little Colombian community), especially when summer is making me vulnerable.
Help.
Cultural Learnings Part 2: Geographical Learnings
Before you read this, you must know one thing. My children actually did BETTER on their maps than my college students ever did. It's amazing how many high-school-graduated adults there are in the world that actually believe Spain is a state in Mexico.
Funny shit: 1) She liked the music (especially Tupac!! :-)) Ugh of course. 2) The message of Chacarron by el Chombo (see video below...and no, he is not saying anything that makes any sense in any language) is, "don't do drugs." 3) This chiclet drew in Texas and California as, "Spanish-speaking countries." 4) She included Portugal (you know, where they speak Portuguese) as a, "Spanish-speaking country." 5) And the best part of the whole thing is her disclaimer, "I mean there are people that SPEAK Spanish in Greenland...and Ireland," with the subsequent footnote, "*looks up and tries to imagine irish accent speaking Spanish*." I mean...you can't make this stuff up. Or at least I can't.
Ha! So do the repubs.
Ok this one is actually pretty impressive, if you overlook the misplacement of Nicaragua. Several things crack me up, anyway. 1) The labeling of the US as, "Kinda" a Spanish-speaking country. 2) His learning that "empanadas are hispanic food, Ps. I ate one last night." Bravo. 3) He asks for more songs by Fanny Lu (Hilarious Fanny Lu side note: My students asked me one day, "Ms. Saved. Did you cut your hair just so it would look like Fanny Lu's?" Answer: Uh, no.) He loves Fanny Lu. Wanna know why?
Ok so I could forgive the creative spelling of, "Arginta." I could even maybe kind of forgive labeling Brazil as a, "Spanish-speaking country" since half my students made the same mistake. But how did the, "Domican Republic" make it all the way to the Arctic Circle, huh!?
*Sigh* Remember the previous Cinco de mayo incident? Well, it repeats itself on this child of the tribe's final exam. Regarding the maps, he gives the disclaimer, "these are all guesses...so im not really that stupid" with the addendum, "except Mexico and USA."
Funny shit: 1) She liked the music (especially Tupac!! :-)) Ugh of course. 2) The message of Chacarron by el Chombo (see video below...and no, he is not saying anything that makes any sense in any language) is, "don't do drugs." 3) This chiclet drew in Texas and California as, "Spanish-speaking countries." 4) She included Portugal (you know, where they speak Portuguese) as a, "Spanish-speaking country." 5) And the best part of the whole thing is her disclaimer, "I mean there are people that SPEAK Spanish in Greenland...and Ireland," with the subsequent footnote, "*looks up and tries to imagine irish accent speaking Spanish*." I mean...you can't make this stuff up. Or at least I can't.
Ha! So do the repubs.
Ok this one is actually pretty impressive, if you overlook the misplacement of Nicaragua. Several things crack me up, anyway. 1) The labeling of the US as, "Kinda" a Spanish-speaking country. 2) His learning that "empanadas are hispanic food, Ps. I ate one last night." Bravo. 3) He asks for more songs by Fanny Lu (Hilarious Fanny Lu side note: My students asked me one day, "Ms. Saved. Did you cut your hair just so it would look like Fanny Lu's?" Answer: Uh, no.) He loves Fanny Lu. Wanna know why?
Ok so I could forgive the creative spelling of, "Arginta." I could even maybe kind of forgive labeling Brazil as a, "Spanish-speaking country" since half my students made the same mistake. But how did the, "Domican Republic" make it all the way to the Arctic Circle, huh!?
*Sigh* Remember the previous Cinco de mayo incident? Well, it repeats itself on this child of the tribe's final exam. Regarding the maps, he gives the disclaimer, "these are all guesses...so im not really that stupid" with the addendum, "except Mexico and USA."
A Children's Treasury of Hilarious Almost-Forgotten Student Artistry
Assignment: Invent and Advertise a new business:
For the goyim out there, hamentaschen are a delicious cookie, usually filled with jam and spices, eaten around Purim. Translation of the above sign: Welcome ..to.. HAMENTASHERY! It's delicious! Hello! I call myself Hamantaschen!
Tranlation: "Open" 24 hours! *Dietery*
Box 1: Before... I am (what does semano mean??) and not happy
After...I am strong and happy.
Please notice the buck teeth and six pack on the "After" model. Also, check out the caption under the 100mg Steroid pill (hint: it says, "actual size.")
Box 2: Before...I am fat and hunger (yes, it says hunger).
After...I am skinny and very happy.
Notice how the astonishing effects in the second box are accomplished: they literally burn the fat right off you! Yay!
For the goyim out there, hamentaschen are a delicious cookie, usually filled with jam and spices, eaten around Purim. Translation of the above sign: Welcome ..to.. HAMENTASHERY! It's delicious! Hello! I call myself Hamantaschen!
Tranlation: "Open" 24 hours! *Dietery*
Box 1: Before... I am (what does semano mean??) and not happy
After...I am strong and happy.
Please notice the buck teeth and six pack on the "After" model. Also, check out the caption under the 100mg Steroid pill (hint: it says, "actual size.")
Box 2: Before...I am fat and hunger (yes, it says hunger).
After...I am skinny and very happy.
Notice how the astonishing effects in the second box are accomplished: they literally burn the fat right off you! Yay!
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