They like me, they really, really like me. Or so she says. Hilary at Feeling Beachie, invited me back to be the Michael to her Kelly! I prefer to be Kelly (she has the better shoes) but Hilary has opened up her “home” on the super blogosphere highway, so I will let her wear the cute shoes and I will don my Brooks Brother’s pinstripe and sensible shoes.
Who am I kidding? I can’t afford Brooks Brothers! It might come as a shock to you but being a substitute teacher in a Catholic School isn’t exactly a lucrative career choice. You pretty much do that job because, well, you lack good common sense and have a strange desire to take groups of 30 children to church. Truth be told, it’s actually easier to take 30 children than The Brothers. 30 kids don’t try to hang on me, beg for donuts or ask for computer games. They use that prayerful time to reflect on how they can make the substitute crazy when they return to class.
Speaking of crazy…at least I thought we were. I am a nano-second away from catching the train to crazy town. My train has no destination, you just go round and round on that track, just like under the Christmas tree. The ultimate definition of insanity. My best imitation of a hamster on a wheel. That hamster’s got nothing on me. And move over Thomas the Train, I’m coming down the tracks, or around the tracks actually.
Well, you could say I asked for this trip to crazy town. Why? I did something bad, very, very bad! What? You say, what could be that bad? I did the unspeakable…I TAUNTED THE MOVING GODS… AND THEN THE MOVING GODS (OR THEIR SPIES) WENT AND TOLD ON WHOEVER IS IN CHARGE THAT I WAS DOING BAD THINGS. What? What did I do? I BRAGGED! Yep, that’s right, you’re not seeing things! I went and bragged that I did not have to pack up all my belongings and move anywhere. So you guessed it, the very next day I get the call, YOU HAVE TO MOVE!!! I HAVE 60 DAYS TO FIND A NEW HOME, AND RE-PACK EVERYTHING I JUST UNPACKED. If I am not making any sense in the writing of this it is because I am NUMB! I don’t even know what number move this is at this point but I don’t think I can count that high. I can count to 8 though. Because that’s the number of months that we have lived in this current house.
Needless to say the amount of fun that I have on any given day should be illegal in 47 states. Like I said, this willy nilly, in your face lifestyle is just not for everyone. So it was only a matter of time before someone higher up lowered the boom, shut down the circus, made last call, turned on the lights and shut down the disco. Cause I don’t have to go home but I can’t stay here.
I wonder if my dear co-host would mind if we came and stayed with her. I think that’s what Kelly and Michael’s families do, right? Then we could come back next week and have witty host chat. Well, that is, if “Kelly” isn’t ramming her head into the rubber walls that I’m sure my family would drive her to.
On that note, I will leave “Kelly” to her peaceful abode and get on with the Friday fill-in fun!
P.S., Great shoes, Kelly!
The statements are:
1. My first car was a _____
2. My___ is so ____
3. I would drop everything to _____
4. I never tell people I once.____
Everything you wanted to know about me but were afraid I would tell you. In other words, my responses:
1. My first car was a 1988 Honda Civic with manual steering and a stick shift, which I didn’t know how to drive but it was all I could afford. Steep learning curve.
2. My brain is so so very numb. And when I resume feeling it is not going to be pretty because I can’t believe I HAVE TO MOVE AGAIN!!!
3. I would drop everything to watch someone else, anyone else, pack up my house and move it. To anywhere! I don’t care! I never want to see any of this crap again!
4. I never tell people I once considered myself a sane person. No one would believe it anyways.
Happy Friday, people! Have a drink on me, then get yourself over here and start packing! Crazy town is open for business.