Creamies

One word: addicted.

Um...while we were in Utah, mi familia consumed 74 of these babies in 5 days. By the time we returned to Arizona, we had an unquenchable hankerin' for more. I took a quick trip over to Walmart to purchase a family-sized box, but that turned out to be a no-can-do-Shamu. The next day I went to Costco, and they only had Skinny Cows. Bluck.

Today I called the Creamie headquarters and asked them to direct me to the closest Creamie fix, and they said, "You'll have to drive back to Utah!"

They don't carry them in Arizona!!! Can you believe this situation? Dire. Dire. Dire. That's why I'm asking you to demand that Fry's fill their freezers with Creamies. Talk to the manager and tell them you know a gal who needs them in a BIG way.

Banana is my favorite flavor; what's yours?

Falsies

This morning I told mi Amor that my New Year's resolution is to become more selfish. He said, "You'd better check yourself, before you wreck yourself." I said, "Too late. Damage done." (J/K)

My REAL new year's resolution is to play the piano like Beethoven by year's end. OK, I will be happy if I can make it through 20 songs from the primary Children's Songbook. Last night during FHE I even tried accompanying my homies in singing "Families Can Be Together Forever." I made it through the first three measures, but then one of my homies said, "It sounds better with just our voices only." The truth hurts like stubbing a toe a 3 A.M. in the morning. (That happened to me this morning on my way to the ladies' room, FYI.)

Did you know that I ask mi Amor for another baby everyday? I think about having another one about 500 times a day. I think I have a disorder. Why would I want a baby anyway? My eggs are way too OLD, old, Old...We used to tell my littlest brother that he was an old egg, just to get under his skin. But mi madre always says she couldn't imagine life without him, me either. What if I have an old egg waiting in heaven for me?

P.S. I just got false eyelashes put on, and that bit of news was the REAL reason for this post. Mi Amor says he loves them, and that little compliment only encourages me to keep them on for the rest of my life. If I see you in the meat department at Bashas' today, I will flutter my lashes for you.

Update

I've missed you so...

This year for Halloween I bought myself a costume and dressed up like a sailor gal. Someone at the ward party said that I was wearing a kid's costume, and I told them not to worry about it and that the church is still true. Then I asked if they wanted a bite of the diarrhea chili I was eating, and they said no thanks. (It was the chili I made, so I could say that.)

My homies were elated that I showed some Halloween spirit, so I think I'll make it a tradition to dress up every year, even if the costume happens to be child-sized.

In other news...My homegurl is trying out for cheer, and I'm bit-my-fingernails-to-the-nub nervous about it. I already contacted the school cheer coach and offered to be her assistant. She hasn't e-mailed me back--embarrassing, I know. It was presumptuous of me since my homgurl hasn't even made the squad. I think I have ants in my pants, and this may be my biggest flaw.

Actually, I have a bigger flaw, namely impulsiveness. That's why there's this picture of me doing the splits on the tractor. What is wrong with me?

I hope you have a good day tomorrow. I will be subbing in math at the jr. high. I'm going to tell the kids that if they're good, I will sing them a solo. Lady Gaga, MJ, Jay-Z, Alicia Keys, I can do them all:)

Mrs. Suzuki

I subbed in the same 4th grade class for three days in a row. By day three, I may have lost my cool a few times (maybe 10 times more than a few, to be honest). While I was explaining to the students how to form a strong hypothesis, from the corner front of the room, Big Frank (BF) stood up from his chair and began switching off and on the photo projector I was using to explain that day's science experiment.

Prior to this, BF had caused me some major grief. He threw paper balls at his study partner's head, "accidentally" slapped a half-blind boy on the knee, and disrupted my lectures with his nonsensical remarks. In my heart, though, I kind of loved Frank. I loved him because I knew he's the kind of boy who needed the extra love.

But my love is not patient, and so, I stopped my lecture and loudly clapped my hands three times. Then I said, "Outta here, Frank!" pointing to the classroom door. He immediately burst into hysteria, slammed his rear in his seat, and began sobbing with his head buried in the palms of his hands. The whole class waited in silence as I walked over to BF and said, "It breaks my heart to send you away, but you have shown disrespect to me, and to this entire class."

OK, you're going to hate me for what I did next.

I continued, "BF, I'm going to give you one more chance. (One more chance! Can you believe I gave him another chance?) "Will you show respect for me and the rest of the class?"

"Yes," he said, wiping his booger nose.

Do you think BF was good for the rest of class? No, he wasn't, FYI. But sometimes, when you're at the end of your rope, another student will rescue you by leaving a little note on your desk. The above mentioned pep talk is what got me through my last three hours with BF. My favorite sentence in the note is, "She was able to deal with us telling her what to do again and again." It's true. They helped me again and again, and I tried to do it all the right way.

Subbing Like a Crazy Lady

As the title of this post suggests, I've been subbing a lot lately. A LOT. Too much, I think. Did I mention substitute teaching is like reliving my first day on the job, from you know where, over and over again?

I just wish I were better with getting the sub key to unlock the door to the bathroom, the door to the classroom, and the door to the insane asylum, because behind that last door is where I might end up tomorrow afternoon. Pray for me.

P.S. I really love teaching Special Education. It's my favorite so far, and I'm thinking of getting my Master's in that area instead of Language Arts.

My least favorite class to teach: 6th graders. If I hear the girls gush about Justin Bieber one more time, I might lose it. Is he even a boy?

Work It, Girl!

So...my homegurl is running for Choir Council today, and I'm here praying my brains out that she doesn't botch her speech (so nerve wracking). I had her bring Edward and Jacob along for a little help, just in case there was any question who should be this year's choir president/party planner. Here's the speech she wrote, and I think it's pretty respectable, if I do say so myself.

Hi, my name is Hannah, and I am running for this year’s Choir Council. Some of you may have seen the movie Eclipse. You may be Team Edward, and some of you may be team Jacob, but the only team I am on is Team Greenfield Junior High School Choir! I want to be in Choir Council for these three reasons:

1. I love to plan fun activities! As a member of the Choir Council, I will help plan parties that will be memorable and a blast for everyone!

2. I love working with other people. When you work together as a team, better and more creative ideas can be created.

3. But most importantly, I will work hard to make your year in choir the best one yet!

So remember to vote for me, and together we'll make this year ROCK!

P.S. She handed out Pop Rocks to seal the deal.

P.P.S. Go get your own Jacob and Edward for 97 cents at Last Chance in Phoenix.

Does Hannah's speech remind you of Summer's speech in Napoleon Dynamite? Just wondering.

Brunette Bombshell?

So, I went to the dark side--so Darth V. of me, I know. Here's the thing: I have a bald patch in the back of my head due to non-stop bleaching and years of Sun-In streaking. (Did you ever use Sun-In? Did you, huh? That's the WORST lightening product on earth, FYI, and 7th grade in the girls locker room was the last time I sprayed that junk in my hair.) Anyhoo, my hair dresser Kim J. told me that the only way I could get my locks looking like Angelina J's is by using a semi-permanent, non-peroxide hair color, hence, the darker shade of hair.

I like my new dark hair, but one of my homies hates it worse than no Sponge Bob on Sundays. He said, "I don't know you anymore; you're not even my mom." To this I replied, "I'm still your mom, even with this hair." Then he began crying, and I scooped him up and gave him a big smooch on his forehead. And then he said, "Now you're my mom again." Kisses solve everything, don't they?

P.S. Of course I can never have Photo Booth all to myself. As soon as I snapped the above picture, my homies crowded into my photo shoot and hogged all my glory. Payback is the worst.