I Will Flout Your Convention with Ice Cream Cake

Do you read this blog? Yes, you do. You're reading it now. Plus, I know you do because I have cameras in your home. Fancy spy cameras. You know who's funny? Sean Cullen. He makes my love-hate relationship with the CBC into more of a love-love-hate relationship. Actually, it's more of a love-love-make-fun-of-the-excessive-importance-it-places-on-organic-composting relationship. Speaking of which, I'm marrying Roxanne this weekend.

Roxanne will also be marrying me, simultaneously. We're just that coordinated. It's kind of like the birth of twins, except one doesn't come out before the other because the evil twin has latched onto the good twin, probably with grappling hooks, Fisher Price brand prenatal grappling hooks. Yes, that's it.

People keep asking me: "So, are you nervous/stressed out about the wedding." To which I reply, "I'm sorry, do I know you?" Usually this is followed by: "Yes, I'm in the bridal party" or "Yes, I gave birth to you." Yeah, sure, the DNA investigation was inconclusive. By the way, everyone at the wedding will be fingerprinted. We have solar-powered lawn gnomes that we don't want to go missing. Wait, that last sentence is only half true, the first half.

Actually, I'm not nervous or stressed. How hard can it be to pick up 114 Happy Meals and drive down to city hall? I give it 20 minutes, tops. The ceremony, not the marriage, that is. In a way the marriage has already lasted almost 3 years. I mean, this isn't really a big step for us. It's more of a legally binding/public declaration step. We've already agreed we'd spend our lives together, which, to my mind, is a moral contract, and that's more important than a legal contract. The latter is an extension of the former, not vice versa. So, the wedding really ends up being more of an excuse to get together all of your family and friends, except for Sarah Waters who is going to the Pemberton Festival. I know, everyone has priorities, but it's not our fault that Jay-Z refused to be our flower girl. He said: "I've got 99 problems, but the graceful and equidistant dispersion of flower petals ain't one."

For the people who do come, though, it will be fine. My theory is that if sufficient alcohol is provided, no one will remember the other details, like how Stephen Hawking beat me in a dance-off or how I accidentally peed on your chair. Actually, it will be more than fine. There will be many people whom I haven't seen in a long time. I might even talk to some of them. In fact, I think I promised Roxanne I would. This happened after she pointed out that although a slack-jawed blank stare is a hilarious response to any question or greeting, it's only hilarious to me, and not to the person who is trying to talk to me. In all seriousness, though, it will be an transcendentally enjoyable affair, even though Roxanne wouldn't let me get a cake with the Saudi Arabian flag on it.

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On the Tastiness of Holy Poultry

The current moon phase, if I were to look at it and understand it more than not at all, might tell me that I have not posted here in nigh onto 3 months. On the other, non-lunar hand, I could just check the date of the last post. *Awkward silence while I struggle with simple math* Yes, it's true! You've been Plankton-free for six fortnights, and how brilliantly your teeth shine for it!

These forty days and forty nights, and forty more days and nights, and then just ten more tiny little extra days and nights, have seen many things afoot, and subsequently underfoot, squished like the irrelevant detritus that they are. Yes, they've been packed like some sort of small, salty fish in an appropriately cramped receptacle. One such thing is that I finished my practicum on May 9th. The second half was a lot more difficult than the first. This was because the third class that I took on had a flock of ne'er-do-wells, and they ne'er did any well. Still, I finished the practicum with appropriately airborne colours. That was May 9th. I was hired by the district up here at the end of May, and I've been doing a lot of substitute teaching since. I've taught about 9 days so far. Given that I was trained in high school English, it makes perfect sense that I've mostly been teaching Elementary French Immersion. But that's what they need, and I've been having a lot of fun doing it. It's really nice to get my foot in the door before summer, and to get my hands dirty, too. (Editor's note: Skip the next paragraph.)

Wait, what's going on? How can I have a foot and two hands through the door? Am I balancing on my other leg? Isn't it getting tired? And how did my hands get dirty so fast? What kind of a door has a pile of garbage directly behind it? They warned me about the physical conundrums that can arise from mixing metaphors, but no, I didn't heed them; I just yelled: "That's how the cookie crumbles when you're up the creek without a paddle! Enjoy your soggy cookies, suckers!" Now I see that I was wrong; I am the one stuck between a rock and a ... snowball in hell, and it's all rocky and ... melting.

OK, I’m glad you skipped that last paragraph; you're better for it. Let’s see, so, yeah, we’ve got most of our stuff ready for the wedding. We’re going to have Hutterite turkeys on the menu, among other things. I’m excited about this because there’s nothing better than eating poultry that has strong moral values. Some of those are bound to transfer into me, right? There must be some kind of gastrointestinal, ethical osmosis. It’s really the only chance I’ve got. Hmmm, yeah, well, imminent damnation aside, things are quite copacetic up here. We even went on a little trip to see some bands play. Rock was going to write about that, though, and I don’t want to steal her Thumper. Bambi would probably get upset, too, and I don't want to give that poor little guy a hard time. He's been through a lot. The trip was nice, though, and I've been sailing happily since then, like a peanut butter catamaran on a ... sea of toasty goodness.

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The Ongoing Goes Go Go

When I started my practicum 6 weeks ago, I was a little bit apprehensive. Well, maybe not apprehensive, but maybe a little daunted. I told myself that I should just buckle down (and buckle up, too, for safety) and make it to spring break, and then I'd be fine. Well, spring break started today, and everything has been peachy keen dreamy, with cheese. I thought I would enjoy it, but it is actually even more fun than I thought it would be. The time I spend in the classroom is more or less a blast: I joke around with kids and give them nicknames and try not to scar them for life. The hard part is the planning, the unit preparation and lesson planning, etc. This I am not so good at. It seems like I've been up 'til midnightish about 2-3 times a week recently, just because things take longer than I think they will. But I think this is normal for a newb. When I get more experience under my lapel, I mean ... collar? Some kind of a fastening device anyway. When I get more experience under my cuff, then it will all come more easily. I was much relieved the other day when one of the socials teachers lent me two huge binders that basically have everything I need to plan for the English Civil Way and The French Revolution, which are the units I will be teaching in SS9 after spring break. That guy is cool. He has a sleeve tattoo with all the characters from Where the Wild Things Are on it. So, yeah, it's all going well. 7 more weeks of teaching after spring break, and then I'll be a (paid) teacher (hopefully)! It's nice to be getting my feet wet (not cold, mind you). I get along quite well with all of the staff and kids, as far as I can tell. Some of them even throw friendship eggs at my car--thanks guys!

P.S. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention a happy event with one kid. I have an unnamed student in an unnamed class. He is a bit of a handful because he has ADHD--not borderline ADHD, he's actually been diagnosed. He's a nice kid, he really wants me and Mr. K to like him, and he tries to behave well, but he's still disruptive. He can't focus on his work much without 1-on-1 help, so he doesn't get much done in class. We keep him in at lunch sometimes to work in a distraction-free environment, and we works really hard then. Anyway, we had our first report cards the other week, and he was at a B level. This was a coup. I went to find him in the schoolyard to tell him a day early, and he was really happy. He said: "I've never gotten a B before, my mom will be so proud."

This is why I'm in teaching.

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One week down, twelve to go--and they will go happily, judging by the first week, which was quite a good little lotta bit of fun. My anxiety has been ousted, as expected. I wasn't teaching per se last week; that will begin next Tuesday. I was basically just getting comfortable with the class (better, the class was getting comfortable with me) and helping out and assisting, etc. Good news: the kids like me. And why shouldn't they? I am "mellow" (this said by a 13-year-old with ADHD, true story). The main thing I've been doing is trying to make connections with the kids, buidling relationships and all that. This is good, because that's really what I like the most about teaching. I've memorized the names of all the kids in Socials 9 and English 8, but I'm still missing some in English 10, because the seating/taking of attendance is a bit less organized. Did I mention I have keys and a security code? Jay and Jenn and I are thinking of going to play dodgeball at night sometime. Why? Because we can (maybe).

I like all 3 classes, but English 8 is my favourite, somewhat to my surprise. This is so because my sponsor teacher in that class is really quite ingenious at building a good class dynamic. Mostly he does this through humour, and I've helped by being his straight man this week ("Everybody looks at Mr. Henderson's beard, now look at the overhead"). I was also fortunate that they gave me/us the English 8 class with most of the "good" kids in it. I was talking to the other English 8 teacher and he said he has about 10 of the "bad" boys in his class. To this I replied: "I am sorry and happy to hear that." And this was a sensible thought, he agreed. So, yeah, the practicum has started well and I think it will all be manageable, if not perfect, and the growth will continue, like that of a hippo and his surrogate mother-father tortoise.

P.S. I am much the happy that Lost is back on!
P.P.S. The Canucks have begun the comeback streak that will have them finish with a 2nd consecutive Northwest Division championship (To Kryce and other Leaf fans, a Division championship is the thing given to the team that finishes first in its division).
P.P.P.S. Jay and I are only about 80 (out of 1050) headshots away from getting the golden AK-47 in COD4. Yes, it's true. This is a weird and somewhat disturbing quest, but I'm OK with that.

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Just before I woke up I had a dream about a scuba diver who had to float around in the Artic Sea or some such place and cut icebergs with a chainsaw. A Great White Shark bit him and he had to fend it off with the chainsaw. Yes, I know there are no Great Whites in the Arctic, but my subconscious doesn't. It wasn't me in the dream, though, so it wasn't a bad dream. As Oscar Wilde says: "Arctic shark attacks are much funnier when they happen to other people." I am now 84th in our pool, thanks is large part to Nicklas Backstrom's--no, not Niklas Backstrom, Nicklas Backstrom!--8 assists in the last 2 games. Now, if only Maxim Afinogenov wasn't so terrible. But alas, terrible he is and terrible he will remain.

Today is weird: it's a full moon, Mom will arrive in Argentina, the Oscar nominees have been announced, and we'll maybe find out how 'official' the prospect of an American recession is (they had no trading yesterday because it was Lex Luther day. Sorry, I mean, Lex Luther Jr.). Normally I'm a lukewarm milktoast waffler about the Oscars, but this year there are some movies I really like in it. Juno and No Country for Old Men are both up for best picture. As much as I love Juno, I like No Country more. I hope Ellen Page wins for best actress, though; that would be an excellent coup ("Juno, like the city in Alaska" ... "No."). Javier Bardem has to has to win for best supporting actor, if for no other reason than that all the voters are afraid of the character he played. I also hope No Country wins for best director(s) and best cinematography. The other three up for best picture are Atonement, There Will Be Blood and Michael Clayton. I don't know what the last one is about. George Clooney is in it. I think he's like ... a teacher in an inner-city ghetto, and he coaches a basketball team ... and they go on to become national champions at Dance Dance Revolution. I want to see the other two still, There Will Be Blood is just fun to say. Use a deep, raspy voice, like you're possessed--but don't actually get possessed, that will lose you major style points. I have mixed feelings about Atonement: on one hand, it's one of my top three favourite novels and Ian McEwan (the author) had some significant amount of writing input on the film; on the other hand, I think more than the usual amount will be lost in the translation. Much of what is thematically profound in the novel depends on ... the written word and a blurring of fiction/reality that I don't think can translate to film very well. Hmmm. Well, I guess I'd have to see it to know if it is or isn't worked out.

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Can't we just like kick this old school. You know, like I stick the baby in a basket, send it your way, like Moses and the reeds?

Oh, hi, look, I'm alive. Welcome to two aught aught eight. Is that how you spell "aught"? I don't know, I'm writing in WordPad and it is spellcheckerless. For all I know, "spellcheckerless" might not even be a word, although I'm pretty sure it is. Hey, remember when ... holidays and stuff? Yeah, neat, huh? My mom donated a goat to a family in Africa on my behalf. I don't remember what country, maybe Togo. Maybe it's a Togolese goat now. Or maybe I just wanted to write "Togolese" because I don't think I've ever written it before--try it; it's fun, especially the 'ogo' part. Ogo ... ogo ... ... ... ogo. I wonder if it has a name now, and if the kids in the family pet it or stick things in its ears. That's probably not safe. Don't do that kids. Goats need to hear too. I also got some sweaters. My whole sweater hierarchy has been thrown into disorder. My formerly favourite sweater is all the way down to the number three spot. Oh, how very comfortable I am. Dress your family in corduroy and denim. Or at least corduroy and wool. Hey Kelly, McSweeney's was referenced in Juno, which is a special movie, by the way. It has the humour of Judd Apatow & co., but it's smarter and more moving. I teared up at the end. I mean, more than usual. You should see it. In other ... ogo ... I saw the Canucks play the Coyotes down in Vancouver last week with dad. It was fun to go, but we had bad luck because it was literally the first home game that Luongo has not started in the year-and-a-half he's been a Canuck. What are the odds? Probably something like 1 in 60, but I don't think odds go that high. Ogo. Yeah, err, umm, so I start my practicum in Febs. I are excited. It is now basically decided that I'll be teaching English 8, Social Studies 9 and .. English 10. Luckily I've been keeping up with my teenage popular culture for the last ... well, 15 years. Recently I've done this by playing Super Mario Galaxy and RockBand--whee! Whenever I play SMG I think, "this would be such a great game for kids" and then I think "wait, I'm not a kid" but then the bright shiny things start flashing again and I get distracted. Wait, what are we talking about? Oh, neat.

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I completely finished my shopping yesterday. This is the earliest I have finished since I started buying for people outside of my immediate family. Usually by this time the number of gifts that I have purchased is approximately zero. In celebration I played with the cats and a big crinkly shopping bag until Mookie puked, puke that was quickly licked by Riley. (At least he knows what he wants.) This year's capitalistic expedition was successful, as the case tends to be when things are given the appropriate amount of time rather than rushed. That's right, no one will get anything from 7-Eleven. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that my gift selection was sub-par, maybe even average! It is fortuitous that I have reached my gift-buying acme this year because next Christmas and all the Christmases after that I will be married, and Roxanne likes to throw "holiday bricks" through peoples' windows, instead of giving them presents. It's the thought that counts, I guess.

I am really looking forward to the rest of the holidays. The last two Christmases I've been preoccupied with traveling or impending joblessness, and although they were still good, this year, I think, will be even better.

Speaking of awesomeness, I have recently been "pimping out" my car. This with the help of rap star Xzibit, who is apparently now a homeless white man with Tourette's syndrome. Some people think that chrome rims are better than plastic hubcaps and "paint" looks nicer than rust, but that's too fancy pants for me. My style is a bit subtler. For example, I taped a piece of paper by automatic trunk lock button (yeah, I know, thanks) so that I can remember which position means it's locked, and which means it's unlocked. Now people can't open it and steal my ... umm ... flashlight? Also, I got new windshield wipers, front and back. Yeah. And I replaced all four of my side marker lights, even though only 3 were out--that's just how I roll. (Actually, I accidentally replaced the one that wasn't burnt out, but never mind that.) I got a new headlight bulb too. No perdiddle for me. I even had my oil changed and I got a new air filter. Even though they couldn't see it, I could tell that people liked it because they honked at me as I was stalled in the middle of the intersection. With all these improvements my $700 car is now worth like ... $715. If I get a new steering wheel cover for Christmas (fingers crossed) that will just put it over the top; actually, that might be too much for anyone to handle.

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