Why Angry People Should Stick to Home Exercise

“You f*cking b*tch!” The blond chick with the chunky red highlights ignores me, so I add a curt “I hate you!” under my breath. Of course, she doesn’t respond to this either.  Why?  Well, she can’t hear me.  She’s on TV, and even though I’ve already done the “last eight” of my bun-toning squats, she…

Who Knew a Hula Hoop Could Get You Fired?

Well folks, I still haven’t heard from Date #7 (and seeing as we’re supposed to be meeting for the first time on Friday afternoon and spending the entire weekend together, this is kind of a big deal).  Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be tempted to smash my cell phone against the wall and swear off men…

Gettin’ Crafty

Amazing what a morning off and a mocha chai latte can do for one’s mental state.  I am feeling better.  Zen even, despite the fact that I have my first official photo shoot this morning, a dress rehearsal for two of my classes this evening and just a few days left to come up with…

Tchaikovsky Bites Again

After listing my reasons for purchasing an economy sized-nutcracker for my preschoolers earlier this week you’d think that I’d be particularly careful with the linchpin of my Tchaikovsky lesson plans.  You’d also think that think that after dating seventeen different men I’d have someone other than my mother offering to take me to The Nutcracker…

Tis the (Nutcracker) Season

I’ve spent the past half hour brushing, braiding, bobby pinning and—last but not least—bedazzling the rather matted mane of my American Girl doll.  Why?  Because tomorrow I’ll be introducing my preschool students to the work of Tchaikovsky and nothing says “Nutcracker” like a bedazzled American Girl doll. In truth, my handiwork is really just a…

(Dis)illusions of Grandeur

Author’s proofs suck.  It’s not enough that you’ve already spent months researching and writing your piece, and that you’ve responded to all of the editor’s queries or that you’ve wasted an entire week trying to track down the reference for a book you read nearly three years ago.  No.  Now that the editor has slashed…

The Conversation

After the art gallery, the bowling alley, the sports bar and a few days in between to recover from my marathon five-hour date with the Man from Marshalls, I finally found the courage to mention my blog.  The ensuing conversation included the “f” word.  Shall I explain? We decided to meet for a coffee.  On…