Bwahahahahahaha

Woman Crashes When Teaching Dog to Drive

By Associated Press

Mon Aug 28, 8:13 AM

BEIJING - A woman in Hohhot, the capital of north China's Inner Mongolia region, crashed her car while giving her dog a driving lesson, the official Xinhua News Agency said Monday.

No injuries were reported although both vehicles were slightly damaged, it said.

The woman, identified only be her surname, Li, said her dog "was fond of crouching on the steering wheel and often watched her drive," according to Xinhua.

"She thought she would let the dog 'have a try' while she operated the accelerator and brake," the report said. "They did not make it far before crashing into an oncoming car."

Xinhua did not say what kind of dog or vehicles were involved but Li paid for repairs.



I don't have much to say about this except...

Another week of family vacation hell...

We're leaving tomorrow to go camping for the week. I'm sure there will be something hellishly worthy of writing about when we get back. You can get the stories of last year's family hell (and the year before, for that matter) in the August 2005 archives, if you so desire.


Anyway, the hellhole is still hell, I'm still without a phone call for a teaching job, and I spent the last 3 days fighting off a cold. Oh yeah, and I'm PMS'ing, due for the visit from Aunt Flo on Monday, much to the husband' s chagrine. No vacation sex for him I guess.


So I leave you with a fairly hilarious video I found on compfused. Since we're probably taking the kids to a water park during our grand family adventures, I found it appropriate.

Fun With Slides


Watch Video

The Chronicles of Hellhole: Day 4

It was a short night, thankfully, as my supervisor took mercy on me and let me go at about 1am (as opposed to 3:15, as is normal). As I was walking out, my previous supervisor, Kevin (you know, back when I wore a polo shirt and didn't break my nails) saw me coming and made a big gesture of looking at his watch. You see, the management is taking a lot of joy in ribbing me for being knocked back to being an hourly employee, and they throw out comments every chance they get. Aren't they sweet?

Kevin: [looking at watch] "Where do you think you're going?"
K: "Kevin, this right here is the beauty of being completely unimportant."
Kevin: "Well don't get used to it, lady. You'll be suffering with the rest of us soon enough."
K: "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind when I'm snug in my bed at 1:30."
Kevin: [smirks] "Eh, for $8.50, I guess you can have your early night this time."
K: "Yep. What time do you get out? 5 or so?"
Kevin: [smirk falls away] "More like 6."
K: "Well then I'll grab an extra pillow in your honor. 'Night Kevin!"

I ran out of there with glee. I'll take the small victories where I can, motherfuckers.

BJ's. Not that kind, pervert.

We were down to practically nothing in the way of food, so I piled the kids into the car and headed to BJ's Wholesale Club, home of cheap booze and 50 packs of fruit snacks. As you know, I've gone back to working nights, so I wasn't exactly bright and chipper as it was...I just wanted to run in, get what we needed, and run out. Youngest Child insisted on the cart with the big plastic race car attached to it, much to Middle Child's chagrine, as he is now too tall for such novelties. Middle Child let his displeasure be known with loud and mournful wailing as we headed inside, drawing stares from everyone around us. Great. I made a mental note to NOT forget the 24 pack of Mike's that was singing to me from aisle 21a.

I stopped at the deli for a couple of pounds of Land 'o Lakes American for my growing brood. As I waited, I noticed a nice enough older guy manning one of the sample stations, so I was rather stunned when I heard the words "Fat bitch" come from his direction in a low and gutteral tone.

I spun around, ready to kick the guy in the nuts, when I noticed he wasn't facing my direction. In fact, he was busily folding napkins like nothing had been said at all. I started doubting myself...perhaps sleep deprivation was seriously taking its toll...but then I heard him say it again.

"Fat...fucking...BITCH!"

This lady walking by, who happened to be fat, stopped in her tracks. One of the other sample slingers came running over.

SS: "Now Bucky...what did we talk about?"
Bucky: "Fat..."
SS: "Noooo...Bucky...we talked about being quiet at work."
Bucky: "Bitch...fat..."
SS: "Bucky...you don't want to go out back, do you?
Bucky: "No. Quiet. Ok."
SS: "Good. I'll be back in a little while. Fold some more napkins."
Bucky: "Faaa...ok. Napkins."

At this point, it was clear that the poor bastard probably had something like Tourette's Syndrome, so I grabbed the kids and started rounding the corner as quickly as I could, giving a polite smile to Bucky, who smiled back nicely enough. Just then, another lady walked by.

Bucky: "Fat...BITCH!"
Lady: "WELL I NEVER!"
Bucky: "Would you like a sample?"

I looked back, doubled over as I tried to hold in my hysterics, and saw what he was passing out.

Tourette's guy was peddling Twix samples. Welcome to the world of employment without bias.

As was inevitable, a group of little girls came running up for their candy. I had my mouth open to warn their mother, who was trailing behind, when Bucky started up again.

Bucky: "Fat bitches! FAT BITCHES!!!"

Needless to say, they grabbed their candy and ran back to their mother. Sample Slinger came running over again to calm Bucky and his involuntarily foul mouth. I'd seen enough, and started heading to aisle 21a for a case of Mommy's Happy Juice.

As we ran away, I could still hear Bucky.

Bucky: "Would you like a sample? FAT BITCH!!!!"

He was led away shortly thereafter. It was a nice segue into a talk with Oldest Child about people who are handicapped and how we should be tolerant and as nice to them as we can be, as they sometimes can't help their own behavior.

OC: "But Mommy...he was saying BAD WORDS!"
K: "Yeah, but he couldn't help it. He has Tourette's."
OC: "So Mommy...do you have that too?"
K: "Keep walking, smart guy, or I'm putting the fruit snacks back."

The Chronicles of Hellhole: Days 1-3

Day 1:

I showed up at the hellhole for processing, and was put into a room with 6 guys who were also starting work on Monday. As is customary in any work environment that is dominated by men, I got some pretty odd looks and smirks, and even a few hushed comments that my brainy male counterparts figured I wouldn't be able to hear from 6 feet away.

Guy1: "They hire girls up in this bitch?"
Guy2: "Well, you know how dey roll now...equal opportunity an' shit."
K: "Yeah, they do hire girls up in this bitch."
Guy1 & Guy2: [stare]
K: "Girls have excellent hearing, I'm not sure you knew."
Guy2: "Well hey, good luck to you. I hear some of dem packages are heavy like a mothafucka. You lift dat shit?"
K: "Yeah, I can lift that shit. Don't worry."


Just then, the recruiter walked in.


Recruiter: "K! How ya been?"
K: "Oh, I'm fabulous. Thrilled to be here."
Recruiter: "You're like a bad penny!"
K: "I know, right? I'll try harder to stay lost next time, trust me."


Guy1 and Guy2 were amazed at this point.


Guy1: "You worked here befo'?"
K: "Yep. For a couple of years."
Guy2: "So you already know what goes on in 'dis place?"
K: "I used to train the new hires. So yeah, I have a good idea."
Guy1: "So...how is it? Is it hard?"
K: "I've seen 6 foot 5 bodybuilder types walk out of here crying. So yeah."
Guy1: "Fo' REAL?"
K: "Yep. For real. We had a guy lose a finger last year."
Guy1 & Guy2: [stare in horror]
K: "But don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine."


The human resources chick came in to escort us across the street to the main building, and she asked me if I'd mind giving the guys who had taken the bus a ride over, as she couldn't fit everyone into her car. I ended up with Guy1 & Guy2, of course, and they felt the need to pepper me with questions the whole time.


Guy1: "So, how come you work here?"
K: "I'm an unemployed teacher. I need the benefits."
Guy2: "A teacher? Fo' REAL?"
K: "Yes. For real. But I'm new, so I have to wait for a permanent job."
Guy2: "So, you been like to college an' shit?"
K: "Yup."
Guy1: "So why da FUCK you come back to a shithole like 'dis for $8.50 an hour?"
K: "Clearly, I'm retarded."
Guy1: "Word!"
K: "Indeed."


I bid my new friends adieu and headed into the coordinator's office, at which point I was told I'd be starting out as a supervisor, not as an hourly employee like I'd originally been told. Ok, whatever. I wasn't exactly properly attired, in my oversized t shirt and frayed jeans, but they still had me walk around my assigned area and introduce myself as the new supervisor. I even got to walk one of the conveyor belts at the end of the shift to check for stray packages. Exciting!



Day 2:

Coordinator: "So K, do you want the good news, or the bad news?"
K: "Oh for chrissake..."
Coordinator: "Bad news is that you have to be an hourly for a while."
K: [looks down at polo shirt and brand new khakis] "Ummmmm...."
Coordinator: "Good news is that I can get you promoted by the end of the month."
K: "Could you guys have called me and told me so I could have dressed down?"
Coordinator: "Oh, it's ok, I'll get you a t shirt."
K: "If it's one of those bright yellow safety shirts, I walk right now."
Coordinator: [laughs] "No, no, I'll get you a black one."
K: "Super."


I walked back up to my area, and started working, much to the confusion of the people to whom I'd introduced myself as a supervisor the night before. I got my brand new khakis all dirty too. Fuck.


Day 3

A normal night as a menial wage slave. Even though I had left the union at $10.50 per hour, I got knocked back down to $8.50. Pig fuckers. But whatever. It's only for a couple of weeks. I then found out that even though I'd gotten a raise just before I left the company, they are knocking my supervisor wages right back down to entry level. FUCKERS! God I hate this place.

Rat Bastards

Dear Dr. Fuckhead,

I have requested that the medical records of all three of my children be transferred to Dr. Not A. Fuckhead in SumOtherTown, USA. We are not moving, nor has our insurance changed. Frankly, we are incredibly sad and disappointed at the treatment that our family has received in recent months, and no, I am not referring to the medical kind.

My husband and I were both patients with Fuckhead Pediatrics from birth. He saw Dr. Assbite, and I saw you. We had always experienced wonderful, personalized care from your practice, so naturally we wanted our own children to be treated there. Over the years, we’ve seen your practice grow practically exponentially…a new office in SumOtherTownFord, a new doctor every time we turn around, 3 month waits for physicals…all of this we accepted, as we valued the care we were receiving.

Seemingly overnight, we started seeing new signs on the wall. Additional fees for appointments after 5pm, for example…a $5 fee for a single photocopy of a physical form. We gritted our teeth and told ourselves, “Times are changing, costs are rising. It’s ok, we’ve been patients there for years and we can roll with the punches.” We figured this is just the way it is, and as long as our children were receiving quality care, it was worth it.

Then my son, MiddleChild, had an appointment on March 22nd, 2006, for a routine physical. During this visit, I asked you about a rash he had on his arm…you suggested hydrocortisone and moisturizer for his dry skin. 30 seconds of a casual question and answer from my son’s doctor, and you felt the need to code the visit in such a way that my insurance company was billed $75 in ADDITION to the $130 that was coming out of my own pocket for the visit. I was extremely disturbed by this impression of “double dipping” and I called your billing department to ask about it. The attitude was that I wasn’t getting charged for it, so I shouldn’t worry about it. The billing department told me that they would talk to you and get back to me, which they never did.

The final straw came today when I called to make an appointment for my youngest son’s physical and was told that there was a hold on my account due to the fact that we hadn’t paid for my other son’s physicals as of yet. I was under the impression that the account was still being researched, and hadn’t cut a check because I was waiting for that phone call back. I had planned on cutting a check when I brought YoungestChild in for his physical, but wasn’t even allowed to make an appointment.

We are not deadbeats. We have been loyal patients for over 30 years, and have never let our account go past due. I am absolutely horrified that I was coldly told that I had to contact billing before they could make my appointment.

Between exorbitant costs, your questionable billing practices, and the fact that the length of time that you spend on my sons’ visits seems to get shorter and shorter every year, we are moving on to a practice with only 3 doctors and a focus on personalized patient care. I am sad that it has come to this, but when it comes right down to it we are customers, and we are highly dissatisfied.

Since I have received no resolution from your billing department regarding the additional $75 charge, I have filed a grievance with ShitEatingInsuranceCompany. It is excessive and unnecessary charges such as this that add up and end up costing us when our ShitEatingInsuranceCompany premiums jump up 10-20% each year. I am extremely sad that such a wonderful and caring practice has turned into a mini-corporation based on the bottom line of a balance sheet instead of with family. Your priorities are all out of whack, and unless you want to become the fast-food version of the restaurant you once were, you’d better take a good hard look at what you’re doing and who you’re doing it to.

Perhaps you originally got into medicine to make a difference, but now you’re giving the impression of being in it for the bucks. If that’s the legacy you’re willing to leave behind, so be it.

Sincerely,

K & Family


P.S. Thank you for this last slap in the face of $15 + .50 per page for patient records. Haven’t you people soaked my insurance company for enough over the years? The whole thing makes me sicker by the minute.

The Chronicles of Hellhole

I am due to report tonight at 10:10 to process paperwork. I am not looking forward to it. I left thinking I would never see the inside of that place again, so I can't help but feel quite defeated right now.


I am required to come back as an hourly employee for a couple of weeks before being re-promoted to supervisor...some crap to do with the union I guess. So I'm back to slinging packages. Go me.


Stay tuned for the recap of day one. I fully expect it to be a shitty experience.

...and so it begins

The 11th hour phone calls from principals desperate for someone to fill in for the plethora of maternity leaves that plague the profession have started coming in...I expected this, as everyone new to a school system has to "do their time" as a substitute, but 1 month stints and weeks (sometimes months) of unemployment in between aren't really something I can do. I have a family, and I need health insurance, so anything less than 6-8 months at a time is just not do-able for me.

On the flip side, if I don't start getting out there and making myself known to the various principals in the city, I'll never get a permanent job. Fuck me.

Last week, I got a call from a principal in the ghetto for a 3 month sub job. Now, I have no problem working at an inner-city school...I actually prefer urban environments, and my own city is a very small step above "ghetto"...but I can get a short term gig here. I'm better off building relationship in this school system rather than foraying off into another where nobody knows me, so this one is a no-go. Moving on.

This morning, I got a call from a very nice woman that I've done some sub work for before. She has one job that would be for about a month, and another that would last until Thanksgiving. I really like this particular school, so I will definitely go on the interview, but the no-health-insurance problem persists. I'm already slated to start back at the hellhole Monday night, so I could do both, but of course I'll be setting myself up for yet another nervous breakdown with 70 hour weeks and very little sleep.

Fuck me. Again.

And then there's the issue of going back to school. I figure if I'm going to be forced to sling packages, I might as well soak the fuckers for all they're worth and take some classes, but I can't really take classes if there's a possibility that I might pick up a sub job during the school year. I could take an online program, but there are so few that are purely online, and the one I really want to take (a graduate certificate program for special education) is $1300 a class. Argh.

I need to somehow balance the needs of my family (not just for health insurance and income, but taking care of them as well), my career, and my own sanity without fucking the whole thing up by taking on too much (which I have a tendency to do). I feel like any decision I make could possibly end up screwing me over.

Somebody please tell me what to do. I need an omniscient being to come down and set me on the right path. Or Mistress Cleo. Either way.

Reflection

I took a graduate course for teaching writing in the primary grades this week, and our first assignment was to reflect on either our first year of teaching or the reason we became teachers in the first place. I had such a bad first year that I really didn't want to write about it, but we took a vote and majority ruled. The worst part was that the instructor was going to reproduce them and pass every single story back to each of us in a book.

Writing it was really emotional for me, and I was incredibly uncomfortable sharing my feelings with 37 strangers, but I found that putting it down on paper helped me to work through some of it. I had to be vague in the details, as I don't know who knows who in this town, and I didn't want to point fingers or name names for obvious reasons, but it was still quite therapeutic.

As you know, I've been struggling with my decision to become a teacher, and trying to figure out if I should stick with it or take some time off to explore other paths. This class got me excited to get back into a classroom, but at the same time made me feel incredibly sad that I don't have a school to call home, and probably won't for several years. Needless to say, I'm torn. My heart wants a teaching job more than anything, but my brain is telling me to be sensible and let it go, at least for now. The next few weeks will determine my path, so I guess we'll see.

So here's my reflection. I've been so wrapped up in this class that I really have nothing else to post, so here it is. And there's no swears, if you can believe it.


~~~~~~~~~

It was Halloween when I got the call to interview for a position. I’d already had several interviews, and was quite discouraged at my apparent inability to impress anybody. I walked into the interview with full expectations of yet another failure, but with the faint hope in the back of my mind that maybe this would be the one.

The interview itself was a blur…I couldn’t tell you exactly who was there, or the questions that were asked, but I do remember the principal asking me to tell the panel a little bit about myself. Ah, the dreaded open-ended question, probably the downfall of many a candidate. I swallowed hard, and paused for a moment to think. What should I share? What tone of voice should I use? What can I say to impress? I should have gotten a manicure, why didn’t I get a manicure? I had answered all of the other questions well, and knew that the whole interview was hinging on this one last response. I put my hands in my lap to hide the telltale shakes and unpolished nails, and just started talking.

I talked about my education and work experience, why I became a teacher, and why I love it so much…I don’t think it was very eloquent, but it was honest and from the heart. I wrapped it up with a statement that summed up my feelings at that exact moment.

“I know I can do a lot of good. I just need someone to take a chance on me.”

No sooner had I walked in the door that my phone started ringing. I was hired. I cried, called my grandmother, and then headed straight to Staples. Now I didn’t really need anything at Staples, but damn it, I was a teacher, and that’s just where teachers go. I signed up for my Teacher Rewards discount card and proudly put the bright orange tag on my key chain. I was finally official.

Within weeks, excitement and exhilaration were replaced by feelings of frustration, confusion, exasperation and anger. Now don’t misunderstand…none of this was directed at or a result of my students, but was a side effect of the unique position and situation into which I was placed. My students were the only reason that I had to come back every day, and I focused on them as hard as I could to distract myself from the adult sources of my frustration.

I would pore over students' records to gain insight that would help me reach my most challenged students, only to have my suggestions and concerns overruled and dismissed. I would spend hours on a big poster, or cutting out extra large manipulatives for a child with fine motor issues to use during math only to have my lesson cut from the day’s activities. No matter how much I wanted to pull my hair out or simply run out of the building screaming, I put on a smile and rolled with the punches. I may have been unhappy in my situation, but I was determined that my students would NOT suffer because of it.

My decision to stick with it paid off. I learned more from the children that year than I learned in any class I’ve taken, or from any veteran teacher I’ve known. They taught me about patience and kindness, and kept me from breaking down and crying many a day with simple gestures (Don’t you just love those cards that you get on lined paper with the stick figures and stilted cursive?) and unspoken thank-you’s. Those breakthrough, “OOOOOHHHHHH, now I get it!” moments spurred me on and kept me focused. I was reminded that I was there for them, and nobody else. I was doing good. There’s nothing in the world that’s better than that feeling.

I finished my year, and walked out of the building on that last day of school with my arms full of boxes, clumsily moving toward an uncertain future. I had no job lined up for the fall, and probably should have been worrying about that, but I filled up the trunk, sat down in my car and smiled to myself.

“Someone took a chance on me, and I did a lot of good.”

Mission accomplished.