Low Expectations

Sometimes, I come to class thinking, "Man, tonight is going to be epic." I felt that way tonight. I woke up at 1630 hrs (I am normally getting ready by 1500), had to rush to get ready and print out my note cards for my team presentation that I forgot to practice. As I am rushing out the door, my mom and husband inform me that Little Bug got hurt at school today and one of her teachers was a total bitch about it. So I had to stay and get the whole story. That set me back 10 minuets and the line at Starbucks put me back another 15. By the time I got to school, I knew tonight had to be entertaining, because it always is when I am in no mood to write.

Wrong. Tonight is a snoozer. The last night of class always seems to disappoint me. Everyone has checked out. Usually, I can count on these people to be at their literary best when I am at my most tired, annoyed, rushed, etc., but tonight I am let down. Maybe if this was last week...le sigh. 

So fuck them. I'll be ranting about zee German.

Little Bug is in Pre-K as I am sure I have bragged about numerous times. The very first day, she made a BFF. We shall call her Julie. Julie and Little Bug were both born in Germany, at the same hospital no less. Her father is in the Army and her mom is German. She's a few months older than Little Bug, taller, and a brunette. She has a 7 or 8 year old sister that she is a carbon copy of. We will call her Jay. Little Bug and Julie are inseparable. They insist on holding hands pretty much all the time, they finish each other's sentences, and they laugh at everything like it's an inside joke. I'm very happy Little Bug has a BFF.

Julie's mom is a whole different story. N and Jim (the husband) have been married for some time. They met in Germany when he was stationed there the first time and while she was dating another American service member. I'm not judging, it'll be important later.

SN: One of the cops is sitting next to me biting his nails and popping his joints over and over. I want to beat him. His nail bits are scattered all over the desk. I may scream.

After a week or to of school, I invited N and Julie over to swim on a Sunday. I believe it was Labor day, and we also had over my gal Shannon and her awesome brood. I figured that if N and I didn't hit it off, at least I would have Shannon there. I don't want to take to long on the Labor Day fiasco, but the woman is a nut. She spent almost the entire day talking about our pool and how she wished they had put in a pool instead of turf, how "they" were in the Army, and a plethora of info about her oldest daughter Jay. She ignored Julie to the point that the little girl clung to me like I was her mom. I am not normally a kid person (unless it's my friend's kids) but I felt so bad for her. She was desperate for attention. And of course, Little Bug was so taken with the older sister. I know that's how little girls are, but I was on LB like a hawk making sure she paid attention to Julie instead.

Jim showed up and he was everything I expected. Loud, pompous, boisterous, typical southerner. Hubby and Shannon's hubby Rob got on great with him, but I couldn't believe how much he dominated the conversation. I thought I was loud...sheesh.

Despite being severely annoyed with N's obsession with materialistic things, I dismissed it as a cultural miscommunication. Despite having been in the US for sometime, her accent was still noticeable and there were just some things about her that screamed "GERMAN!" What bothered (bothers) me the most is her total disregard for Julie. The sun rises and sets with Jay, but Julie is often times ignored. They went to Jay's school's Fall Festival, but skipped Julie's because "Jay didn't want to go to something for little kids." They ordered Jay's school portrait but were not going to order Julie's until she "cried like a little baby about it." When Julie comes over for a play date, she can only stay an hour or two because it isn't fair to Jay. Yep, Jay, who is in school until 3, doesn't think it is far that while she is at school Julie is at our house playing with Little Bug. We wouldn't want to anger Jay.

The first time Julie came over for a play date, she said and did some things that really bugged me. She told Little Bug that LB had such a nice small tummy and that she (Julie) was fat and gross. Little Bug ran in my room to tell me this, and also that "Julie said she hates herself." I had to have LB repeat this like six or seven times. I couldn't believe that a five-year-old girl was even capable of thinking she was fat or hating herself. I had them both come in my room. They climbed up on the bed and we had a talk about self-worth. We talked about how you should always love yourself, no matter what. I don't even know if I handled it right (LB is not lacking in self-worth AT ALL), but her angst broke my heart.

I didn't bring it up to her mom. what would I have said? Your daughter has body image issues at 5? As a younger sister, I assumed she got most of this from her older sister, they're where we little sisters get most of our issues, but a nagging part of me wondered if N was partly or mostly responsible. She is constantly comparing Julie to Jay and Little Bug. "Oh look at Little Bug's outfit? See how pretty she is?", "Julie, why isn't your hair pretty like Little Bug's?", "Jay doesn't have dry skin like Julie", and much worse. Every time she opens her mouth out flows something critical about Julie, and Julie is always within ear shot.

When it was Julie's turn to host a play date, I ended up staying there as well. Not because I didn't want to leave Little Bug alone (though I didn't), but because Jim was also home and he insisted on giving me a tour of their house. The same house N was devastated about because they didn't have a nice pool like ours. The house is nice, really, but it isn't anything different from any other house in Sun City. Two-story, multiple car garage, open floor plan, up near the mountain and over-priced. They paid $225,000 for it using their VA loan and put nothing down. Not the route I would take, but they were sure proud. Then the tour started.

We started on the second floor with the kids playroom. It was full of toys (mostly Jay's), a big screen LCD TV, pottery barn furniture, and "super expensive carpet." I know how much everything cost in the room...because they told me. Jim kept nudging me and saying, "Guess how much that carpet cost. Just guess." I finally did and he LOL'd in my face and said, "Double that!" All for a kids play room.

I was whisked to Jay's room, also filled with the best furniture money can by. Crate and Barrel, Pottery Barn, Ethan Allen...all were present in Jay's room. I remarked that I loved the quilt set from Target, and N looked at me terrified. "You can tell it's from Target?!" she asked. I told her that I had looked at the same one for Little Bug and that though we did not get it, it was really cute. I'm sure she threw it out after and bought a high-end one. Julie's room was far less fancy. Also rocking a quilt set from Target (the owl one we got for Little Bug), N didn't put the same effort into coordinating this room as she did Jay's. Nothing on the wall (Jim said it's because he doesn't want nail holes in that room only), furniture matched but looked like it had been abused by someone before she got it...just a marked difference. She didn't even keep the door open that long, as if the room embarrassed her...like how she treats Julie.

Down the hall was Master Suite number 1. N sleeps in this one, complete with more Pottery Barn furniture, a balcony, Jacuzzi tub, walk-in closet and "just a wonderful view" of the side of a mountain. After they listed the prices of everything from the carpet (different and more expensive) to the wall sconces, we moved downstairs. Jim sleeps in Master Suite number 2. Lives is a better word. Like, I get sleeping in another room because your spouse snores, but they LIVE in separate rooms. This one was a man bedroom to the core, but decked out in leather and "rich mahogany." I swear to whomever you worship, he said that...and was NOT making an Anchorman reference.

Then came the kitchen, laundry room, backyard, living room and formal dining room. Without giving the same price list they gave me, I will tell you that anyone who spends that much money on minor, non-value adding improvements on their home is an idiot. But anyone who brags about it, knowing that I know how much you make at your rank, is a pompous idiot. 

Despite all of these things, I was still pretty tolerant of Das German. Every morning when we drop the girls off at school, I can be polite and listen as she rambles on about how they should be stationed at the Pentagon and not here, how they should have got a pool (STILL!), how Little Bug is so pretty compared to Julie, and how they aren't going to participate with Julie's school fundraisers because Jay's school already had one. Until Red Ribbon Week hit. Each day had a specific theme. Day one was the day the kids got to dress up like what they want to be when they're older, day two was Tie-dye, day three was patriotic, day four was pajamas, and day five was crazy hair day. Little Bug dressed as a rock star for day one and while the kids were playing before class, N asked me what I was going to do about the tie-dye shirt. I told her I was going to make one. 

Then, my hatred of her officially began. She went on to tell me how difficult it was going to be to make a tie-dye shirt and how it WOULD NOT BE FAIR to Julie if Little Bug had one and she did not. Yeah, it wouldn't be fair to YOUR child that I make MY child a shirt. You know what isn't fair? The fact that if it was for Jay, you would have made three shirts so she had options. I made a shirt anyway, her child's feelings be damned and it cost me less than ten bucks and a few hours of my time. But from that point on, everything out of her mouth has sparked a rage in me that I can not quell. 

She is atrocious right? But wait, it gets worse. She treats me like her human Google. Every morning, EVERY FUCKING MORNING, she has a new batch of questions for me that a normal person would just, well, Google. Or Bing, pick your poison. At first it was just questions about the weather this time of year and if I know of any good local whatevers. However, the questions quickly morphed into where should she shop online for multiple, very specific things and what should she buy her 11-year-old niece for Christmas. Each time I try to passively answer the questions, she presses me for more info. Take the present question, I told her, "Aren't most little girls into dolls and stuff. Try that." Should have been the end of the convo right? Nope. She then wanted to know what kind of dolls, what does she do if the niece doesn't like the dolls she sends, should she send it with a gift receipt so she can return it, should she spend more than $50, dolls are kind of immature, maybe she should just send clothes, but what are the sizes....and on and on. Then she abruptly stops and says, "Dolls aren't right for her. I shouldn't have asked you." Go. Fuck. Yourself.

I don't answer now. I just pretend that watching Little Bug play is taking every ounce of my being. She hasn't clued in and still asks. I must not reply because the things that will come out of my mouth are not going to be pleasant. Or appropriate to say in front of our children. I feel like this blog hasn't remotely covered the suckfest that is Das German N, but she's one of those women you have to experience in person...

Anyway, I'm exhausted and need to sleep. I'll check in with Black Friday drama next week.

Oh, here's Little Bug's Red Ribbon Week pics:

OF COURSE she wants to be a Rock Star when she grows up!

Yeah, I made that shirt.

Voting for her future and waving like a candidate.

Pajama day...except she didn't sleep in those.

Her idea of crazy hair was me NOT styling it. One mom tried to make a dig by saying "I thought YOU of all the mom's would have done something crazy!" To which I replied, "She wanted it down and unstyled, like your daughter, every day." Take that bitch...and change out of your pajama pants.

You're Gonna Miss Me

I didn't blog last week because I didn't go to school last week. I felt and looked like death, so obviously I couldn't leave the house. Sorry to leave you all hanging. I need to get back on here, blogging it up, but I've been pretty busy.

I got a job. It's overnight at the world's largest toy store. After the first night, they made me 2IC. I haven't lifted a box or stocked a shelf since (unless my OCD kicked in and I felt the need to put all the Ninjago in the correct place). Needless to say, I haven't much time for blogging.

HMIC strutted in, dramatically threw his stuff down on a table, and said, "Well, who's ready to have a shitty four more years?!" I laughed, so did a few others, but Clown Face said, "Ay but he promised change. It'll happen!" Stoner White Boy Cop spoke up and told her, "He promised change four years ago. Shit changed alright, for the worse." Clown Face then said, "Oh yeah that's so true." Way to stick to your guns. I asked her if she voted and she said no, but it was because the lines were annoying. "Oh, so you went to the polling place, but didn't have time to wait?" I asked. "No," she said, "I saw on the TV that the lines were long in Florida too." I almost asked what Florida has to do with El Paso, but I didn't want to lose brain cells.

I still don't feel too hot. No fever or anything, but my allergies are acting up and I want to take a nap. HMIC is doing his best to engage me, but I'm sleepy McTired Pants. How is it possible that with all my yawning and coughing, I am still the most active participant in the room? This makes my head hurt.

To top all of that off, we broke for lunch and I didn't move. I'm a wee bit hungry, but I just didn't think it was worth it. There is one gas station near the campus and everyone breaks for lunch at the same time. Nope. I'm good. The things you overhear when you don't leave the classroom though...juicy. Apparently Dental Diva and Clown Face almost came to blows last week in the parking lot after class, all because Clown Face didn't correct the grammar in their team paper. Dental Diva said she sent the paper to her with shitty spelling and grammar because that's the job of the editor. Oh Dang totally agreed with her, because "who has time to make sure it's right?" THEY didn't volunteer to edit the paper, so Clown Face should just "fucking edit it and shut her mouth." Well, after class last week, Dental Diva was parked by Clown Face and CF stood in front of DD's car door and demanded an answer as to why she didn't edit her work. DD told CF she better get the fuck out of her face or she would "gut that bitch." Over editing?!

CF, allegedly, put her hands on DD and shoved her back into another car, which caused to alarm to go off. DD said that the security guard came running over and CF was lucky because "she was gonna get it. Bitch doesn't know how we do." Oh Dang told DF that she would have so had her back but she looked like she had it. "Girl, I knew you'd fuck her up. I saw you, you had it." These women are mothers. Sheesh.

Eh, I guess I don't have any room to talk. I took Little Bug to see Wreck It Ralph this past weekend. Everything was fine, but the place was packed. So, when it was time to leave, traffic was a nightmare. I patiently waited for a good fifteen minuets. When I finally was able to move, a man in a black Ford sedan with Juarez plates tries to cut in. It wasn't like he had been waiting as well, he zipped in out of nowhere and tried to squeeze his car in between me and the guy in front of me. Normally I let people in, but there was no room for this guy unless I backed up and that wasn't happening, not with the 15 cars behind me. So I honk at him to warn him that as he is inching towards me and about to hit me. He keeps moving and I honk again. It set him off.

He rolls down his window and starts throwing trash from his vehicle at my car. A full theater cup of soda, a small cardboard box, random fast food wrappers, one after another strikes the hood of my car and windshield. I watch in horror as he gets out of his car, reaches into the parking lot planter, and picks up a good-sized rock. Keep in mind he is on Little Bug's side of the car. I reacted.

I got out of the car. Probably a dumb move, but I sized him up pretty well. He was maybe five feet, scrawny, and effeminate as all get out. I could take him. He saw me get out and threw the rock. He missed. Worse than when I threw a rock at this Asian boy named Who-e in the seventh grade. That story WILL be told one day. Anyway, he sees me and hurries back into his car. The whole time he's yelling at me that I'm a crazy white bitch, a fucking whore, skank, slut, cunt, puta, etc. He was so determined to wound me with words that even after he got in his car, he rolled his window down to keep yelling at me. I calmly walked toward his open window, spit on his face and hit his window three times with the side of my fist. On the third strike, I heard his window crack. Then, I calmly walked back to my car, flipped him off, got back in and drove off.

I'm not proud. At. All. Little Bug was super upset, it took me forever to calm her down, but it took me longer to calm myself down. I thought he was gonna smash in her window or who knows what. I reacted. Poorly. But come at my kid, I come at you. I'm appalled that I spit on his face. So classless. I know you're probably thinking "What about Little Bug?!" But even whilst enraged, I turned off the car, took out the keys, and locked it. Aside from the emotional trauma, she's fine. I explained to her that mommy was scared the mean man was going to hit her and she was so sweet. She said, "Mommy, you're a good mommy. You won't let anyone hurt me. But don't be mean to strangers." Thank goodness kids are resilient, because I was so sad that she witnessed that. Please, judge away in the comments.

Class picked back up. We had to do this role-play activity that designated four groups to represent four different parts of an ice cream company. Oh Dang, Stoner White Boy Cop, Dawg, and I were all on a team and we represented the production plant of the company. Because I'm exhausted and because there was too much going on to type, I will say just this: we kicked ass. So much so that the three of them suggested we be a group next class. I replied that they shouldn't get carried away. The less I find that I have in common with these people the better.

Anyway, me so sleepy. Unfortunately, I have to stay up to keep my sleep schedule, but continuing to write would just produce babble. Maybe more later in the week.

Time Is On My Side

New class, new group, new instructor, still an outcast. There are actually 2 other white people in the class, but one is Stoner White Boy Cop from I-USA's class and the other is staring directly at my boobs. Hipster Gordo and Mexican Snookie are also in this class, but I will pretend to not know them for as long as I can get away with. There's a guy who was in my last class but I still don't know his name. We said "Hello" and all, but it was forced.

The chair of the department is our instructor. He's a bigot through and through according to Katniss, but he's got an academic crush on me already. He already announced to the class that I will be a blessed addition to the Master's program, the one they probably won't make it into. Yeah, he said it. He's never had me before but he's heard "great, excellent, amazing, inspired things" about me. I guess I am the one "you want in your group, because 90% of this class is group and she's a genius." That bar is now set way too high. I read the syllabus and had every intention of coasting through this class. I have all the individual work already done and half of my group work done. They're all looking at me like I'm a glass of water and they've been lost in the desert for a week. Well, at least I'll have my pick.

Clown Face just walked in late. I could have sworn she wasn't going to be in this class. I checked the roster and didn't see her name...oh wait, I only know her as Clown Face. No wonder I didn't know. I should really learn real names. Hehehe, and you thought I was just protecting identities.

HMIC is what we'll call the instructor. Head Mexican In Charge. He's spent the past ten minuets letting us all know just how at the top he is. He's got jokes too. I think he's a cross between George Lopez and Larry David, but not because he's Mexican, but because he does the stereotypical Mexican voice to make fun of them. I don't think I'm going to hate him. As we started going over the policy letter and syllabus, he said, "I don't do this whole 'I'm a stupid Mexican and I don't answer questions and I don't listen' because I will fail you and probably hit you." Yeah, I am the only one laughing.

There is a line in the policy letter that states "in order to promote professionalism in any criminal justice occupation and future dealings in the field, it is recommended to avoid wearing caps, hats, or sunglasses during class." I not only get it, but I love it. Hipster Gordo is wearing both a hat and sunglasses. HMIC is explaining why this is essential to giving a good presentation and why someone needs to be able to listen to you present without thinking you're a "stupid, fat, wannabe gangster" and kept his eyes locked on Hipster Gordo. He still kept his hat and shades on and HMIC let out a heavy sigh and said, "Okay, so obviously you just don't care. I'll remember that when I grade your work." AND STILL, he leaves on his cap and shades. Target acquired. 

We had a pretty intense 20 minuets or so of quality teaching before the break. HMIC sat down next to me and taught from that seat. It made everyone else tense up but I relaxed a bit and was able to take it in more than if he had been pacing up front. It helped me focus on the content and not Clown Face's sharpie brows or Hipster Gordo's eyeliner. Yeah, he has on eyeliner. HMIC did scare me a few times when he would stop speaking and yell at whoever wasn't paying attention. Not directly, mind you, but in that way that let's everyone know he means you and causes you to shrink in your chair. "BECAUSE THE CONVERSATION ABOUT WHO PUT IT IN YOU LAST NIGHT AND WHAT HAPPENED ON JERSEY SHORE HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH CRIMINAL JUSTICE.... and really, that's how you can embrace other cultures in your field of work..." He then apologized for making me jump out of my skin. Clown Face said, "Oh you did it to me too!" HMIC smiled and said, "Well, remind me to decide if I feel bad about that."

Look, I realize that if he was treating me this way, I would be irate. BUT there is a difference. I am studious, I am attentive, and I participate. THEY had a 15-minuet conversation about brands of tampons before realizing that HMIC had stopped speaking and was watching them. It's a bit deserved. Tampons guys, tampons.

I think I’ll skip the rest of class and break down each classmate for you guys. It’s going to get intense, so hold on.

Hipster Gordo: Homeboy described himself as an “Inventory Specialist Interim Supervisor” at Wal-Mart. His real name is Eduardo but he prefers Eddie because the white people always fuck his name up. Funny, because the tongue ring in your mouth caused your rolled R to sound a bit off, but I’m the one who’s going to fuck it up. He kept his shades and hat on the entire time and I heard him whisper that he was “high as fuck” so he couldn’t take them off. I’ll be sure to remember that should I find out what Wal-Mart he works at.

Stoner White Boy Cop: Apparently he just made detective for Sun City PD, though the other cops in the class were talking among themselves saying that he fucked some higher ups wife and detective is now in jeopardy. He still looks high. He is growing out his “detective mustache” as he called it, but it looks like gnarly pubes on his face.

Mexican Snookie: She’s back and still rocking coral colored clothing. I told Katniss this and she said “What? She hasn’t been shopping since before?” She works at Duncan Doughnuts and she said she recognized some of the cops from class from there. When asked what she wants to do with her degree (should she graduate), she said, “I don’t know, why are joo putting me on the spots?”

Oh Dang: I think she’s Asian. Her name is Kimmy with a B and her last name is pretty obvious ^. She is built like a super model except that her face is contorted into this hideous expression, like she had a stroke. It’s just her bad attitude. She hates our instructor and said out loud that if he pronounced her name wrong again she would report him. He told her, “You’d report me for that? What are you going to do when you see your grade from the first paper? Should I wear a second chance vest?” I LOL’d and got a death stare.

Angel Bautista: Sounds and looks just like Angel Batista from Dexter, but white. And yes, I know that Hispanics come in all different colors, but trust me, He. Is. Caucasian. And old. He works for the Department of the Army, which means he’s a civilian gate guard.

Clown Face: She worked for UPS for 16 years but quit because she didn’t feel “respecteded no more” and now is suing them for her pension. She says she has been offered some really awesome jobs (like jobs I would jump on) but she isn’t sure what she wants to do. HMIC said that it was amazing she was offered these jobs because you have to have a degree for them and she said, “Well they really like me.”

Pinky: My new teammate. She works at a call center, wants to be an FBI agent or a criminal defense attorney, and has an obsession with pink. Everything she had on, head to toe was pink. EVERYTHING. I asked, “So you like pink, huh?” to which she replied (seriously, “I try to wear it everyday. It really is my best color.” Elle Woods would be proud? She also spelled her own name wrong on the team list (and scratched it out with her pink pen to change it), thinks that immigration is cool but only for light skinned Mexicans, and says my name like “Teeeffaneeee.”

The Brain: She is also my other new teammate. She’s so quiet that you have to have her repeat things 4 to 7 times, has the thickest accent I have ever heard (or not heard) and her head is 4 times larger than it should be to be proportionate to her body. She sits next to Pinky (who is super tiny) and I hear the iconic theme song playing.

Jack Diesel: Sits in front of me and is covered in tats from his neck down. HMIC asked him what he does and he told us about the gym he works at.... whilst flexing. You work at a gym? Couldn’t tell. He wants to be DEA but undercover, which (and I am dead serious) is why he got all the tats. You know, so he could blend in. That’s totally why the DEA will hire him and start him undercover immediately.

The Three Stooges: I think I might have had them in a class or two a while back, but you’ve seen one trio of fat Sun City cops, you’ve seen them all. They sat in a row and finished each other’s sentences. They also said they knew Mexican Snookie and that she was a bitch all the time in the drive-thru to which she replied, “Oh its cuz I hate my job and shit.”

Hosway: That’s how he sounded out his name for HMIC so I guess we just have to leave it at that. He’s portly with Backstreet Boy facial hair and a bad Express for Men fitted T addiction. I know that his nipples are pierced and that he has a hairy gut because none of the sales people at Express for Men wanted to tell him that a small could not replace an 2XL. He’s the same kid who wanted to work with the Federalas in my last couple of classes, but now, he wants to work for “childrens stuff.”

Flowers: Skinny, pockmarks, whip smart, and also my new teammate. Works for his dad’s detailing company but wants to work for customs. He only has a few more classes, but his dad said he couldn’t apply until he finished college. He’s 19. Apparently he graduated HS at 17 with his Associates because Sun City offers that program. I am tres impressed, but can’t look directly at his face. I might throw up, seriously.

Dental Diva: Showed up HELLA late and then demanded to be handed the roster to sign. HMIC said it could wait until break and she said, “You gon’ regret that. Imma sign all large and shit.” HMIC asked her to please settle down and added, “Let’s not show up late AND be disruptive.” She shut up quickly. It’s hard to be taken seriously when you have Mickey Mouse scrubs on. Her and Oh Dang are buddies (and the tampon convo culprits) and during break conversed about how it was too bad the dentist she works for is old and married because he has mad money. And is also probably too rich to go for your FUPA.

Chinese Tats: He started by saying, “I’m open to whatever (long pause followed by gross smile) ladies.” Had to swallow down my puke. He wants to work for some type of criminal justice entity (but he said envyty) but not one that has crazy hours because “I did that once with the Navy and I’m not about that anymore.” He has Chinese symbols lining his forearms that he says mean all the clichéd things, and check this out, he got them “in Asia on shore leave. That’s some authentic shit, you know?”

Dawg: Dawg is my dream teammate. He is a vet tech, a substitute teacher, this is his last class, and he will be leaving for Dallas to work as an Animal Cruelty Investigator for Dallas. He’s THIS close to being done, which means he will not be fucking anything up, but the Three Stooges snatched him up.

Should be a pretty easy class. Not too much learning team stuff, and I always appreciate that. My art class that I’m taking online is a different story. I have the uneducated team from hell. More on them later. I hope to get back into the swing of regular blogging, but who knows. See you later.