No sooner than I made this post on my Facebook companion page about little kids and mucous did I come down with what can only be described as the upper respiratory Hackz-n-Snotz. Hey, mock my coarse medical terminology of you will, but it's gonna be in JAMA one day. Just know that if you ever catch this, you'll find out why I gave it that name. Til then, hashtag NUFFSAID.
Now I've been taking my vitamin C gummies...half-assededly like I approach everything in my life as of late...so I haven't built up my barrier of defense against the juvenile cooties. Maybe that's why I was tuning up to do a little backup singing in Rock-n-Roll Heaven. (Thanks to 2016, they've really got a helluva band now.)
Or maybe it was my seasonal allergy attack, something that was NEVER an issue for me until adulthood. Every year, right at the change of the seasons, I come down with flu-like symptoms and head to the express med joint to get a 10ft long q-tip shoved up my septum--flu test they say--only for some peppy (if it's early) PA to chirp, "Nope, it's your allergies!". Anyone with school-age children, or under the employ of any school system anywhere already knows there are 2 places to lay blame for any case of the hackz-n-snotz (or bubble gutz for that matter) that they come down with: The changing of the seasons/allergies, ergo Jesus or those little germ factories that are our future. For this particular malady, I blame...*drumroll*...THE CHIRRENS! (I'm still praise dancing about my car, y'all.)
Since procuring a new (gently used) mode of transportation, I've been going to schools that I was afraid my old goody wouldn't get me to. Even while driving the rental and my auntie's car, I was branching out. So during that period, I made the 40 minute pilgrimage to a school I'd been avoiding until someone gave me a car. It was a half-day job, and while my students were in the computer lab slogging their way through the infamous SuccessMaker, I saw this...dude, and I think he saw me. He was tall, like over 6' and lanky with dark, curly hair. I mean, I guess. My imagination finished the job that my astigmatized eyes and last ounce of hope started because Shellybird can't see very well. I don't think he's a regular classroom teacher, maybe title I or speech therapist or a tutor, one of those employees who comes in and spirits kids away for 30 minutes or so to give them a little extra help. But I made a mental note right then to cop more assignments at this site so I could scope this dude out. My auntie warned me years ago when I was in high school and slightly more desperate than I am now (I'm simply resigned to my fate presently) that, "just because a dude looks at you doesn't mean he likes you." Well, it doesn't mean he doesn't find me attractive, right?! I think I took on another full-day assignment and I didn't see him, or I glimpsed him from a distance. (Wrangling rambunctious first graders doesn't allow a lot of time for scoping men.) That school is pretty small, which is why I figured he was just a mirage in my desert of loneliness. That's also how I wound up at that same school for 3 consecutive days a few weeks ago where the hackz-n-snotz pestilence was raging.
I got lucky on my third day at this school. As I was leaving I passed a teacher in the hallway who told me that she needed to take a day off and I should try to get the job. I did, and I saw this magical, mystical mirage man again. He is tall, but not as lanky as I had built up in my mind--not that that's a requirement--he's kind of soft through his middle, either formerly fat or getting fat. Two out of the three times that I saw him, he was wearing a teal shirt. Teal is one of my favorite colors, so that's a sign of basically, NOTHING, as I soon found out. I got a chance to swap a word with him he came to the computer lab to get a few of my students for speech therapy. Then again while I was waiting for my kids to come back from the library. I got his name and looked him up on facebook at lunch time. I figured I could message him on facebook which I did and holla that way. I did all of this going on the assumption that he is single. His facebook page is relatively private, with only one photo of himself, but no woman or kids pictured. He doesn't have a relationship status splashed all over his page either, so again, I'm assuming he's up for grabs...or maybe he's gay. I wouldn't be disappointed. I've been wanting a GBF--Gay Best Friend--for YEARS. *Okay, focus, Shellybird!* Some friends suggested I just go all in and send him a friend request. No response on either front yet, and I don't know why I added "yet". It's been 12 days since I sent the message request which has gone unread or he's exercising his right to refuse Shellybird service. The friend request is in limbo as well. That could be Karma hard at work because I can't tell you the number of ignored friend requests I have cued up in my facebook or the messages from random men that I don't respond to. Maybe my chickens have at last come home to roost. In his defense--did I really just type that?!--my hair is currently an ombre burgundy. In my facebook profile pic, I'm a (very cute if I must say so myself) ombre blonde, soooooo maybe he didn't recognize me? I don't know, y'all. What I do know is that at this point, I'm out of the notion of even trying to holla. Meeting men that I deem "my type" is rare, and when I finally do, nothing comes of it. Holla-ing has never been my thing, but after so many years alone I thought maybe, just maybe, I needed to start making some first moves. Chile, that shit don't work. Not for me, anyway, and it never has. I don't really know why I expected it to work this time.
So that's that. Shellybird's dry white season continues....
Now I've been taking my vitamin C gummies...half-assededly like I approach everything in my life as of late...so I haven't built up my barrier of defense against the juvenile cooties. Maybe that's why I was tuning up to do a little backup singing in Rock-n-Roll Heaven. (Thanks to 2016, they've really got a helluva band now.)
Or maybe it was my seasonal allergy attack, something that was NEVER an issue for me until adulthood. Every year, right at the change of the seasons, I come down with flu-like symptoms and head to the express med joint to get a 10ft long q-tip shoved up my septum--flu test they say--only for some peppy (if it's early) PA to chirp, "Nope, it's your allergies!". Anyone with school-age children, or under the employ of any school system anywhere already knows there are 2 places to lay blame for any case of the hackz-n-snotz (or bubble gutz for that matter) that they come down with: The changing of the seasons/allergies, ergo Jesus or those little germ factories that are our future. For this particular malady, I blame...*drumroll*...THE CHIRRENS! (I'm still praise dancing about my car, y'all.)
Since procuring a new (gently used) mode of transportation, I've been going to schools that I was afraid my old goody wouldn't get me to. Even while driving the rental and my auntie's car, I was branching out. So during that period, I made the 40 minute pilgrimage to a school I'd been avoiding until someone gave me a car. It was a half-day job, and while my students were in the computer lab slogging their way through the infamous SuccessMaker, I saw this...dude, and I think he saw me. He was tall, like over 6' and lanky with dark, curly hair. I mean, I guess. My imagination finished the job that my astigmatized eyes and last ounce of hope started because Shellybird can't see very well. I don't think he's a regular classroom teacher, maybe title I or speech therapist or a tutor, one of those employees who comes in and spirits kids away for 30 minutes or so to give them a little extra help. But I made a mental note right then to cop more assignments at this site so I could scope this dude out. My auntie warned me years ago when I was in high school and slightly more desperate than I am now (I'm simply resigned to my fate presently) that, "just because a dude looks at you doesn't mean he likes you." Well, it doesn't mean he doesn't find me attractive, right?! I think I took on another full-day assignment and I didn't see him, or I glimpsed him from a distance. (Wrangling rambunctious first graders doesn't allow a lot of time for scoping men.) That school is pretty small, which is why I figured he was just a mirage in my desert of loneliness. That's also how I wound up at that same school for 3 consecutive days a few weeks ago where the hackz-n-snotz pestilence was raging.
I got lucky on my third day at this school. As I was leaving I passed a teacher in the hallway who told me that she needed to take a day off and I should try to get the job. I did, and I saw this magical, mystical mirage man again. He is tall, but not as lanky as I had built up in my mind--not that that's a requirement--he's kind of soft through his middle, either formerly fat or getting fat. Two out of the three times that I saw him, he was wearing a teal shirt. Teal is one of my favorite colors, so that's a sign of basically, NOTHING, as I soon found out. I got a chance to swap a word with him he came to the computer lab to get a few of my students for speech therapy. Then again while I was waiting for my kids to come back from the library. I got his name and looked him up on facebook at lunch time. I figured I could message him on facebook which I did and holla that way. I did all of this going on the assumption that he is single. His facebook page is relatively private, with only one photo of himself, but no woman or kids pictured. He doesn't have a relationship status splashed all over his page either, so again, I'm assuming he's up for grabs...or maybe he's gay. I wouldn't be disappointed. I've been wanting a GBF--Gay Best Friend--for YEARS. *Okay, focus, Shellybird!* Some friends suggested I just go all in and send him a friend request. No response on either front yet, and I don't know why I added "yet". It's been 12 days since I sent the message request which has gone unread or he's exercising his right to refuse Shellybird service. The friend request is in limbo as well. That could be Karma hard at work because I can't tell you the number of ignored friend requests I have cued up in my facebook or the messages from random men that I don't respond to. Maybe my chickens have at last come home to roost. In his defense--did I really just type that?!--my hair is currently an ombre burgundy. In my facebook profile pic, I'm a (very cute if I must say so myself) ombre blonde, soooooo maybe he didn't recognize me? I don't know, y'all. What I do know is that at this point, I'm out of the notion of even trying to holla. Meeting men that I deem "my type" is rare, and when I finally do, nothing comes of it. Holla-ing has never been my thing, but after so many years alone I thought maybe, just maybe, I needed to start making some first moves. Chile, that shit don't work. Not for me, anyway, and it never has. I don't really know why I expected it to work this time.
So that's that. Shellybird's dry white season continues....
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