The Manicure Files: Great Work, Andy!!!

How's about a little fluff? Ok, I got ya, boo. I got my nails done Saturday, and I super duper LOVE them! I've been at odds with my digits for years because I've always felt that I had "man hands". My auntie gave me a complex about my hands in my teens, pointing out my "blunt nails ". My nail beds are short you see, so I need long nails--grown out just past the quick at the least--to add daintiness to my paws. (If you're uninitiated in regards to nail bed length, Google it.) Eighties supermodel Kara Young and FLOTUS Michelle Obama have the hands I wish I'd been born with.

Going polish-free is really not an option for me. I've tried so many different things to keep me in the girls' club when it comes to my hands: Long acrylic can't-type-or-wipe-my-butt-properly nails, stiletto shape (SO ghetto, imo), and the style that I've found suits me best, "squoval". My boy Andy did me up right after I showed him a pic that I cribbed from Sally Hansens' Facebook page.

I brought my own polish to the salon, NYC Colors in Wine Bar--$1.97 at the Wal-Mart, and I am quite pleased with the finished product. I should also mention that this look only cost $15--$18, if you count my tip! WOOT!

Sub Adventures 6 The Last Days: A Rambling Account About the End of the School Year

Today is the next to the next to last day of school. Where am I? The middle school AGAIN, but no complaints here. In reference to my last post, I finally saw the Hugging Teacher again--no hugs today, just a wave in passing *womp womp*. I also saw his wedding ring, or a ring on the ring finger of his left hand. We need legislation on this thing: If you're married, always wear your matrimonial hardware to lessen confusion. When I got my hugs, I didn't spot a ring. I found out from another teacher that he's a minister, so maybe those were just good ol' Christian hugs. In the future, I'll just accept my Christian hugs from Jesus when I walk into the Light after dying in my sleep at the age of 100, thank-you very much. Right now I'm 43, single, and easy to get ideas. Moving on...

Since I've been subbing, my mind has been set adrift on memory bliss, if you will. No matter what grade I teach, I spend so much time trying to remember myself at that particular age, and I LOVED school. The learning atmosphere, the awesome teachers, that papery-gluey smell when I entered the building...I had my ups and downs but when used for its intended purpose, school was AWESOME.

When I got to the job site--such a technical term for...school--everyone I saw was dressed up. Teacher attire is but one of the glaring differences between school now and the 70's/80's version I experienced. My female teachers always wore skirts, dresses, blouses, and slacks. The male teachers were never without a tie. Now it's khakis, polo shirts, LEGGINGS/JEGGINGS, sneakers, and flip flops, pedi or not (*side-eye*). I actually patterned my style of dress (for subbing) after my teachers, and you won't catch me slipping. My supervisors may look back on my job performance and say, "She couldn't maintain control of her classroom," but they'll never bust me for inappropriate attire. Casual Friday is my exception at the schools that participate because my ass loves denim, literally.

So yeah, anyway, folks were looking casket-ready today. Those mannish, smart mouth boys that I was always threatening to write up looked like distinguished gentlemen. Those snippy, attitudinal girls looked like ladies. Why? Today was 8th grade promotion day. (NOT graduation, but PROMOTION, as the teachers were quick to clarify. Didn't stop parents from buying up all the graduation balloons at the Wal-Mart, doe.) The wistfulness and nostalgia was palpable when I walked in. It almost made me long for those days, now 30 years gone. The only promotion ceremony we had was running out of the building on the last day of 9th grade like Brad Davis at the end of Midnight Express though. HA!

I could tell the "seniors" were taking it in for one last time before it was all over. My heart went out to them, but onward and upward, little chirren! The best is yet to come (if you get your butts in gear)!

Aaaaand, some of them WON'T. You can't save them all, and some seemingly don't even want to be saved, but we will keep trying. For instance, that little devil-boy that was in my 6th block class this afternoon. So much mouth, UGH! He even left a hate note on the white board for his teacher. Why his mama didn't take him home after the ceremony is beyond me. Even his partner in crime was like, "Dude can't you EVER be nice???" I hope they warned the high school about him though. Lord knows I tried to warn him about the high school, but you know...deaf ears...

I washed the board so his teacher wouldn't see that.

Time Warp of Loooooooove

I'll try to make this quick because this is a school night and it's after midnight. I should be asleep, but the school year is almost over and like the real teachers, I've had it. The shitz I give are becoming fewer and further between.

That said, I'm actually looking forward to school tomorrow--or today rather, given the lateness of the hour. This is in spite of the fact that it's at the middle school. I seemed to have developed a crush on one of the teachers there, and I don't even know his name. I see him every time I sub though and he's always very nice. If I get turned around--which is a regular occurrence for me given my wack sense of direction--he gets me on the right track. I ran into him Sunday at the Wal-Mart where you see EVERY-D*MN-BODY when you live in a small town. He gave me a hug, we chatted a bit about school, and he asked if I was working next week, which is now this week. I told him I had a day coming up at the middle school although I couldn't remember which day off the top of my head. I told him to enjoy the rest of his weekend and he hugged me goodbye. I thought it was weird, but pleasant (and what ignited this little spark of feeling). I mean, is all that hugging a religious thing?  It WAS Sunday, but I'm Baptist and we don't do all of that. Maybe he's sweet on me. Who knows? After the mini-date though, I've begun to believe in the possibility of love again, and I'm kinda feelin' myself. Like, I AM a viable candidate for significant otherhood. I'm also feeling like I did when I was a teenager and the least little bit of eye contact or a touch had my head all aswim.

*Is "aswim a word? Eh, who gives a crap; I'll correct it later.*  So we'll see what happens. I might even Sadie Hawkins his butt. Like I said, the school year is almost over; we only have one week left. I may not get another assignment there before the cheese stops rolling. Strange how the potential for romance--or dinner at Appleby's that I don't have to pay for--took me from dreading going to the middle school to looking forward to it. 

The Post About When I Met This Hot Guy On POF and We Went on a Mini-Date to Starbucks and I Never Heard From Him Again

Well, it's only been 3 days, but mama didn't raise a fool. I don't expect to hear from him again. Here's the story: I have a couple of dating site profiles. One is on Plenty of Fish (POF from here on out) and the other one is on a different site that's quite popular, but the name has escaped me El Chapo-style. I get a fairly decent response to my profiles; I don't need 100 inbox messages a day because I just am NOT that much of a people person. I mean really, just UGH. Factor in that I'm not going to respond to most of them anyway because there's no need to dole out false hope. My philosophy, and I'm sticking to it. That said, I can count on one hand--with 4 fingers left over--how many times a man that I've found attractive has shown up in my inbox, and that happened Tuesday night. Ohhhhhhh he's so handsome, like if young Laurence Fishburne and Gary Dourdan made sweet love and produced a son.

What had happened was, he inboxed me with the obligatory "Hello" message. I find one-word messages and empty compliments to be a very weak way to introduce yourself to someone. I'm a conversationalist, and one word does not a convo make. I'm not so desperate yet that a "Hey sexy" from a man I don't even know can move me. BUT when you factor in a nice looking face, a tight body, and that other unnameable something that draws me to a man, well YOU get a response. ...The response won't be any more than what you originally sent though. Again, not that desperate yet. I messaged "Hi" back within 15 minutes, and nothing. I kept checking back to see if he was online and wracked my brain trying to figure out why he left me hanging...Ok, that's low-key desperate. The next day, after school, I decided to give it another go and broke my rule by sending this message: "I thought I'd say hi again since I rarely get celebrity lookalikes in my inbox." He finally responded and asked me if I wanted to meet up that evening after he got off work. I honestly wasn't expecting a meetup for a month, if ever. I'm that chick who drags ish out because he just might be a serial killer, like I'd know that right off the bat or something. After some schedule synchronization, we decided to meet up at the Starbucks in the neighboring town to mine since he could cut through there on his way home from work. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, took a ho bath (Google it), and put on something cute. Chiiiiiiild, I was not disappointed by what I saw when I got to the Starbucks. Six feet of caramel goodness with a pink shirt and grey slacks hugging in all the right places...*WINNING*. He hugged me and I had a chance to feel all of that lucious wonderfulness. Again, *WINNING*.

We only had a half-hour to chat. We got to Starbucks at 8:30 and they close at 9...small-town life, I tell ya. In retrospect, the conversation, though pleasant, seemed like an interview for a job I wound up not getting. Questions about what it's like in my town, my hobbies, travel, were answered to the best of my knowledge, but he's been around the world one and a half times and will drive anywhere. I, on the other hand, hate interstates and merging into traffic and don't even have a passport. When he asked what I liked to do, I told him read and write. I also foolishly let slip that I'm a blogger. He wanted to know more about it, but I wouldn't share. Nobody in my real life knows about this except my cousin, a soror, a guy I used to like, and maybe 2 others. I like it that way. I mean, HIM, reading THIS post?! Oh, HELL to the naw!!! I guess that was a massive eff up on my part, but it is what it is, and I can't make it what it ain't...Hm, I don't know what to think. Thirty minutes isn't long to get to know someone. I may have my flaws and limitations, but I know I'm special because Mr. Fred Rogers told me so when I was little. HA!

A second interview would be nice, but I haven't heard nay peep out of him since I called him back requesting that he text me when he got back home so I'd know he got there safely. Maybe he's dead. What's more likely is that he just wasn't as interested as he'd been when I was nothing more than a pretty pic on POF. I guess I should have seen that writing on the wall. POF allows you to see when someone is active online and who has viewed your profile. HE NEVER VIEWED MY PROFILE. He just saw my picture and sent a message which leads me to believe he does that on any profile with a picture that pleases his eye. I guess I should be grateful that I was even allowed to be on a leg of his pretty girl world tour. That won't keep me warm at night, marry me or knock me up though. Am I jumping the gun? Perhaps. I believe many women see men they're attracted to and envision weddings and babies. Men just think about sex. I only have a few eggs and a bit of daylight left, so I'm on a mission. My bestie met her husband on POF, so this is a thing that can happen.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm a social media snoop extraordinaire?  Tis true. I tracked him down on Facebook using his first name and city and found out his last name, which I immediately paired with my first. It had a nice ring to it, I must say. Something else I found out: He has at least 2 children and 1 grandchild, although his POF account said he had no children. I prefer men without kids so if we get married, we can embark on the journey of first-time parenthood together plus I can do without baby mama drama. My sorority sister said that he may have done that because they're grown, so technically they are no longer children. As far as I'm concerned, if you are a mother or father you have CHILDREN, even if you're 100 years old and your kid is 80. Come on, now.

Ah, my sorority sis also said that this could be his way of seeing what's out there. I guess we all have our MO's. Another thing she said was that the Lord will remove things and people from your life that you don't need, even if it does come in a pretty, sexy, tall package with perfectly straight teeth unaided by orthodontia (that in retrospect I hope like hell weren't dentures)...

I guess I let ALL of my crazy out on this post. But do you know how long it's been since I've truly enjoyed the company of a man? Do you know how long it's been since I received attention from a man I found attractive? Do you know how long it's been since I had sex (although I now refer to myself as celibate by default with plans to keep my skirt down til I'm married)? No? Well, I'll tell you: A VERY long time. I'd actually resigned myself to a lifetime of spinsterhood with books and cats to keep me entertained. This little glimmer of hope had me on cloud 9 for about 36 hours. My feet are back on the ground now, and oh, how they hurt.

Friendly Reminders...

Well, thanks to the latest Google Doodle, I've been reminded of my place on the outside looking in--my fault, I know. Today is National Teacher Appreciation Day. I have to be at school in a few hours, so if teachers are getting a special meal today to celebrate the occasion (READ: a catered lunch instead of cafeteria crap), I'll get whatever the teacher I'm subbing for would have had...bright side. Bring it on.