Random Part Whatever

I regularly read a couple of other on-line journals because I've stumbled across them as I find out more about the people who contribute articles for televisionwithoutpity.com (TWoP for short, my favorite web site). I like their writing styles, and many of them are professional writers of varying degrees, so as I read recaps of my favorite shows, it's fun to find out more about these people who make me think about the mindless entertainment that TV can be, but isn't with these guys, so I follow the links to their own sites, lurk and learn.

They're cool. I mean that in the Fonzie way. Really. They know things about pop culture, they write really well, they reference things that have only a vague meaning to me because I'm so out of it. Whenever I read their sites, I'm painfully reminded of how very un-cool I am. Then I think, what's the point, really, of me even trying to come close to what they do on their on-line journals? I can't compete, so I might as well not even try. (I believe I've referenced this issue of mine in the past.)

So you just have to know that I'm not cool. Read this, learn about my life and how boring it can be, and the little things that bring me joy and happiness, but know that I'm not cool.

What? You're wondering why I'm just now figuring this out about myself? That you knew all along? Well, thanks. A lot.

Just for that, you now have to put up with the drudgery of:

Random Things On My Mind

I have found the perfect 7-11. They have caffeine-free Diet Coke in the fountain. I love getting soft drinks from the fountain -- they're generally the perfect mixture of fizz and taste, and I love it poured over ice. It can almost be duplicated by pouring it out of a can onto ice, but not quite. It's too carbonated and tickly and metallic tasting immediately out of the can. Sure, you can let it sit for a bit, but then it goes flat way too easily. And I love drinking it from a straw, ice cold, which I won't/don't do at home. It freezes my throat just the perfect amount, especially when it's been sitting on the ice for awhile. Here's the coup d' grace with this 7-11 -- you can put flavor squirts in the Big Gulp -- vanilla, lemon or cherry. I don't even feel the need to wrap this paragraph up; it's sufficient to just lean back, take a sip and say, "Ahhhhhh."

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The girls at work (that's how I think of them -- they're the gaggle of girls whose cubicles are on the other side of my wall) are now obsessed with diets. More so than usual. Mind you, none of them are over 30, or maybe even 26, they're all fit, youthful, fashionable, healthy looking girls, and they constantly obsess about food. This week's topic -- the "fasting" diet. The ringleader, Kelley, (you just knew she had to have a cutesy name. There's also a Tiffany. I don't have anything against these names, but they go a long way towards describing them, don't you think? Like Pinky Tuscadero. Oh! That's it! They're the Pinkettes! Is that copyrighted? How about the Gagglettes? Gaggettes, more like it.) is advocating drinking water with lemon in it for 10 days. This is supposed to help her not only lose weight, (I'll say. Plate of Ghandi, anyone?) but cleanse her bowels (yuck. Her words, not mine), and help her to stop smoking. Yes, she won't be doing any smoking while she's passed out from hunger. So far, I haven't heard about any actual FOOD intake. They're forgetting the truism of Calories = Energy.

Lemon water * 10 days = Less productivity than usual.

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My boss informed me this morning that 90% of my job is social. This came at the tail end of him telling me that he wants me to start taking people out to lunch. He hasn't seen any expense reports come across his desk yet, and he will approve a lunch a week. That should be my goal.

My thought as he's saying this to me: " ."

Seriously. My job requirement is to now take people to lunch, to schmooze, ask about their kids, make small talk -- all in an effort to build relationships of trust so I can figure out how to save costs.

This is the most backwards place I've ever worked in.

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But I'm not complaining. I have a job, and I'm good at it. I don't know what I do, but I'm good at it.

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I happened across a news story today about a guy in the UK who calls himself Angle-Grinder Man, the U.K.’s first wheel-clamp and speed camera vigilante cum subversive superhero philanthropist entertainer type personage. In a nutshell, he's a self-proclaimed super hero who saws through parking boots that have been placed on illegally parked cars. Check out his website: http://anglegrinderman.co.uk/

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I told my two best friends the other day that I just want to be told I'm funny. "If you tell me I'm funny, then I'm happy," I believe were my exact words.

What a mistake that was. I didn't live it down for the next two days. Everytime I said something, they said, "Laura, you're so funny."

Me: There's a hairball on the carpet.

Two Best Friends: Laura, you're so funny.

Me: Stop! Red Light!

TBF: You're so funny.

Me: Let me tell you about the funniest thing I saw today. I was driving along and blah blah proceed to tell funny story-cakes here.

TBF: " " accompanied by blank stares.

Is it me? Am I really not funny? I know that I think funny things, but I guess I'm not so good at translating those into actual words. That, or I have the world's most unique sense of humor.

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I don't know why I'm saving the thing that matters the most to me til last. Probably because I'm not sure that it's of general interest (read "Cheaper by the Dozen" to get that reference), but then I remind myself that I'm not cool so it doesn't matter.

Seminary started last week. For those of you not familiar with this, I teach an early morning scripture-study class for high school-aged students before they go to their "regular" classes. We start at 5:55 and end at 6:45. Did I mention a.m.? This is my fifth year of doing it here in Burbank; I did it for two years previously in northern California a lifetime ago.

I love it.

This is the thing that makes my day, that I plan for, that I look forward to, that I dread, that I spend all my time on. There is nothing so envigorating as teaching gospel truths to teenagers, seeing them grasp the concepts and principles and apply those truths in their own lives. It's my way of trying to improve my own corner of the world. By helping these kids recognize and accept truth, I know (hope) they will become responsible, law-abiding, fight-for-truth adults.

I have 35 enrolled students right now, and one who comes sporadically because he doesn't have any parental support. I got twelve new freshman, plus a couple of kids who have recently movede here, and only lost eight seniors, so my class is that much bigger than last year.

After the first day jitters of meeting everyone, memorizing names, doing expectations, and the 2nd day uneasiness of just wanting to find a rhythm and settle down, things are going really well. I hope it continues to be a good year. I feel more relaxed and like I've developed a lot of good teaching skills that I'm able to utilize without having to think about everything I say.

It makes me a better person too. Yes, I'm selfish.

I'm also sleep deprived, but so far, have resisted the urge to go on any postal worker-type violent benders.

I'm sure this will be something that I write about more as the year goes on, as it is simultaneously my greatest source of joy and frustration on any given day.

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Excited about: Going to the Hollywood Bowl for the first time ever on Saturday. Indigo Girls concert on the 26th. A friend from my high school days using a free ticket to come see me next week. KZLA's Country Bash on October 11th. My life. I may not be cool, but it is.