I am, VW

Ok. Good to know it's not just me. Or something.

I used to think that Chick tracts were fun, but I now see them as racist hate literature.

They're fun racist hate literature!

(Seriously, though, I'm with you. On the one hand, I can read them and shake my head and laugh at how over the top CRAXY they are, and then I remember that there are people out there taking them seriously and I get very, very sad and frightened.)

Oh, DJ, I've been coveting that HK guitar forever. The Sanrio in my mall has it on display along with the Bad Badtz bass. I also need this crock pot!!!! [link]

ACK. Big Boss wasn't in her office. I left her a note, but no response. Guess I'll be tackling this question tomorrow. Thanks for the ~ma!

All kinds of ~ma for tomorrow, Kristin!

I've been asked if I would be willing to teach a fifth class next year (the normal load is four).

Really? Four? A normal load here is 5 and some teachers have 6, for which they get paid extra for the extra class. I don't know how much extra, though. A friend of mine said it ended up being about $45 per paycheck (every two weeks). Not worth it IMO.

This has to be the most absurd Chick tract ever:

Think you have bad family experiences at Thanksgiving?

I remember the Chick Tracts from one of the Southern Baptist churches I went to. Specifically the Dungeons and Dragons one, I always thought it was funny.

Got home to a letter from the oral surgeon. I have 2 pre surgery appointments (one for a physical w/my primary care and 1 with post op instructions and prescriptions) made for me (luckily I think I can use my lunch break for these) and my actual surgery is at 4 pm so maybe I can go into work for the morning.

And I have to call the oral surgeon and figure out exactly how much I'm going to end up owing them. I just looked at my benefits again and while the dental insurance will cover 80% they have a calendar year max of $750, which I'm totally going to meet.

I'm slightly freaking out about all of this but it will work out.

I have a story which I will be torturing Mr. Jane with forever, and which I will share with you now.

I walk in the door from work and take about 5 steps inside. I'm almost instantly greeted with, "WHAT IS THIS!?! WHAT DID YOU DRAG INSIDE!?! THERE IS SAND EVERYWHERE" Since it was just me and my purse, I look mostly confused. "Uhm. Me," says I. "No! There's sand everywhere! Check your purse!" So I do. Nothing. "Well what could it be!?!" I tell him I have no idea, as I have just walked in the door.

A few minutes later, I've changed out of work clothes, and I'm picking up. Finding crap that the dog has chewed, and I think "Hey I was sewing last night! Maybe it was my pincushion!" But, I look and the pincushion is still intact. "Hmm," says I out loud, "I thought it might be.." Mr. Jane inturrupt me to say, "Maybe it was that bag of sand."

o^0 goes I.

No. He will never live this down.

My doctor doesn't think I have a stress fracture, but my coach still suspects I do since my symptoms sound like his when he had one. He told me to rest for the next couple days, and on Saturday, I'll try to run with a slower pace group and stop if it hurts too much. I don't think I'll be able to make it very far, but I guess if he allows me to try, I'll give it a shot. And then I'll cry and scream for sucking.