Thursday, August 28, 2008

Song of the Week

I had not heard this band in some time. On a whim, I downloaded their newer(est) CD, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, though it wasn't until the "shuffle" feature on my iPod was engaged that I found this gem. It is just so catchy; those off-beat claps rouse a childish joy in me when I hear them. The horns a reminiscent of an almost Chicago-esque, pre-third wave ska era time. And you know what? It just freaking works. I love it, you'll love it, your kids will love it. 'Nuff said.  
and a cover which is also enjoyable

Monday, August 25, 2008

Just Some Pictures

I took these.

This is What I Get to Deal With Everyday at Work

Cleaning my desk/table in my room I found, very Indiana Jones-esquely (the dust that I blew off of it looked like snow), my pocket journal of quotes from the students last school year. 
The following are some of the highlights.

-We were learning about pirates in history!
-Yeah!  12% were Mexican and they had hard lives and they were farmers and had to move cows and...
-I think you mean 'cowboys.'

-What does 'paltry' mean?
-Chicken?  No, small or inferior.
-Like small chicken?

-Did you wrote it?

-What if Mr. Russ became a zombie?  He'd be like the biggest zombie.
-No stupid!  Don't you know Mr. Russ can't die?

-When I pop the collar in my varsity jacket I feel like a vampire.

-I will give you an A if you get sterilized.  - a teacher

-Without school dances, our school would be like a t-Rex at a vegetarian convention.  -from a persuasive essay

-Bowling is one of the oldest world sports.
-Yeah, they had it on the Flintstones.

-Why is Perrulat's job, delivering letters in the Yukon, so important?
-How else are all those letters going to get to Santa?

-Does spelling count?
-It's a true/false test.

And now, an original poem by one of my students:

The Difference Between Penguins and Turkeys

Penguins weeble
Penguins wobble
But they don't go, "Gobble gobble."
Penguins can't fly very high
But at least they don't get
  Served with pie.

Thoughts from the Couch

Myself, a McSorley's, McSweeney's, and McPhilCollins were hanging out on the couch one day (today, in fact) when we decided it would be a good idea to reinitiate a blog to help us all through the coming winter.  Check the date on this publication.  Yeah, we're worried about the winter and we haven't even left the cool morning chill of August yet.  But Phil's sweet, sweet vocals from the Tarzan soundtrack, along with McSorley's amber lager, have gotten us thinking about the jackets and sweaters to come, the long sunless days that will replace our fanciful summer frolicking; nights at the bar for fun being replaced by nights at the bar for necessity and sanity.  
   Yes, all too soon shorts and tee shirts become jumpers and onesies.  And this year we are all faced with a new problem - there are no more ties to college for us to cling to, nothing to remind us of our wasted youth.  All that we'll have left to us are our memories of this day, sitting on the couch together on our day off.  Come November, we'll all want to be out on the beach again, yelling at Bennys, having our noses burnt, or getting infractions with zinc mustaches.  
  But the beauty of summer is that it only comes around every now and again.  And that's what keeps it novel in the first place - we only get to have it for two months every year.  For those two months, we're all eighteen again and can do anything.  For those two months we hunt for fun, we suck all the marrow out of life.  For two months, we find that we can live lifetimes, that we can be who we want to be, that we are, and always will be, young at heart.
That was only slightly gay.  Yeah, I know.  It's the beer talking.  And it's only 1:30 in the afternoon.