Stuff and Things

Quote: Bagpipe players have to wear kilts or they just look weird.

A couple years ago I had a mean cough that was not going away. Ken had some leftover cough syrup with codeine in it so I decided to give it a try. I'd never had codeine, can't take many of the good pain killers (Percocet, Morphine, Vicodin...) and I was a little nervous to try this new to me drug, but I was desperate. So I took a swig of the stuff then went to enrich, influence and shape young minds. Because I've never been drunk or even had a drink of alcohol, I can't say the juice made me that way for sure, but I know it made me tipsy. I couldn't walk straight and I was slurring my speech. Story time that day was a treat for my coworker, Kim. She was laughing like crazy and the book I was reading was not that funny. About 4 hours into the school day the meds wore off and the cough came back. I took another dose. Same results as the first time only I had to teach math. Not a successful day teaching, but I didn't cough much. I took the meds periodically until the bottle was gone - there was about 4 ounces left - in the evenings after I got home from work and my cough went away.

Three diet cokes at a late dinner = not falling asleep until 2 in the morning and heart palpitations in the morning. I did wake up laughing though.

Slobber makes me dry heave. I can't handle it. It's too gross.

{here comes a complaint} I don't like the word 'deal' when it is used in respect to raising children. When I was in cosmetology school, {Yes, I was in cosmetology school. Yes, I'm a beauty school dropout. blah blah blah} we were taught you pluck chickens, you tweeze eyebrows. You wash socks and shampoo hair. I think of the word deal in the same regard. I don't deal with my children. I take care of them, occasionally I have to handle something, and a lot of times redirection is needed. No specific person is coming to my mind as I write this, it's just been on my mind a lot lately and since this is my blogdango, I am writing it here. The End. Anyone else need a soapbox?

Ken sings songs to me in obnoxious voices and messes up the words on purpose. (Bless his heart.) He likes to tick me off...and make me laugh.

I'm scared of cemeteries.

I am fun * (awesome - lame) * awesome again. It's math. Look it up.

The End.