Do you remember Mad Libs? I still do them. They are a fabulous tool to reinforce parts of speech. Seriously. Knowing that kids think like perverts (QUICK LOGIC: If I know that kids think like perverts, than I am a pervert.)I do allow for them to use "urine" when a liquid is called for. Additionally, "poop, pooped, or pooping" are cool to use for past, present and future verbs. I draw the line at "69" when a number is needed; someone ALWAYS shouts that out. This summer, I tutored a student whose parent was very intent on my getting grammar ingrained into her head. The best way for me to assess whether or not she could apply what was learned was through Mad Libs. A highlight for me was when she chose BLACK as an adjective and BROTHER as a noun consecutively. She did not understand why the phrase "black brother" was so funny to me. Anyway, here is a sample of my own Mad Libs. It is not that funny, but it features some of my favorite adjectives.
skanky
hairy
NY
dusty
gorilla
Mexican
Mall
Seraphina
cat
tree
slutty
sweaty
hot dog
swollen
chitland
brother
ginormous
finger
bloody
petite
goulash
multiple
fuck
harsh
The Restaurant
One day, Megan and Andrew went to a skanky (ADJECTIVE) restaurant up in the hairy(ADJECTIVE) Mountains of NY(STATE) with their mommy and daddy. The restaurant was called THE Dusty(ADJECTIVE) Gorilla(ANIMAL). It was known for having the best Mexican (KIND OF FOOD) this side of mall(PLACE).
The waitress came over and introduced herself as Seraphina (NAME). She got Megan and Andrew some water to drink and some crayons. Megan drew a picture of a(n) cat (NOUN); Andrew drew a picture of a(n) tree (NOUN).� The waitress thought these pictures were very slutty (ADJECTIVE).
In a little while, the waitress asked everyone what they wanted to eat. After Mommy and Daddy ordered their food, Megan said that she wanted a big plate of sweaty (ADJECTIVE) hot dog(FOOD). Andrew said he wanted some swollen (ADJECTIVE) chitland (FOOD). The waitress brought the order to the kitchen.
Before the food came, Megan and Andrew decided to go to the potty. The Potty in this restaurant smelled like a(n) brother (NOUN). In any event, they went potty and then washed their hands. The soap was very ginormous(ADJECTIVE) and the sink was hard to reach. Megan decided they needed to stand on a finger(NOUN) so they could wash their hands, so she and Andrew moved one right next to the sink.
When they came back from the potty, their food was ready. Megan thought that hers was bloody(ADJECTIVE). Andrew’s was very petite(ADJECTIVE). After dinner, they both had some goulash (FOOD) for dessert. They thought it was multiple (ADJECTIVE). When they were done, Megan decided that they should go back to the hotel and fuck(VERB). Everyone thought that was very harsh (ADJECTIVE).
****The end could not have worked out better and I did not plan it!!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Story of My Life
This was written a few years ago, when I was clearly at a different place in my life. While procrastinating at work, rather than typing up an educational report based on the RICHARD WOODCOCK JOHNSON Test of Achievement, I opted to instead thumb through about 100 docs and came across this. It is unfinished. I suppose this is symbolic of the fact that I have let this piece of my life go.
“If I had known Elle would have found out, I never would have cheated on her.” I had been looking for signs from God for months, and despite the fact that I had received hundreds already and the truth was staring me in the face for years, those words were the sign. Looking back, I can recall this feeling of watching this scene unfold as though I were a fly on the wall. While the beginning of the end came many months before, this was it for me. Jack’s words gave me the kick in the ass that I needed to get to steppn’.
The summer before my senior year of college was great. At that point, I had been living full time in Maryland, but had come home for a few weeks before my final fall semester was to begin. I had gone to Huntington, a town I ordinarily did not spend time in, with some friends from college. We found ourselves out the Artful Dodger, laughing and talking excitedly about the year that was to come and the years we had already shared. My friend Kristina suggested we do a ‘walk through’ of the bar, so we headed towards the back, all in a row. As one brunette followed the other like baby chicks following their mother during the imprinting process, I was stopped by “You have beautiful eyes.” The dark haired, green eyed man, who was actually never anything more than a child, caught my attention and then held it for nearly eight years. It’s amazing what one liners can do to a person. For, me, Jack’s lines are what unraveled me.
Time was limited, as I was to return to school to student teach, but jack and I instantly became inseparable. We would talk late into the night about our pasts and our hopes for the future. Things were too good to be true. I was sad to leave, but on the same hand, I loved my college life. While it appeared as though I was engaged in a full on relationship, Jack and I left off on the terms that we would see other people. Despite this, we spoke nearly everyday, and frequent visits were made between New York and Maryland. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but I was positive that by the time graduation rolled around and it was time for me to pack my bags and return home to the safe haven of my parents house, we would stop the whole “seeing other people” bit and get more serious. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The summer after graduation was riddled with ups and downs, excitement and insecurity. My future was wide open, the world was my oyster yet I was petrified that I would be jobless and alone. Jack kept me hanging on a string—we were together, not together. This went on for two years. Now, I consider myself to be somewhat superstitious. I believe in knocking on wood, sneezing on the truth, and have no qualms about an occasional visit to a psychic. As I search for signs time and time again, an early indicator should have been that Jack didn’t have the decency to show up to my college graduation party, let alone call me at all that day (or the next). But what you also need to know about me is that up until very recently, my self esteem was so low. While others thought the world of me, I never did of myself. For much of my life my weight has been up and down, yet when it was down, it wasn’t enough. Jack understood this, he fed off of this. He too was not the king of self esteem, although if given the opportunity to debate this point (not that there will be), he would disagree. Jack had a volatile family life and a very difficult time maintaining peer relationships. The fact that he was constantly self medicating with marijuana most of the time did not help, and neither do a previous diagnosis of bi-polar disorder (undedicated) and narcissism. Jack reinforced anything negative I thought of myself. During our last year together, I lost a dramatic 30 pounds within a month. I could not eat, smoked like a chimney and was functioning on a bag of nerves and a large cup of coffee. He told me I looked good, but could stand to lose another 15. Funny, seeing as I looked skeletal and friends, family and coworkers were convinced I had also developed an eating disorder. I suppose I did, but I like to refer to it as the divorce diet.
Eventually Jack declared his love for me and it was agreed that we had been together long enough…we were in a committed relationship. We moved in together and began fighting like cats and dogs. When people asked me how things were I would admit that they were difficulty, but that it was the right decision. I knew I was lying to myself, but deep down, I believed that things would be okay, especially if I willed them to be. There were so many outside factors that inflicted stress upon the relationship; Jack’s ailing father and eventually his death, attempts at new jobs, a tumultuous relationship between Jack and his mother…You name it, it happened. Notice that the stress was provided from his end. Oh—it is necessary to include that Jacks pot smoking was no longer just a hobby, but a part of life. Everywhere we went required a stop around the block from our final location so that Jack could get high. At first I would smoke too, but I soon tired of the munchies and the paranoia. That caused friction between the two of us too. Jack no longer considered me any fun. We would arrive late to functions and would have to leave early so that more pt could be smoked. Jacks mood would change on the dime and it would often be embarrassing. One night we went out to dinner with our families for his birthday and like most people who are full after a large meal, everyone but him declined dessert. As soon as his large piece of tiramisu arrived (with 8 extra forks), some people started asking for bites. He flipped out and screamed “Why don’t you get your own dessert!” This situation could have easily been fixed by ordering another piece of cake, yet while it might have been irritating for him, Jack did not have to respond in that manner. My parents later told me that that night was what began their feelings to change for him.
By year six, most of my friends were married or engaged. I had had enough and told Jack that I did not want to live with someone forever, I wanted the ring. I felt like it was the logical next step in our relationship. I was so focused on my own insecurity and fear of being alone that it never really occurred to me that pushing an engagement was a huge mistake. I again believed that everything would be okay. That was me…just bury your head in the sand and pretend everything is okay. So we got engaged. It was a surprise and very romantic. We had a beautiful wedding. It never should have happened. My parents and friends never loved Jack. I knew they thought I could do better. I knew I could do better and that I deserved better. I deserved to be treated with respect and to not be called a “stupid bitch.” I deserved someone who wouldn’t be angry with me for spending hours away from home or working on a thesis paper while attempting to obtain a master’s degree. I deserved someone who didn’t refer to my parents as trash because of their jobs or the fact that they didn’t complete college. I deserved someone who would appreciate me for me. I deserved someone who didn’t have a girlfriend on the side, who was taking pictures of her engaging in sexual behavior on his camera phone in her bedroom in the house where she lived just blocks away from the school where I worked.
Call it a sixth sense, but when I saw Jack sitting in the limo that was to take us to the site for our wedding pictures, he had this expression on his face that was more than just nervous. I shook it off. I walked down the aisle, he broke the glass and kissed the bride. I felt as though we had nothing to talk about during our honeymoon. I couldn’t wait to get home, although this is the first time I have admitted that. Then it was time for me to return to work and Jack was once again looking for a job. I guess he must have gotten sidetracked by the hot sex he was getting from his girlfriend, Vanessa, yet miraculously I had no clue and soon went back to work for his mom who owned her own business. It was my tenure year at school and anyone who is a teacher or who knows one would have to agree that that year is filled with stress. I was preoccupied with work and the additional 5 hours of tutoring, clubs and mandatory work events I participated in. I was grateful that Jack demanded little of me. He would stay out late and not answer his phone, telling me he couldn’t hear it or that he left it in his car. Again, something felt off and when he told me he wanted a divorce because I had let myself go, he wasn’t attracted to me and that he was not in love with me, I truly believed it was my entire fault. He painted this perfect picture of a huge let down. He explained that we were too different, and while this was true, I didn’t think his reasons were valid: we like different music and I like carpets with floral designs on them. Give me a break. Jack was nice enough to tell me all of this after my tenure observations were over, but each day was unpredictable. We would work things out, we wouldn’t. My moods were based on what he would say to me and how late he would come home. I was alone all of the time. I was scared. I feel today that my insecurity held be back and suffocated me for years. I blame myself not for his actions because we are the only ones responsible for our actions, but for keeping myself in a terrible place. I was my own captor. But I was also the one who freed myself and enabled myself to discover who I am and to find true happiness.
It was Passover of 2005. I hated the way Jack was acting at his family’s Seder. I went home, he went out. That’s how we lived. I guess things were “good” with us since we were together that night. The next Seder was to be spent at my parents house. Jack was 15 minutes late and when he pulled up to the house, remained in the car on his phone. I went outside and he told me he was on the phone with his friend Dan. I told him he was being rude. During the Seder, he was quiet, reserved. Dinner was over and he went out and I returned home feeling unsettled. Gnawing at the back of my mind was the knowledge that there was something more going on. Where the hell was Jack until 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning? I had asked him on numerous occasions if he was seeing someone and he firmly denied it---our problems were the result of me.
“If I had known Elle would have found out, I never would have cheated on her.” I had been looking for signs from God for months, and despite the fact that I had received hundreds already and the truth was staring me in the face for years, those words were the sign. Looking back, I can recall this feeling of watching this scene unfold as though I were a fly on the wall. While the beginning of the end came many months before, this was it for me. Jack’s words gave me the kick in the ass that I needed to get to steppn’.
The summer before my senior year of college was great. At that point, I had been living full time in Maryland, but had come home for a few weeks before my final fall semester was to begin. I had gone to Huntington, a town I ordinarily did not spend time in, with some friends from college. We found ourselves out the Artful Dodger, laughing and talking excitedly about the year that was to come and the years we had already shared. My friend Kristina suggested we do a ‘walk through’ of the bar, so we headed towards the back, all in a row. As one brunette followed the other like baby chicks following their mother during the imprinting process, I was stopped by “You have beautiful eyes.” The dark haired, green eyed man, who was actually never anything more than a child, caught my attention and then held it for nearly eight years. It’s amazing what one liners can do to a person. For, me, Jack’s lines are what unraveled me.
Time was limited, as I was to return to school to student teach, but jack and I instantly became inseparable. We would talk late into the night about our pasts and our hopes for the future. Things were too good to be true. I was sad to leave, but on the same hand, I loved my college life. While it appeared as though I was engaged in a full on relationship, Jack and I left off on the terms that we would see other people. Despite this, we spoke nearly everyday, and frequent visits were made between New York and Maryland. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but I was positive that by the time graduation rolled around and it was time for me to pack my bags and return home to the safe haven of my parents house, we would stop the whole “seeing other people” bit and get more serious. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The summer after graduation was riddled with ups and downs, excitement and insecurity. My future was wide open, the world was my oyster yet I was petrified that I would be jobless and alone. Jack kept me hanging on a string—we were together, not together. This went on for two years. Now, I consider myself to be somewhat superstitious. I believe in knocking on wood, sneezing on the truth, and have no qualms about an occasional visit to a psychic. As I search for signs time and time again, an early indicator should have been that Jack didn’t have the decency to show up to my college graduation party, let alone call me at all that day (or the next). But what you also need to know about me is that up until very recently, my self esteem was so low. While others thought the world of me, I never did of myself. For much of my life my weight has been up and down, yet when it was down, it wasn’t enough. Jack understood this, he fed off of this. He too was not the king of self esteem, although if given the opportunity to debate this point (not that there will be), he would disagree. Jack had a volatile family life and a very difficult time maintaining peer relationships. The fact that he was constantly self medicating with marijuana most of the time did not help, and neither do a previous diagnosis of bi-polar disorder (undedicated) and narcissism. Jack reinforced anything negative I thought of myself. During our last year together, I lost a dramatic 30 pounds within a month. I could not eat, smoked like a chimney and was functioning on a bag of nerves and a large cup of coffee. He told me I looked good, but could stand to lose another 15. Funny, seeing as I looked skeletal and friends, family and coworkers were convinced I had also developed an eating disorder. I suppose I did, but I like to refer to it as the divorce diet.
Eventually Jack declared his love for me and it was agreed that we had been together long enough…we were in a committed relationship. We moved in together and began fighting like cats and dogs. When people asked me how things were I would admit that they were difficulty, but that it was the right decision. I knew I was lying to myself, but deep down, I believed that things would be okay, especially if I willed them to be. There were so many outside factors that inflicted stress upon the relationship; Jack’s ailing father and eventually his death, attempts at new jobs, a tumultuous relationship between Jack and his mother…You name it, it happened. Notice that the stress was provided from his end. Oh—it is necessary to include that Jacks pot smoking was no longer just a hobby, but a part of life. Everywhere we went required a stop around the block from our final location so that Jack could get high. At first I would smoke too, but I soon tired of the munchies and the paranoia. That caused friction between the two of us too. Jack no longer considered me any fun. We would arrive late to functions and would have to leave early so that more pt could be smoked. Jacks mood would change on the dime and it would often be embarrassing. One night we went out to dinner with our families for his birthday and like most people who are full after a large meal, everyone but him declined dessert. As soon as his large piece of tiramisu arrived (with 8 extra forks), some people started asking for bites. He flipped out and screamed “Why don’t you get your own dessert!” This situation could have easily been fixed by ordering another piece of cake, yet while it might have been irritating for him, Jack did not have to respond in that manner. My parents later told me that that night was what began their feelings to change for him.
By year six, most of my friends were married or engaged. I had had enough and told Jack that I did not want to live with someone forever, I wanted the ring. I felt like it was the logical next step in our relationship. I was so focused on my own insecurity and fear of being alone that it never really occurred to me that pushing an engagement was a huge mistake. I again believed that everything would be okay. That was me…just bury your head in the sand and pretend everything is okay. So we got engaged. It was a surprise and very romantic. We had a beautiful wedding. It never should have happened. My parents and friends never loved Jack. I knew they thought I could do better. I knew I could do better and that I deserved better. I deserved to be treated with respect and to not be called a “stupid bitch.” I deserved someone who wouldn’t be angry with me for spending hours away from home or working on a thesis paper while attempting to obtain a master’s degree. I deserved someone who didn’t refer to my parents as trash because of their jobs or the fact that they didn’t complete college. I deserved someone who would appreciate me for me. I deserved someone who didn’t have a girlfriend on the side, who was taking pictures of her engaging in sexual behavior on his camera phone in her bedroom in the house where she lived just blocks away from the school where I worked.
Call it a sixth sense, but when I saw Jack sitting in the limo that was to take us to the site for our wedding pictures, he had this expression on his face that was more than just nervous. I shook it off. I walked down the aisle, he broke the glass and kissed the bride. I felt as though we had nothing to talk about during our honeymoon. I couldn’t wait to get home, although this is the first time I have admitted that. Then it was time for me to return to work and Jack was once again looking for a job. I guess he must have gotten sidetracked by the hot sex he was getting from his girlfriend, Vanessa, yet miraculously I had no clue and soon went back to work for his mom who owned her own business. It was my tenure year at school and anyone who is a teacher or who knows one would have to agree that that year is filled with stress. I was preoccupied with work and the additional 5 hours of tutoring, clubs and mandatory work events I participated in. I was grateful that Jack demanded little of me. He would stay out late and not answer his phone, telling me he couldn’t hear it or that he left it in his car. Again, something felt off and when he told me he wanted a divorce because I had let myself go, he wasn’t attracted to me and that he was not in love with me, I truly believed it was my entire fault. He painted this perfect picture of a huge let down. He explained that we were too different, and while this was true, I didn’t think his reasons were valid: we like different music and I like carpets with floral designs on them. Give me a break. Jack was nice enough to tell me all of this after my tenure observations were over, but each day was unpredictable. We would work things out, we wouldn’t. My moods were based on what he would say to me and how late he would come home. I was alone all of the time. I was scared. I feel today that my insecurity held be back and suffocated me for years. I blame myself not for his actions because we are the only ones responsible for our actions, but for keeping myself in a terrible place. I was my own captor. But I was also the one who freed myself and enabled myself to discover who I am and to find true happiness.
It was Passover of 2005. I hated the way Jack was acting at his family’s Seder. I went home, he went out. That’s how we lived. I guess things were “good” with us since we were together that night. The next Seder was to be spent at my parents house. Jack was 15 minutes late and when he pulled up to the house, remained in the car on his phone. I went outside and he told me he was on the phone with his friend Dan. I told him he was being rude. During the Seder, he was quiet, reserved. Dinner was over and he went out and I returned home feeling unsettled. Gnawing at the back of my mind was the knowledge that there was something more going on. Where the hell was Jack until 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning? I had asked him on numerous occasions if he was seeing someone and he firmly denied it---our problems were the result of me.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Ties That Bind
I don't mean to brag, but I consider myself rich in the friends area. I have amazing friends who I not only work with, but with who I laugh a lot with, cry a lot with, and just can be myself around. We exist in the day to day of our lives. These are the people who know every minute detail of my life but who also see the adult version and the professional version of Lisa. I also have my childhood friends, whom I have know as early as four when the Wassermans moved on up to Rockville Centre from Far Rockaway. Around them, I am Snuffy, Snufs, Soo Soo Nee Uh Fee. These girls have known me for a long ass time. Together, we have endured Z. Cavariccis, pouffy bangs, our first zits, our first -----whisper----periods, first loves and breakups....I could go on all day here. And while our friendships have ebbed and flowed as a result of geography, changes in ourselves, and just life in general, when I am see them, it feels like home.
This week, one of the moms of "just the ten of us" (a silly nickname that I believe Pete Shimkin made up for the girls loosely based on a tv show that was popular for ten minutes in the early 90's) passed away. I have no words to console my old, sweet friend and really, what could I possible say to make this hurt go away? As a unit, this is the first parent to pass, and the pain we are all feeling for a mom who we borrowed from time to time when we needed her, whose home and heart were always open to us, is just so deep.
There is something to be said for not seeing someone for a while, yet being able to pick up the phone and jump right in as if not a day has passed. There is something to be said for when a tragedy strikes, and you have instant backup ready to help you and protect you from this cruel world. There is something to be said for when, awkwardly waiting for a funeral to begin, Nicole says just the thing, more out of nervousness than a desire to be comical, but nonetheless lightens the moods and reminds you that you are with family.
There is something to be said when your own children (not mine) are playing with your childhood friend's children and the get along as famously as we once all did. I actually went to Gino's last night with my parents (I was really kickin' it old school this weekend), and across from us was a booth of girls, skinny, chubby, blond, brunette, who were "out to dinner." "Just the ten of us" loved going out to dinner, either to some now defunct Chinese place on Sunrise Hiqhway or to Gino's. I believe our sophisticated taste also resulted in an order of Rigatoni Marinara or 2 Grandma slices.* I looked across at these girls who probably thought I was a creeper staring at them and whipped out my Berry for a mass text. It is important to note than in the 90's, there was no texting, so of course I got scolded at the table for this in 2010. I was just letting the girls know what I saw and how it reminded me of us.
These days, as I have said, our relationships vary in the degree of closeness. But that is life. I have been saddened by this at times, but I am to blame as much as anyone else is. Life is just so damn complicated, however, what we should take consolation in, is the fact that at a moment's notice, we will be there for each other.
Those are the ties that bind.
This week, one of the moms of "just the ten of us" (a silly nickname that I believe Pete Shimkin made up for the girls loosely based on a tv show that was popular for ten minutes in the early 90's) passed away. I have no words to console my old, sweet friend and really, what could I possible say to make this hurt go away? As a unit, this is the first parent to pass, and the pain we are all feeling for a mom who we borrowed from time to time when we needed her, whose home and heart were always open to us, is just so deep.
There is something to be said for not seeing someone for a while, yet being able to pick up the phone and jump right in as if not a day has passed. There is something to be said for when a tragedy strikes, and you have instant backup ready to help you and protect you from this cruel world. There is something to be said for when, awkwardly waiting for a funeral to begin, Nicole says just the thing, more out of nervousness than a desire to be comical, but nonetheless lightens the moods and reminds you that you are with family.
There is something to be said when your own children (not mine) are playing with your childhood friend's children and the get along as famously as we once all did. I actually went to Gino's last night with my parents (I was really kickin' it old school this weekend), and across from us was a booth of girls, skinny, chubby, blond, brunette, who were "out to dinner." "Just the ten of us" loved going out to dinner, either to some now defunct Chinese place on Sunrise Hiqhway or to Gino's. I believe our sophisticated taste also resulted in an order of Rigatoni Marinara or 2 Grandma slices.* I looked across at these girls who probably thought I was a creeper staring at them and whipped out my Berry for a mass text. It is important to note than in the 90's, there was no texting, so of course I got scolded at the table for this in 2010. I was just letting the girls know what I saw and how it reminded me of us.
These days, as I have said, our relationships vary in the degree of closeness. But that is life. I have been saddened by this at times, but I am to blame as much as anyone else is. Life is just so damn complicated, however, what we should take consolation in, is the fact that at a moment's notice, we will be there for each other.
Those are the ties that bind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)