Friday, August 05, 2005


Ladies and gentlemen (and readers of all ages), this is one of those days where I just don't understand the opposite sex. You look over the following tale and tell me if I am just stupid or what. I freely admit that I have imbibed a great deal of wine.
My wife and I decided to go out for dinner tonight. We headed over to
Sapor in Minneapolis. Fabulous restaurant. I highly recommend it if you're heading out with a group or just on your own. Extensive wine list, great bar and dinner fare. Superb.
Back to the point. Over the course of dinner, my wife and I started talking about the attractiveness of other people. Now, your typical person, regardless of whether or not they are in a relationship, will inevitably look at other people they find attractive. One of my wife's friends married a guy who is, for lack of a better description, man-pretty. He's one of those guys that walks into a room and every woman swings her head. I would be jealous, but he's, well, a mimbo. It's the classic Cyrano tale. He's pretty but he can't talk. I gave him lines to use on his wife, which apparently worked. I say them and women go, "ICK!!!" He says them, and women suddenly need new underwear. Ok, maybe that's a little far, but you get the idea.
So here's where I get confused. I don't care that my wife thinks he's attractive. She's married, not dead. The problem, however, is that I don't look at other women. I don't care anymore. I'm married, and honestly, I don't think about or look at other women.
At one point, my wife asked me, "Who do you consider attractive?" I started to think about it. "Who do I find attractive?" After what I would consider a VERY long minute, I answered my wife truthfully. "I don't find other women attractive. I married the woman that answers that question. You are everything I find attractive from looks, to brains, to personality."
Now, I would think this answer, which is the truth, would make her feel good. I was, however, VERY WRONG. She was and still is not happy with my response. She says that my answer shows, "I have no standards," and I'm, "not comparing her to anything." Why is that bad? Seriously, I don't know! I used to date a gal who told me that she, "shouldn't be compared to other women." Am I a total schumck and just don't realize it?
I would think being told, "You're the pinnacle of what I'm looking for," would be a compliment. I don't look at other women, because I'm happy with my wife. There's no reason to think there should be anything better. And yet, she's unhappy that I feel this way. Why? Is it because she needs that competition? I also don't feel bad that she looks at other men. I would if she did anything with them, but looking is ok (at least with me).
Honestly, it's also tough for me, because I have never really thought of women that way. Sure, a lot of guys say this, but I, for better or worse, mean it. Who do I find attractive? I don't know. I find my wife attractive. She's brilliant, beautiful, and has a killer sense of humor that can make me laugh so hard I cry (and pee my pants a little). She makes me very happy. Why would I bother looking around when I have that?
So ladies and gentlemen, if you have an answer to my dilemma, please let
me know. I thought I was telling my wife how much I love her, but I guess I was just hurting her feelings.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Waiter, That's Your Hand On My Pants

Hey kids, how about a dating story? Does that sound like it would be nice to hear about? Let me just change into my cardigan and sneakers, and I'll tell you a story.
Ok, this is a true story about the first date I ever had with my wife. We had been friends for years, but had been with other people. At the beginning of our senior year of college, both she and I were single again with our significant others having either cheated or left. So, after she "passed out" at one of my parties (and I use the quotes because I later found out that she faked it), we decided to try and date and see what happens. Best case scenario: we go from friends to husband and wife (which we did). Worst case scenario: we date, it goes bad, we never see each other again after the end of the year (which happened to another girl I dated...oh well).
I wanted to do something nice and conventional. Neither one of us had ever really had a "conventional" date. Well, what's more conventional than dinner and movie? Nothing, I thought. So, we decided she would pick the movie, and I would pick the place for dinner. We would head to the movie first, and then have a late dinner and drinks.
The film she decided on was
American Beauty. I know, I know, children. That's not really what you would consider a "date movie," and honestly, neither did I at the time, but it ended up being quite romantic. Why? Because it gave us a few different topics to discuss, and it also showed that maybe, just maybe, I was dating the right person. You see, she did several things that I really liked:
1. She never talked during the movie. That's a big pet peeve that I have. There's a difference between, "Excuse me, I need to get out," and, "Excuse me, did you know that the guy playing Lester was in Hear No Evil, See No Evil?"
2. She turned off her phone. Another pet peeve of mine is cell phones in movie theatres. She took the time to turn the ringer off. That was nice.
3. After the movie she talked about its meanings, scenes, and more. I love movies. I've said it before, and I'll say it until the day I die. I love film. She shared that interest with me. She was also willing to see just about anything which proved to me she was a keeper.
With the movie over and discussions beginning, I wanted to take her somewhere that I could impress her. I decided to take her to an old haunt, as it were, for dinner. A wonderful wine bar called
Riddle's Penultimate Cafe & Wine Bar. I would go there all the time for drinks and bands, and it was separated into bar and romantic cafe. (The cafe side had a sign that said, "THIS IS ROMANTIC.")
Now, children, this is where the story takes a turn. You see, even though I am not really attractive and quite straight, I seem to attract Homosexual men. Why? No clue. Right after my beautiful date and I sat down, our server came over. I will always recall that his name was Gerald, and I will also always recall that he ignored my wife the entire night. Here are some clues that you server may like you:
1. You've just sat down at your table, and your server puts your napkin in your lap. Right after he places the napkin, he leaves his hand in your lap and gives your inner thigh a nice squeeze.
2. Shortly after squeezing your thigh, he places his hand on your shoulder, smiles, and then says, "If you need anything, please let me know."
3. During this entire time, your date, a nice girl, is being ignored regardless of the number of times she says the server's name or just says, "hello," to him.
4. When you get the wine (which he approves of), and you have a small drip on your chin, and he licks his finger and then touches the drop, that's where it gets creepy.
5. When your bill comes at the end of the night, and the server hands it to you, and you see his name, phone number, and a note asking you to call him, that's a pretty big sign.
The meal itself, as well as the wine, was great. Riddle's is still one of our favorite places, and we returned there for dinner one night during our reunion. Our families even met each other for the first time over dinner there. However, let me finish the story of our first date.
As you'll recall, we've been to the movies, and we've had a nice dinner where the server liked me a little too much, but the boy and girl on the date have had some very nice discussions about life, movies, and such. I decided that I would invite her to my home for coffee (and I do mean coffee, folks. We had a lot of wine). When we arrived at my house (which wasn't far from the restaurant), everything looked normal. I use the word "looked", children, because it appeared normal, but it was, in fact, not normal. You see two of my friends who lived across the street had an argument, and one stormed off. She needed a place to go, so she went over to my house where my then roommate (you'll recall that I had a faculty member living with me for a little bit) was drunk on some of my wine collection and let her in. So, I've returned to my home to have coffee with my date (having told my roommate to skeedadle for the night) to find that he and another friend of mine were sitting in my living room extremely drunk and had called other people over to join them. That's right: an impromptu party was going on in my house. Not good. My wife was game to talk with everyone, but I could tell she was tired. After all, we had started around 7 and it was close to 1 am now...and a school night. (And we know that we're not supposed to stay up late on a school night, right children?) I told everyone that I would be right back and that, "my house better be clean and all of you gone when I return!"
I took my lovely date home, kissed her goodnight (not our first kiss, but that's another story), and drove home in a really good mood. When I returned, to my surprise, the house was a immaculate.

So what's the moral of our story, kids? Well, good guys can have a nice time out, but you have to be careful that your server may find you attractive. You also have to be careful that people will take over your space when you're not there. Still, my lovely wife must have thought it was nice too, because she married me in the end.
I hope this story makes you feel better, and, if you're single, I hope that it shows you that there's hope for everyone. Have a good night.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Ramblings for the Evening (8/3/05)

Note: This post contains possibly offensive jokes. You've been warned, blah, blah, blah.
Satan goes to Hell
Seriously. Miroslav Satan signed with the New York Islanders. Sure, there won't be the awesome headline about Satan and the Devils, but Satan is going to be playing in Long Island. That's really and truly Hell on Earth.
No one dies in Canadian plane crash
Once again Canada is able to get something right that we Americans really can't. Not a single person from the plane died. Beyond that, there was no pushing or shoving to get out. It was, "a textbook evacuation," they said. We can be embarrassed now.
South Korean doctors clone a dog
Politically correct version: Congratulations. Science around the world takes another stride toward conquering the unknown of death.
Politically incorrect version: Congratulations. No one will go hungry again.
Americans are becoming ruder (No Duh)
According to a poll on CNN (if we can actually believe the media these days), Americans are now the rudest people in the world. First of all, HAHAHAHAHA. Second of all, this is news? How could we not be? Before you get all riled up and start a "Love it or leave it" comment, really think about it. I got my haircut today. While I was in the chair, a customer came in and wanted a cut as well. The woman cutting my hair wanted to finish the one section before helping the customer, but the customer was impatient. After twenty seconds, the customer said, "Heellllooo. I want some service here." Jen (the stylist) put her scissors and walked over to help Rude Customer (RC from here on). RC tapped repeatedly on the desk and said, "I want a"
"You'll have to wait about fifteen minutes. I have to finish him first."
RC was not having that. "Fifteen minutes. That's bullshit. I want a cut right now. He can wait. I'm in a hurry. Let's go. You, in the chair (she meant me), get out of the chair. Now!"
Neither Jen nor I could believe this chick. Jen looked at me and asked, "Do you believe this?"
I sat quietly for a second, then said, "Wow. That was rude."
RC turned red and said, "Fuck you both. I didn't want to help your business anyway. Screw you bitch and (now pointing at me) screw you fuckhead!" And with that, she stormed out.
It's not just instances like that, however, that prove the point. When I was at the New England Aquarium, two parents pushed (without asking me to move or anything) my wife and I over so they and their kids could see penguins. When I said, "Excuse me, you could have asked us to move," the response I got was, "We have children. You HAVE to move for us." They did the same thing while we waited in line for the IMAX movie. Because they had kids, they believed they should be first.
Students, parents, and the general public have become ruder as well. I'm used to students dropping f-bombs on me (thus be sent out of my room), but after I failed one student for not only not showing up, but doing no work as well, her mom called me and bitched me out. You want to make a point with me? Then don't call me, "a retarded asshole," because YOUR kid didn't show up to class. How can I help your kid to learn if they aren't in my classroom? That's preposterous to blame me. Oy vey.
On a better note
Ok, so enough of the blah, blah, blah and wah, wah, wah. Go look at
Meredith's photos. She's quite a talented photgrapher (in my humble opinion).
Have a good night.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

I Keep Hearing that Song by The Police...

Due to the suggestion of one of my loyal readers, we're going to talk about something near and dear to my heart: stalkers. Now, I've already talked about one stalker from when I was in college (We called her Kelly). However, I had a stalker back in high school, and a student who actually stalked me during my student teaching.
When I was a senior in high school, there was a junior girl (we'll call her Laura) who followed me no matter where I was in school. If I was in my English class, she was outside the door both before and after class. Bio II, same thing. During an appointment with my college counselor, she was there when I got out. I didn't tell anyone I was meeting with the CC, so Laura must have followed me. Don't get me wrong, she was a pretty girl, who was quite smart, but I was not interested and was getting ready to go away to college. Beyond that, there's something very creepy about a person always being there when you turn around. She followed me home, she would call me at odd hours, and she even showed up at the theatre one afternoon while I was working on the lights. I climbed down off some scaffolding, turned around, and there she was. It was like a bad horror movie. I could hear that music from one of those films whenever she was around me. I ended up telling her that I needed space, and that she was creeping me out. I guess, from what others told me, I made her cry...alot. Several of my friends thought I was a complete ass for doing that. One guy even told me that I should take her on a date. "You know, like a pity date. Make her think she's got a chance." That, to me, would be much worse.
Now, the girl who stalked while I student taught was different. I want to make this clear: this is not Emma I'm talking about here. She has her own story for another time with its own issues. No this girl we'll call Kristen. After two months of teaching, I began to notice that no matter what room I was in, Kristen would come by and ask me questions. If I was on the third floor, she would be there. It got so bad, at one point, that when I headed out to my car, she would be next to it waiting for me. That's dedication, folks. She discovered which car was mine. Anyone else starting to wonder if the bunny is in the pot yet? (Anyone really get that reference?) The worst moment, however, was while I was working on a show for my supervising teacher.
I had finished my student teaching and was subbing for a colleague while he was out recuperating from (for lack of a better term) dislocated muscle. While breaking up a fight, he pulled his bicep muscle off the bone. It required surgery.
So, I'm working on this show, and I have to paint the set. Because I am painting, I have changed out of my nice teacher clothes and into painting clothes (which is to say I look like a hobo). Having put everything in my bag, I begin painting. While I am painting, I notice that Kristen is hanging out near my bag. I was not aware that she knew I was back. I finish painting a wall and turn to see her holding my wallet. She flips over my license, telling me about how she, "loves the picture," and starts looking through my personal photos. When she gets to my wife, her entire face goes from smiling, to frowning, to anger. "Who's this?!" she yells at me. "That would be my wife," I respond while grabbing my wallet. "She's not right for you," I hear back as I walk away.
The piece de resistance (excuse my bad French), however, comes from the last day of school. As I hug the seniors goodbye and tell the rest of the students I will see them later, Kristen comes to me for a hug. I, honestly, don't feel comfortable, but I give her a guy hug (one quick pat and move away). As I start to pull off, she grabs on to me tighter and kisses my cheek. The two faculty members standing next to me stare at me intently. "I'm going to miss you sooo much," she tells me, "I really hope college guys are like you." Then off she goes with tears streaming down her face. My two colleagues start to ask me what the hell that was, and I can only muster, "that was weird. Must be hormones or something." (Hey, I was embarrassed. Wouldn't you be?)
I haven't heard from Kristen since the day after she said goodbye. She showed up at my home to tell me about her upcoming trip and to say "Goodbye forever." She was visibly disappointed when my wife answered the door.
Between my stalker, and the student who was infatuated with me (that would be Emma), St. Thomas had to start prepping teachers for what to do if these things happen. I was asked back during the spring semester if I would be willing to speak to student teachers about my experiences. The program also interviewed me in order to create a new page in the student teaching handbook about how to deal with these situations. It's always a thrill when an administrator tells you, "Because of you, we've had to change the handbooks. Nice work."
So there you go, oh loyal readers, even little ole I.T. here has had his share of stalkers. Which is odd, because, as one student told me, "you're really not that good looking." She may be right, look at the picture...

Monday, August 01, 2005

Ramblings for the Morning (8/1/05)

Hockey's back!
Yes! I must admit that I am very happy right now. I've said it before, I love hockey. So now it's back, and, though most of the world really doesn't care, all is bright and shiny again. This leads to my next point...
Satan is cut by the Sabres
I mentioned in a
previous post that a senator in New Jersey wants to change the name of the New Jersey Devils. I said it before, and I'll say it again: I want Miroslav Satan (it's pronounced SHA-tan) to go to the Devils. It would be such a great headline:
"Satan comes to New Jersey" with the by line: "No one surprised"
That way this senator would have EVEN MORE to be upset about.
Growing number of teachers having sex
More and more teachers, particularly women, are getting in trouble for having sex. Even today, according to the
New York Post, a catholic school teacher is in trouble for sleeping with, "four boys."
Now here's the issue. If you're a girl and you sleep with your teacher, you're branded a slut, whore, whatever. However, if you're a guy and you sleep with your teacher, you're considered a hero, or god among men (if the teacher is a woman. If it's a guy...that's another story all together. Come on, you remember what high school kids are like). The four boys may be in trouble with their parents (and possibly God depending on their strength of faith), but among their peers they will be envied. It's totally screwed up. I believe in the last six months, I have read about at least 15 teachers (ten women, five men) who have been arrested or in trouble for having a student who's "hot for teacher." It's unfortunate. And yet, as several of my students will point out, I had a student who made a very improper proposal to me. Did I accept? No. Do I know what she was thinking? No. We had only spoken to each other a few times. Honestly, I wasn't fully aware that she was in my class until a few days before the end of school. It's too bad.
Sticking with the education theme, we'll end with this...
Students rate their teachers
I was unaware of this
website. Apparently, students out there can decide how cool (or not) their teachers are as well as leave comments. Most of the people I work with got good ratings. That's nice to see. I have no ratings, which is also nice to see. I don't mind criticism. Hell, I work with teenagers, so I'm very used to it. On the first day of summer school, the first thing one student told me was that if I was going to be her teacher, I had to wear better shoes. Was she planning at staring at my feet the whole time? I don't know.
So, if you have a teacher out there that you love, or hate, or whatever, go on over to the website and give them a rating. It's your chance to tell that teacher what you think of them. If, however, you're one of my students, stay away from my name. I have no rating, and want to keep it that way.

Sunday, July 31, 2005

For the (High School) Seniors 7/31/05

Author's Note: This post is to be taken with a grain of salt AND pepper. If you take it too seriously, can't sue me because you've been officially warned as
With August literally hours away, I decided to throw a little advice toward the seniors of this upcoming school year. However, in the style of fellow blogger
Admin Worm, I have decided to elaborate on the "fabulous" advice from this weekend's USA Weekend.
According to their "expert", there are five things every senior needs to do in order to get into the college they want. I, however, think that there are hidden meanings within each point. Let's take a look:
1. Get friendly with professors
What they say: You want to get noticed in order to help you get in to the college or class you want.
What they don't say: "Getting friendly" may include wine, food, and fellacio. You want that "A", don't you? You have to REALLY earn it.
2. Pound the Keyboard
What they say: Focus on that application, particularly the academic interests, and the essay.
What they don't say: You will be breaking many a keyboard as the frustration rises from trying to lie about your interest in Quantum Physics. Be prepared to snap two to four keyboards trying to write in iambic pentameter.
3. Open your mouth
What they say: During the interview, answer in detail and elaborate when you can.
What they don't say: On the one hand, the interviewer really doesn't care. On the other, what they really mean is learn how to chug a beer in three to four seconds, otherwise the people at the party will think you suck. This could also tie back into the first point (Don't make me have to spell it out for you, folks).
4. Be creative with your high school choices
What they say: Schools are looking for students who go after their interests.
What they don't say: If you thought that you could coast by with all those "Rocks for Jocks" classes, you were wrong. Get ready for community college, my friend...unless you're the star running back, in which case: SCHOLARSHIP.
5. Get a "real" job
What they say: The "tougher" your job is, the better chance you have of being accepted.
What they don't say: Sorry Mr./Ms. Fry Cook, it's not good enough. They want you working with handicapped, crack-addicted, aborted children in Guatemala. Besides, they may not want you to act like Paris Hilton, but they sure want that Hilton money. Your parents offer a library, and you're in like Flynn.
Hopefully this guide will help you with the rigorous college process. If you have any questions, Dr. I.T will be here to help. Good hunting.