i'm alive, i swear: post-birthday edition

Let me just start off by saying that between substitute teaching, living in Forney during the week and my birthday festivities, I have spent only two nights in my own bed over the course of the past three weeks. Say what??

Things have been crazy, y'all, but crazy-good.

I had so enjoyed getting into the practice of writing nearly every day and, let's face it, as a writer, that's beyond important, but with everything that's been going on, I've found literally no time to even check anyone else's blogs let alone post on my own. I don't care if it's weird, but that's been tough. Anyway...

This will just be a mishmash post since a lot has happened during my brief hiatus. Let's get on with it:


Substitute Teaching...
...is a total dream. I love it. The more I sub the more I'm convinced I'm supposed to be a teacher...but the less I'm convinced I'm supposed to work for a district. What I mean is I've started worrying over the past three weeks that maybe I'm too out there to be a regular ol' teacher. I definitely don't like being put into a box, wading through red tape, etc. I just want to be able to do what I want when I want and blahblahblah I'm apparently a rebellious sixteen-year old all over again and YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE OKAY GOSH. Being a substitute teacher is so freeing because I don't have to be regular; I can let the kids sit on the floor while they work. I can hug them when the day is over (okay, I'm technically not allowed to do that, but when a sweet kid runs at me full-force and throws their arms around me, I'm not going to push them away, duh). I can say "suck it" in casual conversation. I can have a tattoo. Okay, so, again, technically maybe I'm not allowed to do any of those things either, but I do and the kids love me. And the other teachers love me. And I'm doing a great job. No, Mom, that's not me being full of myself; that's recognizing when I'm good at something, which is rare, so let me have my moment. Jeeeeeez.

I could honestly go on and on and on about all this (seriously, ask any of my annoyed friends), but I'll save it for another day. Besides, I can already feel myself getting all worked up and it's too early in the morning for a stress rash.


Obedience School...
...is over! And, yes, Pete graduated! So what if it was a pity, you-paid-the-money-so-I-guess-we'll-pass-him kind of graduation, it still counts. And he even wore one of those totally lame and adorable mortar boards. Duh, I took a bazillion pictures. Way to go, Pete! You can roll over, but you still swipe food off the kitchen counters and rip my mom's plants out of the ground.

We just really wanted to make this whole get-a-picture-while-Pete's-wearing-a-graduation-cap thing work.

Awkward.

What an adorable family pic, complete with what appears to be Clark Kent having a goddamn seizure. Way to ruin it, CLARK.

MATTHEW BRODERICK TRAINER! Thanks, Scott, for indulging our creepiness and taking a picture with us.

Oh yea, and a picture of the infamous Mia. Bitch.


My Birthday...
...was last Wednesday, the 16th, and I am officially (not) old. What up, 24! Show me what you've got! No, but seriously, so far being twenty-four is all right. The weekend before, a bunch of my friends got together for an impromptu house party which made us all feel like we were in college again, followed by (even more?) drinks and karaoke. I'd never realized I actually knew all the words to If You Wanna Be My Lover until we sang it because, let's face it, the Spicegirls are total crowd-pleasers. Then later I fell off a curb by a valet stand and into a muddy ditch. Mature. This past weekend, however, I trekked down to visit my best friends in Austin for a little post-birthday celebration. That's what happens when your actual birth day falls on a shitty Wednesday -- you get two birthday weekends. Anyway, it was pretty chill, but we did venture out to West 6th Street on Saturday night where I only spent eight dollars because some thirty-two year old Persian dudes came out of nowhere and bought us shots. One of them's birthday was the day after mine and he only hit on me a little, so I felt like it was okay to hang with them. No worries, Mitch has been informed and dare I say he's proud of me? Later while stopped at a red light we screamed out the car windows at an awkward couple until they made out. I repeat: mature.

And since I am still camera-less (read: DEPRESSED), I have no pictures from this past weekend. Instead please enjoy this throwback picture of my BFFs and I from our graduation night, December 2009:

We only deceptively have our shit together.

So, in a nutshell, that's what's been going down in Texas, y'all.

Howdy. I'm Andrea. I'm a twenty-four year old substitute teacher in Dallas, girlfriend to a man who should never under any circumstances be left alone with hair clippers as he will forget to leave himself sideburns, friend to bangin' yet equally immature twenty-somethings, and mother to two of the world's most thieving, conniving dogs.

And this is my universe.

you want your dog to become an addict, you know, like gamblers

This pearl of wisdom was shared with us by none other than Matthew Broderick, aka. our Matthew Broderick lookalike dog trainer. Same diff.

We had our third obedience class this past Monday and unfortunately it wasn't near as interesting as the first two times except for the fact that I spent the first ten minutes trying to take a picture of Mia with my iPhone. I was basically unsuccessful, which is weird because I wasn't trying to be subtle at all. Huh. Anyway, this is the best I could do:

So...basically just a picture of our trainer's ass. My bad.
Sidenote: Mitch has forbidden me to tell Scott (our trainer's actual name) that he looks like Matthew Broderick because Mitch is convinced he hears this all the time and I'll just annoy him. Okay, so that's probably true, but for some reason I feel like if I don't tell him, I'LL EXPLODE.

End sidenote.

So, class was whatev and the only semi-exciting thing that happened was when Charlie (one of the dogs) threw up for seemingly no reason. Mitch felt bad and was all, "Awwww, Charlie, are you okay?" and then whispered to me, I wish Charlie would've thrown up on that bitch Mia. Sweet, right?

For those not in the know, we hate Mia.

And just for gigs, here is a picture I took when we were supposed to be teaching Pete how to walk on a leash but did this instead:

That's probably not correct leash handling.

PS: In totally unrelated (but totally exciting) news, tomorrow I have my first substitute teaching orientation! HEY-OH! That's right, y'all, after over a year of applying to sub absolutely everywhere, I finally heard back from a district that's crazy enough to give me a shot. Subbing, at least. Am I thrilled it's all the way out in Forney and an hour away from home? God. No. But at this point, I'll take what I can get AND it means I get to stay the night at Mitch's tonight. Score. Keep y'all's fingers crossed that after I'm finally in the system I'll actually get called to sub! :)

the obedience school hierarchy

A few weeks ago I introduced y’all to the latest addition to the family, Pete, and mentioned we’d be starting training classes this January. Well, it’s January and Pete likes to eat my favorite pair of earrings, so as of last night, classes have commenced. Thank God.

Now, I don’t mean to be a snob, but as soon as we walked in the door it was glaringly apparent that we were the best ones. Our classmates include a girl (woman?) about my age and her adorably huge and furry puppy named Charlie; an older woman and her elderly mother with their fuzzy Pomeranian, Coco; a lady recently moved to Dallas from Boston and aqua colored parka-wearing Chihuahua, Duke; and a woman with her two young daughters and two annoying miniature Huskies, Rocky and Mia.

Mia is a bitch.

NO.

Mitch and I want to start the We Hate Mia Club and pass out membership cards to everyone in our class because, seriously, fuck that dog.

Sidebar: did you know that a miniature Husky is actually an Alaskan Klee Kai? This woman was real impressed with herself for raising (the world’s most annoying) Alaskan Klee Kais but, lady, no one gives a shit.

End sidebar.

The point is that this dog, Mia, did not stop yapping/SCREAMING for nearly sixty minutes straight. At one point, my ears started ringing and it was hard to understand our Matthew-Broderick-lookalike-trainer.

I work the nightshift at Petsmart.

I would have felt sorry for Mia’s owner had she not been so aloof about the whole thing, but my god, she just sat there and DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT IT. Didn’t even try. Just said, Mia’s a fussy one, hehehe, like that was supposed to make us all go, OHHHHHH, she’s just FUSSY! I don’t mind the incessant yipping now!

Whatever.

There’s just a clear hierarchy in our group, even after the first class. I mean, let’s be serious, Pete is number one, a fact Mitch and I found shocking since he frequently pees on my comforter, knocks over my glass of orange juice, and swipes pie off my plate all before 11am on a Sunday. I guess this means he’s smart but a dick. Cool. Anyway, being the super-nerds that we are, Mitch and I (seriously, just HAPPENED) to sit in the front of the classroom, so Pete was used in most of the demonstrations (well, whenever Matthew Broderick wasn’t trying to choke out Mia, that is). I’m almost embarrassed by how nervous and excited Mitch and I would get every time Pete was acting as the example. Our faces would turn red, we would grasp hands and, okay, possibly even SQUEAL.

Judge us.

I had to keep reminding us both that Pete is a DOG. A DOG.

Needless to say, when Pete repeatedly aced every drill, we clapped and cheered annoyingly loud while all the other dogs and their owners watched us with varying degrees of envy and hatred, except for the old ladies and Coco. We might actually be making friends with them because Pete and Coco seem to want to date. Or get it on. It’s hard to tell.

So, the obedience school hierarchy, when broken down, looks a little something like this (and, YES, I immediately typed this into a note on my iPhone last night as soon as class was over):


Pete (SUCK IT, BITCHES)
Charlie
Coco
Duke (Sorry your mom seems like a total airhead AND dresses you like a girl)
Rocky (I’m not as annoying as Mia, but close!)




MIA (.............)

We’re obviously really excited for the next five weeks. Oh, and I won’t even go into how superior I felt to all the other owners since I’m awesome and brought my own clicker AND knew all about Pavlov’s dogs & classical conditioning (pysch minor shoutout!).

My mom was all, it’s not a competition, it’s just obedience class. And she’s right: it’s not a competition because have you SEEN what we’re up against? Team Townsend-Baker for the win!