Um, when you’re the Art History teacher and you wear a cutie pie new shirt, make sure that you don’t accidently flash your luscious breasts to your students.
I bent down to get some things out of my bag (yes, the fabulous red bag), and noticed that my whole class could see down my shirt.
Perhaps it will help me get a decent review at the end of the semester.
Oh my god, when you’re the teacher you totally have to read the material you assign.
That was today’s revelation from a newbie college teacher.
My class is still rocking. Oh yeah. Today, I actually had students ask a lot of questions and there was even a discussion! I’m so excited. As a lecture course, I didn’t know what to expect. I’m so happy they’re engaging with the material.
I started out really stressing the book material but GOD that was boring. I figure they can read the text and I plan on really digging into the slides. I’m hitting the points the in the book but attempting to analyze them better. This is what spawned questions and discussion.
I finally saw less of the frantic notetaking and more interested looking and thinking about the art. I mean, I think notes are important and they were still taking them, but I hated when they were all staring down at their notebooks and trying to suck in everything I said. For a student, that blows. As an instructor and very recent student, I think engaging with the material is what makes it make sense. This time, the class asked great questions about each slide and started blurting out comments. I loved that!
If you remembered that I said “ginormous breasts” when referring to the Venus of Willendorf and either were offended or laughed, then you’ll remember that image better on a test. Yes, I said “ginormous breasts” in class. I also said “bulgy vulva.”
Now, about the blog’s name change. I know I’ve asked for advice and then just sat on it. I apologize. See, Internet, it’s not you. It’s me. I know I told you I would change it and I didn’t. I’m not happy with any of the previous ideas. I want something that captures me but I, um, don’t know what that would be yet. I’ll get there.
Also, I found this great website. It’s called DeviantART and it’s fabulous. In particular, I love the prints.
Lastly, I bought these, and these, exciting over the knee socks from Sock Dreams. They have so many more I need to buy. Pretty soon, all my socks will grace my knees only to show you all my silky, silky thighs.
Tonight, my exhibition opened. My name was properly on my essay in the catalogue and in the acknowledgments section. My fabulous wall text panels were hung and the labels placed in the vitrines. The opening reception had a great turnout and the space was beautiful. So why am I not flying high tonight?
I think it’s a two-pronged issue. First, my parents and their weird, weird partners arrived and although I enjoy dealing with the parents, I can’t handle the partners.
Secondly, I just feel so relieved this process is over.
I won’t miss the dogfights with the museum curator. She is not a bad person but her ethics are garbage. Again, the ethics maven does not live within me but I can’t handle out and out lies to the public. I won’t miss doing hours and hours of research only to be trumped by an ebay article waved in front of me. The exhibition did not, in the end, lie to the public but she sure tried.
I am proud of the show. I think I’m more happy that it’s pasted on my CV.
Tonight I played Sneaky McSneakers for one of my best friends, Christine. If you’re name is James, stop reading here. Is he gone? Okay, we can talk now.
Christine called me worried about the sound of a woman’s voice through her boyfriend’s cell phone. When asked about said woman’s voice, the boyfriend hedged and made awkward explanations for her presence:
She is just some girl.
Her name is uh, um, Molly. (which is Christine’s daughter’s name, how convenient)
She just wanted to play pool with me. So we’re playing pool now, uh yeah, just the two of us.
She um, no I’ve never seen her here before.
Yes, I know I’m in a league here and she’s new.
Um, she’s just some girl.
Okay, men, listen up. To women, especially women who have a bit of a history with not-so-fabulous-men, this sounds like:
She is just some girl with ginormous breasts and a lips that would look great around my cock.
Her name is something I can’t share with you because then you might know who she is. (Alternatively: Her name is something I can’t remember since I was staring at her tits.)
She just wanted to play pool with me so she can bend over the pool table and give me a great view of her rack or her ass, thereby encouraging the fucking that will happen later. Yes, I’ve chosen to play pool with her, alone, so I can show her how much I would love to fuck her later.
I’ve never seen her before so you can’t possibly recognize who she is.
I know this is league night and I can’t explain why the new hot girl is here so I’m stuck and can’t think of a good lie.
Um, she’s just some girl with ginormous breasts and lips that would…
Men, we envision lots of bad, bad things when you act like a deer in headlights. You do the exact same thing when we do this, so why are you confused? Dear James was that deer tonight, so I did what any girlfriend would do. I spied on him.
I drove up to the pool hall and kept Christine on the phone. I’ve never met James so she had to describe him to me and I had to give her a running tally of what I could see. I walked around until I found him. And there he was, sitting next to a girl.
I tried not to sound weird because the two weren’t flirting and they weren’t even close to each other. It actually looked innocent. So I told Christine and waited.
She let out a big WHEW!
He was sitting next to a “safe” girl; a girl Christine knows and is in no way worried about James with her. All the other women in the place were, um, definitely not his type.
James, although he may not like this round of espionage, should really thank me for the nice homecoming he’ll be receiving tonight. The other version included Worried Christine and involved screaming and the throwing of hard objects.
You’re welcome, James.
I’m so totally a teacher now. Holy Shit.
My class is going great! I love this work. The class seems attentive, only a few yawns and no sleeping, even though my slide machine petered out on me. They talked to me after class and I even had a student tell me they really liked today’s class. I love them, I really do.
In other news, my exhibition that I co-curated opens this Friday. Exciting stuff, man. I can’t complain, I’m doing everything I went to school for and it’s nice.
So, how are you? I’ve missed you all.
Oh, I’ve also worked out a, ahem, system with Mike to help make that ticker at the bottom of the page move a bit quicker. No, I can’t share the details of our arrangement but be sure, it’s dirty.
I’m alive. I swear it. But, I’m swamped. I promise to do a normal post soon. Much hilarity to share. And I miss you all. Truly.
So, Baroque Princess or Neptune Girl?
The name game is still on and I am totally undecided. It will happen, I swear.
I have made one decision. I need to lose some weight. Now. Although vanity plays a small role, I simply don’t feel healthy. I thought I would do it by eating less meat, but then I forget and eat chicken. I just keep adding pounds and I don’t like the feel of it.
My thinly veiled feminist rankles at the thought of needing to lose weight at all. I think all women are feminine and sexy, because they are women, regardless of size. But I need to MOVE. I need my body to feel like I like it.
I plan on sharing the progress and details with you.
But I won’t be eating anything on these cards. These fabulous 1974 Weight Watchers recipe cards. Oh, yeah. Enjoy Caucasian Shashlik made with Caucasian(?) meat, Slender Quencher drinks with beef boullion, and Fluffy Mackerel Pudding. I can just feel the weight sliding off my hips and out my colon, and my self worth drowned with 40 secreted Hershey bars, with this winner:
This is post # 101. Hooray! Thank you to all of you for reading, commenting, and sharing with me. In honor this post, I would like to subject the upcoming Name Change to your approval. I am that needy for attention.
Please, feel free to comment or email a vote to me on the following blog name ideas or to submit a name. Thank you.
POTENTIAL NAMES:
Bluestocking
(synonymous to a nerd)
Baroque Princess
Extra Bitches
(from Chappelle’s show, just think it’s funny)
Maternal Harpy
Muchalicious
Neptune Girl
Princess Hyacinth
(Yes, I would like to be a princess)
Tarty
Trollop
Anything tickle your fancy? Yes? Tell me. Nothing? Then suggest something already!