As I type this, a B-list actress from the U.S. has just gotten hitched to a British prince… Harry or William, I can never remember which is which. Here’s how many damns I give about the whole spectacle:
Now that the wedding is over, can we please call it a day on the whole monarchy business? You can keep the palaces open as Harry Potter-style theme parks, and keep the silly hats, but treating people like royalty (literally) just because they come from a certain gene pool seems antiquated at best.
You get a sash, and you get a sash, and you get a sash… but not you Kate.
They only serve ceremonial roles anyway… they’re basically the UK equivalent of Wal-Mart greeters, only with a LOT better pay scale.
On Saturday, I attended a Jazzercise class for the first (and perhaps only) time in my life. My wife has been an instructor for nearly two decades, and on Saturday they had a “bring your sweetie” strength training class. So basically it was me and all the other spouses/significant others of the instructors and a few class regulars.
Team shirt.
My wife has been asking me to attend a class for many years — the answer was always a resounding “no way!”
But some of the other spouses/boyfriends have attended classes occasionally — I call them “curve-wreckers” — and I hear all about it for months. Because it was Mother’s Day Eve, I finally waved the white leg warmers of surrender.
Not me. Not Jazzercise either.
Also, I was promised there would be beer afterward.
Here’s what I learned from my adventure:
1. I am the most uncoordinated human being on the planet.
2. “Jazzercise” may sound like something your grandma does at the senior center, but it will kick your butt. And your pecs. And your abs. And every other muscle area in your body. It’s like P90X, set to music.
3. They really need to update their name… because I didn’t hear a single jazz tune. It was more like a “hot hits” radio station.
4. Beer tastes better after a workout. If I keep going back, maybe I can have both kinds of “six-packs.”
My son’s Algebra teacher is also my new hero. Here’s a note she sent out to parents of her students:
Parents –
I have “preached” from the beginning of the school year, in August, that cell phones are not to be out during class unless I have given permission. Most students are having no problem with this as I allow them to take the phone out to take a picture of a homework screen on the Daily PowerPoint or to use an app for making note of the homework assignment. Most students can put their phones away after completing the task.
Apparently my long-term sub was a bit more lenient about cell phone use and some students seem to feel his policies still stand.
Noticing this after my return on Monday, I let students know that my policy still stands. But, I had to confiscate phones from students today. My policy is stated in the Policies, Procedures and Rules document all students received from me in August. It is also posted on Schoology. It refers you to the Student Handbook for the school’s policy on cell phones. The pertinent section is on page 12. The Student Handbook is on the school website – www.walnuthillseagles.com.
I’ve heard all the excuses: it’s my mom letting me know that she’s picking me up after school; it’s my grandma telling me she’ll be coming to get me at a certain time for a dentist appt; it’s my friend letting me know what we’re doing this weekend, and on and on it goes. I even had a student tell me (as their phone was actually ringing), that they needed to take the call. Did I mind?!
If as a parent, you feel it is more important that your child is always checking their cell phone for a message, please let me know. I will not repeat instruction, during class or at a Help Time, for students who choose to use their instruction time for cell phone time. I feel they can last 50 minutes in a class, then check for messages on their way to their next class. We often finish with a few minutes left in the bell and I haven’t minded that they pull their phones out then.
Emergencies should always come through an office. I cannot release a student without office notification anyway, so letting them know about something through a cell phone message isn’t the proper or most expedient way to retrieve your student from school.
I hope you can support me in this. My assumption is that your child is at Walnut for an education. If that’s not important to you or your child, then I need to know this.
Thanks so much,
Mrs. Burris
I love it! Her class is the high school equivalent of Luke’s Diner on Gilmore Girls:
I love the closing lines the most: I hope you can support me in this. My assumption is that your child is at Walnut for an education. If that’s not important to you or your child, then I need to know this.
In construction, it’s “measure twice, cut once”… the email equivalent is “proofread twice, send once.” My kids’ school had a capital fundraising campaign, the Legacy of Excellence, but they misspelled “Excellence” as “Excellance” in the email subject line:
At least they got it right in the body of the email.
C. Montgomery Burns would NOT approve.
Meanwhile on Craigslist, a… well, let’s just call her a “contractor”… found a creative way around the rules against adult services, by placing this ad in the “Cars for Sale” section:
For the record, I am looking for a car for my son, NOT, I repeat NOT, looking for different “trunk.”
And while we’re in the gutter, we may as well as stay there. This was the opening of an article that appeared on WCPO.com a couple of weeks ago:
I’m sure the author of the article must be so proud… perhaps s/he always dreamed of being able to describe twerking in a clinical-yet-picturesque style. All those years of journalism classes have finally paid off! (And in just eight short years, the loans for those classes will be paid off too!)
OK, enough of this silliness. Since the title of this post was nicked from a Who album, I need to include a song from that release:
I’ve previously posted a couple of audio clips from my 97X radio days. Here’s another gem (and by “gem” we mean “not completely painful to listen to”). It’s a commercial for a Cincinnati record store called Everybody’s Records. They advertised on 97X for the entire duration of the station’s existence, and are still around today, 40 years after they first opened their doors.
This commercial features three 97X legends… and me. Julie Maxwell, Rictile and Dave each spent several years at the station and are still remembered fondly by the small but mighty listener base. They’re all great broadcasters, and even better people. Rictile is still gracing the airwaves, albeit under his real name, at Vermont Public Radio. Julie and Dave work in advertising – as do quite a few other 97X expats.
This particular commercial was about 48 seconds long – at a free-form station like 97X, we didn’t have to adhere to strict timing guidelines. And the few advertisers that we did have gave us a lot of creative leeway in creating the commercials (as witnessed by my lame Grandpa Simpson impersonation in this particular ad).
The art vs. commerce scale tilted heavily toward the art side. We were a bunch of wacky kids, and the production studio was our playpen. We had tons of fun coming up with ideas and creating the spots… despite the fact that the recording equipment was a million miles away from state-of-the-art.
Our equipment was only slightly better than this.
Like Julie and Dave, I too segued from radio to advertising, and our time at 97X was our “10,000 hours” in Malcolm Gladwell parlance.
One of the things I miss most about my radio days is doing wacky character voices. You don’t get many opportunities in the real world to bust into a Bob Dylan, Snoop Dogg or Fabio impersonation. Well, I suppose you can, but your family, friends and co-workers might think you’re crazy. And they may be right.
Kevin Sullivan on Life advice from a man who lived it: “A good one Damian. Bring our lens into focus after the long weekend or our long life journey.” Jul 7, 09:38
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