Okay, I have a new exciting plan to get out of debt. Well, not exactly to get out of debt, but at least to pay for my $600 plus brake replacement which I am reminded of everytime I get in my car to hear my brakes squealing metal-to-metal, crying, "Help me you bitch! Help meeeee!" to which I reply, "Take me to a better paying job then! Take meeeee!" Anyways, back to the important topic at hand. I'm thinking of writing to Steven Spielberg to front me the money. I mean, he's a rich Jew, I'm a (probably the only) poor Jew, he lives in LA, I live in LA, his mom owns a deli, I love to eat deli meat. See, the similarities are endless. Okay, they probably end there, but in my book that's justification enough. Plus, he's not only rich, but he's superrich. My letter will go something like this:

Dear Mr. Spielberg,

You know it's funny, but while your last name follows the English grammatical rule i before e except after c, mine doesn't! That's cause it's Yiddish. It means silk. Hi, my name is ____. And I'm a poor Jew. I know, I know, it's weird, but I am 100% Jewish! Anyway, I was wondering if you would be able to front me $600 to pay for my horribly worn down car brakes. I know a lot of rich celebrities have so much money they don't know what to do with it. Some become Secret Santas in Ohio. But we're Jewish you and I! So I was thinking you could be like a Secret Moshe. Except really not secret and I'd pay you back as soon as I could afford it.* Who wants to give to the SPCA, PETA, or UNICEF anymore? That's boring, all the celebrities do it. So, why not be a Designated Individual Giver? I know you kinda made that semi-anti-Israel movie a little while ago about the Olympics, but I still enjoyed the aesthetics, if not the people wearing anti-Israel shirts in the auidence who clapped it up at the end of your movie. So see, we can be friends. Or just loaner and loanee. Let me know. You can Myspace me. Thanks a lot, and if possible, please hurry! Before Hanukah would be great.

Sincerely,
____________

*please do not run a credit check as to the worthiness of this statement


And you thought I'd be broke forever.

Today I asked one of my crazy crazy students (who was at that moment crawling on the floor laughing maniacally), "Who do you think you are to act like this?"
To which she replied, "Jesus."
And then she continued crawling on the floor.

Something I am wondering--when contestants on Jeopardy lose all their money in the final round except for $1, do they actually get that dollar? Do you think they say, "It's okay, keep the change."? Is there some sort of Jeopardy change jar, like the penny jar at 7-11, where all the extra dollars go?

Also, why is Wheel of Fortune such a shitty show? One girl introduced herself, in a bubbly, excited fashion, by saying she liked to collect pencils, and stamps, and--The host cut her off by saying, "So you have drawers full of stuff, huh?" She replied, "Yes, drawers full of stuff." Imagine having your whole life reduced to ths one summary-"You have drawers full of stuff." Afterwards the girl seemed to hang her head just a little lower, and talk just a little less excitedly. What a shitty show.

For those of you who don't know, I have suffered from extreme tiredness lately. I have never had this problem before. In fact, I have always had trouble falling asleep. I thought to myself: why am I tired? I am sleeping at least 5 hours a night. And then I remembered: you're supposed to get 8 hours of sleep a night. Also, you're supposed to stay home from work when you're sick. And get an oil change before your engine explodes. And stick to your budget. And live within your means. You're supposed to stay in bed until your injuries heal. Talk about your problems without worry of being judged. Floss your teeth. Now when, I ask you, does what we're supposed to do match reality? And if it did, wouldn't everyone just take a gun to their heads and kill themselves? Especially if we all flossed our teeth every night. Then how would we ever be able to delight in the fact that we could wake up and have dessert for breakfast just by sticking our tongues between our teeth? Okay, maybe I'm alone in that one, but still. If I EVER stuck to my budget, I think I'd kill myself. Because then I would never have bought a $400 chamemelon while I am $400 in debt to the parking bureau. Yeah, I live in fear nightly that I will wake up with a heavy boot on my car, but I get to see my chameleon's cute face every morning, and see him catch crickets with his sticky tongue and chew their bodies to mush. So see, I could either: a) pay my debt or b) have a multicolored carnivorous solitary companion from Madagascar. Well.

Anyways. ANYWAYS. I think I know why I may be so tired. It goes a little something like this (every afternoon after 12:10 pm):

I pick up my students from lunch on the playground. Student O hits and slaps every student she can reach, and then gets out of line. She spins arund in circles in the hallway, and if anyone accidentally touches her, she yells : I'm gonna get you! Which she does. Get them. She walks up the stairs 3 steps at a time just to piss me off. In the class she falls on the floor and decides she will pull on someone's shoe. She rips up a student's dollar bill. Students A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z are at least three inches shorter than Student O and two years younger and shiver in fear as she hits them all. Students A and E (and sometimes C and R) spit pieces of paper at eachother and then deny it. I look at the floor covered in a mass of paper bits and yell (after multiple attempts at deep breathing): Look at the floor! Look what you've done! IT IS DISGUSTING! DISGUSTING!!!!!! Students look at me, scared that I might kill them, if Student O doesn't do so first. Student O laughs maniacally. I start off: Today we are going to be learning... I take a breath. I am tired. Yet, no child must be left behind. Unless they have already been left behind and are currently scoring an average of 30% on math assessments. In which case, they must not be left behind further behind. I am tired.

On that note, goodnight.

You know how people are always starting organizations to help the poor? Every group these days wants to feed the poor, clothe the poor, shelter the poor. Well, what about the ever-shrinking middle class? I've decided today that there is just too little going on to protect this endangered group of people. Everyone knows the poor are covered already and the rich are just assholes who don't need help. So now it's time to help the middle class. For example, I think someone needs to start a free towing service for the middle class for when their cars break down. No, I'm not talking about AAA. I mean completely free, out of the goodness of the tow truck driver's heart. I mean, who is there to help out when unexpected crisises like these arise? Nobody. The poor don't have cars to break down, and the rich can deal with the problem with the swipe of a credit card, but the middle class with their economy cars get screwed. Another service that should be offered is free groceries from Trader Joe's. Isn't that where the entire middle class shops for food these days? There could be a little donation barrel in the corner of Whole Foods (where the rich shop) reading: Help out for the Holidays! Sponsor a Middle Class family with food from Trader Joe's. All Donations Appreciated! And the rich could feel good about themselves for stooping down to the level of being seen in Trader Joe's and purchasing some dried apple ringsor Joe's O's for the poor, poor...middle...class. Seriously. I mean, if we don't start helping out the middle class, they'll all become poor. And then we'll really have some serious shit on our hands. So somebody! Rich! Start your charity now!

I've been noticing things lately. Have you ever been at the gym and just taken a look around? You know, started to people watch for a second? Well, I have, and what I have found is disturbing information about human nature. Take today, for example. I'm running in place on a stationary machine, the elliptical machine. Now that's weird. If you ever look in the mirror while you're on an elliptical machine, you just look dumb. But that's besides the point. Because what is really important is what I witnessed while on the contraption. I saw one "girl" who was tall, tan, and had curly blonde hair. She was wearing elastic stretch shorts and had pretty nice legs. But I say "girl" because I really could not determine her age. Now, she had a young face, and if she was alone I would probably guess she was in her young teens. However she was with an older looking "man". I say "man" because I could not determine his age either. But his description would be the following: sleazy looking. He had greasy black hair that was receding at the hairline just slightly enough that I couldn't tell if he was old or prematurely balding due to some type of Middle Eastern heritage. Except he was white and WASPy looking. His smile was crooked. And he had small black eyes that looked like cartoon character eyes. You know, real beady looking. Anyway, I could not place my finger on either of their ages nor could I determine their relationship. They would look at eachother lovingly at times, but then again the loving look could actually have been a shy look or maybe an embarassed father-daughter look. So, I could only think of three possibilities: 1) This guy had abducted this "girl" at a young age and forced her to go to the gym and work out on the treadmill in stretchy bike shorts. Nobody could find her until everyone just forgot about her and she became a brainwashed love slave of this guy. 2) This guy was the girl's father and they had a "special close" relationship. 3) This guy was the girl's coach on her high school sports team and he was taking her out for some "personal training". In any case, they creeped me out. In fact, they disturbed me. After watching them for some time, I turned to look to my right, hoping to find a better example of humankind. But no. Instead I found two "men" who were no taller than 5'3 max doing kickboxing and trying to inflate their muscles. I swear, they were taking this shit so seriously, they probably were part of a midget fight club or something. Their mouths formed small puckers on their faces, like the navel of a navel orange. Every time they kicked, they would groan. LOUD. To prove their 5'3 max manliness. So basically my point is that humankind is fucked. We're all screwed up. And my guess is people have realized Prozac isn't working. But, people, you'll need to do a lot of reps at the gym to get your endorphins high enough to solve our problems. And if you've been abducted by a "man" who forces you to wear stretch shorts, without even giving you the courtesy of letting you wear stretch pants, then I'm sorry, but you're just screwed.

About two days ago I stepped on a dead pigeon. Yeah, you heard me. A dead pigeon. I had parked on the street on Beverly Drive because I was going to pick up some pizza, and when I got out of the car I saw a dead pigeon on the ground between my car and the one in front of me. No, I didn't kill it, but still. Its little beak was open and it genuinely looked like its last words had been, "If only I had more time...more time...". It was tragic. Its little beady eyes were still filled with emotion. I stepped over it and shuddered. Then I kind of forgot about the dead pigeon while I was getting the pizza. Until I walked back to the car and heard this sound: squish. I had STEPPED on the poor pigeon. I had heard its innards slosh around. There must be some symbolism to that somewhere. Of course, I did wipe my feet before getting back into the car. But somehow the pizza just didn't taste as good as it should have.

In other notes, I have discovered that the best way to avoid getting a parking ticket is to park illegally and then place an old parking ticket that you never paid cuz you're broke and just waiting for that boot on your car cuz you have nothing else to do or pay for or worry about, on your car. At least, until someone steals the parking ticket off your car. And I thought I was a klepto.