As reported previously, my freelance writing sites are quite a waste, providing much more amusement than potential for work. This week's posting winner:
I am a teacher looking for someone to help me write student recommendations. I have about 15 to write, and they must be completed by October 20th. I can provide you with background on each student, his/her strengths and weaknesses, and the context for each recommendation. I need someone to physically write them. Each one would need to be unique and not a template. Please get in touch with me if you can do this job, and have good positive feedback and are a competent writer. Please also suggest a total cost for 15 letters of recommendation.
Now, really. What has this world come to?!? I'm thinkin' that in the time you spend to provide me with a background of each of the 15 students and his/her strengths/weakness and context, (or, in the time you took to write and post the AD) you could've, oh, I don't know, spent the time WRITING YOUR OWN DAMN STUDENT RECOMMENDATIONS...
Wow.
What's next? Young hottie teachers having sex with their students?!?
This morning on talk radio they were discussing a survey that showed more people knew all of the ingrediants for a Big Mac than knew the 10 Commandments.
Before you judge, go ahead an try it. Really. Try it.
I bet the first thing you did was sing the Big Mac jingle, right?! In case you're wondering:
"Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun."
(Yep, done WITHOUT looking it up).
Now the commandments?
Nope, got through about FOUR before I had to look them up. (Admitted with sadness and shame).
This just proves it - if they put the entire Bible to the Sponge Bob theme (or something equally annoying), we would all remember it.
Try it for yourself:
I. "You shall have no other gods before me.
II. "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand [generations] of those who love me and keep my commandments.
III. "You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name.
IV. "Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates. For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.
V. "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.
VI. "You shall not murder.
VII. "You shall not commit adultery.
VIII. "You shall not steal.
IX. "You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor.
X. "You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor."
Enough said.
So.
Last week we had a Level II Ultrasound. You know, because of my "advanced maternal age". (The doctor tried to get away with writing REASON: AMA on the form, but I quickly pointed out that she wasn't fooling me with medical jargon. I mean, I DID used to teach college medical terminology and I know for a fact that the loose Latin translation of AMA is "Bitch Too Old To Be Havin' a Baby").
Everyone was very excited about the ultrasound. Well, everyone except me. Is it me, or does everyone forget that the entire point of a test like this is to determine birth defects/problems and NOT just to find out the sex of the baby?!? Turns out, everyone DOES forget this.
Except me.
Weeks prior to the exam, I had (kind of) joked that we wouldn't be able to find out the sex at this exam. I mean, it is MY baby and to say that there is a serious stubborn streak in our family would be more than an understatement. Why should the baby cooperate? I wouldn't if I were her. I mean, who are all those people pokin' around and stuff? (Yes, I said HER because I've "felt" from day 1 that it was a girl).
Fast forward to the exam:
Everything was FINE. No sign of birth defects, etc. etc. Except that the tech couldn't get all of the views of things like the heart that she needed because - SHOCK OF ALL SHOCKS - the baby wouldn't cooperate. HM. Imagine. In fact, she just wanted to sleep. On her face. The entire time. (Um, the baby, not the tech).
At one point the tech says, "I have my suspicion about the sex. Want to know?" My husband quickly piped up and said, "Extremely lacking lately?" before he realized what she meant. (OK, he didn't really. But I KNOW he was thinking it...) When the tech said, "I think it's a girl, but of course it's hard to tell when she won't turn so I'm not 100%" we responded with an excited new parent reaction of...DEAD SILENCE. The tech finally said, "OOOO. Dead silence..." I had to 'splain to her that we just weren't shocked (since I've been saying it's a girl all along). After two tries with the tech, many different positions (from me NOT the baby) and then a "break" (which consisted of my husband relaxing in the chair while I was to walk and jump around to try and get the baby to move), the doctor also tried to get the remaining ultrasound views.
Nope.
Nada.
Nothin'.
However, he also said he thought it was a girl, but he wasn't 100% sure. How frustrating...
On a last interesting note, we received word that "Either you're having a really big baby, or you are really 2 weeks further along than we thought." To which I replied, looking lovingly at my husband, "Well, babe, it looks like this kid really isn't yours..."
Over the weekend, hubby and I went to a local charity cocktail event. Not wanting to spend hundreds of dollars on a maternity cocktail dress that I would wear ONCE during this time, I thought I was being smart by buying an oversized (read: fat girl) cocktail-ish dress for $14.99 at a consignment shop. It was black with silver thread through it (you know, so it looked all "sparkly"), 3/4 length, and had *gasp* this weird Mandarin collar. Now let me tell you something, I'm more of a floor-length, sexy sheath, cleavage kinda girl. You know, something more like THIS, and less like THIS. So, the dress I bought was TOTALLY not me. But hey, for less than $20 it could be me, right?
UH WRONG.
Fastforward to pre-party meltdown. I'll spare you the meltdown details and my poor husband near sobbing, "What should I do?!?!", but I will say this:
Mistake #1: Buying a dress that's not my "style" and that I would never, ever, under any circumstances other than being pregnant, normally wear.
(Know how to make a pregnant woman feel MORE unattractive than she already does? I do...)
Mistake #2: Not trying on the dress PRIOR TO 30 minutes before the event. Hm.
At the event, my friends tried to make me feel better (who, mind you, were wearing strapless gowns and cool halter cleavage dresses, respectively):
Overly Supportive Friend: "Well, it's CUTE. I mean, the MANDARIN COLLAR is CUUUUTE and TRENNNNNDY."
Me: "UH...Where? In ASIA, PERHAPS?!?!"
So much for accepting support.
Anyway, I lived through the frock-filled night WITHOUT alcohol while everyone else was getting smashed. There should be some prize for THAT alone...
At the event, they had instructors demonstrating and "coaching" on ballroom dancing. It was interesting, but the most interesting part of the night was AFTER the instructing and coaching. The instructors distributed flyers of their business and at the bottom of the flyer, the last bullet point for attending their classes was:
Please dress morally sensible - it is greatly appreciated.
Now, that's funny enough on its own; however, here was the picture on the flyer (yes, this is the ACTUAL picture from the flyer):
If you consider a guy with bare feet dirty-dance style grinding with a young girl in fishnets and crocodile slides "dressing morally sensible", then hey, who am I to judge? I mean, I was wearing an oversized, mandarin-collared frock that I wouldn't normally be caught dead in. I wasn't the epitomy of fashion police but I do believe I was (thank goodness!) dressed morally sensible. Only a chastity belt could've been more "Morally Sensible" than that stupid Mandarin dress. But, it might be a little late for the fashion accoutrement. (I'm just sayin'...)
What has happened to me? I have gone from being one of the most organized, motivated, hard-working people that I know to, well, a complete slug. Seriously. I've become, dare I say? LAZY.
*gasp*
My life is completely out of control.
Let me break it down for you:
My house is a mess.
And, I don't mean, I have another load of laundry to do, darn the luck! I mean, 3 more animals growing from the animal hair in the hall, dishes in the sink (that can't seem to make it another 6 inches to the DISHWASHER), laundry sorted on the bedroom floor (but NOT washed), baby crap all around the house (and the baby's not even here), and well, do I really need to go on? I mean, for Christmas my husband, er SANTA, bought me the greatest thing - an iROBOT automatic vaccuum cleaner. Guess what? I'm too lazy right now to clean the filter so that it can vaccuum ON ITS OWN every morning. (But, DEAR SANTA: Please send me the iRobot Scooba this year. I've been a very, very good girl...) Believe me, I would love to blame the Ultimate Deniator for all of this, but honestly? He's a pretty neat guy that helps out around the house. (And, by neat I don't mean groovey. I mean picks up his crap). Darn the inability to blame someone luck. *sigh*
The booksore is a mess.
I can't seem to keep up with anything at the bookstore. Just this morning I had to scale the mountain of books in the back storage room to get to the filing cabinet that holds the printer ink only to find that we were out of ink. Convenient. Our usually neat, quaint little store is a total wreck. (A good indication is when your regular customers start saying, "Do you want me to stay an help you get all of these books put away?!?")
I really need some employees.
My other businesses are a mess.
With only a few months to go before a little person consumes my entire life for the next 18+ years, you would think I would be using every waking moment to get my three businesses in order, right? HM. My freelance writing has slowed to a trickle - unfortunately - this would be the time when EXTRA MONEY could really come in handy! And my trendy tee biz? Basically runs itself (thank goodness). However, I have mountains of reseller forms - yep, people who want to carry my tees in their trendy boutiques all across the nation. Think I've jumped on this chance to basically earn money for doing NOTHING? Just putting my products in stores so that more people can buy them. Sounds easy, ya think? HM.
Anyway, I thought this was supposed to be the time in my pregnancy when that good ole nesting instinct kicks in and I want to get everything organized? Instead, nothing. Nada. No can do. Shocking that my pregnancy would have the EXACT OPPOSITE EFFECT then everyone else.
Dear God, please send me a personal assistant.
And a million dollars.
Oh, and a iRobot Scooba.
I mean, if it's not too much to ask.
Amen.
(BTW-I'm blaming Michelle for making me feel completely and adequately unorganized. Hey, I had to find some scapegoat...)
