May 2011
“Sometimes people don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.”
—Friedrich Nietzsche
Play
Play
Brandon Crawford's grand slam in debut lifts San Francisco Giants →
contracostatimes.com
Very cool. Local boy. In fact, my daughter played soccer with his little sister a few years ago.
Wake-Up Call
Students with routine tardiness problems will now receive wake-up phone calls to ensure they get to class on time.
Marshalltown High School in Iowa has a list of 250 students who have been tardy five or more times since March. These students will begin receiving automated calls between 6:30 and 6:45 a.m.
“If we can get them out of bed and into school then it will work,” Dean of Students Lisa Wunn said.
The program will begin before the end of the school year as a trial for the fall.
I’m not opposed to this. My daughter, who will be a high school freshman in the fall, could use the service. (Then I wouldn’t have to do it.)
Chardonnay Day
I’m told today is the the second annual global celebration of Chardonnay known as Chardonnay Day. I’ll drink to that.
Play
“Wicked people never have time for reading. It’s one of the reasons for their wickedness.”
—Lemony Snicket (submitted by the3booknerds)
NFL Player Spending Lockout as Substitute Teacher →
sports.yahoo.com
I like this story. He’s keepin’ it real.
The Seven Stages of Aging on Horseback
Stage 1: Fall off pony. Bounce. Laugh. Climb back on. Repeat.
Stage 2: Fall off horse. Run after horse, cussing. Climb back on by
shimmying up horse’s neck. Ride until sundown.
Stage 3: Fall off horse. Use sleeve of shirt to stanch bleeding. Have
friend help you get back on horse. Take two Advil and apply ice packs
when you get home. Ride next day.
Stage 4: Fall off horse. Refuse advice to call ambulance; drive self to
urgent care clinic. Entertain nursing staff with tales of previous
daredevil stunts on horseback. Back to riding before cast comes off.
Stage 5: Fall off horse. Temporarily forget name of horse and name of
husband. Flirt shamelessly with paramedics when they arrive. Spend week
in hospital while titanium pins are screwed in place. Start riding again
before doctor gives official okay.
Stage 6: Fall off horse. Fail to see any humor when hunky paramedic
says, “You again?” Gain firsthand knowledge of advances in medical
technology thanks to stint in ICU. Convince self that permanent limp
isn’t that noticeable. Promise husband you’ll give up riding. One week
later purchase older, slower, shorter horse.
Stage 7: Slip off horse. Relieved when artificial joints and implanted
medical devices seem unaffected. Tell husband that scrapes and bruises
are due to gardening accident. Pretend you don’t see husband roll his
eyes and mutter as he walks away. Give apple to horse.
