Done and done.

Nic-Nic-Nicaroo Kristine Raden started a blog. She wanted me to advertise for her because she has no friends. Or personality. Or ethics. Or money.

I don't know why I talk to her.

Oh, and about the list...

I might be one of those people who puts easy activities on the list just so I can check them off. In my defense, every day there are thousands of people who do not get out of bed.

"Good job, Kelly Walden."

Thank you.

Sometimes I get to the forefront of the language evolution without even trying.

Several words that are now part of my everyday vocabulary started as occasional mocking words. (These are not to be confused with mockingbirds.) For example, I once hated when people said "freaking" instead of the f-bomb, so I mocked them. "It's so freaking cold!" I would exclaim, laughing at the silliness of it.

Now, I use "freaking" all the time. It's so stupid. Here are some other words that have weaseled their way into my vocabulary:
-Babycakes (as in when the boyfriend calls and I answer, "Hey Babycakes!" and then I get embarrassed because my classmates are nearby and laugh at me)
-Deets (short for "details", recently adopted from Teen Beat magazine)
-Delish (short for "delicious", I am not sure where I got this)

And twenty minutes ago, as I was checking off items on the To-Do List I wrote for myself last night, I discovered...


-Fo'

Good at running. Good at drawing.

So there I am, moseying down the sidewalk when - what is this? The bus! The bus is early! (In retrospect, it was probably the previous bus being late.) The bus is going to beat me to the bus stop!

Or so the bus thought.

I silently yelled, "I will beat you to the bus stop, bus! And then you will take me to class!" And that is exactly what happened. If you click on the picture below, you will see an accurate depiction of this morning's event.


It's hard to believe I'm human what with all the speed and wit,
KJW

Potential hobby #41

This morning, I played a Taiko drum. It looked a lot like this:


Except, of course, I was wearing fewer clothes.

I learned about Taiko, a Japanese form of drumming, with my multi-cultural education class. We met up at the Seattle Buddhist Temple to learn a wee bit about one sect of Buddhism, and then we walked next door to the gym where we embarrassed ourselves with our lack of rhythm. It was lots of fun. Plus, a classmate's mom made the most delicious cookies I've ever had. Well, top 10, but still. I've eaten a lot of cookies. Top 10 is impressive.

I sure like graduate school.

Open letter

Dear November,

I am writing in regard to today's unpleasant weather. This morning, my lips were already crispy with dryness, but now they're even worse. Also, my toes are cold. I only have one pair of snowshoe socks, and laundry is expensive, so I had to choose between hygiene and warmth. I went with hygiene today, but I regretted it.

November, no one should have to regret choosing hygiene.

I realize that people expect you to be gross, but come on. Rise above these low standards. You're still part of fall, for goodness sakes!

Warm it up, Nov. Or else.

KJW

Been saying it all along

While I don't think that "Well, they did it in the 16th Century" is a solid support for an argument, I do agree with this: Taking the state out of the state of matrimony.

December 31 - January 6

(and other parts of the Southwest)

So nice.

On the average day, I drink three cups of tea.

Morning: English Breakfast or Earl Gray (both with milk)
Afternoon: Green, Green with pomegranate, Earl Gray, English Breakfast, or Chai (the non-greens with milk)
Evening: Licorice Spice or Peppermint (no milk!)

Today, however, I mixed it up. English Breakfast in the morning, NOTHING in the afternoon and... wait for it... English Breakfast at night! I am sooo crazy!

My reasons for drinking E.B. at 10:45 PM are twofold. First, I bought some "fat-free half-and-half" and I wanted to use it. (Note: I will definitely blog about the oxymoron Safeway calls "fat-free half-and-half." I did some research, and I regret my purchase, but it still adds a lovely texture to my drink.) Second, I am pooped. The roomie is watching Superbad later, and I want to join her, so I need a little English Breakfast magic to keep me up and at 'em.

Teeeaaa!

Thanks, Rick Anderson.

I gave a mini-lesson to my classmates on Wednesday. It was awful. I titled my reflection "The Horror."

Fortunately, I used to have a soccer coach that frequently told the team, "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at what you're doing." This is applicable to lots of things, but especially bad mini-lessons. Thanks to that coach, I can confidently say, "I don't suck. The mini-lesson I gave sucked."

And that, my darlings, is that.

I have confidence in sunshine!

Julie Andrews has everything to do with my decision to be a teacher. My passion for The Sound of Music - "I Have Confidence" in particular - required that I either be a teacher, nanny, or mother. (Remember? "All those children - heaven bless them - they will look up to me! And mind me!) Teachers gets July off. Easy choice.

(The internet demons prevent me from posting my Julie's scene, so is here is some lady name Audra. She's no Brit, but she can sing.)

Do I have anything purple?

I'm a Husky now. That means I have to care about the Apple Cup tomorrow.

WHOOOOAAA! I just googled "Apple Cup" to find a link for you and lo! A headline reads "Walden took rivalry from good to great." REPRESENT!

Although, boo. I was hoping that it would be about me - new Husky - or my dad - crazed UW fan - but no. It's about some WSU coach. Laaaame.

That's about all the excitement I can handle for the day after Thanksgiving.

Tomorrow: my very first tailgate party.

Being cold, Reminiscing

It is so chilly that I am wearing my snowshoe socks. While cozy, these precious foot-warmers remind me that my favorite (and only) snowshoe buddy is in "Bolivia." Pssssh. Who goes to Bolivia?

Here are two pictures from two of last year's snowshoeing adventures.

My feet, snowshoes, gloves, snow pants (actually... no, those were somebody else's snow pants), fluffy jacket, and snow. Just kidding. It is my not MY snow. It is Mother Nature's snow.


Here is a river. It might be the Nooksack, but what's in a name? Not much, that's what. This place was gorgeous. If it weren't 30 degrees, we would have jumped in. Maybe. Probably not. Anyway, we saw bear tracks that day. Oh, and a dog pulling a sled with toddlers on it. Aww.

I can shimmy with the best of them.

Lindsay, my former roommate, made this. Clearly, she is unemployed. And funny.

Grad School Closet

Click the picture to make the captions big and legible!

Grad School Desk

Grad School Mess

Brilliant Cory tells me that if you click on the picture, you can read my helpful captions! Hurrah!

Hilarious Thanksgiving joke

Q: If April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?
A: Pilgrims!

Excellent news!

I am cavity-free!

This morning, I went to the dentist. It was the first time in five years that I paid Dr. Bailey a visit. I could tell that he missed me a lot, mostly from the cardboard cut-out of me they had in the waiting room, but also from the music. They were playing what has been called "worship music", although I listened closely, and I didn't hear the singers specify the object/person they were worshiping. I think we can safely assume it's me.

After all the blushing from being worshiped, I heard somebody say, "Kelly Amazing Walden?" It was the dental hygienist. I followed her back to the fourth room on the right. It wasn't scary.

I wore cool sunglasses while the hygienist scraped tea awesome stains off my teeth. She talked to me about mashed potatoes and short commutes while I thought about how sweet it was for them to have the cardboard cut-out of me. It really was nice. Most places I go don't have that. I mean, a lot of them do, but not over fifty percent.

Post-scraping and whirring, they gave me some mouthwash to swoosh around "until it gets foamy." It got foamy, so I spit it out into the cup. Well, partly into the cup, and partly onto my Boundary Bay hoodie. It dried off quickly, but my sweatshirt still smells minty fresh.

Finally, they told me that the molar pain I experience when I try to run across the busy road to get to my bus stop is not, in fact, due to cavities. Turns out that two of my molars have exposed roots. Goofballs! All the cold air I breathe whilst running makes the roots say, "Hey! Ouch!" (but in tooth-language). Now I have fancy toothpaste to quiet those noisy little monsters.

I must go make a poster about misplaced modifiers, but worry not, reader! I will keep you updated on the condition of my teeth.

Just helping you visualize, that's all.

Nic-Nic-Nicaroo Kristine Raden, circa 2004













Bombgal (left) and ShortArms (right), circa 2006





My own father laughing at my gall bladder misery, circa 2005 (This picture is thrown in to show what a hard, hard, hard life I had growing up.)

Oh, just traveling the world not wearing a belt.

::ring::
::ring::

Kelly Jean!

Bombgal!

Whatup?

Well, I'm calling to interview you for my famous blog!

Yes!

Are you ready? I'm interviewing you right now. I'm recording right now, in fact, so don't talk about... you know...

Those STD's you have?

Aw, shoot. Now I HAVE to print it. Well, ok. First question - some of these may have been contributed by the last interviewee, a certain Nic-Nic-Nicaroo. Question 1: What's it like to have such long, flanhoodley arms?

Well, they're very nice for reaching things, but it makes it difficult to buy sweaters that fit.

So, how do you interact with your short-armed roommate?

Well, we figure that together, we make one, average-length person, so it works out really well. I always have to reach things off the shelf for her, but I don't care.

You're such a good roommate.

I am.

Next question: How do you feel about the fact that all of Bellingham, Washington has seen inappropriate amounts of your lower back?

I'm OK with that. I think, actually, that my mission in life is to have more of the world see inappropriate portions of my lower back.

How do you plan on going about that?

Oh, just traveling around the world not wearing a belt.

That's good. So, why do people call you WappyDoodle behind your back?

I didn't realize that they did!

Well, it WAS behind your back, but now that you know, how do you feel about it?

I'm a little hurt, but, you know, anytime someone goes to the trouble of making up a name about you, I think it means they care a little too much.

Good point. What do you think we should call ShortArms* behind her back?

T-Rex Arms.

Ok, that's good. So, what's your favorite kind of stingray?

Not that one that killed Steve Erwin, that's for sure. I like the ones I saw in Sea World when I went there in the fourth grade.

Did you jump in the tank and swim with them?

No, I just petted their flat, stringrayless bodies. They had their stingers removed.

Oh. Why didn't you jump in then, if they couldn't sting you?

Well, because they frown upon that in Sea World, and I was still at the point in my life where I followed all the rules.

So, if we went now and I said, "Hey Bombgal. I'll give you half of this hot dog I'm eating if you jump in the tank with the stingrays." What would you do?

I'd say... I'd probably do it, as long as the water looked pretty clean.

Good. I think I'm going to arrange that. Ok, what would you do if I said, "Hey, I'm not going to recycle for one whole year"?

Wow. You probably wouldn't survive that year because I would have probably killed you.

How would you kill me?

Poison.

What kind of poison? I know where this is going...

Kelly Poison.

I thought you were going to say, "ShortArms Poison."

ShortArms Poison only works on ShortArms!

Well, if you got extra-potent ShortArms Poison and I brought out my inner-ShortArms....

That's true. You could tuck your arms into your shirt.

And teach special-ed children.

And wore fake watermelons in the front of your shirt.

And was from Marysville.

Mm hm. Then the ShortArms Poison would work.

So, speaking of, if I were to interview ShortArms, what questions should I ask her?

You should ask her what's inside her boobs - what she thinks is really inside them. And you should ask her the definitions of words. Look up some weird words in the dictionary, and ask for her definition. You could also find some words from urbandictionary.com and ask her the definition of them, and see how many more she gets right.

I just learned a funny word from urbandictionary.com, and once the recorder's off, I'm going to tell you. We'll have a good laugh together. Finally, what message do you have for my really, really loyal and hopefully money-giving-to-me readers?

Recycle if you want to survive.

International Scholars Most Valuable Opinion Award

"Nic-Nic-Nicaroo Kristine Raden" won. She convinced me to send her the interview questions rather than ask her over the phone. Because of this, she seems funnier than me. Psssh....

---------------------------

Question 1: Why the h do you care about neglected and abused kids?

Because of their cute little faces.

Question 2: Do you think I should care about neglected and abused kids, too? Why?
Yes, because you should try to emulate everything I do and think.

Question 3: How do you think people will respond to the crassness of those last two questions?
Most people I know would not understand your sense of humor. They might feel any of these emotions: scared, unsure, frightened, exasperated, nauseated, iffy, quiet, subtle, goopy, snarffly, waffley, carebeary.

Question 4: Why should I care about your opinion?
Last year, I won the International Scholar’s Most Valuable Opinion Award for my highly acclaimed opinions. So even if you don’t want to care, facts show that you have to. My opinion is a treasure.

Question 5: What question should I ask Bombgal* when I interview her?
What’s it like to have such long flanhoodley arms? How do you feel about the fact that all of Bellingham, WA has seen inappropriate amounts of your lower back? Why do people call you WappyDoodle behind your back? What’s your favorite kind of stingray?

Question 6: What have you secretly wanted to tell me your whole life?
There are several things:

1 – You are the love of my life

2 – And the apple of my eye

3 – Meet me by the clock tower at 3pm.

Question 7: What do you think about your snack drawer? Will you have one when you grow up?

I think the snack drawer is an innovative step towards the progression of the future. Yes, I will have one when I grow up and it will be voice activated and I will use it while I’m floating on my hoverboard in my one-piece silver outfit.

Question 8: How much do you enjoy looking at pictures of me? I have attached one, in case you need it.

It depends on what you mean by “enjoy.” If you mean “want to jam pencils into my eyes just to avoid the torture of seeing that for one more second” then the answer would be “quite a bit.”

Question 9: What do you think about this interview ending on question 9 rather than, say, question 10, or even question 7?

To be honest, it makes me extremely uncomfortable. My undiagnosed OCD makes me want to round it out to 10 questions so badly that I am going to invent a Question 10 just to make the creepy crawlies stop going up my back.

Question 10: What are you doing today? [I would never ask a question as lame as this one.]

Well, I’m going to be at work until 4pm. Then I’m going to go home and work on some Christmas present crafting. After that, I’m probably going to go to Compass and volunteer. After that, I’m probably going to start a blog that will be the #1 blog on the internet.

---------------------------

What a jerk.

Prep yo'self fo' you... feel unprepared.

I interview people now. It's the bloggy thing to do. I even have this tape recorder left over from all these conversations I had with eighth-graders. We talked about Thurgood Marshall. I am supposed to be using those recordings as data for a 15-page essay I need to be writing, but exposing the fascinating (and often disturbing) deets about my friends' lives will probably win me a Pulitzer Prize, and that essay will not.

I don't know what society would do without me.

Anyway, here's interview #1. I don't use real names in my interviews, so I'll just call my subject "Nic-Nic-Nicaroo Kristine Raden." The interview takes place on speaker phone. My words are in italics.

--------------------------------

Nic! Nic, I'm recording you now!

You... no!

Yes!

Or... you could SEND me an interview.

No! No, then you'd have your answers planned.

No, I can't answer now. I'm at the mall and people will hear me, and then they'll put it on their own blog.

This won't be personal. I won't ask... I won't ask about your first kiss with FirstKiss*. HAHAHAHA!

(angrily) All right, allllll right....

HAHAHAHA!

I'm telling on you. I'm telling BombGal*.

Are you ready for the first interview question?

I can't hear you anymore.

--------------------------------

Then she hangs up. After 10 years of friendship.


*Pseudonym

I wish I lived in Iowa.

The Daily Puppy

I like animals with stubby legs.

Reason #297,281 that grammar is fabulous.

Next week, I am going to give a lesson on misplaced modifiers. If you don't know what those are, I forgive you. Kind of. Unless your name is Rudy Giuliani.

Anyway, here are some hilarious examples of sentences with misplaced modifiers:

A woman passed by leading a springer spaniel in a long black dress.
Haha! A dog wearing a dress!

After reading the paper, the telephone rang.
Haha! A telephone reading!

Oswald and Hilda found the flowers hiking up the mountain.
Haha! A flower hiking!



Geeze, English Language! You are a riot!

Press play.

I'm really happy being me. I mean, REALLY happy. If I had to be someone else, though, I would probably be CJ Cregg. The "J" in "CJ" stands for "Jean", so I'd hardly have to change anything, anyway.

I can't believe I'm going to be assigning these things to people.

This sincere desire to learn is really getting on my nerves. Back when I was a youngun' (6+ months ago), I could just pick a thesis and run with it... well, write with it. "Heeeey, holes-in-my-argument!" I'd yell, typing away, looking forward to a good grade, retaining nothing, having time to jump over my coffee table later.

But now! Now. Psshhh. I have 2 theses to decide upon and 20 pages to write. I've been pondering and organizing my shoe rack and playing Scrabulous and underlining important sentences and STILL nothing. Actually, no. I have a few embarrassing thesis statements scribbled out, and some neatly-hanging shoes.

I am so frustrated that I made Movie Popcorn instead of Lite (not "Light", mind you) Popcorn. Now my keyboard is buttery.

This should help you with the poll.

(Ok, MAYBE I had something to write about besides my cold.)

Not my cold.

My own snot is fine, but I don't like the snot of others. I suspect you feel the same way, so I am not going to write about my cold.

[The cold that tried to choke me to death in the middle of the night. I stayed awake, always on my guard, ready to cough up phlegm whenever the breathing got too raspy. (I also stayed awake because it was a big night for drunk dials from hooligan friends.)

The cold that almost dripped out of my nose into the till on my first day of training at Diva Espresso.

The cold that forced me to brew stupid herbal tea because it would "soothe my throat" (pssshhh) instead of the usual strong, delicious, caffeinated English Breakfast.

The cold that had me questioning whether to take those Crohn's-stopping imminuosuppressants. Constant tummy grumbles or constant throat scratchies? I chose the latter.

The cold that had me sneezing on the cat just now. Hahahaha! That's what he gets for demanding affection when all I want to do is write about how I'm not writing about my cold.)

Unfortunately for you, the cold dominated my life today, and I have nothing else to write about.

Abe does this all the time.

Go round and round

So, I'm leaning on the bus stop (because they removed the benches) reading Infidel, when this short, skinny, muttering lady asks if I have a light. While I am responding that no, I don't have a light, she exclaims, "You look just like Sissy Spacek! You could be her daughter!" Then some other man lights her cigarette and she leaves.

Lies! I don't look anything like Sissy Spacek! But I totally have that shirt. And that body.

The bus is even sillier than the stop. I have overheard two cell phone breakups in the last week. Actually, one was a "I'm hanging up, shutting off my phone, and I hope I never see or hear from you again" and the other was a "Well, I'm on the bus so I can't explain now, but basically you weren't enough for me anymore." Ouch. The poor suckers on the other ends of those conversations should know better than to date someone who has personal conversations on the bus. I limit my bus cell phone use to paying bills, especially ones where I give out my credit card info, social security number, etc.

And if I DO ever have a personal conversation on the bus, I will have it in Arabic. The woman sitting across from me was chatting in Arabic, and I couldn't eavesdrop at all. That was very crafty of her.

Now, I think I will go eat an apple.

This is ok.

Why?

Safeway never IDs me when I buy alcohol. Is it the crease over my right eye? Is this how grocery stores roll in Seattle? Is it because instead of buying 24-packs of PBR and 2-liter bottles of Coke, I am buying broccoli, cheerios, English muffins, flank steak, and a 6-pack of Blue Moon Belgian White Ale? Do I look old?

Maybe it's not that I look old. Maybe it's that I look sophisticated.

Give me tea, a book, and an empty bank account.

The best book I've read in the last six months was To Kill a Mockingbird. It was my third time through, and it shot up to third place on my list of Top 5 Favorite Books Ever (For Now).

Top 5 Favorite Books Ever (For Now)
1. Franny and Zooey
2. Jane Eyre
3. To Kill a Mockingbird
4a. The Red Tent
4b. Memoirs of a Geisha
4c. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
5. Ironweed

The other night, I dreamed I was Scout.

Coughing a little,
KJW

What I Learned in School Today; or, Someday Your Kid Will Talk to You About What Happened in Class

Of the eight people at my table in Dilemmas of Teaching and Learning, not one had watched the Salt-n-Pepa Show. Who are these people?

They are my (clearly tasteless) Masters in Teaching classmates.

Some of you know I'm in grad school, some of you know I'm at UW, and some of you know I'm planning on being a teacher. (Did you notice those comma splices? I broke grammar rules because I thought it sounded better. Oh, right there, too! I didn't put a comma between the two independent clauses because I wrote it how I'd speak it! I JUST DID IT AGAIN! Incredible. I read a chapter about this today.) What you may not know are the fascinating details:

• The University of Washington Masters in Teaching Program is a 5-quarter program.

• It's freaking awesome.

• I started two months ago, and I will graduate with a teaching certificate and Masters degree in March of 2009.

• That means I have the summer off to make money, go on wild adventures (Ireland? IMAX?), and reread The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

• Two of my three classes had snack sign-up sheets.
• Tomorrow is my day.
• I made pumpkin bread.

• We are a cohort of 60ish students, meaning our whole group starts and finishes together, and we're taking all the same classes at the same time. It's really adorable.
  

• My cohort is made up of strictly secondary ed students. Those sweet elementary folk are in another program. I met three of them. They exuded patience and understanding.

• For several weeks a quarter, we hang out in Seattle-area schools instead of attending our normal classes. The mornings are early, but I end up laughing even more than usual. This may or may not be related to sleep deprivation.
  

• We student-teach next Fall, but I'll spend at least six weeks in my assigned school (T.B.D.) during the next two quarters.
  

• Some of the future English teachers and I are going to Big Time Brewery after class tomorrow.

• We read a lot. A lot, a lot. And I love education, so I don't slack on the assignments like I did during my undergrad. Not that I did that, I mean. (This was like my millionth sentence fragment of the entry, but remember how I am above grammar now? Remember that?)
  

• I bet this list is getting really hard on the eyes

• I'll stop now and write in paragraph form, but only because I care about you.

• But not so much that I won't add this one last point!
  

After spending three weeks at Mountlake Terrace High School (amazing assemblies!) and two at Skyview Junior High (funniest kids in Pacific Northwest!), I've unofficially decided I want to teach eighth, ninth, or tenth grade English. No matter where I end up, though, I will find a way to wear silly hats at least three times a month.

Hope that helped, you filthy animal.

Ate Half a Pomegranate Today,
KJW

I am soooo politically literate.

All right, I was going to do serious research and back up the following claims with legitimate sources, but I wanted to get into the political mindset and give "facts" instead. (Oh, I am being mean. I think our campaigning habits are silly, but for the most part, I like politicians. Except Rudy Giuliani. Get out of my face and my Newsweek, Rudy Giuliani.)

In honor of the kicking-butt-in-the-polls, I've decided to kick off the post with Hillary Clinton. Ms. Clinton is a smart human, and she knows her way around the White House. I like that in a presidential candidate. However, I think she is a bit polarizing. (Here, I almost said, "Sure, the polarization is between the educated and the ignorant," but I decided that it was unfair, incorrect, and not hilarious.) Perhaps this bad-ass picture would cancel out all the hostility:





Yes, it would definitely put a stop to the animosity. Hillary Clinton is so freaking cool, especially lacey-collared and looking to the side like that.






I don't know a whole lot about Mitt Romney, but his debonair charm concerns my roommate. He's Mormon, though, isn't he? I've never met a Mormon I didn't like. I'm not rooting for any Republicans, but with the information I have, I wouldn't damn the right-wing to hell if they nominated this guy. (Salt-n-Pepa tell me that there's only one judge and that's God, so chill and let [their] Father do His job. Salt-n-Pepa is/are usually right. Therefore, I probably can't damn anyone the Republicans nominate. Still, that doesn't mean they should get out of control. I could throw eggs... hard-boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs over medium, any kind of egg!)

Rudy "My Kids Refuse to Campaign For Me Because I'm a Jerk" Giuliani, on the other hand.... Besides the fact that I cleverly hid in his nickname (which, by the way, I made up myself), I don't know why he makes me so grumpy. Maybe it's that all he talks about is 9/11, and hey! Rudy! You were the boss of New York City, but Hillary was representing the whole dang state! She was there, too! So shut up, Rudy Giuliani. You're not an impressive man, and I don't like you, and I might start an Anyone But Rudy campaign on this really, really, really infuential blog.

That'd show him, having personality traits that bug me... psh.

Moving on, I think Barack Obama is swell. Once, I wrote about how he was too inexperienced and blah, blah, blah, but then, while lifting weights at WWU's rec center, I listened to his DNC keynote speech on my iPod. (Do you see how I weaseled in that comment about me lifting weights so you can imagine my strong, strong muscles? I will teach my students, the future of America, those tricks.) It changed my mind. Barack is a hero. Don't rule him out yet, people! There is hope! He was just on SNL! And Salt-n-Pepa (actually, just Salt) changed the "Whatta Man" lyrics from "body like Arnold" to "body like Barack!"

And on that note, I'm going to prepare myself for the Salt-n-Pepa Show, Mondays at 10:00 on VH1.

Packin' and mackin' / Bambloozin' and smackin' suckas with this track blog aaaaand,
KJW

PS I only selected four candidates to highlight. Why? Well, that's none of your business.

The one we love even though he won't contribute to society.

American Gangster put my life in perspective.

The average news: Eventually, I am going to be a teacher. I'll grade papers. I'll get frustrated about capitalization errors. I'll convince my students to say "cadaver" instead of "whatever." Yes, the days will begin early, but let's be honest - the only things keeping me up late these days are Scrabulous and The Daily Puppy. I can give those up for the poor, sweet, bad-spelling children (or even poor, sweet, pretty-good-spelling-children-who-just-need-to-work-on-dangling-participles).

The bad news: I won't get to roll around Harlem in a black, tinted Lincoln Town Car. Well, I could, but with the cost of housing in New York and the teacher's salary, buying a $42,000 car isn't reasonable. Plus, in order to go true American Gangster, I'd have to kill people in cold blood. That's not my style. And I'd have to leave the Pacific Northwest. I like it here. It's geographically diverse, and my neighbors like to recycle.

The good news: I'll never have to worry about corrupt police officers stealing my getaway cash or slapping my significant other. (Note: My significant other is a tough guy who might slap that corrupt police officer right back, but there is enough slapping in the world. Nooo mooore slapping!) In fact, when I tell people that I'm a teacher, they'll say, "Aw." If I told someone I was an important and influential gangster, they wouldn't believe me. They'd say, "Kelly, you are too precious to be a gangster," and they'd be right.

Not living a life of crime,
KJW