The infamous "F" word is for morons. Big dumb morons. I have been subjected to some of the world's dimmest men for over an hour.
Actual quote: "But I was like, those "effin" cupcakes looked amazing."
Yikes. I pray for better parenting around the world. If I was running for Miss America, I would wish that all children had nurturing parents...and a Thesaurus. Broaden those horizons boys. I silently pray you are all sterile after years of drunken mishaps during 4-wheelin'
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Fancy Pants
I must admit something. I am not the most graceful, most coordinated, most elegant or articulate little lady. I'm "quirky" as my loving mother and mother-in-law say. All this was brought to the attention of the world one Tuesday morning at good 'ol Monte Vista Elementary.
As a married, LDS woman, I wear something I like to call fancy pants. If you do not know what I am referring to, ask your closest Mormon friend. If that friend is me, call me and I'll expound. One morning I was running a few minutes behind so I quickly rushed out the door, smoothed my billowy granola/teacher skirt, and bolted for the car. As I pulled up to the school I saw Mr. Olsen. He is a young, single sixth grade teacher who is very nice. I say hi and wave and waltz into the school like I'm goin' places. I should also preface that I am one of maybe 8 teachers that are LDS at my school. My sweet and bubbly friend Lacy then meets me at the door where we greet and giggle and chat about life when all of a sudden Lacy says, "Oh! Um....Oh...Janelle, your skirt is tucked into your um....your um....pants?" [please take the necessary pauses and voice inflections implied by the punctuation to get the real idea of this humilitating moment] "Ah! Oh Lacy, thank you! I'm so embarrassed..." "Oh Janelle, don't be embarrassed, it's just me." Well needless to say, I'm sure Lacy is out there shopping right now trying to find some fancy pants of her own just incase of a mis-tucking mishap, a strong breeze, or perhaps just some breezy summer skivies.
As a married, LDS woman, I wear something I like to call fancy pants. If you do not know what I am referring to, ask your closest Mormon friend. If that friend is me, call me and I'll expound. One morning I was running a few minutes behind so I quickly rushed out the door, smoothed my billowy granola/teacher skirt, and bolted for the car. As I pulled up to the school I saw Mr. Olsen. He is a young, single sixth grade teacher who is very nice. I say hi and wave and waltz into the school like I'm goin' places. I should also preface that I am one of maybe 8 teachers that are LDS at my school. My sweet and bubbly friend Lacy then meets me at the door where we greet and giggle and chat about life when all of a sudden Lacy says, "Oh! Um....Oh...Janelle, your skirt is tucked into your um....your um....pants?" [please take the necessary pauses and voice inflections implied by the punctuation to get the real idea of this humilitating moment] "Ah! Oh Lacy, thank you! I'm so embarrassed..." "Oh Janelle, don't be embarrassed, it's just me." Well needless to say, I'm sure Lacy is out there shopping right now trying to find some fancy pants of her own just incase of a mis-tucking mishap, a strong breeze, or perhaps just some breezy summer skivies.
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