You guys are into these rambling things, right? I'll take your silence as a yes.

I bought some ant traps on Amazon yesterday because did I tell you we have ants? Yeah, that is why I was in the kitchen at 1:30 am the other day with rubber gloves on, clutching a bottle of 409, screaming "Why won't you just DIE?!?" But now my Amazon recommendations are insecty things which makes me inexplicably uncomfortable. Like I'm afraid someone's going to see my Amazon page and I'll have to be all "Oh no, I'm not particularly into bug poison! I'm not like a weirdo or anything." Which I think might illustrate just how desperate I am for your collective acceptance.

And have you seen that McDonald's commercial for smoothies with that rapper? I'm no hip-hop expert but I think that if you go around the 'hood singing "When I say 'pineapple' you say 'mango'!" you're liable to get a cap busted in your you-know-what.

And, do you listen to Science Friday on NPR? It's my favorite. I love the call-ins. Last Friday someone called in and asked if, given that people are getting chips implanted in their brains (which, really?) and hackers are so prevalent now, could hackers take control someone's brain and turn the person against himself? And, by the way, then I laughed for a hundred years.



Speaking of laughing, have I ever confessed to you my secret crush on David Mitchell?

I mean, good grief, how could I not?

No, the pictures don't actually *go* with anything. It just needed some pictures is all. Geez, everybody's a critic now. You know what, just shut up and read the dang post, okay?

Guys. Can I tell you something? I do not actually like being out of my element. This I have learned by working out of boxes for the past two weeks. Turns out, when everything is slapdashedly strewn about my desk in mismatched and random piles, I know exactly where to find everything. With everything neatly packed up in boxes with color-coded labels, I'm lost. I'm working 50-60 hours a week and 40% of that time is spent trying to find something. This is making me particularly cranky.

Also, I can't even believe how many times a day the staff at work come to me and tell me so-and-so is bothering me today and I don't like working with her or can I switch my schedule so we don't have lunch at the same time and oh my word, ladies and gentlemen. I'm not sure what they think I should do about this? Magically make everyone in the world agreeable and lovely? Fire any irritating people on staff? Well, guess what, that would mean I would fire you because you are annoying the coleslaw out of me today. (Ha. Coleslaw.)

Some days I have to be to work at 6:30 and some days I start at 8:00 and some days when I go to work at 8:00 I forget to change my alarm the night before so I still wake up at quarter after 5 because I'm awesome. This morning that happened once again and, lying in bed at 5:15, I wondered if perhaps I should go to the gym because I had a good hour and a half before I needed to get ready for work. And then I chuckled to myself because, I mean, I really am quite funny sometimes.

Speaking of me being awesome, did I tell you that I got up in a church meeting to read a passage of scripture and on my way to the podium I knocked over the big display in front of the room? Because of course I did.

Also, Wii boxing. Have you done it? Lizzie and I did it this weekend and ouch, by the way. But isn't it a little fun to punch your roommate in the head without being arrested? Kim says yes.

And can we discuss hot dogs for a minute? I don't particularly like hot dogs but then all of a sudden I'm craving hot dogs every day and I think I may have eaten about a gazillion in the past month. In fact, I had one for breakfast today. I know, right? A hot dog with mustard and a Diet Coke which actually was my roommate's Diet Coke but do you ever look at your roommate's Diet Coke and think “That should be my Diet Coke”? Don't worry, I replaced it from the Coke machine today but can we talk about 75¢ for a Diet Coke? Highway robbery, I say. Have you had Nathan's hot dogs? Right? So good.

I'm speaking in church this Sunday which is a little unfortunate considering every time I sit down to write a talk I end up with something . . . well, a lot like this post, as a matter of fact. (Ha. I just wrote “a matter of face” which should be a phrase I think.) This distresses me.


This should be saved in the drafts folder along with all the other incomprehensible posts.



PUBLISH.

Oh yes we did.

"This is a group of castaways and they are now champions." -Mark Jackson

As a Mavericks fan, you get used to losing. Sure, there are lots of wins and cheering during the season but, when it really counts, you expect the loss. You accept it. They're still your team, you still love 'em, but you know the loss is coming.

And that's what being a fan is all about. Win or lose, you love the team. You love the game. You love the last 12 seconds of the game when it's all tied up and your team has the ball and you're jumping on the couch screaming "Take the shot!!" You love the recaps, the highlights, the articles on espn.com the next day. When you're a fan, you love the game. No matter what.



But . . . I gotta say . . . it feels good to win one.  

And, no, I *didn't* cry through the trophy presentation.

Water is great, except for when it comes from a sewer and it gets all over you.

1: sewage pipes that cracked and leaked in the hill above my school this week
5: inches of raw sewage that seeped rained down into my office
4: times required to wash my hair until it no longer smells of feces after coming in contact with raw sewage
15: minutes I had to clear my office of anything I wanted to keep before the cleaners started knocking out my drywall and ripping apart my furniture
1: pairs of shoes that were thrown out because they were (sorry, Mom) really shitty
46: children that needed to be evacuated because our classroom floors were covered in poo-water
3: times my boss said "how could this get any worse?" until I told her to stop because, guess what, it gets worse every time you say that!
2: big red "DANGER:KEEP OUT" signs I ignored when I sneaked back into the school after the hazmat team descended and locked down the building 
7: Hazmat worker guys I ignored when they told me I couldn't go back in my office because I left a picture of my nephew in there and plus I needed my stapler
2: toxic materials found during the demo of my office

Dear builders of the 1970s,
Thanks for the asbestos and lead paint! You are awesome!
Love, Kim 

1: archive box I would not allow the cleaners to throw out even though it was covered in excrement because I really, really need the paperwork inside it
3: different locations I'm trying to run as we piece together extra classrooms for our 63 children who suddenly have no classroom  
Eleventy billion: number of phone calls and emails I've fielded from upset parents, staff and maintenance workers in the past 2 days in my new office

P.S. Here's my new office:

What's that you say? It looks like it's in a high-traffic hallway 2 floors away from the nearest bathroom?  

Oh, that's 'cause it is*.

0: times I've cried this week even though I really wanted to except I did cry once but it was over a basketball game so it doesn't count and I just remembered I cried over that one commercial where the kid gives that black lady her purse back on the bus but that one doesn't count either
3: sleepless nights I've had worrying over this stupid poo-problem
70: percent chance I think I have of dying from exposure to lead, asbestos or poo from this week which is my own dang fault, but still
4-6: projected weeks until we can get back into our classrooms and offices
100: percent chance I will have a nervous breakdown before then





*Not that I'm complaining or anything because it's like 15 feet from the Coke machine

A Treatise on Exactly How Much Teenagers Suck, Also the Revealation That I Am a Big Ol' Prude, And A Bonus Photo of Poop.

If you know me well, you'll know that I really dislike 3 things: mushrooms, dishonesty, and teenagers.

(Not regular teenagers, though. I'm talking about teenagers.)



So there's this park, you see, about a mile and a half from my house and it has a path around it and I like to run there. But also teenagers like to hang out there. Yeah, just hang out. Like sit around. I never thought I'd be one of those crotchety old people who complain 'bout kids these days but, seriously, do any of them have jobs or homework or anything?


Sidenote: Have you ever driven by a group of teenagers and felt the frantic desire to roll down your window and yell, "Get a job!" at them? Because, really now.



Anyway, these teenager punks hang out at the park and talk about things that they shouldn't even know about at fifteen. I often have to quell the desire to march up to them and demand, "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" a phrase I was often mortified by in my teenage years thanks to my own mother. In fact, I have to bite my tongue often to keep from giving these kids quite a piece of my mind. Pieces of my mind include:

• Girls, you do not need to talk that way and dress that was and be generally skanktastic for these boys. These boys are dumb and that's that. 
• Boys, try forming a sentence without using the f-word six times. It will be a new and exciting challenge!
• I'm not sure what your purpose is of talking about doing very bad things when there are clearly several adults within earshot. Perhaps you think it makes us think you are cool and grown-up? Well, here's the deal: we don't think you are cool and grown-up. We think you suck.
• We all know you use the bathroom at the park to smoke pot. We are okay with this. But please, please stop pooping in the sink.

But I don't tell them any of this because someday they'll grow up and be embarrassed by their dumb teenage selves, just like everyone else has before them.

So I just turn up my Lady Gaga (don't even act like you don't) and keep running.