Thank you

Dear Mr. Cosby,

Thank you for donating 40 lbs. of books to my classroom. To be honest, I didn't put much thought into my application letter because I didn't think I'd get picked. Who knew.

You made 28 kids very happy today. And it kept them quiet for about 25 minutes, therefore I was happy as well. That doesn't happen much. They like to talk. A lot. I mean, a LOT. Like they won't shut up. Ever.

I promise to use those books to the fullest. I let them check them out and bring them home. So, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, could you send another 40 lbs. of books? I'll never see the other ones again.

Oh, and thank you for recording To Russell, my brother, whom I slept with. We listened to that A LOT when we were kids. It made us laugh. A lot.

Fondly,

Kroushlconflict

P.S. Also thanks for turning me on to Pudding Pops.

Hey dood!

Silly.

Living Proof...

of the phrase, "It's not the years, it's the miles."

Holy crap.

Tori pimped my nursery

Lime green, turquoise, zebra??? Is it just a coincidence? I highly doubt it.

Come on Tori, couldn't you come up with your own idea?

Shame on you.

Two things I learned driving home from work today.

Learned (confirmed) fact #1: I've been driving past every day for many years, and just today I feel confident enough to confirm this as a fact: Nobody ever shops at the Robert Morris College Bookstore. It's so brightly lit, so nicely laid out, with all the new college sweatshirts and RMC mugs anyone could ever dream of. Still, sadly, I have yet to see even one person perusing the merchandise.

It's become a sort of challenge for me, as I'm stopped at the light at Congress & State. It's become my Loch Ness Monster, if you will. Each day, searching, searching. But today I'm ready to throw in the towel and accept the fact that I will never spot a Robert Morris Bookstore patron. For some reason that makes me depressed.

Learned (confirmed) fact #2: Most people don't know how to merge. Doesn't it make sense that traffic would move more smoothly if both lanes took a turn? Sometimes I just can't believe it when the random vehicle tries to play God and scoot in front of me when CLEARLY IT IS MY TURN TO MERGE?????? CAN'T YOU SEE THAT IT'S MY TURN JACKASS? It's so juvenile, I can almost imagine what goes on in the driver's head:
"OOOOhhhhh, (drool, drool), me go , me go! (snort, snort) I go first! You,no! My turn! Me first!"
I tell the boys in my class that they need to go back to preschool to learn how to get along with others, but I think a lot of adults could learn a lot there too.