Yeah, they're real.

FEATURED PROFILE:  BUNGLEinTHEjungle69

NAME: Tommy Tapir

AGE: A gentleman never tells, but it’ll fit on a lotto ticket. 

NICKNAME: Tapeworm (for my serious staying power, and affinity for your anal cavity) 

LOOKING FOR: My soulmate/a pretzel/the nearest restroom

INTERESTS: Grabbing foliage, sniffing for signs of females in the area, Sudoku, Celine Dion

ACTIVITIES: Copulating (in and out of water), swimming, sinking, and letting small fish eat parasites off my bulky body (don’t knock it ’til you try it),  journaling, World of Warcraft III

SPECIAL TALENTS: In Japanese folklore, I eat people’s dreams. 

BEST FEATURE: My protruding rump just don’t quit. 

ABOUT ME: I had a small role in the 2008 blockbuster feature Apocalypto as “fleeing beast #3.”  I met some of the pretend Mayans. Such posers.

2) clearly-labeled IN and OUT boxes.

3) refrigerators stocked with coke products.

4) 10-minute bike rides to the beach.

5) meeting matty for pinkberry.

6) an abandoned need to plan the future.

7) frozen yogurt, in general.

a lesson plan-free lifestyle.

9) ali’s fantastic organizational skills.

10) entourage.

Pish Posh. I really missed out on some great angsty blogging during the great MA/JD crisis of November and the MA Program debate of February… landing me here in the present, comfortably settled in my plans to attend Claremont Graduate University (www.cgu.edu) from August until…until I’ve added “doctor” to my title or topped out the government’s student loan capacity (whichever comes first). Now I’ve got to follow my own advice (or Rev. Cooper’s, really) and finish strong… carrying my 70-or-so students along.

Is it summer yet?

this is a real battle! with real battle lines! and official mercedes-benz mom cars to boot!

but it’s april now.  and as of may 31st i’m a liberal-mouthed graduate student.

i’m excited by the possibilities…

here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBX0Jfr62Kc%26NR=1
and then: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lhkAGfS__mk

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that’s my new mantra. just a little pinch.

 i got my nose pierced, and that was a little pinch. i showed my parents on graduation weekend, and for that i got a little pinch. 

 i drove away from the senior apartments for the last time as a student, and that was a tiny heartstring pinch. 

shaking bobby’s hand? a firm presidential pinch. 

finally deciding the wheres and whats of next year? not as much of a pinch, per se… but a fire under my booty to get into teacherly shape for spanish, english and french at Trinity Collegiate in south carolina.  this means hanging around central phoenix more often to charlar con la gente…si me sigues.

 so i’m a teacher. i’m living in south carolina. i’m buying a car, adopting a fern, and playing adult as best i can during weekday daylight hours. 

babystepsbabystepsbabysteps.

and pinches..

booboo”andcrab”doo

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i have to subscribe to some zen water principle to make this transition smoothly… both from barbie power wheel to post and davidson collegiate to disoriented alumnae. actually, the disorientation comes easily.  and alumnae looked pretty good from the other side of that shakespeare assignments.  it’s the boy-kitty-after-he-was-neutered “what…am i?” wide eyes that are hardest to grow into… but even those will narrow when i latch onto a new job/fixation/locale. 

today’s dose of syrupy sentimentalism: a short highlights reel from graduation weekend.

randy nelson’s bowtie/mfa talk/general interaction with my family. professor parker. professor parker. professor parker. stogies, sunglasses, and stiff mortarboards. annie ingram’s existence/4 years of green tea, office hours, squirrel talks and the ongoing laugh/cackle debate. surprised hugs in the procession line.  low 5s in the procession line–and a christian family-style chorus of “GO BOO BOO!” in the solemn graduation march. highly selective screwups in seating. hansford epes’ reaction: “this reminds me of the great graduation mishap of 1914..” steve’s little sister eva. batman, clawed finks, and real laughs. the redheaded veto and buckhout clans descending on the a brunette davidson. last rachel’s bed talks, midnight cuddle emergencies, and the great blizzard of beer truck. maroo’s mouthkissing attempts, chambers gallery hugs, and fantastic chismosismo.  brixx-style colliding of the planets: my veto and my sibs meet at last!! “you make so much more sense in context.” andy’s last words as i walked up the ramp to get my diploma: “ya did good!” bobby’s bubble. english department cool kids’ club on the steps of chambers. myriam’s “you make such a great pregnant woman!” to my family–and the fam’s jaw-dropped shock.  wildcat’s formal garb: a red and black boa. mattymoo’s observation of the davidson female population. ali’s observation that i’ve been at summer camp for 4 years because “there are so many…trees!” big smiles. beirut.  long hugs. “where IS brotherbear?”

and the obnoxiously sentimental lyrics i just can’t flush out, courtesy of rascal flatts: “what hurts the most/ is being so close/ and having so much to say/ and watching you walk away/ and never knowing/ what could have been”

more rascal flattsisms, you say? alright. cliched? yes. all i can think about? yes again.

“Life’s like a novel
With the end ripped out/The edge of a canyon/With only one way down/Take what you’re given before its gone/Start holding on, keep holding on/Cause when push comes to shove/You taste what you’re made of/You might bend, till you break/Cause its all you can take/On your knees you look up/Decide you’ve had enough/You get mad you get strong/Wipe your hands shake it off/Then you Stand.”

booboo”unabashedlynostalgic”doo

want more? www.donstewarttv.com. if i’d only known the miracle cloth were free i’d never have splurged on the faith health and prosperity bracelet.

Cimabue: (Chi-mah-booey): 1240-1302. Italian painter and creator of mosaics… regarded as the last great painter of the Byzantine tradition. Blah blah blah.

Chabooey: (Cha-Booey): 2002-eternity. Siamese kitty extraordinaire. Zen kitchen fern gardener. Craftskitty skilled in the art of the blankie fort and the turtle-head defense.

Cimabue’s Thronende Madonna mit acht Engeln und vier Propheten.

Chabooey’s Friday night blankie fort.

Coincidence? I think not.

He says to me
And he says hey it’s me, but I’m not the me I used to be
And I said hey, it’s me but I’m not the me I used to be yeah

I get a little upset, I get a little worn down
I get a little bit nervous oh when you’re around
I get a little worn in, I feel a little worn out
Oh from every touch and every kiss every sound that she sings to me
She says get your head up get down and learn to appreciate all the the best things you sick beautiful thing yeah
get your head up get down and learn to underappreciate all the the best things

and every time I make a run, girl you just turn around and cry
and I ask myself why oh why
see you must understand, I can’t work a 9 to 5
so I’ll be gone until November,
I’ll be gone till November, I’ll be gone till November.

Don’t she said you know you shouldn’t get so upset
But it gets me over and it clears my head, yeah
Well, don’t she said you know you shouldn’t get so upset child
but it gets me over and it clears my head