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Student evaluations are in: Hold the Cymbalta #WellnessWednesday

December 18, 2019 by Beth

Dear Students,

I love many parts of my job, but I like teaching you the most. When the semester is over, I’m actually sad (not relieved as many academic types are).

Public Speaking may be my favorite course to teach for three reasons:

  1. I get to know you extremely well through the topics you choose.
  2. You show a large amount of growth in a short amount of time. Each of you improves.
  3. I end up learning plenty.

In fact, this semester, I learned about child labor in smartphone construction, conspiracy theories about Kurt Cobain’s death, the House of Chanel, Chris Jericho’s career, and why you should exercise 5-6 times a week for 30 minutes (as opposed to 3 times a week for an hour, which is my routine at the moment).

I’ve written about student evaluations before, but here’s a recap: It is a little scary for me. There’s always someone who hates me and/or the class. But then I get feedback like this, and it takes out the sting:

(And her heart grew three sizes that day.)

Remember that I’m here for you long after the class ends. Yes, you have to climb a few flights of stairs to see me, but I’m also just a quick email away.

Best wishes,
Dr. Beth

 

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Music discoveries: That’s what friends are for #WorthyWednesday

December 11, 2019 by Beth

Dear Members of The Prodigy,

I’m so sorry I didn’t really know you until recently. If it weren’t for my friend Glen responding to my post requesting music suggestions, I never would have listened intentionally. Who knew I had so much in common, taste-wise, with Glen plus Merrill and Trevor? (Thanks also to Kristina, April, George, Tara and William for some good tunes.)

I usually listen to the most raucous music in my library when I’m getting ready in the morning.

A few days ago, I was putting on mascara when Eddie walked into the bathroom.

Him: What’s that?
Me, without batting a mascaraed eye: Smack My Bitch Up.

I make no apologies.

And because of that exchange, you earned a few cents. (I have an Apple Music account, so you don’t make much from me.)

 

I’m glad you are now part of my listening life, along with Godsmack, Prophets of Rage, Dirty Honey and The Struts.

My mornings are certainly a little louder.

Love,
Beth

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Household employment rate: 100 percent #SundayStories

December 8, 2019 by Beth

Dear Greg, Publix Manager:

Thank you for hiring Dominic this week.

You have no idea how thankful I am to get him off the Xbox, his phone and the couch.

He’ll be gainfully employed. Occupied and out of trouble. Able to buy his own snacks.

(His lunch today? Oreos, Goldfish and popcorn.)

He made me laugh as I was taking him to the interview with you. WAY overconfident:

Me: Are you nervous?

Him: No. Who wouldn’t like me?

Oh LORD.

But you did like him, so he wasn’t wrong.

I could not be happier for him to get a taste of real life.

So, thank you from the bottom of my mom heart.

Your loyal customer,
Beth

Posted in Parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

I finally landed a bewhiskered boy #winning #humpday

December 4, 2019 by Beth

Dear Elek,

I didn’t know I needed you in my life until you showed up.

I have a predilection for hairy males, but you are a little furrier than most.

And even though your breath smells like fish and ass, I let you into my bed.

I woke up spooning you.

I’m sorry if I moved too fast.

But it’s been a long time since I’ve had a new fella in my bed.

My hairy bedmate, post-spoon

You are so handsome when you sun yourself.

Yes, I know you have a lady already. And yes, I know you and Gideon are supposed to be bro-ing it up this week. But it’s clear whom you love best.

So if you want to leave Sherry for me, you beautiful creature, I would be more than fine with that.

Love and wet kisses,
Beth

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Yet another part of my health kick #SundayStories

December 1, 2019 by Beth

Dear Beer and Wine:

I know I’ve been MIA. There was no inciting incident; I just thought we needed a break.

It was a real break — a Ross break not a Rachel one.

Just look at this screenshot of my Dry January app.

Yeah. It’s called Dry January, but it tracks drinking for the whole year. My wino friend Goat Yoga Lisa suggested it. (The icon is a cup of tea, not a duck. British developers, I guess.)

It wasn’t just last month, though. Here’s October:

  • Oct. 5 was an ill-advised night out.
  • Oct. 19 was the Decatur Brew Fest.
  • Oct. 24 was the Big Freedia concert (one beer).
  • Oct. 28 was a glass of wine after a spectacularly difficult day at work.

My life has been kind of great without you.

Coffee and water are good company.

I’m not sure how long I’ll want to stay away from you and your friend liquor, though. Christmas is coming up, and I love a good spiked eggnog.

So maybe I’ll see you soon.

Love,
Beth

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A note to the eldest child on his birthday #WayBackWednesday

November 27, 2019 by Beth

Dear Dominic,

Today you are 15. You were supposed to be born Dec. 13, but you couldn’t wait to get out into the world.

I knew you were coming early, especially as right around Thanksgiving would be a supremely bad time for you to come. Your father and Terri, my backup push coach, would both be out of town. (Remember, your dad was coaching basketball at the time.)

The doctor examined me at the beginning of Thanksgiving week, and said you weren’t coming.

But I knew better: Any child of mine would do things his own way.

So when I was doubled over in Target the day after Thanksgiving, I knew.

When my pain got unbearable, I called in BABY COMING to the TV station, and checked myself into the hospital.

The attending doctor told me to suck it up. That you weren’t coming. And to go home.

I basically told that asshat to shove it. I refused to leave. I told him to call my doctor, put a fetal monitor on me, do an exam — whatever he needed to do to be convinced.

(Thinking, “Just come closer so I can show you what pain is like.”)

Saturday morning, my doctor arrived, and checked me out.

Oh! You’re about to have this baby!

Yeah. No shit.

I called your father back from wherever he was. (Randy, thank you for driving him back.)

I called in your aunt to be backup for Terri.

After a failed epidural and, thus, incredible pain and gnashing of teeth, you arrived.

There has been a different kind of pain and gnashing of teeth as you navigate puberty.

But you’ve been mostly great lately.

When I was out of town last weekend, I couldn’t believe it was YOU texting me this:

Though the lack of punctuation and capitalization drives me batshit crazy, I do appreciate the sentiment.

And I loved laughing with you last night at Donkey’s mange line in “Shrek Forever After.”

Have we come out the other side?

That would be great.

And thanks for making me giggle this morning when you came out with the stick you call your “thotslayer” to keep me from spanking you for your birthday.

Happy birthday to my smart smartass. I do love you.
Mama

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Who knew I’d get a famous roommate? #SundayStories

November 24, 2019 by Beth

Dear Karen, Georgia and furred colleagues, including Steven,

I’ll get right to it:

I was accepted to a leadership conference hosted by my sorority. I haven’t been involved in the organization since I left college many (many) years ago, but it’s been a tough year, and so I applied.

The organizers sent out a list of roommate assignments.

I’m a grown woman; I didn’t want a roommate.

That is until I Googled my assigned roommate. (I’m a journalist. I research.)

She was a Chi Omega.

At Florida State University.

In 1978.

That’s right, y’all.

My roommate was nearly a victim of Ted Bundy.

He killed the sister next door to her, and the one in the room across the hall.

The police took her door because his fingerprints were on the doorknob. He was interrupted from going in because Nita Neary came home.

My roommate was the one who found Lisa Levy — still alive until she got into the ambulance.

She ended up being deposed three times by that monster who served as his own lawyer.

(You know what Lincoln said: He who represents himself has a fool for a client.)

The focus of the conference was resilience. And Diane McCain is the epitome of resilience. Her Bundy experience led to her becoming a crusader for victim’s rights.

She’s also battled some serious health issues.

In sum, Diane is a badass.

Of course, I offered to help her write a book about her life, or write it for her.

Stay sexy, and say yes to roommates.

Love,
Beth

Posted in Random, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

The plane truth about seat etiquette #FridayFeeling

November 22, 2019 by Beth

Dear Obnoxious Man in 10D,

Why can’t you just be a d-bag in private? Why must you let your fool flag fly on this plane?

I’ve been sitting next to you for 10 minutes and you’ve made three loud-as-hell calls.

I don’t care about Kevin or his long-term goals. I’m not interested in the project that’s six months away. And I am not impressed that you need to spell out the timeline to people who don’t get it.

I need you to shut up.

Sit quietly in your middle seat.

Read a damn book.

Or maybe read this post where I talk about having manners in a public place.

Please let me enjoy this flight to a leadership conference in peace.

Thank you,
10E

Posted in Advice | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

I got 99 problems, plus a new one #ThursdayThoughts @IamJericho

November 21, 2019 by Beth

Dear Chris Jericho,

I think …

I think I may be …

I think I may be a Jerichoholic.

It started out small (as addictions usually do).

I knew who you were.

Then I started listening to Fozzy.

Then I went to a Fozzy concert.

Then I started watching AEW: Dynamite every Wednesday night.

And just last night I caught myself wishing I had found out about the Chris Jericho Rock ‘N’ Rager at Sea: Part Deux before it sold out.

So now I think I have a problem.

I’m more surprised than you. I’m sure you think everyone should be a Jerichoholic.

But you’re not my usual type.

1. You’re blond.

2. You’re hairless.

3. You’re a little … stocky.

I know I should be booing you along with the AEW audience.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop smiling and laughing when you are on screen.

Just ask Gideon. He’s right there with me on the couch every Wednesday.

They say the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem.

So.

My name is Beth, and I’m a Jerichoholic.

Hit me up if cruise slots open.

I’d be happy to experience the Judas Effect for myself.

Love,
Beth

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Feels like home: Oddities and Curiosities Expo recap @TheBloggess #SundayStories

November 17, 2019 by Beth

Dear Organizers of the Atlanta Oddities and Curiosities Expo:

Thank you from the bottom of my freaky little heart. It’s like you planned the event just for me.

Taxidermy? Check.
Jewelry made from animal parts? Check.
Human sideshows? Check.

One of the first things I saw when I walked in (by myself of course because who’s going with me to this?) was this array:

I think my strange little heart skipped a beat.

Then I saw this:

Sadly, he was not for sale.

But creations featuring Ouija boards were.

I am not allowed to come home with occult material. I’m not even allowed to remind Eddie that we have a Ouija board in the house.

But I almost came home with this:

I decided against the leg. I’m ok with having things that might have been roadkill. But a giraffe is an unlikely candidate for that.

Instead, I bought a coyote face.

That’s right.

And I actually uttered this sentence:

How much is the face?

That was my only Buffalo Bill moment, I promise.

I didn’t buy the jars of teeth that looked like corn niblets.

I also passed up the pelts.

I even declined the dicks.

You know what I did buy? Mouse paw metal horns.

And a glow-in-the-dark necklace featuring a spiderweb.

Note: That’s quite a job title. Is there a degree in that? Or maybe a certificate?

I also bought some leggings.

The ones on the right will be my Murderino lure.

Sadly, I did not come home with an IV stand.

Or a sheep skin.

Or any of the many hot bearded and tattooed men in attendance. You couldn’t swing a (dead) cat in there without hitting one of those.

Note to self: If you find yourself single, don’t troll bars. Clearly, you’ll find life among the dead instead.

My potential Hinge pic!

Look, I know that photo isn’t as sexy as the glamour shots of someone’s monkey, but I do what I can.

Anyway, thank you for bringing this event to Atlanta. You’ve given me new ways to torture my family — just in time for the holidays.

All my love,
Beth

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