I’ll share with you (at no cost) some advice I shared with students in my classes today:
Dress to impress.
It works if you have a job: Dress for the job you want, not the job you have so that you can look like a promotable candidate.
It works if you don’t have a job: You will not offend a potential employer if you are overdressed, but you can kill your chances if you are underdressed.
It works on a date. Obviously.
It just works.
It is No. 2 that concerns me today. A candidate for a job at my fine university appeared for the interview in a knit blouse, capris and tourist sandals. Here is her outfit, displayed using reasonable facsimiles culled from various clothing sites on the Web:
Imagine this with short sleeves and a few buttons up the front
Underneath black blouse
In linen
Now here’s the kicker (literally):
The shoes. For real.
I was shocked. SHOCKED. I could have forgiven the attire, perhaps, but it was truly all downhill from there anyway.
The University of South Carolina requires proficiency in a “foreign” language for those who wish to pursue a Ph.D. It isn’t like we have to use it in our research, but it exists among the many requirements for the doctoral degree.
In April, I decided to get the language proficiency exam out of the way. I speak Spanish with Eddie and his family, so I wasn’t particularly worried. That attitude cost me dearly.
What I assumed would be a conversational Spanish exam turned out to be a translation nightmare from the bowels of Hell: Translate in one hour a 500-word passage about the history of journalism from the time of Julius Caesar. Um, I don’t usually talk about the “foro romano” with my mother-in-law. What is worse is that I only had a very wee Spanish-English dictionary. So that didn’t go well.
Later I found out it is a scam. They want you to fail so that you have to pay for and pass the class. On principle, I refused to take the class. Instead, I bought a larger dictionary and vowed vengeance.
Before (left) and after (right)
I took the exam again on Oct. 21. Though I had studied up on my Roman history in preparation, they had a new passage for me to translate. It was a forward to a contemporary collection of essays about journalism. I breezed right on through.
Today I received notice in a mass e-mail that I passed:
Recipients of this message have PASSED the Spanish Reading Exam. Congratulations. Please respond to this e-mail to acknowledge receipt of this mail and include again the name of the faculty member to whom I should send the letter for your file.
Batman, Robin and the Batmobile were a big hit last night. We went to the subdivision across the street, as our neighborhood of six houses is not conducive to a treat sweep.
Batman, Robin and the Batmobile
Batmobile: even stylin' from the rear
The kids could not contain their joy. And Eddie was positively glowing with pride when people ooh-ed and aah-ed over the Batmobile.
Superheroes on the lookout for bad guys
At the very last house, the unthinkable happened: Their archenemy, the Joker, appeared (in the form of a 10-year-old in greasepaint).
The evil Joker appears
He sidled up next to the Batmobile and hissed, “Batman.” Batman and Robin were shocked that the Joker would be so bold. They scrambled out of the Batmobile, ready to give chase, with Batman yelling, “Let’s get that Joker!” Batman did have to pause to gently place his bag of loot on the sidewalk, but then took off in hot pursuit. Eddie had to round them back up, much to their dismay.
Batman gives chase
Today they woke up with two thoughts, and two thoughts only: We need to find the Joker, and we need to eat all the candy in those bags. (Side note: Gideon ended up with so much more candy than Dominic because of how he completely embraced the candy-gathering: He ran up to each house hollering “Trick or Treat!” and smiling at everyone, charming the pants off folks.)
Eddie took them back over to canvass the neighborhood. He said they are convinced that the Joker was taking candy from children and needs to be in police custody.
"He ran that way!"
"This might be a clue!"
Though they interviewed many people, they were unable to locate the Joker. (Curses! Foiled again!) The search continues.
I took the kids to the Salt Creek Boat Ramp Park to let them expend some energy. Halfway from the playground to the Port-O-Let, I spotted this lying in the grass:
Remains of the day
From what being did this come? Is it part of a rib cage? How did it arrive at the Salt Creek Boat Ramp Park? So many unanswered questions. I felt a haiku coming on (it’s the only kind of poetry for which I have any zeal).
What once was inside
Delicate curved, bleached-white bone
Highway now for ants
It is so bizarre to see my personality replicated and squashed into a three-foot-high boy body. Dominic is so much like me. When I decide I want something or want to do something, there is no stopping me. Fine when we are talking life goals. Not so fine when we are talking projects around the house. I know I drive Eddie crazy. And now he has two focused folks on his back.
The Batmobile is not quite done, and Dominic is obsessed with badgering us about finishing it. It needs a little paint touch-up, the cupholders (seriously, but they were Eddie’s idea), and a bat icon on the front. I think I’m supposed to create that out of wood, but I’m not sure. I promised we would finish it today. I know he’ll hold me to it.
I think I like KISS because I was at an impressionable age when “Destroyer” came out. And they wrote a song titled “Beth.” Sure, Beth is a nag, but it is still cool to hear your name in a song.
So that reminded me of one of those Facebook quizzes. When I did it the first time, I used the B-52s.
Using only song titles from one artist, answer these questions.
1. Are you male or female: She
2. Describe yourself: Beth; Wouldn’t You Like To Know Me
3. How do you feel about yourself: Never Enough
4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: Hot And Cold
5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: Baby Driver (ha!) or I Was Made For Loving You
6. Describe your current location: Rock Bottom (no, just kidding). I Finally Found My Way (better)
7. Describe where you want to be: New York Groove
8. Your best friend is: King Of The Night Time World and Strange Ways
9. Your favorite color is: Black Diamond
10. You know that: I Love It Loud and I Can’t Stop The Rain
11. What’s the weather like: Hotter Than Hell
12. If your life was a television show what would it be called?: Talk To Me
13. What is life to you: Any Way You Want It
14. What is the best advice you have to give: Don’t You Let Me Down
15. If you could change your name, what would you change it to: Strutter Deuce (that sounds like a poker champ’s name)
I don’t like unexpected things unless I can quickly rearrange my schedule. Call it planned spontaneity. But when Ed said his brother could get tickets to KISS at the Philips Arena in Atlanta and asked me if I wanted to go, well, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. Say Yeah!
Danny is the manager for many bands including Buckcherry, the opening act for KISS. He could only get two tickets. Trish had seen KISS before, and Eddie didn’t really have an interest. And I am a proud member of the KISS Army, yet had never seen them in concert.
Ed was already in Atlanta and I didn’t want to cancel class, so I cashed in a Delta voucher for a one-way ticket for yesterday afternoon.
I’ll spare you the play-by-play, but we met many people just as excited as we were to see KISS.
Our seats were fantastic. Thanks, Danny! First elevated section, house left, Row F. No backstage passes, but last-minute beggars can’t be choosers.
Buckcherry was surprisingly excellent, like a Faith No More/Black Crowes blend. Guitarist=très hot.(Not so hot in the following photo, so you’ll have to trust me.) Singer=too methalicious for my taste.
I had heard of them, but hadn’t heard them, so I was pleasantly surprised. I even bought four of their songs on the way home.
At halftime, I surveyed the clientele. Ed was disappointed in the lack of slutty women. I was amazed that the plastic surgeon who fixed Eddie’s nose made the trip. (Not really, but he looked like him.) Check out the suede jacket and dad jeans. He was also rocking some ear plugs.
The dentist-looking fellow in front of us had us take his picture with his disposable (!) camera, and another guy tried to interlope* into our section without a ticket. And there was this guy. Someone should have told him that eyeglasses ruin the effect.
And then it was that magical moment. We tried to pay no attention to the men behind the newly draped KISS curtain, but the anticipation was killing us. “Deuce” kicked off the extravaganza and it was on. Photos fail to capture the majesty that is Gene Simmons and KISS.
For those playing at home, here are some videos to help you feel you were with us.
We left the Phillips Arena around midnight and I rolled up into bed around four. Not my usual Monday night, but totally worth the change of plans. Platforms and pyrotechnics. Who could ask for anything more?
So much to say, so little ability to concentrate. I want to provide details of the past six hours, but I just can’t process everything right now. The blood! The fire! The explosions! The heels! I’ll give a preview:
Last year was my year to channel Martha Stewart and create costumes for the kids. Behold Lightning McQueen and Mater:
Lightning McQueen (Gideon) and Mater (Dominic)
This year it is Eddie’s turn. He’s been outside making the Batmobile all day. While the boys were testing it out, Trish got in on the act. Behold the Bat-hen:
Quick, Trish! To the Batmobile!
Dominic must have thought all the Bat-tivity made her tired. He tried to rock her to sleep.
I see signs like this and I fear for my children’s future. It’s “Idiocracy” in action. Why can’t people grasp the concept of apostrophes and stop overworking them? Really, it isn’t hard. You have many Nike golf balls on sale; the Nikes aren’t possessing anything. And don’t get me started on the ampersand.