"Objection Overruled, or You can always go to law school if things don’t work out" by Taylor Mali.

I couldn't find the original author site, so I had to go through soularized.com. I saw Taylor perform this poem on HBO Friday night, and a better second wind I could not have asked for. Great stuff, especially when read out loud. Put a lot of today's introverted mush-poetry to shame.

Things to do at your girlfriend's high school reunion:

5) Look through old yearbooks for dorky outdated hairstyles and personal quotes.
4) Hunt up old boyfriends. Compare notes.
3) Hit on her old girlfriends. Get turned down in front of her and announce loudly, "Well, she can tell you what you're missing out on. Go ahead, babe, tell her."
2) Demand to see official high school transcripts of everyone present. Lament the lack of education present in such a drunken group of reprobates.
1) Ask everyone you see: "So really, no fooling, how dumb is the average graduate of your class?"

I didn't think of any of this until too late, but maybe Kim can use it at my reunion next year. The whole thing was a ripoff, honestly enough--$50 a head at the Pheasant Run didn't even buy us an open bar, much less anything palatable to eat. A giant hors d'ouveres table, oh my! What, was White Hen's deli all sold out?

Phone Companies Are Either the Root of All Evil or Ignorance, but I Don't Know Which

Finally got an ISP provider, but I can't even tell if it's local. Here's a true story, and if it doesn't make the books for Dumbest Phone Company Conversation Ever, I don't know what will:

Me: Hi, I was calling to see whether or not I could check to see whether phone numbers are local from my home phone again.
Representative: Wait, I don't understand. You want to see whether you can see something or not?
Me: Yes, that's right. I'm getting the Internet in my apartment and I want to make sure I don't get billed long distance for my calls.
Rep: Okay, where do you live? (I give all necessary information) Hmm. Funny, but I don't show your town as existing.
Me: Well, it exists all right. I'm sitting right here.
Rep: You're sure you're not annexed to a nearby town or something? That happened to my Aunt Sally. She lived in Waco, but all along she thought it was actually the town of Elkhorn.
Me: No, I receive mail here, and I've lived here before. It's an actual town.
Rep: Well that's not what happened to my aunt.
Me: That's damned interesting. Now about checking those numbers...
Rep: Will you hold please?
Me: Do I have a choice?
(I'm on hold for two minutes. Listening to Boone's "You Light Up My Life." Dry heaving starts momentarily.)
Rep: Sir, I'm sorry to make you hold. Now I'll need the actual phone number you're thinking of using.
Me: No prob. (give it to him) So what's the deal?
Rep: Ah. Well, I'm afraid that's not going to tell me. See, our computers are down, and because you haven't gotten a bill yet, I can't tell what service plan you're using.
Me: Oh.
Rep: However, usually if you don't have to dial a 1 before the number, it's not long distance.
Me: I understand that. I seriously doubt this number I gave you is long distance--it's only four miles away or so.
Rep: You knew that? Then why were you calling?
Me: Because I want to make sure there are no charges for local calls. Nobody ever told me and you're the third person I'm calling.
Rep: I see. Will you hold for a second, please?
Me: Oh man, I was hoping you'd say that.
(On hold for three minutes. "Strangers In the Night." Dry heaving resumes.)
Rep: Okay, sir, I'm sorry to ask you to hold.
Me: That's okay, I'm getting used to it. (I actually said all this, mind you.)
Rep: Well, anyway, to answer your question, I would need to know what Call Range you're in, whether it's A, B, C or D.
Me: I have that. I'm in Range A.
Rep: (crestfallen) You have that?
Me: Yes, the last service representative gave it to me. Does that help out at all?
Rep: Actually, no. You see, it could still be long distance, and even if it's not, you could still get charged.
Me: How much?
Rep: Let me check on that for you. Hold, please.
Me: No, wait, don't put me on--
(On hold for six minutes. "Wind Beneath My Wings." Need I say more?)
Rep: Sir? Are you there?
Me: No, I went out to take a pee.
Rep: It's always a pleasure dealing with disgruntled customers. I can't seem to get any details about the ranges because our computers are down.
Me: Yeah, you mentioned that before. So what are you doing while I'm on hold, then?
Rep: I was checking with my supervisor.
Me: You weren't just leaving me dangling so it would seem like you were working on it, were you?
Rep: (pause) No.
Me: So there's no one there who can tell me whether or not this call I'm about to make is local, long distance or what have you?
Rep: (pause) No.
Me: I see.
Rep: But you could try back in a few days. Maybe then our computers will be up.
Me: You better not be teasing me. I won't get any sleep tonight now.

I only wish I could be creative enough to make up such an exchange.

Fishing With Dewey:

An hour and a half to Shabbona. No beer, no drugs. Just the open lake and two determined men with their fishing poles...well, we were men, anyway. That's right, two men with fishing poles battling the open air and environment. This is how the cave man must have felt while foraging for food:

Me: You catch fish yet?

Dewey: No. Me no catch fish.

Me: Me no catch fish either. Need beer.

Dewey: No beer. Catch fish first.

I really can't explain it. You get two guys out in the woods and a primitive chord gets stricken (struck? stroked? yeah, I know English all right) that puts us in sync with our ancient Cro-Magnon relatives:

Me: Me need woman. Then beer. Then fish.

Dewey: No. Maslow theory of hierarchy of needs say we need food first. Then take care of higher pleasures.

Even in his Neanderthal state, Dewey can still turn the gears of the male psychology. Not that it takes much...

After four hours, we caught twice as much fish as we did on our last trip (you do the math). Then somewhere along the way, I realize that this is the week I actually start work, as opposed to messing around with books and halfassed lesson plans with a full bottle of Elmer's glue shoved up my nose. Fishing even more ardently didn't exactly drive this spell away, but when we got home and I got to play Bumblebee Bingo with Dewey's daughter, I was more or less back in tune again. And just twenty minutes ago, I called the printer that does the school paper printing and he said yep, even though I never heard of you until two seconds ago, I'm thrilled to work with you, and if you get that paper my way at the end of the week, I'll have it printed by the beginning of next.

Who rules? Gregg rules.

I've got a meeting with my staff at noon today. Some are on vacation, but the seniors are (more or less) going to be there, which means we can probably whomp something up for the first day. The schedule is really weird at this place:

Wednesday-Friday Orientation

Monday (next week) Staff day

Tuesday Campus orientation for students

Wednesday First full day of school

So technically, I don't start teaching for over a week. Fine by me. As long as I figure out how to relax while doing so. Blogging seems to help, never mind what wiggo says about it.