Teacher Chic

"That woman has the fashion sensibility of Marion P. Krier." ~Ryan Johnson, circa 1993

I distinctly remember some vocabulary words I learned in the 8th grade: debonair, chic, suave, dashing. Clearly high fashion was the common theme in that unit. Ironically, though I learned these words in a classroom, school was the last place I'd ever see these words become personified.

Teachers have notoriously bad style. School is, it seems to me, the birthplace of stirrup pants, 24-eyelet boots with spaghetti shoelaces, turtle necks with crocheted vests, over-sized sweatshirts to cover overgrown buttocks but cinched above the hips by a large belt to create the illusion of a waistline, heelless huarache sandals, and most importantly, the holiday sweater.

Now I said "birthplace" before, but that's probably wrong. The above items were probably not birthed in schools, but are more likely vestiges of mainstream fashions that were adopted by teachers way after their initial decline in popularity.

Let me give you an example. My high school German teacher (Beth's German teacher also, though we weren't in the same class), embodied the German word "altmodisch" (look it up). On a good day, her outfit consisted of coffee-brown polyester pants, a pumpkin-orange cotton-blend long sleeved turtleneck shirt, a shapeless brown and orange afghan-woven vest, toffee colored orthopedic shoes, and a single, lifeless, gray and brown braid that trailed flaccidly down her back to the top of the polyester pants. Wait, don't let me forget to mention 7" diameter armpit sweat stains that remained there in spite of the coldest of weather conditions and thermostat settings.

Now, I could go on with stories about badly dressed teachers for days and days. I'll save that for another time. I'd just like to pose this question to our dear readers (and by "readers" I mean Beth :) ) before I try to tackle it myself. Why is it that the teacher profession seems to be a veritable hotbed for the shabby, the moth-eaten, the tacky, the unbecoming, and the unstylish alike?

Are we teachers really that poor? That out of touch? That much in need of comfort? Or do we just not care? And finally, if this is the case, is someone going to tell me when my clothing is so out of style, it's actually disrupting the learning process? Or will I live in ignorance, only to discover years after my retirement (no, I wont make it in this business that long), that one of my former students has dedicated a blog entry to my poor fashion? I don't believe I'll ever know.

The Arboretum

As a child growing up in a college town the University of Illinois campus was my playground. The crisscrossed sidewalks on the quad were a perfect layout bike races, the parking garage of Krannert was our personal skateboard park not to mention its multi leveled rooftops were exceptional for epic (multiple night) games of capture the flag, we’d have art time on the chalkboards of vacant classrooms, and play tag in unlocked apartment buildings. Out of the thousands of play areas we discovered over the years the Arboretum Woods were my favorite. These woods are a natural haven within the bustling university. The woods are located on the south end of Lincoln Ave. in Urbana, tucked between the Japan House and the flower gardens.

My friend Katie was the one who first showed me the Arboretum. One muggy summer afternoon she led me there on her yellow three speed Schwinn bicycle. Running through the trails we found a small clearing of trees and claimed it ours. We quickly got to work making the area into a suitable fort. We arranged logs into chairs, brought in blankets and tied them between trees to create walls, made a fire pit and one night we waited ‘til dusk and carried a mattress four blocks to our new hangout. It was in these woods where some of my fondest memories of my childhood were created.

Oftentimes the games we would play in the Arboretum were elaborate contests that we fashioned with our own intellect and usually had no fewer than 30 rules. Hiding behind brush and scaring hikers was a favorite pastime. Points were distributed by a variety of factors. Scaring a man gave you the highest amount of points, followed by women and then children. The time of day mattered, a night scare being more valuable than a day scare. You also were awarded by the degree of shock you sent your victim into. Profanities were worth significant points, followed by shrills, yelps, jumps, and finally flinches. Our victims were never angry after we scared them. Could you imagine a grown man getting mad at two preteen girls for jumping out of a bush and saying “Boo!”? Neither could we.

My game of choice was the fire lighting contest. We would divide ourselves into two teams. Usually a team had two members, but at the peak of the fort's reign we had teams of four. An egg timer was set for ten minutes and each team was given one Strike Anywhere Match. At this point members scrambled to collect a variety of grass, twigs and branches. With one match you really only had one shot to get your kindling right. There was a set rule that you were allowed to use one sock to aide in the process. Needless to say by the end of the summer none of my socks had their twin and I had to wear flip-flops everywhere. After you got your fire going the goal was to see who could have the tallest, widest, and hottest fire in the ten minute time limit. Fires were judged and scores were kept in a running tally.

As we grew older the visits to the woods became less and less frequent as sports and school dominated our lives. Years later my father showed me an article from the News Gazette about the woods. University officials had discovered what appeared to be a shantytown within the woods boundaries. Homeless people were suspected of inhabiting the forest. It had mentioned of the presence a fire pit, random furniture, and an old mattress was found. A thinning of the timber was ordered so that the heart of the thick could be viewed from its perimeter. Now we will never really know if the items unearthed at The Arboretum were ours from years before, or if they belonged to the supposed new inhabitants of the area, but I like to think that perhaps a new generation of kids stumbled upon the same playground as we and created a entirely new set of games to play among the foliage.

Barbie Dolls for the Greater Champaign market:

These will be hitting the local toy store shelves soon, so save up kids!


" Rantoul Barbie"
This Barbie now comes with a stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories include a GED and bus pass. Gangsta Ken and his 1979 Caddy were available, but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant.





" Chester Street Barbie/Ken"
This versatile doll can be easily converted from Barbie to Ken by simply adding or subtracting the multiple snap-on parts.




" Urbana Campus Barbie"
This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long straight brown hair, arch-less feet, hairy armpits, no makeup and Birkenstocks with white socks. She prefers that you call her Willow . She does not want or need a Ken doll, but if you purchase two Yellow Springs Barbies and the optional Subaru wagon, you get a rainbow flag bumper sticker for free.



" Villagrove Barbie"
This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased beer-gutted Ken out of Villagrove Barbie's house. Her ensemble includes low-rise acid-washed jeans, fake fingernails, and a see-through halter-top. Also available with a mobile home.




" Sidney Barbie"
This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans two sizes too small, a NASCAR t-shirt and tweety bird tattoo on her shoulder. She has a six-pack of Bud light and a Hank Williams Jr. CD set. She can spit over 5 feet and kick mullet-haired Ken's ass when she is drunk. Purchase her pickup truck separately and get a confederate flag bumper sticker absolutely free.

" West Champaign Barbie"

This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card and country club membership Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.

" Southeast Urbana Barbie"

This recently paroled Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a Ray Lewis knife,a Chevy with dark tinted windows, and a Meth Lab Kit. This model is only available after dark and must be paid for in cash (preferably small, untraceable bills) ..unless you are a cop, then we don't know what you are talking about.




" Urbana Barbie"

The modern day homemaker Barbie is available with Ford Wind star Minivan and matching gym outfit. She gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation. Traffic jamming cell phone sold separately.

" Savoy Barbie"

This princess Barbie is sold only at Fairfield Commons Mall. She comes with an assortment of Kate Spade Handbags, a Lexus SUV, a long-haired foreign dog named Honey and a cookie-cutter house. Available with or without tummy tuck and face lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with the augmented version.

SUFFICIENT ICE ACCUMULATION

an update from the national weather service. Hopefully it will miss up like the last big storm that came through. None the less it still sucks! Be safe out there!

AN ARCTIC COLD FRONT WILL PUSH EAST THROUGH CENTRAL ILLINOIS TODAY...WITH TEMPERATURES TURNING SHARPLY COLDER IN THE WAKE OF THE FRONT. A FEW UPPER LEVEL DISTURBANCES WILL RIDE ALONG THE FRONTAL BOUNDARY TODAY AND TONIGHT...CAUSING WAVES OF RAIN TO DEVELOP ACROSS CENTRAL ILLINOIS. FREEZING RAIN WILL DEVELOP BY LATE THIS AFTERNOON INTO THIS EVENING AS TEMPERATURES DROP BELOW32 DEGREES BEHIND THE FRONT. THE CHANGE OVER FROM RAIN TO FREEZING RAIN IS EXPECTED TO OCCUR BY LATE AFTERNOON ALONG AND WEST OF THE ILLINOIS RIVER VALLEY...AND BY EARLY EVENING ALONG AND WEST OF THE I-55 CORRIDOR. SIGNIFICANT ICE ACCUMULATIONS ARE NOT EXPECTED AT THIS TIME.HOWEVER...THERE WILL BE SUFFICIENT ICE ACCUMULATION ON AREA ROADS...PARKING LOTS AND SIDEWALKS TO MAKE TRAVEL CONDITIONS DIFFICULT.

Question of the day...

Why do they sterilize the needles for lethal injections?

Oh do I love ponderables! This is a fun one with a fairly simple answer. It all comes down to economics. It doesn’t make sense for a needle manufacturer to create unsterile needles. The market for lethal injections is incredibly small. In 2006, there were 52 executions. Out of those 52, 51 were executed by lethal injections. Typically (I did my research for this entry!) there are two IVs administered to the patient. One serves as a back-up in case there is a problem with the first IV (and there have been plenty, check out this website: http://www.deathpenaltyinfo.org/article.php?scid=8&did=478 ) That means there were about 102 needles needed nation wide for the purposes of execution.

102 is a very small number. Needles are often purchased by organizations such as hospitals, clinics, institutions and even prisons by the gross, and thousand. It’s common knowledge that buying in bulk will save consumers money. Therefore buying a second type, and smaller amount, of needles besides the typical sterile would only be more costly. Manufacturers would be required to add a new method of production, labeling, marketing etc. All of these being very costly. Even if these needles were acquired free of charge, people would have to pay special attention as to where these unsafe needles were as to not cross contaminate them with safe needles. Imagine what could happen if dirty needles were placed with sterile needles! Handlers of these needles must also take great caution. A possible costly lawsuit awaits with the prick of a finger.

While the thought of using a sterile needle for a lethal injection seems silly, it is more economical and safe for the handlers in the long run. A boring answer to a fun question!

That's so graphic!

Katie and I have been working on a graphic novel. Now, by graphic we don’t mean dirty, like a porn novel, or anything like that. A graphic novel is a novel whose narrative is related though a combination of text and art and commonly found in comic strip form. Like a really big comic book, except our comic isn’t about a superhero or fighting or anything like that. It’s more about life events. Anyway, it’s still in the basic stages, but we’re working on it! It is going to be really cool and I’m excited!

So far we're working out the writing and I've started drawings ideas for characters. This project has the potential to sit on the shelf for years like other things we've started, but I'm personally going to try to get this one going... Who knows what will happen though.

Smashing Pumpkins

Katie brought up many good points. Halloween is probably the best holiday ever stolen from the pagans. My Halloween stories are full of adventure, excitement and suspense that could fill the books.

One year after we had sorted and counted out our ten pound bounty, Katie's father, bearing an afro wig, got the urge to smash pumpkins (perhaps nostalgia). You can assume we were more than willing to participate. Now being an upstanding community member he didn't feel comfortable stealing a pumpkin off a front porch, like we were and had done so many times, so we went looking for pumpkins to buy and then smash in the parking lot of the County Market. Genius! By doing this we were no longer breaking any burglary laws, and I suppose we would clean up all the pumpkin pieces when we were done with the smashing ritual, which is preformed by thousands of citizens every Halloween, to prevent the risk of receiving a littering citation.

Much to our dismay, pumpkins are no longer sold on the night of Halloween. By that time they had been packed up in boxes and shipped to the land of post expiration dates. I guess the stores figure, if you don't have a pumpkin yet, you don't need one two hours before the holiday is over. Not one store had a living pumpkin in their possession. Jerry’s IGA, no. Jewel-Osco, no. Not even the ghetto County Market in Downtown Urbana, which we were hoping they had lazy employees who hadn’t taken down the pumpkin displays.

No pumpkins. Now, this would put a damper on most people’s evening. The whole point of our adventure was to smash pumpkins into oblivion. And even though this event never occurred the process of driving from store to store in our costumes, eating more candy then is good for you, singing along to Queen and the Monster Mash on the radio, and laughing so hard we could swear we would pee our pants, was probably more fun than the actual pumpkin demolishing would ever be.

Smell My Feet

Halloween's coming up. I bet you're thinking about what slutty outfit to wear to your party, or at least how you can get away with wearing a costume that's not overdone, but something that people can clearly tell you at least tried. What could be worse than going to a Halloween party where the other guests really aren't sure whether what you're wearing is truly a get-up, or you're just an awful dresser. I mean, seriously...I've had teachers who are so badly dressed you want to know what holiday they're dressed up for, but then you realize...that's just their "blue outfit" that they purchased in East Berlin before the wall was torn down.
What I really want to get to here though, is not about Halloween parties. It's about the nostalgia I have about trick-or-treating.
What kind of trick-or-treater were you? Beth and I were the only professional trick-or-treaters I have ever known. Every year from 7th grade to 11th grade, we went trick-or-treating. Not to casually peruse the neighborhood, or show off our costumes. But to collect candy like it was our JOB. We learned that pillow cases are indeed the best bag to collect candy in, and that running from door to door was the only way to get more candy than the year before. And how did we know which year was the most successful? Duh! We weighed the bags when we got home!
What next? We'd spread it all out on the carpet, trade things we didn't want, throw out the stuff we knew we'd never eat (those nasty orange peanuts and those nasty peanut butter pieces of crap wrapped in either orange or black wrappers). Then we'd make piles of things that were similar in either constitution or desirability. Then we'd stash it in a secret place, taking out a few choice pieces for lunch every day. Of course, this is not a comprehensive documentation of all the nuances and distinctions we had about candy hoarding. That all will have to go somewhere else. But I will let you in on one final secret: I still have some candy saved from the last time we went trick-or-treating together. It hasn't gotten moldy, been discovered by pests, rotted, or started stinking. In fact, the only things in that cache are things with a twinkie-like composition, meaning they don't go bad, they petrify. (Incidentally, I recently told this story to some coworkers, and they suggested that I take some of this candy and send it to beth as a gift).
I wonder how Halloween fits into other peoples' memories. It's a collective experience we all share, yet I feel that everyone must have had a unique experience somewhere along the way. Do share!

Oh Judy!

I have a confession to make. Promise not to laugh, but I love Judge Judy. Every afternoon at 4pm I close the blinds, turn up the TV and tune into channel 8. Judy calls it like it is. I wish I could talk to people at work the way she does. Several times a day her, “If you act like an idiot, I’m going to treat you like an idiot” line pops into my head. Classic. Usually when she delivers, it’s well deserved.

To me, Judy runs on common sense. Things like: don't hurt, don't steal, and don’t do things that are harmful to yourself or others. Duh! But is seems like there are a lot of people out there who find it impossible to follow these simple steps. That’s when her show gets really good. She spots the liars, crooks, and phonies and calls them out, “I eat morons like you up for breakfast!” I pitty the fool that agrees to go on her show.

Now, I know I’m not alone here. Judy says that “10 million people watch her show daily” So, I can be pretty sure I’m not the only one who wishes there was a Judy channel. All Judy, all the time. I think we’d all be a little smarter, but ‘on out best day, we wouldn’t be as smart as her on her worst’.

Check out this Judy soundboard.

Art Smart

How idealistic to think that money would flow like the boneyard in a rainstorm into Urbana by building art galleries! I must concur with Sweet Betty.
But there's another insightful point she makes. The CU student population can't get enough alcohol. Why not make an old idea new, and invigorate downtown CU by creating a scene that is both functional and decorative?
I think we need gallery/bar hybrids that fuse the energy of Urbana's dormant art spirit with the seemingly endless alcohol economy.
Wouldn't art and booze bring artists and boozers alike to downtown Urbana? And wouldn't both of these populations fuel an economy, build a community, and create an attraction worth driving across town (if not downstate) for?
I would be the first one to sit down for a drink after work, and four hours later, feel like maybe I just can't leave without that Monet behind the bar ;)

art schmart

Hahaha! Urbana, you are soooo funny! Have you heard the news? Urbana has decided to give incentives to refurbish and rebuild old buildings and turn them into art galleries. The goal is that by having more art galleries in downtown Urbana, people will flock by the thousands to be cultured and inspired by the art, improving the economy while reviving the diminished downtown.

Yeah right! How many times have you been to an art gallery in the greater Champaign-Urbana area and been the only one there? This has happened to me on several occasions. The only people that really seem interested in art are artists themselves. Now the already empty art galleries will now have to compete with more empty galleries.

Let’s be honest, have you ever really had the urge to go an art gallery? I think the numbers are far and few, especially in the 18-24 bracket; One of largest in our area thanks to the university. Where do you suppose these kids want to spend their money? Hmmm…. Well, it rhymes with cars and they serve alcohol. I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count…

Will Urbana ever learn from Champaign's example?

Cow Pie of My Eye

Does your opinion of whether something smells good or not depend on if you know what you're smelling? Yes, that's a confusing question, but let me put it this way:
You may or may not have driven down south Lincoln Avenue in Urbana on a hot July day. Corn' s pretty high (higher than you knee of course), and you catch wind of an interesting scent. It's hard to put a finger on what it is exactly. Is that a giant mince meat pie cooling on someone's windowsill? Or is something rotting? It's hard to tell if it's sweeter than it is foul.
Then you drive past an enourmous herd of cows with their necks sticking through metal bars to reach the slop in the troughs placed just within tongue's reach.
Suddenly, you realize it's molecules of cow dung you've been inhaling with such passive concern. Now, does that smell suddenly become repugnant to you? Nauseating?
Or are you like my father, who thinks it smells "sweet". Hot cow manure wafting slowly through the thick air. Sweet.
Now, when I drive by, I try to pretend I don't know what I'm smelling.
Alas, I can't separate my senses from the knowledge I gained when I first asked my mom, driving down Lincoln in our orange vangagon, "....What's that smell?"
Funny, that question never seems to produce a good answer!

fuzzy wuzzy was a worm

Long time no blog eh? Well, maybe this will wet your blog whistle. :)

I am about to approach my 25th year on this planet. And how do I know that my birthday is soon approaching? By the tell tale Woolly Worms scattered across the roads! Yes, these lovely furry creatures litter our roads every late summer to celebrate my upcoming birthday!

This fall has seemed to be a heavier worm season than normal by my observations. It has become a hazard (for me at least) to be driving on the road. You can see me dodging and weaving to avoid smashing these guys as they bravely make their way across the highway. I feel so guilty hitting those cute fuzzy worms as they cross.

Nearing killing myself avoiding a worm (and coming very close to a semi truck) got me wondering, ‘where did all these $&#^@ worms come from!!?!!’ I decided to do a little internet research. This is what I found on Wikipedia:

The common moth Pyrrharctia isabella is known by different common names at
its two main life stages. The adult is the Isabella tiger moth and the larva
is called the banded woolly bear. The larvae of many species of Arctiid moths
are called "woolly bears" because of their long, thick, furlike setae. Some species are all black in color. This species is black at both ends with a band of coppery red in
the middle. The adult moth is dull yellow to orange with a robust, furry thorax and
small head. Its wings have sparse black spotting and the proximal segments on its first pair of legs are bright reddish-orange.

The site also goes on to say that after the winter in hibernation, they go on to become moths and eventually get eaten by house cats once they’ve found their way into your apartment. It never even mentioned that they can bite you (learned this one from experience) and that they can poop on you (also learned the hard way)! In a week or so all the birthday party celebrations will be over and the worms will be passed out until spring. If only I could do the same...

watch out chumps!

Heyheyhey! When you are driving home drunk this weekend from all your Labor Day activities be extra careful 'cause the cop on WCIA 3 News said there are tons of road stops and coppers out all weekend all over the interstates and CU area. Don't say I didn't warn ya! I'll write a real one soon.

Save the couches!

You know it’s a slow news day when the headline story in the News Gazette is about the Urbana Student Council’s (whoops I mean City Council’s) debate over whether or not to ban indoor furniture on front porches. I think the next debate should be on getting better fish sticks for the cafeteria, or Bonnie Bell Lip-gloss dispensers in the girls bathroom. Like, totally!

You've got to pick a pocket or two...

After you’ve had your fill of feed at the Sweet Corn Festival, make sure to head over to the Champaign-Urbana Theatre Company’s rendition of Oliver at the historic Virginia Theatre in downtown Champaign. Oliver is favorite of mine (what other musicals promote pick pocketing?!) and I'm looking forward to seeing it. I’ll be there on Saturday if you want to catch me! Personally, I’ve attended at least 20 productions of the CUTC and I’ve never been anything but impressed with the professionalism and quality of their performances. Word on the streets is that Heather Johnson does an amazing job as Nancy! Support the arts, go see Oliver!

You are what you eat... CORNY!

When you think of outdoor festivals certain foods come to mind: cotton candy, funnel cakes, French fries, lemon shake-ups. Most of these foods are relatively easy to eat. Usually they are served on sticks, in cups with straws, or of the fried variety (typical finger food). Which brings me to my point: This weekend marks the 31st annual Downtown Urbana Sweetcorn Festival. Sweetcorn of all foods should not be the inspiration for a festival. There are many reasons for this and a main one being that it is one of the least fair friendly foods ever created.

The whole act of eating corn on the cob is particularly unattractive and should never be done on a first date. First, the eater holds the soaking wet ear of corn in their hands where they then spread on gobs of melted margarine and salt. By the time you even get the corn to your mouth your shirt is most likely peppered with drips of oleo. Eating corn on the cob also requires one to bend their back at a near 90-degree angle so to not get corn and butter juice runoff from the chin to other parts of the body. If that wasn’t bad enough, once you have finished your corn and you’ve wiped the excess kernels from your cheeks, there are the pesky kernels that have permanently lodged themselves into the crevices of your teeth.

Now, I have attended the Urbana Sweetcorn Festival on several occasions, and while I’ve succumbed to the temptation of drinking beer behind neon orange snow fencing at 10am, I have never once had the urge to eat the sweetcorn predominantly due to it’s messy nature. Now maybe if they called it the Key Lime Pie on a Stick Festival ,I might be interested…

Patt Vs. Hathaway

When I was a child my sister and I spent countless hours being babysat by the television. While we frequently had differences of opinions about what shows to watch, we always agreed on one thing: If we were watching the Beverly Hillbillies, if and when Jane Hathaway were to appear we must, at all costs, change the channel. For years this woman has haunted me. I’m not sure if it was her ridged personality towards Mr. Drysdale, poor sense of fashion taste, or weird New England accent, but something always struck a nerve.

Years passed and I forgot about Jane Hathaway, that was until Esther Patt came along. Can we not state the obvious here, but let’s take a look. General appearance is a spitting image, personality (from little there is) seems on, and overall pessimism seems right on the money. Can we contribute her letter to the editor as another “stick in the mud” Esterism, or is she backing up her buddy Laurel? Probably both.

Going cold turkey isn't as delicious as it sounds.

Wild turkeys may not have been the choice for the national symbol (as Benjamin Franklin wanted), but are undoubtedly a valuable resource for the City of Urbana. Studies have demonstrated that turkeys are an important insect consumer, thus benefiting crop fields, lawns, gardens and farmers more than most realize. Beetles, weevils, dragonflies and larvae are common turkey treats. They also consume spiders, harvestmen, ticks, millipedes, centipedes, snails and slugs. And who wants those things around? As we all know, the mayor of Urbana finds it necessary to call in the feds to take care of these atrocious bug-eating birds. I wonder how much this venture is going to cost the city. You know, I spotted a rare snowy owl twice on Race Street. Maybe we should call the Feds in for that one too. I wish my tax dollars were put to a better use. I’m going to miss those cute birdies.

http://www.kidzone.ws/animals/turkeypuzzle.htm

Welcome Back Kotter

It's my least favorite time of year again, time for the students to return to campus. The calm and serine campus we grow to love over the summer is instantly transformed back into the garbage coated, beer ladened and urine covered institution we commonly recognize nine months out of the year. Just when I was getting used to driving without the fear of colliding with some Ipod wearing, cell phone talking co-ed, they return, and in hoards. Can you believe that last school year between Oct. 8 and Jan. 3rd the uiuc police gave 417 warnings to pedestrians for jay walking and general pedestrian stupidity? I wonder what it will be this year.

At least they haven’t gotten their freshman 15 yet.

Introduction

So I was talking to my friend on the phone today and we were having a conversation about a local Champaign-Urbana blog. While we both found it to be clever and insightful we couldn’t help but wonder why we weren’t doing the same thing. Heck, I like to consider myself clever. I also like to consider myself insightful. You can just think of me as Hal Sparks with slightly larger breasts.

Enjoy the blog, and tell us what you think.