Why Can't Johnny Read? 'Cause the Bosses are Idiots!!

Ok, my mom called me last night and berated me, gently, over the paucity of local news in recent editions of The Corner. She was, this time, quite correct. I have been purposely avoiding blogging about my adventures through the hallowed halls of education, but for good reasons. 1. I was unsure as to the outcome of the tale. And, more importantly, 2. I was so disgusted that I didn't want to talk/write about it, lest I continue the bitch fest. But, a promise is a promise, so pray attend my tale of bureaucratic woe.

So, when last we met I was sent to a school for 'normal' kids. I went, and much to my dismay not only was I to teach Drana, but I was also to teach one class of...English 1! I haven't taken an English class in over twenty years. How in the screaming f*ck am I supposed to teach it? So the beleaguered department head, understandably expecting a 'real' teacher, added to her already Sisyphean work load the joyous duty of providing me with a lesson plan each day for a class that I had no clue how to teach. The Drama classes were somewhat better, but even this class was half populated with kids put there against their wills by the guidance counselors. Ya-freaking-hoo. And all along I kept being told by the people back at the arts school that I would be back 'any day now'. Meanwhile the kids at my new school, who were trying to deal with a steady stream of subs after their 'real' teacher went to jail for check fraud, kept asking me if I was staying. Not that they were particularly fond of me, since for some reason I expected them to be quiet in class and do their work, but they were just sick of not knowing who would be their teacher each day. And all I could tell them was that as far as I knew I wasn't going anywhere. Then, finally, on Wednesday I got a call. I'm going back. But, not until Monday. So I was just another sub for two days, and now I'm going back to the arts school. Now, I have no idea if any work has been done on the set since I left, but we have a show that's supposed to open next Thursday, and I just lost the better part of two weeks build time. And on top of that, I am going back to West Palm next weekend for my adoptive son's going away party, and there is no way in hell I'm missing that. So this next week should be interesting.
So what is the moral to this little tale? Mainly that the Hillsborough county school system doesn't give a fuck about the students. All they care about is having a body in the classroom, and who cares if that person can actually teach the subject. It's no wonder most freshmen I've seen in college can barely put a sentence together.

And there you have it, oh faithful few. I don't know how long I'll be in this situation, but I am actively looking to get back to collegiate teaching. They may be clueless, but at least they make sure the teachers know their shit.

I'm exhausted, disgusted, and tired of this whole thing. But, I will try to be more entertaining with my next entry.

Peace, dear ones.
Marius

Pharmacist's Blues

This was sent to me by a dear friend who is a pharmacist. I found it both amusing, and very enlightening.

Why your Pharmacist hates you so much....
Sunday, August 06, 2006
I Realize Today I've Done You A Disservice
WARNING: This post may be painful for those in the profession to read.

For over a year and a half now, the first thing anyone visiting my
little blog garden has seen under the headline at the top of the page
is the promise that the question of "why does my prescription take so
damn long to fill" will be answered. Tonight I looked over this blogs
archives and realized it was a promise not kept. While many topics
have been covered here, and you have been provided with ample evidence
of how drugstore workday life does indeed warp the mind, the question
of why it took 2 hours for you to get 20 Vicodin has remained
unanswered. I can't help but to think there may be someone out there
who has been logging on every day for the last 18 months hoping in
vain for this mystery to be solved. Should such a person exist, I
offer my humble apologies. To everyone else, I offer the following
prescription scenario:

You come to the counter. I am on the phone with a drunk dude who wants
the phone number to the grocery store next door. After I instruct him
on the virtues of 411, you tell me your doctor was to phone in your
prescription to me. Your doctor hasn't, and you're unwilling to wait
until he does. Being in a generous mood, I call your doctors office
and am put on hold for 5 minutes, then informed that your prescription
was phoned in to my competitor on the other side of town. Phoning the
competitor, I am immediately put on hold for 5 minutes before speaking
to a clerk, who puts me back on hold to wait for the pharmacist. Your
prescription is then transferred to me, and now I have to get the 2
phone calls that have been put on hold while this was being done. Now
I return to the counter to ask if we've ever filled prescriptions for
you before. For some reason, you think that "for you" means "for your
cousin" and you answer my question with a "yes", whereupon I go the
computer and see you are not on file.

The phone rings.

You have left to do something very important, such as browse through
the monster truck magazines, and do not hear the three PA
announcements requesting that you return to the pharmacy. You return
eventually, expecting to pick up the finished prescription.....

The phone rings.

......only to find out that I need to ask your address, phone number,
date of birth, if you have any allergies and insurance coverage. You
tell me you're allergic to codeine. Since the prescription is for
Vicodin I ask you what exactly codeine did to you when you took it.
You say it made your stomach hurt and I roll my eyes and write down
"no known allergies" You tell me......

The phone rings.

.....you have insurance and spend the next 5 minutes looking for your
card. You give up and expect me to be able to file your claim anyway.
I call my competitor and am immediately put on hold. Upon reaching a
human, I ask them what insurance they have on file for you. I get the
information and file your claim, which is rejected because you changed
jobs 6 months ago. An asshole barges his way to the counter to ask
where the bread is.

The phone rings.

I inform you that the insurance the other pharmacy has on file for you
isn't working. You produce a card in under 10 seconds that you seemed
to be unable to find before. What you were really doing was hoping
your old insurance would still work because it had a lower copay. Your
new card prominently displays the logo of Nebraska Blue Cross, and
although Nebraska Blue cross does in fact handle millions of
prescription claims every day, for the group you belong to, the claim
should go to a company called Caremark, whose logo is nowhere on the
card.

The phone rings.

A lady comes to the counter wanting to know why the cherry flavored
antacid works better than the lemon cream flavored antacid. What
probably happened is that she had a milder case of heartburn when she
took the cherry flavored brand, as they both use the exact same
ingredient in the same strength. She will not be satisfied though
until I confirm her belief that the cherry flavored brand is the
superior product. I file your claim with Caremark, who rejects it
because you had a 30 day supply of Vicodin filled 15 days ago at
another pharmacy. You swear to me on your mother's'....

The phone rings.

.......life that you did not have a Vicodin prescription filled
recently. I call Caremark and am immediately placed on hold. The most
beautiful woman on the planet walks buy and notices not a thing. She
has never talked to a pharmacist and never will. Upon reaching a human
at Caremark, I am informed that the Vicodin prescription was indeed
filled at another of my competitors. When I tell you this, you say you
got hydrocodone there, not Vicodin. Another little part of me dies.

The phone rings.

It turns out that a few days after your doctor wrote your last
prescription, he told you to take it more frequently, meaning that
what Caremark thought was a 30-day supply is indeed a 15 day supply
with the new instructions. I call your doctor's office to confirm this
and am immediately placed on hold. I call Caremark to get an override
and am immediately placed on hold. My laser printer has a paper jam.
It's time for my tech to go to lunch. Caremark issues the override and
your claim goes though. Your insurance saves you 85 cents off the
regular price of the prescription.

The phone rings.

At the cash register you sign....

The phone rings.

......the acknowledgement that you received a copy of my HIPPA policy
and that I offered the required OBRA counseling for new prescriptions.
You remark that you're glad that your last pharmacist told you you
shouldn't take over the counter Tylenol along with the Vicodin, and
that the acetaminophen you're taking instead seems to be working
pretty well. I break the news to you that Tylenol is simply a brand
name for acetaminophen and you don't believe me. You fumble around for
2 minutes looking for your checkbook and spend another 2 minutes
making out a check for four dollars and sixty seven cents. You ask why
the tablets look different than those you got at the other pharmacy. I
explain that they are from a different manufacturer. Tomorrow you'll
be back to tell me they don't work as well.

Now imagine this wasn't you at all, but the person who dropped off
their prescription three people ahead of you, and you'll start to have
an idea why.....your prescription takes so damn long to fill.

A year and a half late, but a promise kept. I feel better about myself
already.

In Memorium

I don't have much to say about 9/11 that I haven't said before. Mourn, remember, commemorate as you will. This should not be a day of politicizing, but a day of quiet reflection. And I'll leave it at that.

Thumpthumpthumpthump

anx‧i‧e‧ty 
–noun, plural -ties. 1. distress or uneasiness of mind caused by fear of danger or misfortune

It is also a powerful and irrational master. I try to sleep, but unfocused thoughts pour acid into my guts and turn my heart into a metronomic M-16 on full auto. The people from the 'good' high school called and think they can get me back. The college responded with a 'Let me get back to you.' Which option is the best for me, and the family? Am I even looking in the right direction? Is there some other field I could go into, yet not have to start at the bottom? Then again, what I have been making for the last 5 years or so is starting pay for most 'real' careers. The only other thing I've ever really wanted to do was marine biology, but that kinda requires a whole lot more schooling. I'm a lousy salesman, and retail is out of the question. So, what can a married forty-something with a kid do? My stress level, and thus my asshole-at-home quotient has skyrocketed since I started the new job, but we can't afford for me to be unemployed either. I'm feeling tired, and trapped, and more unsure of myself than ever. If only I could find a nice, cozy shop where I didn't have to be the boss, but could make a livable wage. And as long as I'm dreaming, I'd like a pony, too.

Thanks for listening to me bitch. You guys are the greatest.

Marius

Rectum? Damn near killed 'em!

This was sent to me by one who personifies this philosophy perfectly. Thanks, Doug.
:-)

A Much Needed Weekend

Ahhhh, friends. What a wonderful thing they are. Let me explain...no, wait, there is too much. Let me sum up. A little over a month ago I got wind that the Fine Arts magnet high school here in town needed a new technical director. You all know that tale. The rapid departure from the college; the torturous application procedure, the blood-pressure raising stress; and the myriad downsides to the gig that no-one told me of. But there was one very vital piece of information that should have been shared with me but wasn't. Apparantly every year the school board threatens to eliminate the position of technical director at this school, and, up til now, the administration has managed to forestall that elimination. Note that I said up til now. On Friday, half-way through my first class, I was informed that I was supposed to report to 'the pool'. This is where displaced teachers go to be reassigned. Now, my bosses kept telling me that, since I am not qualified to teach anything but technical theatre I would probably be coming right back. Oh foolish ones, how little they understand the bean counter mentality. When I explained that the one class they wanted me to take, Drama at a different, regular school, was outside of my abilities, they simply said that I either take that one, or they'd put me in something I was even less able to teach. So quality of education loses to simply having a body in the classroom. Nice. So, while my former bosses assure me that they have come up with a plan that 'should' work to get me back, I'm getting ready to contact my former boss at the college and grovel for my old job back. It's so much fun being me.

Which brings me to the real subject of today's blog. My friend Sean-Logan and his lovely wife had said that they would be replacing their children's bedroom furniture sometime soon, and would our young'n like the bunk bed set that would then be superfluous. Ever the free-furniture whore I said yes. Well, this weekend became the date of transfer. We rented a U-Haul and went to Naples. In addition to getting said bedroom set, we played video games, ate pizza, watched Firefly episodes(and yes, I'm hooked now, dammit!) and generally did nothing of great import. It was a much needed break from the soul-crushing stress I've been under, and the kid got a groovy new bed. Now I can face this week with some degree of calm, and hopefully put an end to this grand mistake I've made.

Peace out, y'all.

Marius

Stingray Elaboration

I got this from Livescience.com.

How a Passive Stingray Can Become Deadly

By Robert Roy Britt
LiveScience Managing Editor
posted: 04 September 2006
12:16 pm ET



Stingrays like the one that killed "Crocodile Hunter" Steve Irwin are cousins of sharks. But unlike some sharks, which are fearsome predators with powerful jaws, the stingray is rarely a threat to humans and its small mouth is no threat at all.

The tail of the stingray that killed Irwin is capped with a roughly 8-inch spear made of the same stuff that makes up shark scales, known as dermal denticles. The spear, which stiffens when the stingray feels threatened, is serrated like a steak knife and packs a venom that can be deadly to predators.


The tip of a stingray's tail is serrated like a steak knife.
"The venom itself is a largely protein-based toxin that causes great pain in mammals and may also alter heart rate and respiration," according to the Mote Marine Laboratory.

"Stingrays do not attack people, however if it is stepped on, the stingray will utilize its spine as a form of defense," according to Nancy Passarelli and Andrew Piercy of Florida Museum of Natural History. "Although being pierced by the stingray’s spine is painful, it is rarely life threatening to humans."

There are about 200 species of stingrays. They live in both freshwater and in the oceans. Many do not have the ability to sting.

A stingray's mouth is on the underside of its flat body, so that it can feed on worms, crustaceans and other creatures on the seafloor. Its teeth are used to crack shells of prey.

Stingray spines have been used by coastal tribes to create spears and arrowheads, according to the Miami Museum of Science.

Irwin was likely killed not by the sting so much as the fact that the stingray's spear pierced his heart and caused him to bleed to death, according to news reports.

Crikey!

Well, for a guy who seems to have lived a charmed life, crocodile hunter Steve Irwin has been suffled off this mortal coil by an extreme case of bad luck. After making a career out of manhandling the fiercest predators on Earth, Irwin was killed by a stingray while diving off the coast of Australia. It wasn't the venom that killed him. Stingray venom is painful, and not a lot of fun, but is very rarely lethal. What got him, apparantly, is a one-in-a-million shot where the ray's barb pierced his heart. He is survived by his wife and two kids. Here is the full AP story.

I can't say I was a fan. I took more of a 'let's see what this nutjob will do next' attitude toward him, but I can't deny that he did a lot of good for wildlife in general, and for Australian wildlife specifically. His high profile and crazy antics may have paved the way for the popularity of the cable network Animal Planet, and he definately helped raise public awareness of the plight of the world's endangered species. And, at the risk of sounding trite, he died while doing what it was he loved to do. And I suppose that's one of the better ways to go. Vaya con dios, Steve. Good on ya.

Marius

To Boldly Return

Ok, fellow Trek-nerds, hold on to your saurian brandy. Something we never knew we wanted is about to make us...well, at least me...very happy. Last month I was cruising YouTube, the website where people can upload various video clips for the general perusal, and on a lark I did a search for Star Trek. Strangely there weren't as many as I would have thought, but in amongst the Simpson parodies and Con footage I came across some 'proof of concept' clips of original Trek episodes with modern CGI effects put in over the 'then ground breaking but now horribly dated' old effects shots. I was blown away. The Doomsday Machine seemed to be the favorite target, and it was awesome. At the time I thought to myself that wouldn't it be great if the studios actually allowed this to be done to all the episodes? You see, I was assuming that these clips were from ambitious fans with lots of mad computer skillz, and too much time on their hands. I was wrong.

Here is a quote from Startrek.com: "CBS Paramount Domestic Television has officially announced that they are releasing digitally remastered episodes of Star Trek, with all new special effects and music, to celebrate the groundbreaking series' 40th anniversary, according to John Nogawski, president of CBS Paramount Domestic Television."

The shows are scheduled to begin airing on September 16th, starting with The Enterprise Incident, which was the first on-screen encounter with the Romulans, and will show off the new starship effects brilliantly.

I am sure that there will be some purists out there who will object to this, but I feel that, unlike what George Lucas did to Star Wars, this will only enhance the shows rather than alter them for the worse. And maybe, just maybe, some of the young punks today who giggle at the original series for its primitive look might finally develop some measure of respect for the little series that started a galactic empire.

If only Gene Roddenberry were alive to see this, I'm sure he'd be smiling.

Message ends.

And Now a Paid Political Message

When it comes to helping people, Richard Smoker is your man. Dick Smoker is a compassionate, fiscal conservative who once stayed in the same city as Ronald Regan and even wrote a letter to our greatest president.

Heywood Jablowme, on the other hand, has never voted against the over six-hundred tax raises enacted since the tax act of 1874! Jablowme regularly strangles puppies in his den and uses them to polish the skulls of the orphan nuns he murdered in 1975.

Dick Smoker opposes all forms of taxation, and wants to deport every homosexual and illegal alien in the state. Dick Smoker is endorsed by the NRA, PTA, IRA, ROTF, LMAO, and The Lord God Almighty Himself. If elected governer Dick Smoker will give every man, woman, and child their very own jar of rescued embryos to raise in a good, Christian way.

Heywood Jablowme worships the devil, and if elected will kill and eat every first born male child in the state. Jablowme hates the United States, and often plays Scrabble with Osama Bin Laden while burning flags and P.O.W. bracelets.

Who would you rather have in the capitol? Dick Smoker, a decorated veteran and close personal friend of Jesus, or Heywood Jablowme, a vile, blood-drinking ghoul who despises you and your entire familY?

The choice is obvious.


I'm Dick Smoker, and God and I approved this message.

Shatner Roast

Hi folks, and welcome to a somewhat perplexed edition of The Corner. I just finished watching the Comedy Central roast of William Shatner. It was mildly amusing, although I always thought that the point of these things was to get a bunch of entertainers who were friends of the guest of honor to come up and rip on them for a few minutes then get all mushy at the end. For this one only George Takei, Nichelle Nichols, and Betty White had actually worked with Shatner previously. There were a few laughs, but for the most part the humor was crude, vulgar, mean-spirited, and not particularly funny. And can someone explain why Andy Dick is still employed? Even Gilbert Godfried, whom I cannot stand, makes me laugh on rare occasions. Dick is just a less attractive, shorter version of Sandra Bernhard with a smaller penis, and an even smaller talent. And the one comedian who's bit I was looking most forward to, Kevin Pollak, wasn't even aired! I will say that seeing George Takei say "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!" was worth the price of admission, but the lack of any true warmth at the end just made it feel pointless. And Shatner's closing monologue was stilted, forced, and had more of a 'I know you are, but what am I' feel to it rather than a polished riposte to the night's thrusts. And that, I now realize, sums up my disappointment. I was expecting a verbal fencing match, and what they gave me was a comedic Thunderdome, filled with cheap shots, and below the belt punchlines. Ah well, it's not the first time I was expecting sirloin, and was served cat food. C'est la guerre.

Marius

Eat it, Mickey!!

The Plutocracy is over! That pesky bit of Kuiper Belt detritus, that frigid, bifurcated dustball, that hiddeously ancient frozen Yuggoth of Lovecraftian nightmares is history. Today the International Astronomical Union finalized it's definition of just what constitutes a major planet. As before, a planet must not be in thrall to any other body but good old Sol, must not be a star, must have enough mass for gravity to pull it into a roughly spherical shape(we live on an ovoid), and(here's the planet killer for Pluto) it must have a clear neighborhood around its orbit. In other words, all of the major planets have scooped up, or flung away, all debris, asteroids, and other space crap in their ways. Pluto, on the other hand, has such a wonky orbit that it crosses over the orbit of Neptune, which tiny Pluto could never hope to clear away. So rather than the unwieldy 12+ planet Solar System I fretted over the other day, we are now left with an official, and undisputable 8 planets. And what of frozen Yuggoth? It, and it's Kuiper Belt bretheren and sisteren are to be dubbed Dwarf Planets. This way we don't have to change the kids' mobiles every time another big rock is found out beyond Neptune, and all we need do to make all of our schoolbooks accurate is just apply some creative Sharpie action.

Peace out, yo!
Marius

...And We're Baaaaaaack!

Hiya, Folks, and welcome to the first all new, no-bitching, non-video edition of The Corner for quite some time. It's Saturday, and I got more sleep last night than usual, and for once the day is going well. I just finished a huge bowl of chocolate pudding and I'm a ready for some bloggin'!

In science news, the International Astronomical Union has finally nailed down a definition of what constitutes a planet. In their words, a planet is: " a celestial body with sufficient mass to assume a nearly spherical shape that orbits a star without being another star or a satellite of another planet." So what, you might ask, but if you have kids this will affect you more than you might guess. Remember our carefree youth, when we only had to memorize 9 planets? Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. Well, your kids will now have to recall 12 heavenly bodies: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Ceres, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto-Charon (now classified as a double planet) and the newly discovered and officially unnamed 2003 UB313(aka Xena). Plus they are considering a new classification for objects that, like Pluto, take more than 200 years to orbit Sol and have eccentric orbits, i.e. not in the same direction as the other planets, or moving outside the plane of the ecliptic. These trapped wanderers will be known as Plutons. Personally I don't know if I like this or not. Ultimately I guess it doesn't really matter, but I would like to reserve planetary status for the big boys, but that's just me. What this does portend, however, is that like Baltic cartographers, astronomers will have to change their charts every time a better telescope comes on-line.

Ok, it's Sunday now. My mom called in the midst of the last paragraph, and I am just now getting back to the old keyboard. I imagine that everyone knows that they have apprehended a suspect in the 10-year-old murder of Jon-Benet Ramsey. This guy makes Jeffrey Dahmer seem well adjusted, and I don't really want to go into all the details of this creep here, but I will say this. I have serious doubts that he did it. I have a feeling in my gut that this clown, while a pedophile and child pornography patron, is merely looking for his fifteen minutes while living out his sick fantasy that he actually had anything to do with this horrific crime. If I'm wrong I'll gladly recant, and if he's convicted I'll volunteer to pull the switch on the chair, but I just don't think he's the guy.

Snakes on a Plane. I didn't really have any desire to see this movie until I saw Samuel L. Jackson on The Daily Show this week. There are a few celebs that are obviously friends with Stewart and it is so much fun to watch them on the show, and Jackson is one of them. Seeing him talk about how much fun he had making this movie is infectious, and the way he and Jon get along is so much fun. It reminds me of the old days of Letterman when Charles Grodin would come on, and they'd spend 15 minutes insulting each other. There's a feeling of being a fly on the wall of the interviewer's living room that makes it all the more enjoyable. When it hits video I imagine we'll rent it and have a good laugh.

And finally, in the Incredibly Pointless Science Projects category, Dutch zookeepers are looking to allow their orangutans to 'date' via the internet with Indonesian orangs. Via the connection they'll be able to push a button that gives their paramours a food treat. The intention is to see if there is compatibility, and hopefully future mating. What's the catch? Well, the cost of transporting the apes is prohibitive, so ultimately the exercise is all for naught. But, if it improves the morale of captive orangs I say just create a CD based program that simulates the process. If Dr. Zaius pushes a button that says he wants to give his digital hottie a pellet, who is to know if the swinger on the screen is real or simulated. It saves the expense of real time communication, and the technology goes back to the first CD based arcade game Dragonslayer. Hey, we're all primates at heart, and if we can let our captive distant cousins get a bit of virtual orangu-tang, why not.

Ok, true believers, this is your friendly neighborhood Marius signing off for now. And let me just say that Sake is, quite possibly, the greatest contribution the Japanese have made to the world. :-)

Namaste, my friends.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster Likes Planes

 


The C-17 has been touched by his noodley appendage.

Ra-men. 

Anybody Got Some Cheese?

Ok, so I've been doing some pretty heavy duty whining of late, but I'm ready to stop now. I'm still not sure that I've made the right career move, but after a long talk with Targon today I'm feeling much better. Both he and his signifcant other have been in education a long time, and now that I have a better idea of just what it is I have ahead of me I'm not quite as ready to hide under the sink and babble incohearantly. Although I am not thrilled that the certification I need to complete is actually another frikken Bachelor's degree...yet another fact they don't feel the need to reveal during the application process. I don't know. I'm still daunted, but no longer eating my own liver out with worry and panic. But I am, once again, wondering just when I'll find a job that I can settle into and ponder the possibility of retiring from some day. Ah well.

Well, I just re-read this, and it seems that maybe I'm not ready to stop whining after all. Sorry, folks. I'll try to become amusing again any day now.

Marius

Stress, The Final Frontier...

I may have made a terrible mistake, and it's scaring the shit out of me. Please don't take this as arrogance, or hubris, but usually I make the right decisions for myself ie. career moves. I freely admit that I have made some horrific blunders in my life, one of which is now rearing up to bite me in the ass, but usually my 'big' choices turn out to be the correct ones. But this new gig has my blood pressure overwhelming my medication, and my sleep patterns. Teaching high school, I figured, would be much easier than teaching college. Oh how foolish we mortals be. I have one class that consists of 20 freshmen, none of which seem able to stay quiet for more than a few nanoseconds. And it is my last class of the day, right after lunch, so while I'm fighting off the post lunch nap monster, they are more wired than Richard Simmons at an ABBA concert. Another thing I had not considered was that in high school you meet with your classes EVERY DAY! I'm used to seeing my classes twice a week, and having large gaps of time in between them. Now my first class comes in at 9:30am(two hours after I'm required to sign in) and I don't stop, except for a 20 minute lunch, until 2:45. I'm exhausted, and it's only the first week of classes.

I hope that this is just an adjustment period, and that I'll eventually find my stride here, but right now I feel like someone who has walked out onto a rickety, old, Indiana Jones style suspension bridge, with huge gaps in the boards ahead, and angry Thuggee warriors behind. I just hope no one decides to cut the ropes.

Your friendly, nerve-wracked Marius.

What Do You Get When You Mix Jim Kirk And King Arthur?

Cool Shuttle Pic

The shuttle Atlantis on its way to the launch pad for a late August date with the ISS.



 

I know I was going to give you all a blow by blow description of my trials and tribulations of this week, but to be quite honest they are quite boring, and I really don't want to revisit all the joyous details. Let me just give you this warning. When you agree to take a new job here are a few questions to ask before you give notice at your current gig: 1. Will it cost me anything to take this job?(if the answer is $200+ find out just how many different money orders you will need) 2. When will my health benefits begin?(if the answer is 90 days later, think twice) and 3. If I work a day before we can process my paperwork(due to clerical errors, not my fault) will I still get paid for that day?(short answer, no)

And just like my last job, the administrative arrangement at the high school leaves a lot to be desired. I have a feeling that there will be a lot of 'but we've always done it this way' for me to fight. Ah well, c'est la vie I suppose. Have a great weekend.

Kisses,
Marius 

Stay Tuned

Hi, Folks,
It has been pointed out that my posts have been somewhat lacking of late. I apologize for the paucity of content, but tomorrow, when I have rested my weary dura mater, I promise to give you a full rundown of the unfathomably horrible, unconcievably hiddeous, nauseatingly officious process it takes to take a college teacher, and break them down molecule by molecule, dollar by dollar, and convert them into a zombie-fied high school teacher.

Tune in tomorrow!!

Marius the Brain-dead

Chad Vader II

Ok, I've had a really stressed-out week(yeah, I know it's only Wednes-fucking-day), that I'll tell you all about once there's a little bit of aesthetic distance twixt it and me, but this really helped cheer me up. Enjoy episode two of Chad Vader: Dayshift Manager.