What the fuck is up with cilantro?

What is up with cilantro? Can we just take a minute to discuss how thoroughly obnoxious cilantro is? It stays fresh for roughly 2.4452 seconds before devolving into a pea-green mushtastic situation that leaks all over the rest of the vegetables in the crisper and renders them unusable. What the hell, cilantro? I wouldn't have as big a problem with it if cilantro were more consistent, but no. Cilantro has an agenda. If I buy cilantro on Monday, and intend to use it on Wednesday, the cilantro mushifies by Tuesday. If I buy it on Monday and intend to use it on Tuesday, it mushifies by Tuesday morning. If I buy it on Monday and intend to use it on Friday (why I'd ever do this I don't know, but hey, stupider things have happened), IT STAYS FRESH UNTIL THURSDAY NIGHT and then... nuclear mushsplosion. What's your problem, cilantro? Do you have it out for me? What did I ever do to you? My brother has a vendetta against you, but I've always stood up for you. This is how you repay me? If I didn't love guacamole so much I'd dump your mushy ass so fast...

GIRLY COMMENTARY: New England Patriots @ Seattle Seahawks

I think when you watch football there should be a choice between regular commentary and girly commentary. -Tianna

Danny Woodhead is fun-sized.

Leah: Have you ever been a slutty football player for Halloween?
Tianna: I guess you could just ear no pants... Or tight short-shorts.
Leah: That would be only funny if you wore a helmet. I once went as a slutty hockey player to a theme party at UMass.

Bledsoe is a really cool last name. I wouldn't mind having that be my last name.

Leah: Seattle uniforms are not aesthetically pleasing.
Tianna: Really? I like the neon green.
Leah: NOT THE ARROWS.

Their shoes look like my racing flats.

I think if Wilfork sat on me I'd die. But possibly enjoy it.

Leah: Ass watch 2012... what's the nicest ass on both teams?
Stephen: They all look the same.
Tianna: No they don't!

Tianna: I don't think Tom Brady has the nicest ass on the team. Not by a long shot.
Ian: Belichik doesn't.
Stephen: He doesn't run enough.
Ian: He throws too much.
Stephen: Not too much, sinc that's like his only good quality.
Leah: I have no idea what any of this means.

Leah: Can that be a theme party we'd do?
Tianna: Slutty sports?
Ian: Does that mean I get to wear a jockstrap on the outside of my pants?
Tianna: WEIRD.
Leah: Yes.
Tianna: I'll be a ref and blow that whistle.
Tiana and Leah: CAN YOU BLOW MY WHISTLE BABY WHISTLE BABY...

The Patriots' head coach has ahd that same face since 1990.
That's unfortunate.
He's also a genius.
Genius or not, he's going to need some plastic surgery to fix that scowl.
And jowl.

I don't understand football commercials. Hot black man running. Meatballs. What?
That's RG3.

Tianna: He's balding on top.
Ian: Starting to
Tianna: Look at that. I can see it.
Ian: That's what happens when you have a supermodel for a wife.
Tianna: She's preggers.
Ian: Is she?
Tianna: She's gonna have that baby any day now We think it's a girl.
Ian: Good move!!!

Tianna: Remember when he had really long hair?
Ian: Remember when he was with Bridget Moynahan?
Leah: Remember when I hated her in real life because in fictional Sex and the City life she stole Mr. Big from Carrie?
Tianna: I never liked her that much.
Leah: I finally don't hate her because she's so good on Blue Bloods. She finally escaped my typecast hatred.
Ian: See, the only reason I would have to watch that show would be Tom Selleck. Which is, I know, the reason you watch that show.
Leah: OMG I want his mustache on my body.

Tianna: I think Tom Brady is too skinny. I like a big dude.
Leah: Me too.
Ian: I have no comment.

Tianna: I love the man love that goes on after the game.
Leah: You should move here and join our gym. That's the kind of love that goes on in boxing class except it's girls and we're WAY MORE INSANE.

Tianna: Gronkowski might have the best ass on the team.
Ian: He also has four brothers.
Tianna: Oh really?
Leah: Excellent.
Ian: And they save all their money rather than spend it.
Tianna: Good to know.
Ian: And you have to deal with the fact that they're all from Buffalo.
Tianna: Whatever. Not my concern.

Things I Wonder

What is the difference between frosting and icing?

What is the difference between a sarong and a sari?

Why does sleeping too much make you more tired?

Why does the camera add ten pounds?

Why does the job I love not pay as much as my friends' jobs they hate?

What does one do when one slouchy boot slouches more than the other?

Why does 80% of the population wear skinny jeans when they only look good on 20% of the population?

Why does white bread still exist? It's terrifying.

Why did Jaqen on Game of Thrones have to magically change his face to a less hot face?

Why do I love boots so dearly?

Why does rain seem to chill me to the bone, literally?

Why do my nails grow really fast but my hair does not? I'm tired of waiting. I need long hair by May for Conor/Masha's wedding. COME ON NOW.

Who raised the BC undergrad boys who used to inhabit my house? Really, who? You're disgusting, boys, and I'm going to sell your Comcast equipment illegally, TAKE THAT disgusting humans.

Why do I read so compulsively? The way addicts feel about drugs is the way I feel about reading.

Why aren't there more hours in the day?

Why can't I fix my students' lives? I really want to. This ties into the previous one... Why aren't there more hours in the day?

Why isn't there a way for me to freeze time so I can get more work done, but not age accordingly?

How am I going to turn myself into Joan Holloway for a Mad Men theme party? I really want to be her. I love her character. She is so many kinds of wonderful. But I have no hips, no waist, and no boobs. Not that I mind. I love my body. I work my ass off to make it one I'm proud of. But logistically speaking, I'm not sure there's enough padding in the world to make me into something that can do Joan justice. I wish I could go as Don Draper, but I don't want to wear a dude wig. Pantsless Don Draper? Maybe? Sans wig? I don't know.

Things I hate dealing with

"How do I fit all the stuff I need in the shower?" 

There's just no good answer to this, and it's so tedious to try. No shower-holding-stuff-thingy is really a solution. They all either take up too much space, are ergonomically despicable, cause a mildewy water nightmare, or fall down. Leaving stuff in a cabinet is also not an option, because as a woman, you never know when you'll need that special exfoliaty cinnamony goodness body scrub that's too expensive to use every day but 100% necessary once in a while. You can't really know until you're in the shower, and then you just get a feeling and you're soaping your body with the loofa, an undeniable, "Ohh, it's time." By then it's too late. You have to do the "Jump out of the shower, hop across the bathroom, try not to murder yourself or make a huge mess in the process of grabbing it out of the cabinet" dance, which rarely ends well. No matter how low-key you are in the shower, there are still more items required than space in there. Fail.


"OMG I'm blocked in!" 

This sucks too. We have a lovely driveway with two garage spots and about 4 behind them, give or take, and it's such a pain in the ass. I thought we were in the clear when our downstairs neighbors told me they didn't own any cars, but no, that would've been too easy. They may not have cars, but their rich friends do, and of course their rich friends cars are registered in the states their rich parents live in, so they don't have Massachusetts plates, and they don't have resident parking stickers. Plus, one of them just got a brand new BMW from dad yesterday, of course without Massachusetts plates. I might not have a BMW, but I do have a Rav-4 that I love to fucking death because I bought it myself (well, it will be mine in August 2014), and a job that's so stressful that I really can't emotionally handle waking up early enough to yell at people to move their cars or shovel snow off mine. I want the garage spot, and I want no one behind me. She's the sweetest thing in the world and I don't judge her for having parents that bought her a brand new BMW at age 20 (I do, however, judge her parents... What are you thinking people? How is she going to learn how to work for anything if you give it all to her? What message are you sending?).

I have a plan, and I'll implement it, and she'll get on board whether she likes it or not, but I resent even having to deal with it. It would be better if somehow, this was not an issue. As for the random BC boy who parks in the driveway to sleep over at our downstairs neighbors' house... Well, a) You drive a Jeep, so already I judge you less than BMW girl, and b) You've been good about getting your ass out of the door within 30 seconds of me banging on it at 6:30 a.m. In the event that this changes, I'll have your overprivileged ass towed.

"OMG my hot pants smell SO BAD." 

I own obscenely priced British exercise pants that claim to combat cellulite. They do get rid of water weight, which obviously comes back, but what works for real is the fact that they raise the surface temperature of your skin so much. My legs look better, legit. Say what you want, but it's true. The issue, however, is the smell. It's a heinous, oceany smell that never quite goes away, regardless of how many times you wash them in the CSC lockerroom and then almost murder yourself by putting them in the swimsuit dryer because they are far too big. You can try to keep the smell to a minimum, and trust me, it helps, but not enough. During boxing Wednesday, I was complaining mentally about this God-awful odor when I realized it was coming from me.. More specifically, my hot pants. I don't intend to stop wearing them. I don't intend to apologize for the Eau de Sweaty Ocean Grime that follows me through the gym. But I do intend to complain constantly, and this is my first step.


"Leah, once you stop looking for a guy you'll find one." 

My dear friends that say this are wonderful people, and I love you all dearly, but please shut the fuck up. This is the most unhelpful thing to hear when you're single. I'm not saying I need to be married, stat. I'm not saying I need a man to complete me or some shit. I'm awesome as I am. But I'd like someone awesome in my life, and when you say this to me, it makes me want to scream.

Emma said it best.. that logic is flawed in every single situation, so why would it apply here? Once you stop looking for a job, you'll find one? Once you stop looking for the perfect pair of grey suede slouchy boots, you'll find them? You wouldn't tell someone to stop trying as a way to make something happen. If you want to lose weight, you KEEP TRYING. If you want to be happy, you KEEP TRYING. If you want to find something to watch on TV, you KEEP CHANNEL SURFING. Duh.

You might argue that when you stop looking for something you lost, you find it (like car keys), but really, you don't stop looking. You just take a break. It's not like you decide "Okay, I give up, I'll just never drive my car again, I'm good, YAY MBTA!" You say, "Okay, I'm going to stop looking for now, and hopefully they'll turn up." But "hopefully they'll turn up" means "I'm still looking, just not as hard, and I still want the same result." So your argument is invalid.

Also, I think I speak for all people in my situation when I say that I know what you actually mean. You actually mean, "You're scaring off dudes by appearing too eager, like you're trying too hard, and no one wants someone who gives off that vibe." That's totally true... when you're 17. We've moved past that. When you're 17, you don't realize that you look desperate. It takes less than a year to make that realization. We're not morons.

So you might ask me, "What should we say instead?" Here's what we want:

1. Actual explanations. If I've been spending all my time at shitty bars and wondering why wonderful men don't appear, tell me that I'm not going to find my one true love at The Kells (RIP).

2. Setups. Whore me out to the men in your life who are single and cool. I don't care how ridiculously setups fail, try. At the very least, it makes a good story. Plus, then you're being proactive. Plus, my parents met on a blind date, and they are disgustingly in love God knows how many years later.

3. Create social situations that are conducive to me meeting men. Throw parties. Invite lots of nice people you know out to a bar. Up the chances. It's hard to meet people. Seriously.

4. Wingman/woman. If you're not sure how this works, talk to my friend Jen. She is the world's best wingwoman.

5. Liquor. Buy me drinks, fool. Your boyfriend/fiance/husband is probably buying most of yours, so take the money you save and BUY SOME FOR MY BROKE ASS. I thank you in advance.

6. Be honest. I'd rather hear, "That sucks, I'm sorry," than "Stop looking and you'll find him!" any day.


"Can I help you? What are you here for today? What are you looking for? What's your name? How are you? Can I help you look for something specific? How can I help? What are you looking for? Hello? Can you hear me? How are you? How are you doing today? Can I help you find something?" 

I hate overzealous salespeople. If I'm in a store, I want to be left alone. If I have questions, I'll ask you. If I want to know how I look in something, I'll ask you. If I need a second opinion, or someone to tell me it's not really that slutty, I'LL ASK YOU, so get off my ass. I promise you, bugging me is not going to help your conversions.


"I'm dressed as me!" 

You might not take Halloween or theme parties seriously, but I do. If you didn't want to come to my party in costume, why did you bother coming at all? There are plenty of other social opportunities for you to choose from. So why'd you come?

Halloween is the worst, because  you can go to a store and spend money on a costume that is 100% pre-made. You don't have to be artistic. You don't have to do any hard work. You can let someone else do it for you and reap the drunk benefits. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE.

Exception: If you're too tired, or feeling uncreative, and you show up at my party and say, "Leah, I am your blank canvas. Do what you want with me." I am okay with it. As long as you're okay with whatever I turn you into. Hehehe... Evil laugh.

20 Reasons Why I Ignored You

Inspired by this post on Thought Catalog... I'm not saying I agree with everything on that list (I don't). But it did make me think about why I don't call men back, or stop calling them back, or break things off entirely... My list encompasses a bit more. I present to you:

20 Reasons Why I Ignored You, Dude. 

(all have happened at least once)

1. You just wanted me for sex (which is flattering, but no thanks). 
2. I wasn't attracted to you. 
3. You were sending mixed messages and I was tired of trying to decode them. 
4. You are the kind of person who doesn't know how to work hard for anything. 
5. You talked shit to me about my vegetarianism. I don't care if you're not one, but let's just agree to disagree. If we can't eat the same entrees, we can at least meet halfway at the dessert portion of the meal. Or not, since you spent the entire dinner complaining about my entree choice. 
6. No fizz factor. Fizz factor = You know that feeling you get when you drink too much over-carbonated soda? That's the way I feel when I'm attracted to someone, except it's kind of an all-over feeling. If I never once thought about kissing you... Sorry dude. 
7. You're a lot smaller than me. I know it's ridiculous, but I'm a former fat girl. I have a complex. I can't be the bigger one in the relationship. It's not about height. It's about being petite. I'm sorry... I can't deal with it. 
8. I was working out. You might say, "Really? How long do you work out for? No way it was that long." Yes way. Sometimes I work out for most of the day. Deal with it. 
9. I had an awful day and I was sleeping it off like a bad night at the Hong Kong in Faneuil. Yes, I just compared recovering from a day teaching to recovering from a hangover. Deal with it. 
10. You insulted my profession, alluded to insulting my profession, or condescendingly remarked about my profession. 
11. You told me I was a terrible excuse for a human being because I hated The Catcher in the Rye.
12. I went incommunicado because my internet and 3g broke. 
13. You told me I should be jealous that you have a big boy job in the real world. 
14. You were mean to my little brother. 
15. You couldn't maintain eye contact with my father. He is deceptively scary, but really? 
16. You were anti-Semitic. 
17. You insulted my (mostly) healthy lifestyle. I am a couch potato very often, but I love being active. I value my health. And you kept making comments about how much time I was wasting while running. It was rude. 
18. You were a compulsive liar. 
19. You neglected to mention that your ex died TWO WEEKS AGO. 
20. You asked me to explain my highest level of math education and proceeded to judge me for not taking AB Calc in high school. 

Word Vomit: 10/1 Edition

So people keep telling me to post more random shit word vomit blogs. I'm not sure why, but I'll do it. After all, I've never had an issue rambling.


1.
I finally fixed my car. According to the mechanic, it is not a good idea to drive around on your spare tire for a week before getting it fixed. Well, now I know. Also, note to self: If a mechanic asks you why you bought a Rav-4, and you tell him a long, drawn-out story, he will laugh at you.


Long, drawn-out story: 

I was fourteen years old the first time I fell in love. It was a red Jeep Wrangler with no doors. All I wanted was to own a car like that. I spent most of freshman and sophomore year scouring the classifieds trying to buy one used, while attempting to learn how to drive a stick in what spare time I had left. 

This might have worked out if I hadn't blown all my money on clothes and screwed up in school so much that my mother refused to let me get my license until I was 6 months away from college. It ended up working out for the better, because as I later realized, I hate driving. When I got out of grad school, I inherited the minivan, and I'd still be driving that today if crazy lady hadn't slammed into it at the corner of Parsons and Faneuil Street in Brighton. 

When it came time to buy my first real car, I knew one thing: It needed to have a spare tire on the back. I suppose I could've bought a Wrangler, but the Toyota dealer offered me such a good trade-in for my demolished minivan that I couldn't turn it down. Plus, I was sort of emotional. It was right after I watched a season of House in one week, and I kept equating "sold for parts" with "harvesting for organs" and yeah... You could say I'm a bit high strung. So I got a Rav-4. Which I adore. Despite the fact that it's not a Wrangler. Someday. 

Though I will say this: The one downside to having a spare tire on the back of your car is that when you drive around with the spare, you have to put the dead tire in the trunk because the lug nuts don't match, which means you're driving around with what looks like a big, gaping dent in your car. It's ugly. 

2.
I am sick and tired of explaining tampons to middle school boys. From now on I'm going to walk around with some Tampax instructions in my back pocket.

3.
When did it become okay to announce to your teacher that you needed to change your pad? I'm not at all shy about that stuff, but you better believe I never told that to a teacher.

4.
There is an odd squeaky sound that sound like it's coming from my wall. I blame Boston College.

5.
The dreams have started again. Grey, slouchy, suede boots with a simple, distressed buckle. Sleek, black riding boots. Maroon with a stacked heel. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold out. I want to buy boots so badly. I see them everywhere. I'm like a dude who stares at boobs, except I stare at boots. If I can just hold out until Black Friday and go to the outlets like last year... I need help. Rehab. Twelve steps.

Until I get a shoe rack, this is how I'll store my boots... And that's not even all of them. Like I said, I have a problem. 

6.
Lately I've been giving a lot of thought to remediation. In my experience, if a student fails seventh grade math, for example, it's usually not because he doesn't understand seventh grade math. It's because there are fourth grade math concepts he doesn't understand.


I know how easy it is to fall behind. I never failed, but I memorized formulas for the test and promptly forgot them later because I didn't know the reasoning behind the formulas. The older I got, the harder it became, because instead of a bank of mathematical reasoning, I had a bank of formulas I couldn't explain. The older I got, the more formulas I tried to keep straight, and the fewer I could remember with any kind of consistency. Even if you go for extra help, it's overwhelming, because you're afraid to ask questions because you know that everyone else mastered that concept two years ago and you've just been faking it. God knows I know how difficult it is to be the teacher in that situation. I can't tell you how many times I've started teaching sixth-grade level sentence structure to seventh graders only to find out they don't know what verbs are.

What I'm wondering is, what do we do? Here's what happens now: Student fails seventh grade math, most likely because he doesn't understand fourth and fifth and sixth grade math. He goes to summer school, where he is given seventh grade math, which he still doesn't understand, and no matter how fantastic the teachers are, there's only so much you can do with a seventh grader who doesn't know how to divide. In a perfect world, each kid would have individualized interventions based on specific learning needs, but that's a tall order. Do they make assessments that evaluate multiple levels (grade and complexity) of mathematical concepts? When would we give them? Who has the time to design that instruction? Who has the money to implement it with the student-teacher ratio it would require? I don't know. Certainly no districts I know.

Here's what happens: You get a group of students who fail subjects, go to summer school, don't fill in enough of the gaps, and get promoted to the next grade. If you could fail everything and still pass, wouldn't you? If you know you can get away with that, you do it, unless you have tons of intrinsic motivation. If you knew you could fail everything, get suspended on multiple occasions, and still pass to the next grade, why wouldn't you do that?

I know it's pointless to hold kids back. I've seen it happen many times, and I've never seen it work. Passing them up doesn't work. Holding them back doesn't work. So basically we're damned if we do or damned if we don't.

I don't know.

7.
My computer is a magnet.

8. 

I am so excited for Halloween it is ridiculous. I'm trying to figure out what amalgam of Khaleesi gear I'm going to wear. 

I'm thinking this will be my basic costume: 

But I want to add in the element of "I just walked out of a fire unscathed having mystically birthed three dragons, thus I am covered in soot." Any ideas? I don't want to make my entire apartment and all the guests a mess by rubbing off on them. I also can't go naked, like she is in this scene, because of societal constraints, which is why I'm combining the two costumes. 

9.
I'm still looking for a Khal Drogo.