Bonnie and I decided to swap blogs today, so you're going to get a break from me!
(let the sad faces and disappointed "awws" commence)
If you haven't already stumbled across her blog, shame on you!
AFTER you're done reading this post, you should go check out her blog!
So without further adieu, I'm going to hand it over to Bonnie!
Hello to the readers of Life and Times of the Intelligent Blonde! I am also an intelligent blonde, except for my name isn't Alana. And I'm not always blonde. I change my hair color about every nine months. I'm also not always intelligent- only most of the time!
My name is Bonnie. This is me.
I used to have pink hair before I got a real job. Now I have a real job. But I don't have pink hair. You can't have it all, people.
I write over at Life of Bon. If it weren't for blogging I would have long been driven to insanity by now. That's because I spend my days in the company of punk seventeen year olds. Mostly I try to teach them how to write thesis statements and how to tell the difference between your and you're. It's a lot harder than you'd think to get that rule to stick, I tell you. Even though those high schoolers can be a bunch of bratty ingrates they have somehow completely stolen my heart.
Ain't that always the way it is with bratty ingrates?!?!
I'm not exactly sure why I love these teenagers so much. I think it might have to do with the ridiculous things that are always flying out of their mouths at 100 miles an hour. Sometimes those things are funny, sometimes those things are surprisingly insightful, and sometimes those things are wildly inappropriate.
For example: The other day I needed to make a quick run to the bathroom. Instead of trekking across the high school to the faculty bathroom while all hell broke loose in my unattended classroom, I decided to make a sacrifice and use the gross student bathroom around the corner.
Upon entering, I noticed three girls just a-gabbing away, doing their makeup (At this point you may have two questions. 1. Why weren't these girls in class? 2. Why were these girls doing their makeup at noon? Unfortunately, I do not have the answer to either question.) I brushed past them, into the stall.
Oh, but wait. Wait. These girls weren't just talking, I quickly discovered. They were talking dirty. Crazy gross naughty inappropriate talk.
I was shocked.
Okay...I was a little shocked.
Okay... fine... I wasn't shocked at all.
I work full time at a high school, for crying out loud, I expect this kind of behavior out of the students. Will my mom be disappointed in me if I said I wasn't even phased?
I was finishing up when suddenly the dirty talk came to a screeching halt, to be replaced with frantic whispers. I didn't know why. Nor did I care. I exited the stall, washed my hands, and noticed that the girls were in what appeared to be a chicken frenzy- chucking opened mascara bottles and cheap red lipstick into their backpacks and flapping out of the bathroom. (And if you don't believe that high school girls can flap, believe-you-me, they can!)
At this point, I was done with my bathroom business, so I followed them out. Apparently, in their complete panic mode, they failed to notice I was right behind them. This is what I overheard:
"...... oh my gosh that was a teacher???......... but she's like four feet tall......... thought she was a student..........oh my gosh is she going to report us to the vice principal?............I thought she would never leave, she was in there for like seven minutes!!!........... so embarrassing........ do you think she even knew what we were talking about though?.............. are you sure it was a teacher?...........If they call my mom I'm screwed......what a perv! she just stayed in there to listen us.........."
To whom it may concern: my acutal height is 5'4 1/2, I drank a whole can of diet coke which is why I was in there for longer than normal, but it wasn't a whole seven minutes, yes, I did know what they were talking about, and no, I am not a perv.
I thought about telling these girls that I didn't care about their naughty conversation, and I certainly didn't care enough to report it to the administration. Their dirty secrets were safe with me (Unless you count blasting it all over the internet!) and they could stop their frantic worrying. But then I thought, nah, better to keep those little perverts on their toes!
That's what a good teacher does, if you ask me!
When I'm not overhearing dirty conversations in bathroom stalls, I try my best at being a wife- a gig that is new to me this past year. I guess you could say I've got a small crush on this guy.
Ahem... the one without all the hair...
When I'm not overhearing dirty conversations in bathroom stalls, I try my best at being a wife- a gig that is new to me this past year. I guess you could say I've got a small crush on this guy.
Ahem... the one without all the hair...
If you're wondering why my hubby has got a giant teddy bear on his shoulders, it was an experiment to see if we are ready to have babies. We are not.
If you're wondering why the walls are lime green in our apartment, it's because I made a terrible, terrible mistake. It's fixed now.
And because I just couldn't resist, I recently got a new haircut and have therefore spent a lot of time lately flipping my hair around. I mean, what else do you do when you get a new haircut besides flip?!?
I figure by now I have rambled long enough about my life. I'm sure you're patience is long gone. Unless of course, your patience is NOT long gone, and you want to hear more. In that case you should definitely hop on over to Life of Bon and say hi. I promise you won't regret it, and if you do Alana has promised you a year's worth of free ice cream!
Ain't she the greatest?
Come on, Alana, just go with it.... You know your freezer is full of ice cream...
Isn't Bonnie great? I knew you guys would love her!
I'm so glad she spends her days trying to get people to understand the difference between "your" and "you're." I'm hoping that she's teaching those little hood-rats the difference between "two," "to," and "too" while she's at it, because poor grammar is one of my biggest pet peeves.
And just to clarify, don't go check out her blog in hopes of receiving ice cream, because if my freezer was, in fact, full of ice cream (which it is at times), I wouldn't be sharing.
Just go check out her blog because I told you to : )
Until next time,
The Intelligent Blonde
