First Lady Speaker7’s Initiative

As you may remember, my husband recently won a seat on our legislative body.

This makes me the First Lady-elect of my town.

It has already affected me in many ways. For instance now I’m slightly embarrassed when I’m approached by a constituent in the supermarket and I’m wearing sweatpants covered in dinner stains and cannot remember the last time I ran a brush through my hair. I figure I can correct this with a strand of pearls or a pillbox hat.

I also am aware I need to champion a cause. Michelle Obama has Let’s Move, a campaign designed to improve our health. Laura Bush started the National Book Festival to promote literacy. Nancy Reagan just said no a lot about something…I think fried eggs?…the 80s are very cloudy.

I have to keep in mind that for the most part I prefer little to no social interaction and I lose interest quickly if presented with something shiny like a pinwheel so I need to pick something that will not take a lot of effort.

So my cause is to eradicate certain expressions from the English language. . . just sayin’.

Speaker7’s Let’s Never Use These Words Again First Lady Initiative:

1. Just Sayin’.

As in: I just said this. . .  just sayin’. Ooh…thanks for clearing up that you were just saying something. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening when your mouth was moving and the sound was coming out. I thought that you were about to birth the next Athena from your forehead, but you were talking?

Here’s the thing, I know that you just said something because you fucking just said something.

2. YOLO

In a way I’m grateful that I only live once so I don’t have to go through another lifetime hearing this fucking phrase. This is just a way for people to excuse their idiocy.

3. I’m not a racist but. . .

Invariably something racist ALWAYS follows the expression “I’m not racist but. . .” All this qualifier does is broadcast that something pretty racist and terrible is coming soon. For example “I’m not racist, but yogurt is my favorite food.” And now I can’t eat yogurt anymore because you’ve just made it racist.

Same thing for “I’m not sexist but. . .”

4. No offense

This expression is used when you absolutely do mean to offend someone, but want the appearance of politeness. For example “No offense, but I think you and all your family members including your ancestors and future descendants are pieces of shit” seems far more polite than “You’re a piece of shit,” but no less offensive.

5. Totes

Really? I could get it if “totally” had the same number of syllables as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but it’s just two more measly syllables. I could see if you had just stuck your tongue to a frozen pole during a YOLO moment and it hurts to talk, but otherwise just say the whole word please or else I will totes punch you in the face.

6. Donald Trump

I feel with great certainty that if we stop saying his name, he will go away. Like a dung beetle drawn to a fragrant cowpie, The Donald is drawn to the media limelight. Or we can call him Donald Dump because that amuses me.

What words or expressions do you hate?

Speaker7 is totes writing a daily post during this month as a member of Nano Poblano because you only live once. . .just sayin’. Get ready for First Half-Man Puppet Hugo’s Initiative.

Half-Way There

I swear when I participated in NaBloWriMo last year, November was shorter–like they combined Saxophone Day with Make Your Own Head Day to create Make Your Own Head Resemble a Saxophone Day.

There were less days.

I thought I would feel better getting to the halfway mark, but I’ve mainly been feeling this:

There’s still 15 more to go, and I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel here. All that’s left are a few monkey turds from the time when it was fun.

I’m still out in the real world (i.e. without Internet access) so I’m recycling my gif gimmick for today.

Speaker7 Presents How Speaker7 Will Get Through The Next 15 Days:

Speaker7 is writing…um….stuff? Okay, that works. So she’s. . .uh….yeah I’ve got nothing. But check out other members of the Nano Poblano team over at rarasaur, they likely have something.

Ssshhhh!!! I’m Writing a Post About Librarians

For the next two days, I will be attending a librarian conference and will be without Internet access.

Let me just repeat that.

I will be without Internet access for two days during NaBloWriMo. I am committed to a daily post and I will be without Internet access for two days.

Any way, you may be wondering what exactly happens at a librarian conference.

Well there’s workshops on all kinds of stuff, like:

• bun accessorizing
• Shushing techniques
• Dewey Decimal Trivia

• Primal Scream Therapy sessions directed at Google

It’s not all work.

There’s alloted time to get to know other librarians and socialize:

Speaker7 will not be able to comment for a few days but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you. She does, however, hate NaBloWriMo.

Here Lies Speaker7

The anniversary of the afternoon I shot out of my mother’s birth canal is this week.

For some reason, my mother felt this was the appropriate time to take a tour of the cemetery to pick out our family burial plot.

There are possible more morbid ways to ring in another year of life.

We could have gone casket shopping:

Or attended a slideshow lecture on organ putrefaction.

You will thank me for this.

I haven’t been excited about my birthday for awhile. My knees are creakier, my memory is shoddier and my knees are creakier.

My husband says “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

Now I know the alternative will be a hole on a hill or a hole near the main thoroughfare.

My mother wanted to know what my dying self preferred. I tried to imagine where I’d like to be once I shuffled off this mortal coil.

Speaking of cremation, did you know you that you can get an urn in the likeness of your head?

Not the slightest bit creepy.

I’m shocked that Hugo has inserted himself into this moment. He seems to think he has the final decision over what happens to me in the end.

My husband is right. Getting older is wayyyyyyyyy better.

At this moment of publishing Speaker7 is even closer to her demise. What a better way to spend her remaining days, but writing a daily post as a member of the Nano Poblano Team?

Deep Thoughts with Hugo

You may have seen an earlier post in this scorching hemorrhoid known as NaBloWriMo where I inspired the world.

Well Hugo has been busy coming up with his own inspiration. For new readers, Hugo is a creepy half-man puppet who lives in my house. Do not look directly into his eyes.

I apologize in advance:

Hugo is helping Speaker7 get through this shitfuck month of writing a daily post as a member of Nano Poblano Team. Theres’s a 97 percent chance that Hugo is lurking outside your window this very moment. 

Uncommon Core

The Common Core is the new traveling circus act that will save public education. The standards were the initiative of Achieve, a group of governors and corporate leaders, that felt students were not being adequately prepared for life after high school.

Notice that the profession of teacher is absent from that group. No biggie.

The majority of states have adopted the Common Core Learning Standards.

In New York State, these new standards were adopted the same year the new teaching standards were implemented. If you didn’t know, teachers are now evaluated on how their students perform on tests, in break dance competitions, in skeet shooting tournaments, in HVAC repair and the Hunger Games.

In other words, teachers were a bit stressed. But thankfully the state stepped in and paid $12.9 million to outside corporations to develop lesson modules around the Common Core.

What’s even better is a single lesson unit is only 300 pages long and includes such helpful tips as how to speak to little humans.

For example, let’s say you want your students to look at a chunk of text, the module will direct the teacher or actor to state: “Look at this text. What do you notice about it?”

All this time, I had been saying “Tree! I like pretzels crushed in my hair. Pigeons dance sometimes” when I’ve wanted students to look at a chunk of text. Had I known that I needed to actually say “Look at this text” I could have saved a lot of time, time I spent instead on brushing pretzel crumbs out of my hair. Thanks corporation!

The real gem of these multi-million dollar modules is the content. It’s as if the content was written by people who had never met a child or been a child themselves or been in a school or taught anything other than a hamster how to bubble in a state assessment.

For example, the second grade module wants second graders to be able to “describe the basic principles of Hinduism and Buddhism” and “describe the teachings of Confucius.”

That is fucked up.

–Confucius

For a point of reference, second graders are typically 7 years old with only a tiny bit of exposure to world religons that they may have gained from reading Green Eggs and Ham. That is totally a Daoist tract.

If you asked a 7-year-old to describe the basic principles of Hinduism, the 7-year-old will likely respond: “My dad’s birthday is in March.”

The module for first grade wants first graders to “explain the significance of gods/goddesses, ziggurats, temples, and priests in Mesopotamia” and “explain the significance of the Code of Hammurabi.”

For a point of reference, a first-grader is typically 6 years old. First grade is usually when students learn how to read possibly by reading Dick and Jane Violate the Code of Hammurabi. 

To expect a 6-year-old to “explain the importance of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers and the use of canals to support farming and the development of the city of Babylon” may be a bit of an overreach considering that 6-year-olds still think Abraham Lincoln is alive and is my father.

The kindergarten module is about genocide and its implications on a global scale.

I’m joking.

The module for kindergarten has the expectations that kindergarteners will be able to  “describe the purpose of the Declaration of Independence as a statement of America’s liberty” and “explain Abraham Lincoln’s role during the U.S. Civil War.”

For a point of reference, a kindergartener is typically 5 years old; some start the school year at 4. In kindergarten, children start to learn the letters and sounds of the alphabet, like D is for the Declaration of Independence, a social contract that clearly delineated the rights of a people choosing to govern themselves and B is for barn.

In kindergarten, students practice the skills of cooperation and sharing. They hold hands when they walk to the nurse’s office and generally have difficulty finding their classroom when they drop their books off at the library. They usually don’t discuss the horrors of slavery, the dissolution of our country over that institution and Lincoln’s decision to go to  war to save the union

But what the fuck do I know? I’m only a teacher.

Speaker7 had to refer to Google heavily during this post having little to no familiarity about the Code of Hammurabi or the principles of Buddhism. Her elementary school teachers really sucked. All they did was taught her how to read, write and arithmetic. 

Love is Dead

I don’t know if you heard, but child bride Courtney Stodden and Doug Hutchinson broke up.

djfkajgkalfjda;lfjas;fjas;fjds;afj

See? I can’t even write I’m so upset. . . and that’s not because I’m having difficulty coming up with things to write about.

When that 50+ actor, best known for playing a liver-eating serial killer on the X-Files, married that 16-year-old, best known for humping Santa Claus and pumpkins, it seemed they would be the “celebrity” couple who would defy the odds and make it.

Alas, Courtney called it quits when her bizarre behavior in public with Doug did not warrant enough attention to earn her a reality show because she wanted to explore her independence.

Get ready for a bizarro inappropriate flag photoshoot.

Wait, that already happened.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a walk down memory lane and remember the golden times of Dourntey Stutchinden:

Their beautiful Las Vegas Wedding

The time they humped in a pumpkin patch.

The time they ruined Christmas.

The time they ruined Halloween.

The time they ruined the ocean.

The time they ruined eating.

Love is dead, people.

Speaker7 was spreadeagled on a car typing this with her boobs. It was very “sexy” which is a word that no longer has any meaning thanks to Dourtney Stutchinden.

If the Bra Fits. . .

I lack knowledge in certain areas.

For instance, I’m 98 percent certain that I am not wearing the right bra size.

I think I was fitted for a bra at one point, but I lack any memory of it. It’s possible I had a  stroke during the experience because at 13, everything was mortifying.

Speaker7 would you like more brocolli?

Oh my god, mom!! You’re totally embarrassing me right now!!!!

I think I wore the right bra size the majority of my developed-breast life because I never thought much about it.

But now? Shit seems wrong.

I’ve never been a big woman. My bra size was near the beginning of the alphabet, and I had to rely on my wit and Cher impression to attract men.

My breasts went through a bit of change when I was creating that human in my womb three-plus years ago. One of them got comically bigger than the other during the whole mom-is-cow phase. The bigger one was like a factory farm. The other was like “pffftttt….what’s on TV?”

They both deflated down to what I thought was my normal size when my son began to use his few teeth and I decided the bottle was best.

But all my old bras feel like torture devices.

I tried the “genie bra” but stuck that back into the bottle.

I thought I had some kind of hernia. I would struggle up into a sitting position and feel like I had hooked my rib cage onto some barbed wire.

I told my doctor about this and he diagnosed me with a bum gall bladder.

Turned out he was right, but even sans gall bladder I still get this weird rib sensation that makes me feel like I consumed a McRib. It becomes allievated once I remove my over-the-shoulder-flabby-pebble holder.

I feel at 40, I should be able to get a handle on this situation. I mean, I barely comb my hair anymore when I go out in public…yet dealing with my breasts make me revert to my awkward braces-on-teeth 13-year-old self.

Maybe I need to remove another organ?

Speaker7 is wearing a bra while she writes a post every day as part of the Nano Poblano Team. The bra is pretty uncomfortable. 

Yahoo! Shit

Because I am a lady living a lady’s lifestyle with my lady brain, I read Yahoo! Shine religiously.*

For the uninitiated, Yahoo Shine is an especially shiny part of Yahoo that shines the light on the stuff that womenfolk care about like fat cells and man-trapping.

Before I began reading, I thought the key to trapping a man was stuffing him in the folds of my fat, but Yahoo! Shine pointed me in the right direction.

In the Yahoo! Shine world, life is like an episode of According to Jim combined with a Cathy comic strip. It’s that good.**

For instance did you know that there are seven questions every guy wishes you’d ask him? Seriously. Every fucking guy in the whole world, and that includes the Ayatollah Khomeini, Ryan Seacrest and Hitler’s corpse. So do the guys a favor, ladies, and ask them these questions today.

1. Question 1

The first one has to do with our weight because that is a complex that is ingrained in   every gal’s DNA. I distinctly remember at three months telling my mom to cool it on the formula because I was getting a serious case of thunder thighs.

Now gals instead of asking “Societal expectations of women’s bodies were created by a fucking crazy person so therefore I’m asking this question because this has been beaten into my head with a claw hammer, and that’s why I’m planking by the dinner table rather than eating so to make a long story short….do I look fat?” you should ask “Sweetie, what do I look best in?” This is obviously your guy’s decision because you need to concentrate on reducing your vaginal fat.

2. Oh my god fellas, don’t them ladies like to yammer after you’ve done stuck your Excalibur in them? Just talk talk talk talk talk…wouldn’t it be great if they would just act like the objects they are and shut the fuck up? So basically the question EVERY guy, including Papa Smurf, wants to hear is “Do you mind if we just lie here and not talk?”

3. Every guy loves sports. Every goddamn one. If your guy doesn’t than he must immediately turn in his guy card and become a woman or a shrub, it’s his pick because the third question every guy–and I mean every guy even Bashar al-Assad–wants to hear is “I have some tickets to some sporting event where guys bash into one another so hard they get concussions that later lead to lasting brain damage, do you want to go?”

4. Ladies, for god’s sakes, I hope you are not even thinking about expressing your interests because that is about as enticing as genital freezer burn. The menfolk and I mean every manfolk including the Dalai Lama wants you to ask “Oooh I’m into only your shit and because you’re a guy it’s either a movie with explosions or a movie with boobs or a movie with exploding boobs so do you want to see that Katy Perry documentary?”

7. I think we’re at question 7 because I am female after all and do not know math. So this one has all to do with the one with the vagina leaving with all the rugrats that came out of said vagina and the man free to do his man things in his man cave like measure his penis and discover fire. The question is something like “Hey can I pack up the kids and leave and you can reenact some Fatal Attraction fantasy only without the boiled rabbit?”

Knowledge!

*This is only true when I’m participating in NaBloWriMo and run out of things to write about after day 2.

**At this point, after writing for seven consecutive days in a row, I no longer know what words mean. “Good” means “shit sandwich”, right?

Even though she knows this is a turn-off, Speaker7 wants to know if she looks fat while writing this post. Speaker7 is writing daily during this month as part of the Nano Poblano team.

Speaker7’s Writing Process

Someone recently asked me:

Speaker7, how are you able to be so beautiful with that scorching case of herpes on your face?

No, I’m remembering that wrong. I believe someone asked how I went about writing during this scorching herpes infestation known as NaBloWriMo. This reader wondered if I planned ahead or drank until I made Nicholas Cage’s character in Leaving Las Vegas look like a baby chipmunk in comparison.

That is a great question and by no means a straw man I created in order to have something to write about today because jesus christ what else is there? I did just eat Reese Peanut Butter cups for dinner. . . is that something I should write indepth about?

So this is what happens:

I get home from work and realize I have exactly 60 minutes over the course of the next four hours to think of a post, write a post and schedule it

Sometimes I find it helpful just to start typing to get into the “flow.” The “flow” is that sweet spot where the whole world dissolves and the writer is completely caught up in the moment.

It usually doesn’t work for me so I take a break.

I go into a quiet place and think about the big issues affecting our world. I wonder what I have to say about these big issues.

Two minutes later, my son will come into the room and announce that a snail is after him and we have to hide in the dining room curtains for the next 20 minutes.

We will do this for the next hour. Then it’s back to the writing process.

I decide to engage in activities that will stimulate the creative juices. I remember that exercise is key to a healthy mind.

I remember reading how the 18th century poet Friedrich Schiller kept decaying fruit in his writing space because he believed it stimulated his creativity. I do not have fruit apart from a pouch of Halloween Fruit Snacks™ I unearth from my son’s trick-or-treat bag. I realize that grapes are fruit and that wine is made from grapes so I decide to crack a bottle. Now I’m gaining some perspective.

I am in the zone. Things are cooking!

Is it possible that I could get away with another post complaining about the difficulties of writing a post every day? That’s what I’ve been getting away with 99.95% of the time now. Yes, I think my readers will be pleased.

I know! I’ll do some more gifs!

In case you were unaware, Speaker7 is writing a post every day this month as part of Nano Poblano Team. This is her last post with gifs…maybe. Check back tomorrow.