That’s what my dad used to say when he’d had enough of someone’s yammering on about something. And that’s what I say this morning.

Seems some people are braying like donkeys about Jasper Schuringa (the guy who saved a bunch of collective hind-ends on that Northwest flight from Amsterdam to Detroit on Christmas Day) wanting compensation for his interviews on the news networks.

Oh, get off it.

Pot-and-kettle-ism. Do the networks not cash in on freely-gotten news, and do the anchors not get paid handsomely for reading it off a Teleprompter? Why should Schuringa not get his for talking about the time he saved 300+ people from meeting their maker (a service for which, by the way, he does not seem to be charging the other passengers)? FOX, CNN, the Big 3…just shut up and pay up. He deserves it, fuh cripesake.

What they really should focus on is the fact that Abdulmutallab ever got on a plane in the first place with a bomb in his skivvies.

==============

Then some idiot stick tells Demi Moore she looks old. HAA. What I wouldn’t give to look that old, right? Although I will go to the mat against her denials of ever having plastic surgery. I mean, I remember watching her every day on General Hospital back in the early 80s, and she didn’t look as good at 23 as she does now at 47. Oh, get off it. Who cares, and why hide it? Sure, it’s nobody’s business, but not everyone is a dumb sheep. It’s nothing to be ashamed or secretive of, if for no other reason than people will be able to tell you’ve had something done. If/when the time comes, blepharoplasty is definitely in my future, and I won’t bat my baby grays at people who obviously know I’ve had a procedure as if I have no earthly clue what they could possibly be thinking.

My mother always said, “Ladies don’t tell their age.” I can agree with that to an extent; I don’t shout it from the mountaintops. But there is an explicit strangeness — a quiet taboo on that subject — in the education world. *gasp* Don’t tell your kids how old you are!!! Whatev. My students know I have a 29-year-old son and two grandchildren. Why should my age be such a mystery? I am who and what I am. I think I have my students’ respect; I don’t think I’ll lose it if they know I’m 50.

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I have no choreography done. But at least I get to spend some time with Jake & Justin this morning. A good day for sure.

Happy Tuesday, fiends.

And no, contrary to what some might think, I’m not talking about Bye Bye Birdie, which, in fact, is going to be a fine show. (Way to start my day: pizzed off.)

Rather, I’m talking about professional sports in Cleveland. This article is disturbing. Yet another house-cleaning seems imminent for the Browns. I’m no doom-and-gloom Bratty McSourpuss (like SOME PEOPLE), but it seems that we’re on a collision course with another dismal waste of draft picks. How many do we get this time, eleven? Wonder how many will leave fans scratching and shaking their heads.

And so what if the Cavs are clinging to first place? Delonte West is doing his best to divert attention to his felonious behavior. A pro athlete in trouble with the law again. Who knew? Seriously, who needs to carry a gun and a 9-inch Bowie knife in his car? From which planet do these people come?

[this section of rant deleted in the interest of the common good] I’m fixin’ to cuss: Geezly Crow!

And so, what was going to be an excited, forward-looking post to opening night tonight has degenerated into so much acrimonious spew. Nice.

I think I need to retire. Or at least go get more coffee.

Fink, straightening skirt and hair

Why?

1. Why do people turn nouns into verbs? On Facebook this morning, I noticed someone was “homeworking,” which didn’t bother me, by the way. But it brought to mind a misdirected noun from my graduate work that does. It is the one word that the Rat Fink simply cannot bear to hear. PK knows. I can barely type it. OK, I will, just this once. Musicking — as in the act of making music. I plan to shoot the man who made it up. Music. Is. Not. A. Verb. I know there are those who don’t care about this, but…yeah. You know the drill.
2. Why does talking about critical pedagogy bother me? I really, really get itchy about it. It’s the poster child for the selfish, crybaby, “gimme what she has” generation of public education. *scratching head really fast* I dunno. I just hate it. Moving on.
3. Why does a person write a bomb threat note and leave it in the men’s room at school? (Especially when kids have to sign out to go to the rest room, and there are cameras in the hallways?) Hmmm. Anyway, it was a terrible way for everyone to spend most of their day: evacuated and locked up in the middle school gym.
4. Why does time fly when you’re having fun, and drag when you’re not?
5. Why are my keys always in the other pocket?
6. Why do people insist on self-destructive behaviors? (I myself am guilty of this at times.)
7. Why are some people unkind? I’ll never get it.

Answer me these questions…um, seven.

FO

I mean, really. What’s the big idea, waking up at 3:45 a.m. on the nose for the third straight day? What am I, George Lutz? Honestly. Too much going on this week to go to bed at 11:30 and be insomniatic at a quarter to four.

I suppose it could be that I’m on the fifth day of my gluten-free/sugar-free/dairy-free lifestyle and I’m still getting adjusted; I miss cheese and milk and cereal and bread and Milky Ways. I like how I feel, don’t get me A) wrong, or B) started on the problems that processed sugar and wheat cause for millions of people and they don’t even know it. [Do a search on gluten intolerance to see what I mean.] I guess, as the Thriller has said to me on occasion in the past: I “just wanna be mad.”

Speaking of mad…Mad Men last night was one of those “connecting” episodes. They’re setting up something big. I wish it were a 2-hour show.

Anyway, j’ever have one of those days, when you just wanted to be mad? Actually, I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t, so you’d be the first.

But I won’t dwell on it. There’s too much to do, and besides, there are plenty of other places to read incessant whining. That’s why God made political blog comment sections, and the forums at ClevelandBrowns.com. So cool it, Finkly.

*cricket*

*cricket*

*cricket*

OK I’m STILL MAD. But look on the bright side of life: school starts tomorrow. Yay! I’ma go drown my sorrows with a cherry-vanilla smoothie.

IrkedFink

PS – I guess my discontent could also be because….nah.

Image credit: Warner Bros.