I realized that, after all this time of blogging, I have been very secretive about many aspects of my life; some would even say I have been cold, removed, unapproachable.
This Product Review aims to shatter the barrier between I and thou.
Every morning for breakfast, I eat peanut butter spread evenly on a low carbohydrate tortilla.
Sometimes, depending on my mood, I substitute a flat bread half or "Pita Pocket" for the tortilla.
On days when I realize I bought "smooth" or "creamy" peanut butter instead of "crunchy", I feel bad and approach the rest of the workday with an unpleasant attitude.
Rarely, but it has happened, I have made the mistake of buying the truly natural kind of peanut butter that is quite runny and needs to have the oil gushed back into the blended peanuts.
The appearance of that particular kind of peanut butter calls to my mind many memories of seeing someone's diarrhea, and consequently I am unable to eat it.
The tortilla is low carbohydrate because I am always watching my figure.
This is the school snack cupboard.
After eating my low carbohydrate tortilla or Pit Pocket, I hang out here for awhile.
And sometimes feeling.
This is also where I display my prized collection of Ketchup or Catsup bottles.
This picture makes me so happy, but it also makes me feel guilty for being so materialistic.
There is a famous story of a saint who had to choose between his collection of beer steins and his devotion to God.
I guess I will have plenty of Ketchup for dipping fries in Hell.
At the Hell cafeteria.
Maybe no one else will have clung so desperately to Ketchup, and I will be able to profit from it in the patchwork barter-based economy of Hell.
Like I will say stuff like those fries look terribly dry and unsatisfying without Ketchup, and the person eating the fries will sigh, and ask me what it is going to cost them this time.
If they have bootleg movies on video tape to trade, I might take that, but maybe just a couple cigarettes because I am already dead so I can smoke again.
Though I will probably have to befriend the man who chose his prize collection of little paper condiment cups over God.
I guess we could team up, as long as he follows that motto von deferis of dealing, that is, "Don't Get High On Your Own Supply".
This one is probably my favorite:
It has a very clean line to it, and reminds me of a beautiful woman who is just standing around, like it captures the ordinarily glamorous woman in a moment of simple humanity, as if she was making poop or snoring in a study room at the library.
This one is good too:
This is the school coffee pot.
Without it, there would be no Gweenbrick, but there would be a lot more toilet paper in the staff bathroom.
These are my friends Scott and Jason.
They are standing in front of their lockers on the last day of school.
Scott is the Asian one.
They hope to meet girls this summer, and maybe go to the movies.
One time, Jason got trapped in the staff candy machine, and a staff person said, "Hey, get that nasty thing you found at the thrift store out of the Skittles. Why are you taking pictures of it, anyways?"
This is the games closet.
But that is not it's most interesting feature.
This is how we test the problem solving abilities of new staff.
We say, can you get George a puzzle from the games closet?
The new staff person leaves the room, and pretty soon we here the sound of frustrated tugging on the game closet door.
Sometimes we hear, "Its stuck or something" as well.
The smart ones figure out there is a hidden latch, pictured above, but sometimes it takes them awhile.
If they never find the latch, then we ask them to help George do his puzzle as well.
But we fail to inform them that George's puzzle is missing a piece, so after they happily encourage and hand-over-hand it with George to finish the puzzle, they see that one piece is missing.
Then they start looking all over for it, like under the tables and everything.
George stares at the ceiling, happily rubbing his thighs in a vigorous, forward and back motion.
The closet is also on wheels, and one time:
I pushed it out far enough that I could stand snugly between it and the wall.
I felt like the building was hugging me and I took a nap, standing up.
It was some of the best sleep of my life.
This is the fax machine.
By itself, I know already how amazing it is to look at, but it gets better.
You have to unplug the phone and plug in the fax to get faxes.
But the phone still rings like normal when there is an incoming fax, so people are always picking up the phone, saying "Hello?" and getting the horrible screeches of a fax in their ear.
Then someone else, someone whose fax got interrupted because the phone was picked up, goes around saying, "Did you pick up the phone? Don't pick up the phone, I am waiting for a fax."
Then they have to plug the phone back in to tell the faxer to refax, but to wait a minute to refax, because the fax machine has to be plugged back in.
Then the phone rings, and someone who was working on their blog instead of paying attention answers it automatically and yells "AAAAGH!" when they get a fax in their ear.
Someone in the other room yells dammit in a really exasperated way because they see the little paper come out that says, "Fax failed."
This is the Globe, the most powerful teaching tool we have in our possession.
You can tell it is a little old though, because
Myanmar is still Burma, and
Norway is in parentheses.
This is where I live:
You can also tell the Globe is old because Detroit is still written in a big font and has no "stink lines" drawn on it.
I am embarrassed because my finger looks so fat.
This is our front yard, where we pick up trash, like I depicted in that one post I did about picking up trash.
Sometimes some good coupons can be found in those bushes.
That red van is not any one I know.
They are just driving past.
This is the view from our back door.
That big green dumpster smells like poop and mortality in the summertime.
It has a little green door in it, and sometimes homeless people walk by and take stuff out of the door, like bags of gray bread.
Sometimes they just look in, but don't take anything.
Sometimes they even do double-takes, which is my favorite. That's when they open the door, look in, shut it, but suddenly re-open it again and pull something out.
Its like their brain said, "Meh, garbage" and then, "No wait! Bread!", after a minute had passed.
One time a guy drove up in a nice red convertible, opened the little green door, took out a bag of apples, and happily drove away.
It was neat.
This is where the real work gets done.
There are a lot of "oh shit" handles in here.
I made Scott and Jason come into the bathroom with me, because I was scared by myself.
This was right before Jason got trapped in the staff Skittles dispenser.
I am wearing the orange shirt I like to wear when I feel like people are not mistaking me for a man-sized pumpkin, or mumpkin, as frequently as I would prefer.
That bathroom mirror is the most flattering mirror I have ever come across in my 36 years of being vain.
Sometimes they have to send people to find me because I am in the bathroom pretending to be skinny.
My lips look really overlappy and tiny in this picture, and my hand looks enormous.
In reality, my lips are huge and my hand is tiny and uncomfortably overlapped, like my fingers keep wanting piggyback rides from their bigger brothers and sisters.
I also like this picture because it minimizes my hooters.
This is where Gweenbrick was born.
And this is the chair, where sits the ass, of the brain that boreth Gweenbrick.
Except, a student who had a lot of baby powder on her bottom sat here today, and I won't use this chair again until it has been thoroughly sanitized.
These are the beans from today's hot lunch.
I made an exceptional video of me jiggling these beans around.
I was going to set it to some Shabba Ranks music and loop it over and over again.
My favorite part on the video is when you hear a student ask me, "What are you doing?!?!" and I answer, very casually, "I'm just shaking the beans around."
Which might maybe make a good T-shirt slogan.
And finally, a picture of two idiots:
Thanks for being my friend, small, small corner of the Internet.