I did it all for the Nookie

(Originally posted April 23, 2006 on MySpace) 

(I was reading over some of my old blogs, deciding which ones to repost here from Myspace. This one made me laugh. )


So, Sally and I were talking tonight.  Okay, not real talking, IMing.  (Is that a verb?)  We were discussing how men bitch and moan about never getting laid enough, how THEY always want sex but their WOMAN nevvvver wants sex.  Well, all I can say is these men must be sexin’ up the wrong girls.  Every one of my female friends likes sex- and lots of it.  We like sex in the morning, sex at night, lunch-time quickies, sex on Tuesday, really any day ending in Y.  So, the big question really is who are these non-sex liking girls?  I mean, really.  What’s NOT to like?  I don’t know.  Unless you’re doing it with some moron who doesn’t know what to do, sex should be great.  Even IF you’re having sex with someone who seems clueless, sex can be good.  Clue them in!  There really are very few psychics in this world.  We were all virgins at one time. 


So, ladies, if your man is poking you the wrong way, twisting your nipple too hard, or not hard enough, not givin’ up some foreplay, eating at the Y for waaaaay too long (why do you guys do that? Duration does not equal quality.  FYI.), not smackin’ that ass while you’re doin’ it doggie style, then tell them what you want!  Fellas, if you’re sleeping with some dead mackerel of a girlfriend, fuck buddy, lover,  if she won’t squeeze the boys while she’s slobbin’ the knob,   if she won’t let you watch,  if missionary is the only position she’s heard of, if she has to have sex with the lights out,  then let her know what you want. If she’s not up for it, I am sure that you know some girls who are more than willing to get freaky.  And really, its not freaky until you bring in the midgets and Jell-O. 


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The Chicken and The Crow

My oldest, closest friend is Amy Jo. Well she is one of them.  I have known Debbie and Amy Jo since we were in 7th grade.  At this point, they are family, not friends. 

  In middle school, Debbie and I were inseparable.  In high school, college and after, it was Amy Jo and Kim, The Chicken and The Crow.  Those were our nicknames.    She used to do animal impressions; The Chicken was one of them.  I was The Crow because I was always bitching at her.  CAW CAW!

Amy Jo and I rode to school every day. We ate lunch together. We hung out together at night and on weekends.  We all hung out on weekends and went to the beach and stuff together. Amy and I went to the Bahamas together.  I’d sleep at her house, she’d sleep at mine.  More often she was at mine because her mom was always at the lake.  No one knows me as well as these two crazy girls!

Amy Jo and I were college roommates.  We had so much fun.  (those are stories for later blogs!)  When we graduated, she lived with me and THE HOBB for awhile. (THE HOBB is my gramma for new readers. )

As grown ups, we rarely see each other as much as we’d like, considering the constant hours we spent as girls and young adults. Tonight, I got to hang with AJ, uninterrupted!  We had a blast.  It was old lady fun I guess. Haha!  We just went to go eat, but it is so much fun to be around her because we always make each other laugh.  In college, we always went to California Dreaming ( we were at College of Charleston), so tonight we went to “our place”.   We got caught up on each other’s lives first.  We both have tons going on.  She has two precious boys.  I have one crabby gramma. I think I have it worse! Haha!  We both have our fair share of lunatic relatives, so we got caught up on them.  Then we gossipped about all the folks we know. 

We had a good meal, and good friendship.  I realized how much I miss getting to see her all the time.  We have vowed to try to get together at least every couple of months. E-mail and phone calls isn’t as good! 

Amy is so caring and bubbly. She always has nice things to say.  She can take a joke, and she can joke about herself.   That is a great trait to have in a best friend.  I couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime!

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(Oringially posted November, 2006.  I am reposting it because of a journal question I had for my students today about girls asking guys out. I was remined of this blog.)


 This is something I have had several conversations with different people of both genders over the past few weeks.  Dating is dead.  People just don’t seem to date anymore. 


The act of courtship and wooing has disappeared.  A lot of my friends, married and dating, are together only after having “hooked up” or slept together several times, and therefore become a couple by default. 


Dating is a lost art.  Picnics in the park.  Drive in movies.  The theater.  Basketball games.  Hockey games.  Walking in the park.  Coffee.  Drinks (no, not getting drunk in a bar). Dessert.  Cooking dinner for each other.  It seems now that dating comes AFTER sex and the hook up.  We do these things once we are already intimately involved with someone.  We aren’t dating in the same way I guess.  We are still dating, just in a backwards manner.


I have several theories on why dating is dead.  One is that the sexual freedom experienced by both sexes has altered our methods of courtship.  No longer does the man feel it is necessary to take a woman to dinner, or the movies.  Heaven forbid he come up with something more creative.  I am sure florists and jewelers have taken a hit, except for the guilt flowers and jewelry.  I can’t tell you the last time I went on a genuine date.  I think it was with The Canadian.  We went for ice cream.  I hate ice cream, but I got a smoothie.  That was about two years ago. 


Theory Two.  Women are financially and socially independent these days.  It’s not like it was in the 50s when we HAD to rely on men for dates because we didn’t have our own money, or it was improper for us to go into bars and clubs unaccompanied.  We have our own independence and money so we can go where we please and buy what we please, including flowers and jewelry.  Dinner and movies. 


Theory Three.  This is a theory I did not come up with on my own.  Men have become emasculated by women.  You read about this in the media all the time. Why should they become emasculated?  Because we have OPINIONS??  Because we have JOBS??  Malarkey.  This is just a cop out to get out of footing the bill for dinner. 


Men and women have found it too easy to go out, get drunk and go home with each other.  It is much easier than dating.  Dating is HARD.  hell relationships are hard, so you know getting to one is! Keeping up your end of the conversation.  What?  HARD!  Not spilling spaghetti sauce on your white blouse.  For me, that’s REALLY hard.  Worrying about who is going to pay.  Another dilemma that has been the topic of many conversations over my lifetime.  It is much easier to get drunk, go home with someone you would actually LIKE to date and get to know better, and then you can blame your behavior on the bottle.  Or the beer goggles.


I think it’s sad that dating has fallen by the wayside, except for high school kids.  Hell, even they use the hook up method of courtship.  I would love to be wooed and courted.  Have love letters written to me.  Now all we have is drunken texting, dialing and emailing.  Not much of a trade. 


Have women made it to easy for the men because of our own physical desires?  We like sex, too.  We also like having dinner bought for us, flowers sent to us, little notes to let us know you’re thinking about us.  We can’t help it.  Even the most feminist of us still are women and more sentimental and emotional by nature.  Would it really kill you to treat us to a meal once in a while?  I mean we read magazines to learn better techniques in oral sex, bedroom maneuvers; we spend oodles of money on cute panties and sexy bras.  Does our effort not warrant some sort of reward other than a couple of quick drunken thrusts and then the inevitable pass out and snoring?  I know we women aren’t perfect.  I love to buy my man gifts.  I have spent more money on boyfriends than I care to think about.  I do it because I want to though. I want them to feel special and loved.  Is it wrong that I want that, too? I think not! 


I would put a ban on myself against drunken hook ups, but it would fruitless.  As many of us already know, dating in Columbia is dead.  I might as well get some good kissing out of it.


I guess it all goes back to my desire to meet a man like George Bailey.  I fear I will die waiting.

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Kids in America

(originally published on Myspace April, 2006)


I have taught the 8th grade for six years now. I have taught in the same school for all six years. The school I teach in is in an urban area.  95% of my students are African-American, from low socio-economic homes.  They are so smart and funny, but they are unmotivated and lazy.  They are pressured to sell drugs, be in gangs, have sex at an early age and not take school seriously.  It is not “cool” to be smart and make good grades.  Granted, in the 8th grade, not many kids are thinking that college is just four years away.   These students come from some homes that have serious problems.  My students are in gangs, getting pregnant, lying, stealing and cheating. 


They epitomize every horrible thing you see and hear in the news and media about urban black teens. 


Unfortunately, that is only about 20% of my kids.  Granted, most of my kids will NOT go to college, but many will.  Only 50% of the students at Columbia High (which receives my rising 9th graders) graduate from high school.  But, not all of them will end up in jail.  Those that do, give the rest of them a bad rap.  Most of them WILL end up working hard in crappy jobs, living on government assistance and sending THEIR kids to the same schools they attended.


Over the past few years, many of my students have come back to St. Andrews to visit me.  One, Larry, is in the Navy, serving in Bahrain.  He is tall and handsome.  His manners are impeccable.  He has really grown into a great man. 


Another young man came to visit me while he was at the school getting a reference from the social studies teacher he had in 8th grade.  I had to stand on my tip-toes to hug him (which really isn’t all that unusual for me).


I said, “Patrick, what are you up to?”


“I came to get a reference from Mr. Waites.  I am going to USC”, Patrick replied.


“GREAT!  What are you getting a reference for?” I asked.


“Miss Finney.  I am going to be a teacher, because of you. 

Don’t you know?” he said.


That was so sweet!  I had actually influenced him to do something with his whole LIFE.  What an amazing compliment from him.


Another student, Mike Davis, was a star football player in high school.  Now he is playing college ball for USC. 


Shanna and Terrell have been in the newspaper a bunch of times for academics and sports.  They are both going on to college. 


Another student moved to Orangeburg. She is a sophomore taking several senior level classes. 


Two of my former girls just won Miss Congeniality and Miss Junior in the Columbia High Pageant.


Many of my students have entered the military.  This makes me both sad and proud.  They are protecting our country, but they are living in dangerous places and may not come home. 


I am tired of all of the negative press kids get.  Quit giving them so much attention!  Put them on TV when they do great things.  Go find the good stories.  There are just as many as those out there.  My student go to church.  They go to nursing homes and sing.  They work and go to school. They do volunteer work, and not as a condition of parole.  They help their parents with the bills and the younger kids.  They are on the honor roll. They have goals.  They have dreams.  Maybe if we focused on all the great things kids do, more kids would want to do the great things.


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Goin’ To the Chapel


This is one of my favorite stories.


When we were all 23, my childhood friend Debbie got married rather quickly.  No she wasn’t knocked up.  She was marrying a Navy man.  He was being shipped to Hawaii, and they just couldn’t be apart!  They were in love, proposals ensued, and a spur of the moment wedding was underway.


The chapel at Pawley’s Island on the waterway was reserved.  A nice sit down rehearsal dinner and reception was organized.  Another childhood friend, Amy Jo, and I were requested to be bridesmaids. 


The day of the rehearsal we go to Myrtle Beach.  After the rehearsal and much drinking, we go buy our brides’ maid’s dresses.  This is truly one of few brides’ maid’s dresses I have been able to wear repeatedly afterwards.  We got them at J. Crew, I think.  With that out of the way, we got on to the BACHELORETTE party!!  We went back to Deb’s apartment and starting getting ready to go out, doing tequila shots and drinking liquor drinks.  Needless to say, we were getting drunnnk.    We went to some cheesy dance club.  One of our girls passed out in the bathroom as soon as we got there.  We worked to get her awake and out in the car to sleep it off.  Not an easy task for five drunken college girls. 


The wedding was at noon the next day in August in a chapel with no air conditioning.  We stayed out until about 5, and then stayed awake drinking at the apartment until 7 a.m.  (Oh, don’t you judge us!  You know you did that in college! Some of you still do!!) .  We slept until about 9:30.  We begrudgingly got up and started to slowly get ready, showering etc.  Debbie, Amy and I went to another friend’s house to get ready. When we got here, still drunk really, we laid around the house for a while. 


We finally got our acts together and arrived at the chapel about thirty minutes late.  This was before we all had cell phones, so no one knew where we were or if we were even coming.  Debbie’s dad was really pissed off.  We were still tipsy, so we didn’t care.  Debbie, being her usual belligerent self said, “Fuck y’all!  It’s my wedding; I can be late if I want to!”


The wedding started.  There was a cheesy CD player playing the music for the wedding (someone else’s idea, not Debbie’s).  It was unbearably hot! August in South Carolina, at the beach no less, is not a cool, comfortable place to be.  Did I mention that I was wearing high heels, panty hose and a long sleeve dress?  Did I also mention that my hair, at this point was waste length.  If you know me, I have think, curly hair.  Long, thick, curly hair in conjunction with that clothing ensemble results in sweat rivulets down various parts of my body, such as my back, the backs of my legs, my cleavage, my face, my arms pits…


So, the wedding is progressing.  We are all getting a little emotional because Debbie is the first one of our trio to get married.  We’re sad and happy at the same time because she is moving away too.  To help us get a little relief from the heat, we had the sliding glass doors of the chapel open. As I was walking down the aisle, I had dropped my tissue.  I was also at one point given Debbie’s bouquet, so my hands are full.


I got more and more emotional and got a little sniffly.  It didn’t help that we were all a little buzzy still. At one point, while I was sorta crying, a crane flew out of the marsh with a very, very loud RAHWWH  RWAHHW. 


THAT WAS THE LAST STRAW.  That struck my funny bone.  I let out a snort because it tickled me that as Debbie was saying her “I do’s”, this large bird was flying and making  a huge ruckus.  Unfortunately, as I let out this snort my nose was full of snot.  I blew and enormous snot bubble!  The only people to see this bubble were Debbie, Amy and me.  We all got struck so funny, we couldn’t really pay any more attention to the actual vows and ceremony going on around us.  We were all shaking violently.  I am now trying to sniff the snot back up my nose as it is making a slow descent to my lips.  (Keep in mind that my tissues are gone and my hands are full of flowers, so I can’t even do a quick nose rub)  SNIIFFFF. GIGGLE! GIGGLE! SNIFF! SNIFFF! I started tilting my head back hoping that would slow things down.   No luck. Finally, the wedding was over.  I am a sweating, snotty face, sniffling mess who is trying NOT to completely roll on the floor with laughter at the complete absurdity of how all this had turned out. 


To add insult to injury, at the reception, one of the other girl’s in the wedding party pulled my ribbon on the bride’s maid’s cake. The ribbon was attached to a lovely silver charm, each with a special meaning.  I got stuck with the last charm.  A thimble.  The thimblesspecial represention: OLD MAID. 

 To this day Debbie blames me for her divorce, and I blame her for my spinsterhood.

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I am moving all of my blogs to this location.  I am going to be moving older blogs that I have posted on Myspace, so some of you may have already read them.  Please check out my blogs when you get a chance!



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About a Booknurd

I am a Montessori middle school English teacher. I write because I have too much stuff in my head, and it is really safest for all man kind if I let a little spill out on occasion.  I am opinionated, loud and bossy.  I am an insatiable reader.  I love to share some of my favorite books with others, so let me know if you need some recommendations!

I have an amazing husband who puts up with my loud rants and raves.  He is calm and quiet in public and insane and hilarious in private.  We have three cats and two dogs, only one of which I like.

I love to go to movies.

I am very dedicated to education and to improving the lives of my students and those around me.

I am a proud voter.

I love sushi and cheese (but not together).

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