The Time I Almost Got Regis Philbin Hit By A Cab

Hey y'all! In order to distract myself from The Writer's Voice Contest I've decided to tell you about the time I nearly got Regis Philbin killed.

It wasn't on purpose, and it might not have been entirely my fault... well... how about I tell you the story and let you decide for yourself?

This happened waaaay back a billion years ago in 2001. I was a freshman at Pace University in New York City and best buds with my next door neighbor in the dorm. Now, I just tell everybody we were actual roommates because I really spent more time over there with her than in my own room*.

So, anyway. My next door neighbor had a huge crush on Hugh Jackman. I was head-over-heels for Heath Ledger (we both liked our Aussies!) And it turned out that Hugh Jackman was in town doing a press tour for his new movie with Ashley Judd Someone Like You. OF COURSE we had to go see him!

We even SKIPPED CLASS to do it. I know. I'd never, ever skipped a class ever. I didn't know college was different and you could show up whenever. It was a big deal. I'm a nerd. Whatevs.

My pal woke me up as she did every morning, by blasting her radio through the wall right next to my head and throwing a rubber ball just like Toby Zeigler on "The West Wing".

We did our hair and make-up and got all pretty because we just KNEW that Hugh Jackman would see us and fall madly in love with my friend. And, because Hugh Jackman is from Australia and so was Heath Ledger and since they were both actors they were automatically best friends so Hugh would introduce me to Heath who would then fall madly in love with me and they would be each other's best men at our weddings and we would all live happily ever after drinking champagne in our yachts and snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef.

By the time the subway ride was over and we made it uptown to the Live! With Regis and Kelly studio we had it all worked out. IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

There was only us and a couple of other stalkers fans waiting so it was super easy to get stand-by tickets. While we were waiting outside to be called and my friend and I were thinking of what we were going to name our beautiful Australian children, I glanced across the street and saw Regis Philbin at the corner carrying a briefcase.

I poked my friend and said, "Hey! Look! It's Regis!"

Now, you have to remember, this was back in the hey day when Regis was all famous from doing his show with Kelly Ripa and also "Who Wants to be a Millionaire", you know, when it was still cool and Meredith Viera hadn't made it lame yet (I saw her too, later that same day over at The View, but that's Part 2 of this adventure)

For those of you around then, remember how fun it was to yell at your friends "HEY REEG!!" every time you saw them? Yeah. There I was watching the ACTUAL Regis Philbin in the FLESH come TOWARDS ME. So, of course 19 year-old Sarey thought it would be absolutely HYSTERICAL to scream that very thing at him.

He was way across the street.

He wouldn't see me.

There were other people around.

Even if he knew what direction I yelled from, he wouldn't know it was actually me.

So I turned to my friend and said, "Should I yell HEY REEG at him?"

She cracked up and said, "I dare you!"

It was a DARE. What was I supposed to do?

I sucked in a deep breath and yelled out "HEEEEY REEEEEG!!!"

Right when he was smack in the middle of the crosswalk.

And he stopped and looked around.

Right. In the middle. Of the street.

He stayed there, trying to figure out who yelled at him. My friend and I ducked for cover, but there was nowhere to go, so we just sort of held on to each other as the light changed.

And REGIS WAS STILL IN THE CROSSWALK.

A monstrous Yellow Cab revved up its engine and started to go.

I swear y'all, time stopped. It came SOCLOSE to running right over the poor man. I thought for sure he was a total gonner.

But just in time he got out of the way and ran to the curb.

When he got to our side of the street he looked at me and said, "Was that you? You coulda got me killed!"

I seriously thought about throwing myself right out in front of traffic right then and there. I was mortified. I couldn't even say anything. I watched him fix his coat and stroll right into the studio without a second glance.

I turned to my friend and we stared at each other for at least thirty seconds before I said, "I almost got Regis Philbin killed."

She nodded slowly.

"That was SO COOL!" she said.

And we erupted into a bouncing mess of girly squeals.

"Pfft," I said. "Everybody said I wouldn't actually meet anybody famous in New York. As if!"

And that was the time I almost got Regis Philbin killed by a cab.

*Takes bow*

Stay tuned for more of my adventures and tales with famous people. I know y'all want to hear about what it was like to touch Hugh Jackman (not like THAT. Get your minds out of the gutter people! WhatEVER, I shook his hand.) I can't make any promises as to when I'll post, but now that I know more people are following this than my cousin (Hi Holley!) I'll be more likely to try and keep you entertained. Feel free to throw rotten tomatoes my way if you haven't heard from me in awhile!

xoxo,
Sarey

*Side Note: My ACTUAL roommate was a sex crazed maniac and it always smelled gross in there. She even kept a giant cucumber in the mini-fridge. I didn't ask questions, but I really hope she used a condom. Bless her.

The Writer's Voice Contest

I've always been a serious believer in the power of words. Obviously. I'm a writer.

*sips tea and settles in to rocking chair*

But, for serious y'all, words are powerful, and saying things out loud tends to make them happen. I keep telling my husband this because he has a way of speaking things into reality like no one I've ever seen before. It's a sight to behold.

Not long ago, I was discussing an idea with my friends while I was watching The Voice, saying how cool it would be if there was something like the show but for writers instead of singers...

LO AND BEHOLD!!!!

The lovely people over at Cupid's Literary Connection, Brenda Drake Writes, Love YA, and Mother. Write. (Repeat.) are doing EXACTLY THAT THING!

See? Words = Power.

Not only that, but I totally snagged a spot and I'm ENTERED as #44. I can't wait to show off the query and first 250 words of my 65, 000 word Urban Fantasy THE SHIFTING DARKNESS. So here it is...

QUERY

Twenty-four year old Sidney Lake doesn’t know if aliens or the Men in Black exist, but she does know the supernatural world is alive and kicking right under the noses of busy New Yorkers. For Sidney, hunting down the monsters with her partner Graham Williams is as commonplace as buying a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper from the cart on the corner. 

When a strange corpse is found on an abandoned subway platform and a board member conjures a demon he can’t control, it’s Sidney’s job to keep those caffeinated New Yorkers focused on their morning crossword puzzle instead of what’s going on around them.

While investigating the origins of the John Doe from the subway platform, Sidney gets attacked by two creatures that are supposed to have been extinct for centuries. Before she can manage to put a bullet through its head, one of the creatures sinks its teeth into her shoulder. Sidney wins the fight, but now her own humanity is called into question.

She turns to her boss, mentor, and sometimes lover, Mitch Harris for help and comfort. Mitch doesn’t have all the answers, but he knows someone who might. Mr. Dimitrius has information about what and who Sidney is, but it’s vastly different from anything she could have imagined. 

FIRST 250 WORDS:

She smelled it before she saw it. Like always, the stink of the crime scene crept ahead of the gory view itself and Sidney Lake knew this one was bad. The meaty smell of torn flesh, the copper scent of blood mixed with the tinge of electricity buzzing from the third rail of the subway tracks below, the stink of an opened bowel swirled with the filth of scavenging rats. It all made Sidney very glad she hadn’t had time for breakfast when she’d gotten the call.

“Sorry about the late hour, Sidney,” Dr. Tom Fellows said. The New York City Medical Examiner lifted the yellow tape marking off the crime scene and Sidney ducked under.

“It’s not late anymore. It’s early,” Sidney said, and gave him a half smile to let him know she didn’t mind.

Tom would have made a good linebacker thirty years ago, if he’d been taller. Instead, he’d chosen the lab over sports. Now his shoulders had a curve to them that never seemed to go away. A result of decades of being hunched over a table dissecting human cadavers for a living.

She never saw Tom so happy as when he’d discovered something incredible in the lab, Something no one else had seen before, which happened often in their line of work. 

“Been down here too long.” The medical examiner removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Despite his tiredness, he was buzzing with that energy he got when there was something big going on. 

“What have you got?” Sidney asked. 

Lucky Seven Meme

I got tagged in this cool beans post by the loverly Mindee Arnett!

I know it's been more than the week I promised since I posted last (more like a month really *cringes*) but I just moved into a new house so I've got a lot of Toddlers & Tiaras to watch boxes to unpack. I'm baking a baby. And on top of all that, my dog is hobbling around with a sprained shoulder. All that is, like, super exhausting, okay? So please forgive me.

Anywho, this was a fun post, and I need a nap   it was fast and easy, so I had to put it up. Plus, how can I say no to someone as super awesome and adorable and sweet and kind as Mindee?

Here are the rules for the Lucky Seven Meme:

*Go to page 77 of your current MS/WIP

*Go to line 7

*Copy down the next 7 lines (sentences or paragraphs) and post them exactly as they're written. No cheating.

*Tag 7 authors

*Let them know

Here you have it! Drum roll please.... the 7 lines from page 77 of THE SHIFTING DARKNESS:

*****

     “Ow.” Mitch shook his hand out of Sidney's vice grip. Four red crescent marks appeared on the back of his hand where her short fingernails dug into his skin. He whispered through his teeth, “What’s wrong with you?”

     “Sorry,” she mouthed the word back at him. There was nothing more she could do, they’d caught up to Dimitrius in his office.

     “Ms. Lake, I understand you had quite a harrowing experience.” Dimitrius glanced at the bandage on her neck. “I am grateful you have come to speak with me about it, despite this being a fresh trauma. Please, do sit down.”

*****

All right! TAG You're it...

Jana Stocks Brown

Kerry Schafer

Leigh Evans

Krista Walsh

Roni Loren

Farrah Penn

Nikki Loftin

I know you fabulous ladies are super duper busy and have lives and are writing IMPORTANT THINGS, so please don't feel obligated to participate! Just know that the gnomes are watching you... and waiting. That is all.

Famous People and Grizzly Bears

I've been trying and trying to come up with an idea for the next post on my blog, which is why it's been awhile since I posted.

Sorry about that. *pours tea*

I'd like to post once a week, but really, the ideas come few and far between and I've gotta be at least a little entertaining because otherwise y'all won't come back. I really want you to come back! *snuggles up on porch swing*

So, I finally came up with my NEXT IDEA when I was over on Twitter chatting with Jessica Negron (follow her, she's awesomesauce) about TWISTER and our mutual admiration for the genius of Phillip Seymour Hoffman. I told her Twister is the first time I ever saw PSH and you remember the great ones like that because they tend to make a big impression.

**Side Note: The first time I ever laid eyes on Samuel L. Jackson was in JURASSIC PARK and I fell in love with him for ALL TIME when he said...

Who didn't think that was freakin' BADASS, right?! :End Side Note**

Back to the thing about Philip Seymour Hoffman. Y'all hang with me, I SWEAR there's a point to this. In my last post I mentioned that Mr. Yummy Eyes himself, Jake Gyllenhaal looked right at me and said, "Hi" at which point I may or may not have melted into a puddle at his feet and dripped into the sewer outside the Tennessee Theatre. 

No. 

There was melting involved. 

Fo shiz.

Because, how can you NOT melt when Jake Gyllenhaal is six inches away from your face with THOSE EYES and saying words to you? 

Honestly, I don't know how Laura Dern survived doing OCTOBER SKY with him. And Laura Dern was in Jurassic Park which means I'm only two degrees from HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS!

Oh. Right. Philip Seymour Hoffman. And my point.... there IS one, I swear.

I told Jessica that I was lucky enough to get to see PSH LIVE way back when he did Chekhov's The Seagull in Central Park for NYC's Shakespeare in the Park series. (Though, why they didn't call it Chekhov in the Park, I'll never know. There was no Shakespeare involved. Whatever.) 

I mentioned that after the play when my boyfriend (he was mah boyfriend back then, but now he's my hubbers: see previous post) and I were walking back to the subway, we ran into John Goodman. Also fabulous. And when I say ran into, I mean like, literally. He's so ginormous (in a Grizzly Bear kind of way) how can you NOT smack right into him? He's like the Empire State Building with legs!

So I mustered up all of the guts I had when I was 19, which really wasn't much at all, but apparently it was enough to say, 

"I really liked the play, Mr. Goodman!" In my tiny squeaky nervous 19 year old Sarey voice.

Mr. Goodman replied in his Grizzly Bear voice, "Well, thanks! This is my exit, see you around!" 

Then he gave me a whack on the back with his GIANT (and when I say GIANT, I mean the man's hand covered my ENTIRE back, shoulder to shoulder. ALL.THE.WAY.) He made my knees buckle and I nearly kissed pavement, but I held my own and managed not to die. Or fall over. Because I would have been mortified, and who wants to be mortified in front of John Goodman and a bunch of strangers? Not 19 year old Sarey that's for sure.

Now I know what it's like to be pawed by an actual Grizzly Bear. 

RAWR.

Jessica told me that she's never met any famous people. It got me thinking. I've actually stalked encountered quite a few famous people. Not just stalked SEEN them from a distance. But I've shaken hands with them, or been Grizzly pawed by them, or actually looked into their eyes and carried on a conversation.

So, I'll tell you what. If you stick around, I'll have another story and some more tea for you next week. And the week after. And after that too. And so on, until I've exhausted all of my famous people encounters. What do you think about that?

Do we have a deal?

Rock on! See you next week....

*High five*

Finding The One

When I was laying awake this morning at 3:30 staring at the little green light on the smoke detector, I started thinking about how much trying to find a literary agent is like dating.

Just so you know, I'm not the world's foremost expert on dating. I got my first boyfriend when I was fifteen and it went a little something like this:

~FLASHBACK TO 1997~

Me: So, did you know everybody thinks we're going out?

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah, we hang out all the time. I guess they think we're going out.

Him: We do hang out a lot.

Me: Yeah. You're cool.

Him: You're cool too.

Me: So, you wanna go out?

Him: Sure.

Me: Cool. 

(Awkward silence)

Me: So we're going out then?

Him: Yeah. I guess.

Me: Want to go see Titanic or something?

Him: I've seen it three times already. Let's go Friday!

~RETURN TO PRESENT DAY~

We went to Titanic. We held hands. I cried when Rose pried Jack's cold dead hand from hers and watched him sink into the icy depths of the Northern Atlantic. (By the way, why did he SINK if he was frozen? I thought ice floated...whatever) I turned to my "boyfriend" and saw him doing the Ugly Cry. Bless him.

We went to a private Christian school. The only thing I knew at age fifteen was that Gay was my mom's name. (She's a twin. Fay and Gay. It was 1941 when my Grandmother named them and it meant something different back then)

We didn't "go out" for long. We didn't even kiss. But we're still friends to this day. I like him but not LIKE THAT.

At age sixteen, I met a cute guy when I was an extra on the set of October Sky. Not Jake Gyllenhaal. Though, he DID say hi to me once, and OH THOSE EYES! You have NO idea. Anyway, he threw me up against the wall and gave me the most AMAZING First Kiss in the history of First Kisses. 

The cute guy, not Jake Gyllenhaal. 

After a kiss like that, I forgot all about Jake's eyes and it was all over. We dated for seven years before I married him. I've successfully navigated my 29 years without ACTUALLY having to date anyone. 

But, I've seen EVERY Nora Ephron, Rob Reiner, and Penny Marshall film that exists. I consider myself at least somewhat educated on the subject of dating and romance. 

THAT BEING SAID....

For anyone who's written a book, you know it's the most special thing in the world and you want to find someone to sell it who will ALSO think it's the most special thing in the world. You're excited. You're putting yourself OUT there. The book is an extension of your soul and therefore you are putting your own self out there and facing the rejection that will inevitably come. See? Just like dating. 

There are different ways to find THE ONE. This one person who will love you (or your book) as much as you (should) love yourself (and your book). 

THE BLIND DATE

You've done all the research, you've got recommendations from your friends who have been out there in the world of dating (agent searching) and you know you're ready to look. You're ready to put yourself OUT THERE and let everyone know you're available. So you search the web and find a person who seems to like the same sort of things you have to offer. You both like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. You get in touch with him or her and send out your query. You think it goes really well, but you wait for a second call, an email, a text. ANYTHING. 

...But you never hear back.

In the world of agents, sometimes no response means NO. It's the worst kind of rejection because you're always left wondering. What did I do WRONG!? Why don't you LOVE ME!? Did I eat the cheesecake too fast? You said you didn't want any! Are you mad that I didn't give you a bite? What do you WANT FROM ME! And you sit on your bed and cry big salty tears into your Ben & Jerry's, but it's okay because it just makes the caramel swirl taste better.

Then you get over it and you're ready to try again.

So you go on another date. This time, you like each other. You get along well. He or she sends you a text afterward saying, "Had a great time. Let's do this again. How about sushi next Saturday?"

And you LOVE SUSHI so you say, "Sure, sounds great! See you at 8!"

This is what I like to call...

A PARTIAL REQUEST

YAY! Your query was interesting enough to get an agent wanting more! Usually the agents will request you add in a few pages to the body of an email (NEVER ATTACH ANYTHING UNLESS THEY ASK! BE WARNED! THEY WILL DELETE IT!) just in case your ability to condense 70k words into four paragraphs isn't quite up to par (it's friggin hard, isn't it!? GAW!) You impressed your date with your charming laugh and low cut dress. 

Saturday arrives and you go out on that second date. You meet for sushi. You send out those first five chapters. But it turns out your FAVORITE kind of sushi is the Dancing Eel Roll with EXTRA BBQ Eel sauce and seaweed salad on the side. Only, your date is more of a California roll kind of chick. It's not really what either one of you expected. You part ways, amiably, at the end of the night, but the magic just wasn't there. It's disappointing, but not discouraging enough to hit up the Ben & Jerry's again.

When you get home and kick off your shoes, you're feeling downtrodden. You sit down to check your email. Lo and Behold. There's a cheerful little chime and it's announced: YOU'VE GOT MAIL! (I told you, Norah Ephron)

Guess what!? You've got ANOTHER DATE. And THIS agent wants to read your ENTIRE MANUSCRIPT!!! YES!!!

You've received what the literary world refers to as...

A REQUEST FOR A FULL

After you do a few (or twelve) cartwheels around your living room and scare the shit out of your dog with the volume of your screaming, you run to the bathroom to shave your legs and brush your teeth. At the same time. Exactly like Michelle Pfeiffer did in One Fine Day when she wanted to make out with George Clooney. 

Your date is COMING OVER. He or she wants to see EVERYTHING you have to offer. So you dash around like a squirrel on crack, trying to make everything perfect. You shove the dirty laundry under the bed. Clear out last night's take-out containers. Light some candles for MOOD.

And you click SEND.

Then you wait.

...and wait...

...and... 

wait....

You click *refresh* a hundred million times. You don't DARE leave in case you miss the reply. You're ready. You want this. You want this SO BAAAAD!

Then you look at the clock and realize only five minutes has passed. 

Is that ALL? SERIOUSLY? 

Did he get stuck on the subway? 

Is he flying in from Albuquerque and the plane was delayed? 

You check Twitter. 

He's watching Downton Abbey? What? He's supposed to be on the way to your apartment. The candles are burning! Literally! Why is he watching Downton Abbey when he's SUPPOSED to be reading your MANUSCRIPT!

So your head explodes.

It takes you hours to clean up the mess. Then you hit up the Ben & Jerry's and throw in Titanic and weep some more. "I'll never let go, Jack! I'LL NEVER LET GO!" 

And there's a knock on your door.

It's your date.

It's 2 am and you're in your bathrobe and your mascara is running and there's Whirled Peas smeared across your face but HE'S THERE! FINALLY!

So you invite him in.

Only he says, "You know. This isn't going to work. I like you. A LOT. You're a great person. Very talented. You have merit. But you just don't fit my list. It's not you. It's me. Really."

Oh.

Well, okay.

At least he was nice about it. 

And he DID say you have merit. You have a good book. It just wasn't for him. That's good right? He LIKED it. Maybe there's someone out there who will LOVE IT!

So you send out some more queries. You wrote this book. You put time and energy and sweat and BLOOD into it for Pete's sake. How can you stop after someone said it has MERIT?

Then your friend calls you up and asks if you want to go speed dating with her. You think. Sure. Why not? Couldn't hurt.

THE PITCH SLAM

You know you're ready for this. You're a REAL writer. Your book is finished. It's all polished and shiny and REAL agent says it has MERIT. So you decide to hit up a Writer's Conference. A really good one in New York City! There's going to be 60 REAL LIVE AGENTS there for you to pitch your book to. You've practiced your pitch. You've honed it down to 48 SECONDS. You are SO READY!

The Pitch Slam is mass chaos. The line is HUGE. The agents are ready and the doors open. For three whole hours you get to hit up as many agents as you can manage. For three whole minutes you get to sit down in front of an agent and receive his or her UNDIVIDED ATTENTION!

 You want them to love your book as much as you do, because after all, it has MERIT.

You're as ready as you can be and the line creeeeeeeeeeps forward. Before you know it, the bell dings and it's YOUR TURN.

What if you open your mouth and no sound comes out? What if it's like that dream where you're naked in the cafeteria and everybody's laughing and you scream at them to STOP! only the louder you scream the less sound you make? What if you THROW UP ON THE AGENT!

But none of that happens. You're prepared. You glance down at your notes once or twice, but you maintain eye contact and your face only twitches a teensy bit. Your knees are knocking under the table, but it's okay, because you're PITCHING TO A REAL AGENT.

Then he interrupts you and asks a question. You answer it, and what comes out of your mouth is even more awesome than anything you could have prepared beforehand. This is YOUR book. You KNOW these characters better than ANYONE. You LOVE this book and you've been waiting SO LONG to talk out loud about it to anyone who will listen. This is your CHANCE!

You have no idea what you said by the end of it, but it was GOOD because he's slipping you a card across the table and saying, "I'd like to see more." But you don't actually hear the words because the blood is rushing through your ears (is this what a stroke feels like?), but he said YES!

YOU DID IT! You got through your FIRST PITCH. You didn't die! You didn't fall into the abyss! And he said MORE!!!!

You stand in line again and again and again and again, and more agents give you more cards and say MORE!

By the time the three hours is up, you're a total PRO. You could waltz right up to the President of the United States and pitch him your book. No problem!

LIFE IS GOOD!!!

So you send out the requested pages....

and wait....

...and wait.... 

and wait...

....and.... wait... 

and *refresh*

*refresh*

*REFRESH*

... and watch more Titanic...

"I'll never let go!"

... then... when you're wading through the sea of empty Ben & Jerry's containers on your bedroom floor and you've gained 10 pounds... and you can quote every single word of every single Norah Ephron movie... and you've watched so much HGTV that you're pretty sure you should change careers and be an interior designer AND a real estate agent....

You click *refresh* 

one

more

time

...and it's there....

A little blue box with a white bow.

You open it up and there's a diamond the size of the Rockefeller Skating rink inside.

He gets on one knee and says, "I love it."

Those three little words you've been waiting your whole writing career to hear.

Of course you say, "YES!"

And it's perfect! And wonderful! And rose petals and glitter fall from rainbow clouds overhead! And you ride away on a Unicorn into the Great Beyond! Together. Forever.

Yes. It is EXACTLY like that.

HAPPILY. EVER. AFTER.

THE END.

Right?

Nope.

Then come the edits.

Have you ever seen Tom Hanks in The Money Pit? 

Yeah. That.

Crazy Carpool

Okay guys. Some crazy shizznit went down in the carpool line this week.

Trust me, *Pours glasses of tea* you're gonna need this.

I don't know how you all do carpool, but at my school it works like this...

Every parent has a car tag with their child's name and class name on it and our secretary goes out and calls the names on a walkie talkie while the children wait inside with the assistant teachers. When I hear a child from our class we gather up ALL THE THINGS and walk them out to the cars. The teachers are MORE than ready to throw (sometimes literally) the kids in the cars with a wave and a smile and a quick "Had a great day!", and get them the heck outta there.

We make a point to keep the line moving as quickly as possible, so we don't talk much unless there's something really important to say, or unless the line ahead isn't moving.

Well, earlier this week, I had something important to say to a parent AND the line wasn't moving. As I was talking to the parent and putting (TWO) kids in the car, the line ahead shifted half a car length. Not even a full car length. Seriously. There was a six foot gap and two more cars ahead of us. The line wasn't going anywhere.

But APPARENTLY the mom in the car right behind us thought I was wagging my tongue too long and she HONKED AT ME! Y'all know how carpools work. There is NOWHERE for her to go. What's worse, is that I had her kid last year and she was nuttier than squirrel poo then.

If there weren't so many witnesses I'd have gone over there and knocked her teeth in. Which would have been fine, really, she could have been twins with her kid who's only four and is missing all of his front teeth due to cavities. (Word to the wise: Send more than CAKE to school for lunch AND snack! I told you, squirrel poo.)

Well, that riled me up enough as it was, but after carpool, I was walking back to my classroom and passed our Director. She said, "So, I heard somebody was talking too much during carpool. What's that about?"

I told her about the mom honking at me and she giggled. "I know," she said, "She called me just now to explain that she had to honk at you because you were talking too much. She said she timed you and you were talking for FOUR minutes. Which is impossible. There's no way you were talking that long."

Yes. This woman not only HONKED during carpool, but she took it upon herself to CALL THE DIRECTOR and bitch me out! Of course, our Director is the

BEST BOSS IN THE WORLD

...and she took my side. My head was about to explode. She said she should charge the mom the price of a pedicure and treat me. I told her that was a fantastic idea.

So, dear readers, here are some tips for making one of the most stressful times of the day a little easier on everyone:

Carpool Tip #1: Do NOT honk your horn unless there is a child running out in front of your car. For realz, it is SO unbelievably impolite. We are all doing our best, and those little preschoolers' legs can only move so fast!

Carpool Tip #2: Please do not leave TEN FEET OF SPACE between you and the car in front of you. Nobody does that in the McDonald's drive-thru line. There's no reason to do it in carpool either.

Carpool Tip #3: If you have a car tag like at our school, make sure it is clearly visible in the window. Laying it flat on the front dash does not enable us to see it.

Above all: Be KIND. Be COURTEOUS. BE PATIENT!

We are SO sorry that it is SUCH a burden to you to sit through a 30 minute car line, but you are MORE than welcome to come line up early and wait in the comfort of your air conditioned (or heated, depending on the season) car.

Might I suggest possibly watching a movie on the TELEVISION you have in your car? Or listening to an Audiobook? Or even reading a book while you wait? Catch up on email, or Twitter, or Facebook on your cell phone. Knit a sweater for your dog! There are LOADS of things to do to pass the time.

And please remember: You are not the one out there in the freezing cold (or burning sun, depending on the season) wrangling three-year-olds with folders, and artwork, and jackets, and backpacks bigger than they are.

So, relax.

And thank the people who care for your child, and love them, and put them safely back into your car at the end of the day.

Overachievers

*Full Disclosure: I will not reveal names of the people I'm gossiping about. If you know me and you know the people I am discussing, please keep your mouth shut.* 

I'm a pre-school teacher. I have a class of fourteen three year old children Monday-Thursday from 9am-1pm.  I'd like to say they're sweet little angels who bring a smile to my face and fill my heart with joy. Every now and again that actually happens.

Most of the time, they're busy excavating their nasal cavity with sticky little fingers like they're part of the Gold Rush of '49. If only the stuff they dug out and wiped on the carpet, their shirt, my shirt, and any other nearby surface was made of REAL gold, I'd be able to buy more jets than Richard Branson. It isn't. (But if the formula I'm working on in my super secret ungerground lair does the trick, I won't be driving my Civic to work much longer. Boogers to gold, baby! MUWAHAHA!)

Anyway. The kids are mostly fun and great. The most aggravation I get is from the parents. I know I don't have much right to speak on parenting skills, seeing as how I have no kids of my own. Aside from this little four legged hunk of cutie pie...

But I have been teaching for five years. I've had over 70 kids come through my class alone, plus interacted with the other 200 kids in the rest of the school each year. So I'd like to think that gives me at least some authority on what I have to say here. 

I pass the parents and their kids in the hallway. I see them during carpool. And let me tell you, we teachers luuuuuv to talk. The first thing we do as soon as we get our class lists at the beginning of each school year is sit down and compare notes. 

"Who did you get? OH! I had him last year. Get LOTS of hand sanitizer. That finger never left his nose. Make sure you don't reuse the play-doh either. OH! Yeah, that one dropped trou on the playground and peed on the slide. She is SO CUTE, just don't give her scissors unless you want somebody to end up bald."

Seriously.

So, let me fill you in on the LATEST gossip, Dear Reader. *Sits down on porch with glass of iced tea*

This morning I had breakfast with one of the teachers from school at this quaint little hole in the wall bakery place. The coffee was so awful it was undrinkable, and the food wasn't anything to write in to Atlanta Magazine about, but the conversation was absolutely delicious.

We got to talking to the owner (we were the only customers in there) and when we mentioned where we worked, she said that she was catering a party there soon, but she didn't know exactly what it was for. I promptly filled her in, because I'd gotten the full dish yesterday from another friend (it pays to treat your friends for birthday lunches and breakfasts, trust me).

Here it is:
This mother, who had a child in my class last year is having an outside caterer come in and do the class Christmas party. For four-year-olds. I know a lot of you won't blink at this idea. My sister teaches in Manhattan and they hired a live clown come in to her class and scare the shit out of her kids for a First Birthday party. I'm not even kidding.

But this is Georgia. We do things differently here.

Tip: Do not go above and beyond with expensive outside help. It will only make other parents (and especially teachers) think you are stupid and wasting money. 
At our school, catering a Christmas party is a ridiculous idea. We live in the South. We don't hire other people to do our cooking. It's a matter of pride. We purposefully try to outdo each other with our mad baking skillz. Paula Deen style.

Another Tip: This is Preschool and you are not Martha Stewart.
You are not impressing anyone with the hand knitted Irish lace table cloth that you whipped up last night just because you thought it would add a little extra something to the atmosphere. 

So please, if you are a Room Mom or are helping to plan a Holiday Party for your child's class, do not go psycho crazy with it. They will not remember this. Especially if they are little. There's a slim chance they'll recall pulling the eyes off the candy cane reindeer before they shove it in their mouth, but that's a whole other thing. At this point, all you need to do is show up. Your kids will not judge you for ordering pizza. In fact, they will probably love you even more for it.


What are some of your class party experiences? Have you, or someone you know, gone above and beyond the call of duty when planning a class party? Do tell!