A Funny Thing Happened...

As I was taking pictures of the new chick and the chick's new house, George climbed onto the highest perch in order to climb onto my arm. This was unexpected, because he is not one to rush into people's hands, however he is one to be the tallest chicken in the world. What was surprising was that Defoe, not to be outdone, followed him up to the tallest perch to do the same thing. She had never actually made it to the highest perch before, so it was rather exciting.

I holler for Stephen to come and help me, because I am bent over the coop with Ashley's good camera in my hand, and George has climbed onto my shoulder and Defoe onto my arm and I can't let go of anything to get them down. Stephen comes down and reaches for the camera when...



George climbs onto Stephen's arm in order to be even taller still. I manage to get turned round to pass the camera to Stephen, so he can take pictures of this, while George turns in circles on Stephen's arm.





Again, Defoe follows George onto Stephen's arm. Not to be outdone, George climbs up Stephen's arm and onto his shoulder, then onto his neck.



I just manage to get this picture when Defoe sticks her nose into the camera from Stephen's arm.



She makes a little jump back onto me, and George follows her, so I am able to give the camera to Stephen while the birds jostle for position on my arm.







I enjoy this for about 2 minutes until my arm feels like it is holding up lead weights, and not just 2 baby chicks with one-upmanship issues.







See this smile? It's not real. The ones before were real, but this one... not so much. Darn chickens weigh a freaking ton! But then George comes up and does something so incredibly sweet that you are going to say 'awww...'



...he comes up and kisses my nose. Ok, so maybe chickens can't kiss - but it was not a 'looking for food' peck like he does to my freckles or an 'I'm gonna pull out your feathers' peck like I've seen him do to his siblings. It was... well, a kiss.



Then he went back to my arm and settled down. Both of them stayed there for a few more minutes until Stephen and I forcibly banished them back to the not-so-high places. The other chickens were jealous - running and flapping and climbing as high as they dared (which for poor Wednesday wasn't very high at all.)



This is how high he got off the ground. But at least he tried. It was really quite cute.

Snow Day

This past week Canterbury, and indeed most of England has been covered in snow. C-O-V-E-R-E-D in it, to the point where both Thursday and Friday most of the schools in the Kent area were closed. We had extremely heavy snow fall on Saturday morning/early afternoon, where you couldn't see that far down the road with the snow and the wind blowing around. This was horrendously exciting for me, because I love the snow, and I love snow days almost as much. On Thursday I was determined to go out and see people (snow be darned!). So I went over to my friend Katy's house. Her boyfriend Liam got snowed in there as well and so we made a day of hot cocoa, movies, and the inevitable Snow Ball Fights!

Now while I was sitting inside, minding my own buisiness watching A Knights Tale with Liam, Katy sneaks outside (without shoes I might add) mushes together a big snow ball, tucks it behind her back, walks into the living room, and chucks it at me. It collided right smack-dab in the middle of my chest! So while I'm gasping from the cold, shocked into immobility, the snow (as snow does) starts to melt and drip down my top, making me gasp even more. With vengence in mind, I jump up from the sofa, give Katy a warning glare as I scrape snow off my bosom, then start charging towards her. She squeals in delight and runs into the snow. It should be noted at this point that I am only wearing my socks, since putting shoes on wasn't on my to-do list for getting her back. Off I run in to the snow, slipping and sliding as a thin layer of ice forms on the bottom of my socks. I'm catching up to her now, a hastily made snowball in hand, and I'm just about to launch it at the back of her head when BAM!

I fall.
(<-- the spot where I fell) This was the epic type of fall where your legs keep moving as if you were still running, but you slowly fall on your bum. In a deperate attempt to save my poor bum from the oncoming impact I turn so I'll be able to land on my front, braced by my arms. That was my intention. What ended up actually happening was that I landed on my hip, because the slow-motion falling wasn't actually that slow. Needless to say it hurt. Katy turns just in time to see my graceless tumble, and slips and slides her way back to me, helping me up, while giggling like a maniac. She thought it was hilarious. I glanced at her with a mumbled "at least ONE of us thinks this is funny". Which encouraged her to giggle even more hysterically. But the day was fun, I got hit in the face by a few more snow balls later during our all-in fight, and as I was leaving two kids who lived in Katy's neighbourhood came and attacked us with snow balls again, and we creamed them. So many snowballs flew that you could hardly see what was going on! When we finally finished, snow had gotten trapped behind the lenses of my glasses and I kept trying to scrape it off. Liam makes the witty comment while chuckling; "Hey Ash, you need windshield wipers for those things!" this causes Katy to burst into another round of hysterical giggles. I attempt to glare at him through a thick layer of snow. It fails and they laugh harder. So a few good points to take away from this blog is the following: In a snowball fight, always wear shoes, take off your glasses, and attack everyone else before they get to you! My snow days were fun, but school is scheduled to be on next week, and I'm back to preparing for exams. Hope everyone is enjoying the new year! Until next time! xoxo SmAsh

Amy's Teaching Career

Last Friday was the Christmas faire at school, which I was required to attend. A few things happened over the course of the evening that I thought were funny or interesting enough to share.

Story 1:

This story requires just a bit of backstory. Thanksgiving day I (of course) had to work, and I was slated to present an assembly about Thanksgiving and what it means to the entire school. I was slightly weepey and missing family that morning, but I thought I was ok. I WAS ok through the story about the Mayflower, and the starvation, and the Indians. I was OK all the way until the story started to talk about how everyone doesn't work and instead drives thousands of miles to spend Thanksgiving with their families. Then I just... lost it a bit. *cough-a lot-cough* I tried so hard not to cry in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL, but failed miserably.

So The Christmas faire has every child and their parents show up. I, being in love with cake and expected to part with some of my hard earned money, made my way to the bake sale and began a conversation with the ladies manning it.

Amy: Oooo! Cake! I'd like that one and that one and that one, no wait, that one - is that blueberries on top?!

Lady behind the Cake Stand: Your accent doesn't sound too familiar - where are you... (insert long dramatic pause here, with expanding ring of silence) Wait - you must be Ms. H - you're the teacher that CRIED AT THE THANKSGIVING ASSEMBLY!!!!!!!!!!!

Other Lady behind the Cake Stand: Oh! Little Suzie* came home and told me all about how you were missing your family and cried in front OF THE WHOLE SCHOOL!

Yet Another Lady behind the Cake Stand: Oh! My Brett* came home and told me all about that too! He didn't know what to do - that's why he doesn't talk to you anymore. Poor dear... aw, bless ** ...

Amy: *sputter, stammer* um...

1st Lady: I cry all the time too, you know (thinking: What kind of baby cries at an assembly? Unheard of!)

2nd Lady: Yes, dearie (patting my hand) we have great big sob gatherings where we just go on and LET IT ALL OUT (thinking: Shocking! What about the stiff upper lip?)

3rd Lady: Oh, and they are so good - we just all gather round and cry and cry and we feel so much better after - and my family is only down Hastings way! (thinking: wonder if my little Brett* can be moved to a less whingey teacher?)

Amy: gulp... *runs away*

*not the child's real name
**bless=something you say about someone who is absolutely so pathetic there really is nothing else you can say. i.e. Little Scooter was an absolute nightmare in class today - he cut Rachel's hair and threw knives at me....bless.

Story 2:

Earlier, I was conversing with a colleague as we sold the goods our children had made, when a man came up to her and started talking to her about buying her orange juice. I had never seen this man before, but owing to the level of intimacy in the conversation, I hazarded a guess and asked her, "Is he your'n?" She looked at me strangely and didn't answer, and I decided that perhaps she was sensitive about it and dropped the subject. Later, after the fateful Bake sale incident, I was again at my booth when one of my students came up to me, so very excited. She wanted me to meet her mum, who was working in the kitchen. I had seen and partially overheard (my name anyway) this person murmer about me as I had passed by on the way to my fateful Bake sale encounter, so I was a bit anxious to meet her as well. The little girl walks me over to the kitchen window, and as we get there, this is the scenario.

Amy: (asking the little girl while pointing at her mum) "Is she your'n?"

Mum: (gasping and getting a horrified look on her face) "Urine? why are you calling me urine? Do you have a problem with me?!?"

Little Girl: Mummy, no, she means are you mine!

Amy: (bright red) Oh, my....

Needless to say, when I asked my colleague, she had thought the same thing. That explains SO much. Urine. Your'n. That's my teaching career in a snapshot.

more Piglet Flu...

I found another piglet swine flu cartoon today. I think that the Piglet Genre is ripe for the picking , and I will gather the ones that I find on here just for you (or to be more accurate, for me, as I am particularly fond of piglet.) Enjoy!

Piglet Flu

There is the start of world-wide panic regarding this up and coming swine flu that has been popping up. Actually, I didn't know anything about it at all until Wil Wheaton mentioned it in his twitter feed. That same day I noticed news articles on the BBC, on the TV, and on the radio. I even found this interesting article about the modern emergence of panic through social networking sites - how Twitter is spreading swine flu panic.

Then Stephen showed me this:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/matt/?cartoon=5232572

And I thought I would share with all of you. I love Piglet and the thought of putting him down had ME squealing. I didn't get it at first... but swine flu? Piglet? Get it? I'm sure we are all on the same page now.

Swine flu panic is silly! Wash your hands, stay home if you are sick, and spend more time taking care of yourself than you do worrying about swine flu. And don't scare the bejebus out of people by spreading swine flu rumours on twitter.

A funny - because I can't be bothered to write a real update.

Kelli sent me a funny, thinking I would enjoy it. I thought you would too. It is, of course, not at all true. But the story of its untruth is quite amusing in and of itself. The link to the snopes article is HERE. You should read it. I will post an update. I promise. Soon...ish.

Dear Citizens of America,

In view of your failure to elect a competent President and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.
Her Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy), as from Monday next.
Your new prime minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up “aluminium,” and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

2. The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘colour’, ‘favour’ and ‘neighbour.’ Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters, and the suffix “ize” will be replaced by the suffix “ise.”

3. You will learn that the suffix ‘burgh’ is pronounced ‘burra’; you may elect to spell Pittsburgh as ‘Pittsberg’ if you find you simply can’t cope with correct pronunciation.

4. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels (look up “vocabulary”). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

5. There is no such thing as “US English.” We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of “-ize.”

6. You will relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”, but only after fully carrying out Task #1 (see above).

7. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called “Come-Uppance Day.”

8. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you’re not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you’re not grown up enough to handle a gun.

9. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

10. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

11. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric immediately and without the benefit of conversion tables… Both roundabouts and metrification will help you understand the British sense of humour.

12. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling “gasoline”) - roughly $8/US per gallon. Get used to it.

13. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call french fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called “crisps.” Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with malt vinegar.

14. Waiters and waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

15. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as “beer,” and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as “Lager.” American brands will be referred to as “Near-Frozen Gnat’s Urine,” so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

16. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors as English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in “Four Weddings and a Funeral” was an experience akin to having one’s ear removed with a cheese grater.

17. You will cease playing American “football.” There is only one kind of proper football; you call it “soccer”. Those of you brave enough, in time, will be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of Jessies - English slang for “Big Girls Blouse”).

18. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the “World Series” for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable and forgiven.

19. You must tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us mad.

20. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due, backdated to 1776.

Thank you for your co-operation.

In Which Amy's Clock is Ticking... (Myspace Blog)

Ok, I've already slid down the spiral into video degradation, I might as well share another. I promise no more.

Stephen sent this to me...

Why is it that I identify so much with this ad?!? Babies everywhere!!! (It must be my mother... or my age... or, I don't know, something.)

In Which Amy Sees Stigmata... (Myspace Blog)

I don't know how it happened... I wasn't actually looking... but I found this. And I NEVER post videos, so you KNOW this has to be beeping hilarious.

You have to watch it before you read on. Trust me, it gets better!

Army of Pandas - Stigmata On

Check out this funny sketch from the Army of Pandas! Stigmata On

Oh my god!!!

And even funnier... I watched it, then drug Hija out of her bedroom. She watched and, halfway through the clip, said "Is that a tampon?" I think I died! Oh god oh god... I'm still laughing.

In Which Amy Finds the Lighter Side... (Myspace Blog)

The nightmare was one of those where I wake up with a jerk, adrenaline pumping. 'Creepy Guy' had hypnotized me and kidnapped me and thrown me into an oubliette, and I knew I was going to die because he wanted to wear my skin, and he was going to skin me alive, and I couldn't get out. An hour later, after writing it all down, thinking about it, and being grateful that it was "only a dream", I was still shaky. Two hours later, sitting in Chemistry, I was struggling to write because I was STILL shaky. And three hours later, sitting in English, the instructor brings in the frog. It is a skinned frog. Skinned and stuffed. It is holding a beer bottle as if it were guzzling it and it has been covered with shellac and I cannot imagine how on earth she can possible stand to touch it. She has named it Fred. I am creepily reminded of my dream... and instantly aware of the fact that my nightmare, at least in part, has come true for this frog. I wonder if 'Creepy Guy' would have shellacked me. She wants us to write about Fred- something funny. She almost sets the frog in front of me and I recoil, then explain the dream to her and the class. They stare at me blankly - maybe I am the ONLY person who has nightmares like this. But she does not set it in front of me after all. I am glad. I have to work to be funny, because I do not see anything funny about this frog... and then the glimmer appears. This is what I write: "I imagine him at a bar - Western. He needs a cowboy hat and chaps. He has been riding hard all day - Ooo... an outlaw! Yeah, shooting innocent women and children. He sidles up to the bar after slamming back the swinging doors. His spurs click as he walks with the bowfoot swagger. "Gimmie whiskey - the whole bottle!" His clothes and skin are brown from the dirt of the trail. He tips the bottle back and guzzles it, draining it dry then slamming it down like a gunshot - he has 2 pistols, 1 at each hip, slung low. He clinks to the poker table and pushes his way in, growling. The cantina girls do not approach, but he grabs the nearest and pulls her down onto his lap - her eyes are wide with fear. He growls to be dealt in. He cheats, a barfight erupts - he throws the cantina girl to the floor to fight." Not bad humour for such a crappy nightmare.