Are You Kidding Me? Volume 2

I did it again. I was reading yahoo, I should stop doing that because every time I do I’m left shaking my head in confusion. But, since I’m incapable of learning my lesson it brings me to another edition of “Are you kidding me?”

This story takes place in the magical land of Canada. The land known for mounted police and the classic John Candy film, Canadian Bacon. Now, thankfully, Canada can also be known as the land where 40 year old hockey coaches get arrested after tripping 13 year old hockey players.

This delightful incident occurred at the end of a youth league hockey game. Apparently the ‘unnamed’ coach’s team lost. Mr. Unnamed was upset at the fact that his team lost. Therefore he did the most logical thing a grown man can do in the situation. He tripped a preteen during the handshake line. But don’t think he did this without proper reasoning. No, no, he had logic behind his actions.

You see, the game was supposed to be two teams of 10-12 year old boys. And as it turns out, sometimes 10-12 year old boys have birthdays. And when they have birthdays they become 11-13 year old boys. This boy was 13. So, I guess that makes sense. He turned 13 after the season started, so he should have been immediately kicked off the team and not allowed to play. And since he was still allowed to play, he needed to be tripped. I can totally understand where this coach is coming from. Obviously that one boy was the only reason their team lost. So, you know, he must be punished and the best mature way to go about that would be to stick a foot out and cause him to hit the ground. Now he will know never to be 13 years old again. Problem solved!

So I guess that’s cool that youth league coaches are super mature and not jerks at all. I can only hope that someday my children can be coached by a gem, such as this man. And if not, well I guess I’ll trip them myself.

 

So here’s to you, Unnamed Coach:

You, sir, are a grade A nimrod. And that entire team (including that pesky 13 year old) should be allowed to shoot slap shots at you until you become a logical adult, which by my estimation will take a long, long time.

That is all. Have a lovely day.

 

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Things I Wish I’d Learned Before the Age of 22

As children we are fed many lies. Mostly lies to make us behave or to trick us into learning new information. I smack myself in the head a lot because I spent so much of my young life learning or working towards certain things that no longer serve any purpose in my life. If someone had told me as a child that 90% of what I was focused on then would no longer matter now, I could have saved myself hours of blood, sweat and tears. That’s why I have compiled this list. So hopefully I can help someone out and they won’t feel as stupid at the age of 22 for not realizing these things sooner.

I won’t use algebra all the time, in fact I never use it.
Teachers tried to convince me I’ll need simple algebra for everything from figuring tips to deciding how much paint it will take to paint a room. Not true. At all. I never use algebra. Ever. For many reason. First I work with 3 year olds, the most math I do is counting to 30. Don’t need algebra for that. Second, I have a calculator. That can figure tips and keep track of my grocery purchases. And third, there aren’t x’s and y’s just sitting around waiting to be solved. There just aren’t. Essentially, if you’re not a mathematician, you won’t need algebra.

I will not HAVE to use cursive in high school.
My third grade teacher taught us to write in cursive with the threat that when we got to junior high and high school we would only be allowed to write in cursive. False. I have not written in cursive since the third grade. She lied to us. And now I possess a useless life skill that I utilize zero percent of the time.

Beanie Babies won’t stay cool forever.
Between the ages of 6 and 12, I wasted most of my hard-earned cash on animal shaped bean bags. I vacuumed many floors and put away infinite clean dishwasher loads in order to earn money for those darn things. I spent hours hunting down a rare bunny while on vacation in Canada because it was selling for $500. I wasn’t going to sell it, why did I do that? Because they were AWESOME. My mother tried to buy me fake beanie babies so I could be as cool as all the kids at school. Nope. They had to have that little heart tag in order for you to gain acceptance. I collected at least 50. (which I realize is not as many as most crazy people, but I didn’t have a real career to support my habit. If beanie babies were still cool I’d probably spend WAY too much money on them) And now I have none. I rid myself of all the bean bag animals. Because they were pointless. (Also it’s weird for a 22-year-old to have that many toys just hanging around) I wish I had all those $7 dollar bags o’ beans back. I might be a hundred-aire by now.

Romantic comedies are not realistic.
I have dropped things in public plenty of times. Not once has some handsome stranger come up to me to help me pick up my items. Nor has a handsome stranger caught my eye contact, immediately fell in love with and begin courting me. No mishaps occurred that made myself and this handsome stranger part ways for a few weeks only to have the handsome stranger, who is no longer a stranger, but the love of my life, sing me an off-key song in a smokey bar to win my heart back. This has never happened. And I’m beginning to think it will never happen. Also most men do not look like Orlando Bloom. What a hoax Hollywood. I want my money and my heart back. I’ve wasted hours of my life waiting for such a scenario to happen and nothing. I’m super mad about this.

If I want a husband, all I need is a sign at a sporting event.
I don’t know why no one told me this sooner. I’ve spent years trying to have endearing qualities and a nice personality, while at every sporting event numerous girls are holding up signs proposing marriage to young male athletes. Obviously the success rate on this method has to be pretty high, why would so many people do it if it didn’t work? I don’t know why I’ve been trying so hard to be desirable to men. All I need is a sign and a nice smile, then BAM! Husband. And that’s why I’ve made this sign to take to Brandon Yip and after tomorrow night I will be Mrs. Yip!*

 

I hope that this list has saved many from learning useless skills and focusing too much energy on stupid collections/gaining a husband. If I can offer one service to the world, I hope it is through this. Good luck! And stop practicing your cursive! No one uses that, in fact no one can even read it!

 

*Amanda is not really taking that sign to a Predators game. She’s not that desperate. Also she realizes that the signs don’t accomplish anything. ‘Yip-Check’ is a trademarked term by Amanda. Okay, so it’s not really trademarked, but she said it once and thinks she’s really clever because he checks people in hockey all the time. If Amanda were to make a sign for real it would not be for Brandon Yip, but she doesn’t have clever name puns for any other players.

 

It’s Leap Day Shea Weber!

In the last 15 minutes I have discovered that leap day is the greatest day of the year for me. Do you want to know why? Well first go read this: Leap Day: Watch Out Men, The Women Are A-Comin’! Did you read it? Did you? Are you lying? If you answered yes to the last one go back and read it again. Thanks.

Ok. So now that you’ve read that, apparently as long as I’m wearing my red underpants I can propose to Shea Weber. All he can do is say no. If he says no, I get a silk gown and a kiss. Win-win situation right there guys. I either get a hunky husband or I get a gown and a smooch, right on the lips. I’ll take either. (I’d really rather have the Shea Weber though)

Unfortunately Shea Weber has locked himself away in some secret lair here in Nashville, increasing his hockey abilities so I haven’t been able to find him anywhere. But I’ve strapped on my red underpants and have written this lovely proposal email that I plan to send to him:

Dearest Shea Weber,

As you know, it is February 29th. This is leap day. You do have leap day in Canada right? Or should I say ‘eh? I’m never really sure how to talk to you Canadians. Also do you want to explain Boxing Day to me? I’ve looked it up on the Wikipedia and I still don’t get it. Maybe you can use regular words to help me out. But I digress from the real purpose of this letter. I’m writing to propose marriage to you.

I realize that this seems forward, but see on leap day it’s okay for me to do this. Maybe you aren’t aware of the rules. I’m allowed to propose marriage on leap day, and only leap day. So I’m taking my day of the leaping and I choose you! Aren’t you lucky? (you are, in case you were questioning it. I’m very lovely)

I’d like to take this moment to say to you, Shea Michael Weber, will you marry me and be my forever hockey husband? Will you love, honor and provide me with lifetime Predators season tickets? Will you be mine? Will you marry me?

Don’t feel pressured, but I kinda need a response by midnight. So just let me know. Oh, also, if you say no to my proposal you have to kiss me and buy me a silk gown. (silk gowns are pretty hard to come by these days, so it’d probably just be easier for you to marry me)

So anyway, I was thinking a spring wedding. Right after you win the Stanley Cup. We can marry right here in Nashville and honeymoon in your magical homeland, Canada. Sound good? I think so too Shea!!

Well, I look forward to hearing from you within the next 2 hours and 43 minutes!

Sincerely yours,
XOXOXO
Amanda 

There it is. My proposal letter. It has been emailed.* Shea Weber has 2 hours and 38 minutes to respond to me. I’ve got my fingers crossed, hoping for a yes! Your move Shea. I’ll be waiting!

*No it hasn’t. I’m not a crazy person**, guys. I didn’t really send this to Shea Weber.

**I might be a crazy person, but I don’t have Shea Weber’s email, that’s why it hasn’t been sent.

Hey Sidney Crosby, I’m Your Biggest Fan!

Sidney Crosby

Image via Wikipedia

Dear Sidney Crosby,

Hi! You don’t know me, but I know you! That sounded a little creepy didn’t it? I’m real sorry about that. Anyway, how’s it going?

I don’t know if you know this about yourself, but you used to be a phenomenal hockey player. Remember in 2010, you scored the winning goal in the gold medal hockey game, for your native land of Canada? And remember how you hold the record for the youngest everything ever in the NHL?

Look at all this stuff:
First rookie to record 100 points and 100 penalty minutes in a season
Youngest player to record 100 points in a season
Youngest player to record 200 career points (19 years and 207 days)
Youngest player to record 2 consecutive 100 point seasons
Youngest player voted to the starting lineup in an All-Star Game
Youngest full team captain
Youngest NHL captain to win Stanley Cup (21 years, 10 months, and 5 days)

Those were good times weren’t they Sid? You were a star. And then this happened:

 

You broke your brain. And now you do nothing except skate around on ice without playing hockey, you’re essentially a figure skater. No one really likes you anymore. Now don’t get sad about that Sidney. You have only played like 8 games in the last year. Surely you can see where I’m coming from here. It’s no wonder people are starting to get angry at you and saying you’re a big baby with a broken head. You don’t do anything and you’re supposedly the Captain of your team.

But I don’t think you’re a baby Sid. That’s why I’m writing this letter to you. Because I like you, broken head or not. And since I’m probably the only one who still likes you, I was wondering if I could get a few things.

1. I’d like a million dollars. You’re being paid right now, but let’s be honest Sidney, you’re not doing anything to earn it. You could sacrifice a few mill. If you could just give me 1 million for being your biggest fan, we’ll call it even.

2. I’m also going to need a real penguin. You play for (well, you are a member of) the Pittsburgh Penguins. Surely you’ve got some sort of connection with a penguin breeder. I need a pet. Get me one Sid.

3. You also played in the olympics with Shea Weber. You guys are probably friends, right? Could you introduce us? I’d really like to marry him.

4. If you can’t get Shea Weber, will you marry me?

5. I’d also like an autographed puck

That’s it Sidney. Just those 5 things. I’m the only who still thinks you can play hockey. I haven’t once called you a whiny baby for having a broken brain. (Trust me, people call you whiny a lot, and sometimes you act a little whiny. I’ve seen the YouTube videos, and I still like ya!) I google you only a weekly* basis just to check on your brain progress. So anyway, you can see how supportive I am, during this time of broken braindom.

*daily. I’m out of control

If you could offer me the same support in fulfilling those demands, that would be phenomenal.

If you don’t, I’m going to be mad at you for a little bit. But I’ll probably still like you, dang it! You’re so darn adorable!

Okay, well have a nice day Sidney! Hope your brain/neck/spine gets better soon!

Sincerely,

Amanda, aka Your Biggest (and maybe your only) Fan

The Hunt for the Perfect Man

My biological clock is ticking guys. It just keeps ticking and ticking and ticking. In fact, as I was writing that I lost 15 seconds of biology. And there went another 5. My time is whittling away! I need a man. NOW!

Being adorable and walking around Nashville waiting for a romantic comedy moment is not working for me. No one has chased me down at an airport and proposed to me. I haven’t even looked out my window to see a man singing to me in the pouring rain. I’m going to have to take things into my own hands now. So I’ve decided I should start online dating*. I’ve never made an online dating profile so I used this handy website to help me out. I followed their steps as best I could.

Step 1: Get Away From the Computer
I did not participate appropriately in this step. I hope that doesn’t tamper with my results.

Step 2: Thinking About Who You are and What You Like
I was supposed to write 10 things about myself but I didn’t want to write anything down, so I skipped this step as well. I’m really bad at following directions. I did think about ten things though, so that counts.

Step 3: Fine-Tune Your Personal List
Nope. Didn’t do it.

Step 4: Making Your List into Dating Profile Text
This step you’re supposed to take all your interests and make a rough draft. Here’s what I’ve got:

Hello! My name is Amanda. I am a preschool teacher in the Nashville area. I wipe boogers and try to keep 3 year-olds from killing one another for a living. I also try to teach them basic life skills like the ABC’s and manners. It’s a really exciting field to be a part of. Outside of spending all day with toddlers, I have little free-time. With my free-time I basically just sit on the couch watching hockey and googleing Tim Tebow and Sidney Crosby.

I hope you like neuroses because I have a TON I would love to share with you! First my foods cannot touch on my plate. If they do I won’t eat the part that touched the other food. I’d basically be the best kosher Jew ever. I also can’t stand in front of an elevator door. I don’t want to be the one that gets shot up when an angry man comes into work with a gun you know! My closet is color-coded and arranged by sleeve length. If you mess this up, I will have to put you down. If I get any sort of dirt on my socks I have to change them immediately, and if you touch my feet, well, we’ll have to end things right there.

I have a pet schnauzer, but he’s not really a pet, he’s actually a tiny person trapped in a dog’s body. His name is Wallace T. Schnauzer III and he pretty much runs the place. He’ll probably eat your underpants, but that’s a sign of love and affection. He also attacks anything/anyone that comes near me. But don’t worry! He hasn’t killed anyone…yet (smiley face)

Step 5: What you Bring to a Relationship
This is where I’m supposed to ‘sell’ myself. I tried my hardest:

I’m the most loyal person that has ever existed. (Unless you touch my feet *hee hee giggle giggle*) I’m not very emotionally stable before 10 am and pretty much anything could push me over the edge, but after that I am rock solid! Just like a statue who doesn’t have emotions. I didn’t even cry at Marley and Me. (some might say I’m emotionally numb inside!) And I don’t really enjoy physical contact, but I’m the best darn high-fiver.

I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I believe in love after enough forced time together!

Step 6: Thinking About the Qualities You Want in the Person You Date
I was supposed to write out a list again. Didn’t do it. But I went ahead and skipped to writing the paragraph:

What I’m looking for is a nice, even-tempered man who is brawny, has the jaw of a superhero, and can grow a 5 o’clock shadow on whim. A hockey player would be ideal, preferably a nice Canadian fellow. He must have flowing locks and eyes as blue as the ocean. He doesn’t care if I cocoon myself into all the blankets at night to leave him shivering in the cold. Also he must be willing to sleep on the floor, as Wallace T. Schnauzer sleeps on the other side of my bed. A nice Canadian, who allows me to yell at the TV when watching sports, (and maybe even throw some things if necessary) that’s really all I need! If this Canadian man sounds like you, feel free to contact me!

Have a lovely day!

That’s all there is to it. Now I have myself an online dating profile. It talks about how great I am and outlines exactly what I’m looking for. I personally think I did a really fantastic job. (I should add my incredible humility to my paragraph about what I bring to relationships)

I guess I’ll just post this to all the online dating websites I can find. Surely there’s a nice Canadian hockey player out there who likes neurotic females that don’t enjoy physical contact. I just know he’s out there!

And if this doesn’t get me a man, I give up. I’ll just become a spinster.

Hey Shea Weber! You're Canadian. Let's marry?

*No I haven’t. I’m going to just continue being adorable and hoping for the best.

Meeting Celebrities With Amanda

Even Kardashians Buy Toilet Paper

Americans love celebrities. Sports stars, movie stars, singers, rodeo stars, NASCAR drivers, pretty much anyone with at least $1 million we LOVE them. They’re pretty much our favorite thing, well besides super-sizing things. We watch the Kardashian’s do absolutely nothing on TV while reading about the newest Bachelor’s heartbreak. We love to see celebrities doing everyday things. Some people even make a living off of photographing these everyday events (On a related note I’m becoming a paparazzi if I don’t get a job in the next month). Even better than seeing them at the grocery store in pictures? Seeing them in real life with your own eyes. People react differently to these experiences. Some sneakily take a photo and tweet it, others blatantly take a photo, while others ask for autographs.

I do none of those.

Lets say I’m walking around in downtown Nashville. I see Olympic gold-medalist Sidney Crosby getting a venti chai latte with soy at the local Starbucks.

Sidney Crosby, not at Starbucks

In a span of about 10 seconds I will have absolutely every one of these thoughts:

“Oh hey! THAT’S OLYMPIC HOCKEY PLAYER SIDNEY CROSBY OVER THERE BY THAT STARBUCKS!!!!! WHAT IN THE WORLD? WHY’S HE OVER THERE! WHAT’S HE DOING! Probably getting coffee I guess!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SIDNEY CROSBY! I NEED TO TELL SOMEONE ABOUT THIS!!”

What I wish happened after this initial frantic thought:

“Hi Sidney Crosby”
“Hi, how’s it going?”
“Pretty good! How are you? It’s too bad about your concussion. You’re really good at hockey. I greatly enjoyed seeing you in the olympics winning gold for your native Canada.”
“Well thanks. What’s your name? I like you”
“Oh. *girly giggle* My name’s Amanda”
“Well Amanda, do you want to have some coffee with me and possibly get married?”
“Of course Sidney Crosby!” 

What really happens:

“hey hey hey hey hey hey…..looook!!!!!!! loook! Sidney Crosby! Sidney Crosby. loooook!”  (all  said while whispering and hitting the closest person to me on the arm)
“Who?”
“Sidney Crosby!!”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Are you kidding me! He played for Canada in the oly…..AH HE’S LEAVING!! DANG IT!! You distracted me! Now I’ll never get to meet and/or marry Sidney Crosby.”
“You realize you would never have said anything to him anyway right?”
“Yes….”

Then I spend the rest of the day dejected, compiling copious scenarios of how I should have handled myself and how next time I will speak to Sidney Crosby, knowing full well the exact same thing will happen EVERY TIME.

Obviously, if you’re looking for a really calm, cool, collected person to go celebrity spotting with I’m the best option….that is if you enjoy having a bruised shoulder and absolutely no proof you saw Johnny Depp at the local bakery.