Jesse, you can punch me in the face if you want. As long as you know, then it's on like Donkey Kong.

I would never!

Which reminds me, one time in high school, I was supposed to be someone's second for a fight she was supposed to have. The four of us met up after school, it turns out I was actually friends with the other girl's second, they postured a little, and there was no fight. Good times.

In total first world problems, my TV remote is apparently broken. I thought the batteries were dead, finally remembered to get new ones, and no! And my cable remote can't figure out how to work the TV, so I've already been using two remotes. Wah wah wah.

I need to do MAJOR grocery shopping, mostly for Grace. Protein powder, flax seed oil, coconut milk, apple cider vinegar. I should have gone today, but went, instead, to the Skirball for the second day in a row because Noah wanted to go.

I also just got my schedule for the next school year. Blessedly I still have the last period of the day off.

I've always known that English was a tricksy language, what with words sounding like each other and meaning totally different things. However, it took a 5 year old to teach me that "Please brush your teeth" and "Please spray yourself with bug spray in the house even though you JUST HAD A BATH THAT WAS FAIRLY TRAUMATIC FOR BOTH OF US!" mean exactly the same thing.

Is that my learned thing for today? Cause if so, I call shenanigans.

I was the weirdo throughout elementary school, though mainly tolerated by my fellow gifted classmates and only physically attacked by kids from other classes. Still the last kid picked for any team, etc, and people would mock my posture and clothes (swayback and old hand-me-downs), but things didn't get brutal until middle school, where the got brutal fast, and I don't really remember all of it. There's a blur of threats and violence and sick days where I couldn't stand being anywhere near the place. Traded my hand-me-downs for punky/gothish clothes (looked appalling, but had discovered through trial and error that attempts to blend in with the clothing THEY wore didn't work).

High school was better. High school was when I managed to mostly master the art of appearing human (it's hard work for me to do that -- lots of studying and mimicry, and probably why I do better with online interaction than in person). And I had some activities, and a few fairly close friends. My worst high school experience was actually outside of school, when my attire (army shirt and a skirt) and natural vaguely twitchy/non-neurotypical actions got me pulled in on suspicion of shoplifting.

I was supposed to be someone's second for a fight she was supposed to have.

I will always think fondly of Martin McClure, who was my second at my lone high school fight.

All my friends were swimmers so they had practice and couldn't be there when I was called out at the bus stop. But 'Clure rode the bus with me (not his route at all) and I wasn't alone facing a horde of the Other Guy's friends. (I wrestled Other Guy to the ground, forced his face into the dirt and choked him until he almost passed out. This was after two months of harassment by him and his crew.)

we worked out a plan of action for homework tonight with the therapist. problem is, after skipping homework assignments for 3 days, we had 10 pieces of it. 10! the plan? it involves taking a break after each piece. We've been doing homework since 4:30. 4 fucking 30! I am pretty sure that the homework plan should not be something that drives me to kill myself using only safety scissors, non-toxic glue sticks, and a #2 pencil.

the good news is he is happy and not picking fights. So, I guess this is what it takes right now. We are going to have to do post-school schedule as a tag-team, that much is clear.

Spreadsheets my dear. And perhaps google calendar. Wishing you much luck. And that you don't eat too many gluesticks.

I've decided that being a Y lifeguard is either really boring or they just hire really freakily friendly college students. I'm used to mine being talky, but then, I've been there every day for a year. One asks for updates on my house projects whenever he's working. But at the strip-mall Y, different crew, and they've initiated chat every.single.night. Every one of them has offered me advice on when the best time to swim is (but I don't mind sharing lanes, and their version of busy < my Y's version of busy.) Maybe it's cause I'm there, swimming continuously for 45 minutes plus, which might indicate a certain commitment. Or they are just talky meat.

The closest I ever came to serious, physical violence was being followed from the activity bus by a girl gang with weapons.

They had a compelling reason to target me, which didn't actually have anything to do with me. As editor in chief of the school paper, they thought I was responsible for a fairly horrendous racial slur slipped into an article without my knowledge. Since there was no byline on the story, natch, they hit out at me.

Thankfully, one of the girls in the gang knew me from way back and heartfelt reason won the day.

The newspaper adviser vowed the culprit would be sanctioned by grades. He was, however, given an A and plaudits that ushered him into a West Point appointment.

Two weeks into it, he was kicked out for cheating. Officer career, down the drain.

Justice was slow, but sweet.

I was fringe in grade school, middle school and high school. Plagued by a very pretty, petite and popular twin sister. Most of the taunts in high school included questions of whether I was a witch, what the fuck did I do to my hair and odd stares. Whatever. The rest is a blur.

My official derby name is Rose Redrum #217. A play on my maiden name because DH still calls me Rose.

My official derby name is Rose Redrum #217.

Excellent! Though I'm still a bit partial to Kobayashi Maim-You.