Mason-Dixon

One of the more fascinating "landmarks" in the United States is the Mason-Dixon line.  Supposedly, this is the line that divides the north from the south.  There is a sign denoting it's presence at the southern most border of Pennsylvania along interstate 95.  For some reason, I've not noticed this on the western border of Pennsylvania when traveling along interstate 79. 
So, why write a blog about this, right?  Well while I report that there is a sign denoting the point at which a person approaches the Mason-Dixon Line, there appears to be no other physical landmarks to visit at this point.  My trusty friend, the Internet, has told me that there are small stone markers that occur every 5 miles near the Mason-Dixon Line to denote where you are in relation to the line with a "P" engraving meaning you are on the Pennsylvania side and an "M" engraving meaning that you are on the Maryland side of the line.

When I used to teach, the students had to take their standardized tests with roughly a month left in the school year.  After this, many teachers showed movies, had "Play Day" or other activities that were not largely attached to the objectives that had to be taught throughout the year and were largely tertiary in relation to normal instruction.  I never believed in this, mainly because it was my job to teach as long as school was in session, but also because I observed that many classrooms had behavior problems due to the unstructured nature of these school days.  My goal was to keep the day as normal as possible.  One activity that I used to work with students on was to plan a trip across the country.  During this trip, there were certain things that they would have to work into their trip, such as determining how much gas they would have to buy, where they would eat, and most importantly, which landmarks they would like to visit.  Great idea, right?  Well, it wasn't without complications.  One group decided that they would like to plan a trip to the Mason-Dixon Line. 

Here's my transcript of this revelation:
Me: Where are you traveling to?
Student: The Mason-Dixon Line...
Me: Why?
Student: Uh........
Me: What are you hoping to see there
*At this point, all of the students in the group are looking at each other trying to recall why they thought of this landmark.*
Me: Here's the deal, you've got to choose landmarks where there are things to do.  Do you know of any activities at the Mason-Dixon Line?
Student: Um.....no
Me: There might be more to it than this, but as far as I'm aware, there is a sign at the side of the Interstate saying "Mason-Dixon Line" and that's it.  It's not like there is a line painted across the road with a museum attached.
Student: Oh
Me: You can still go to the Mason-Dixon Line, but it won't count as one of your five landmarks

Student looks at me as if I'm crazy with the "Why would I want to do that" expression on their face.
Mission Accomplished and yet still Impossible.

So, beyond the fact that I taught my students the important lesson of working smarter not harder, I was also disappointed to reflect on the fact that there wasn't any museum of sorts to commemorate the Mason-Dixon Line.  It's one of the most famous lines in the United States.  After all, especially along the east coast, you always here someone say
"That's the stupidest looking outfit this side of Mason-Dixon..." or
"That is the finest cow this side of Mason-Dixon...", etc.
You get the idea.  Most great or dubious ideas are held in the regard of being the top or bottom in relation to their location with respect to Mason-Dixon.  As if, there could be a finer cow on the other side of Mason-Dixon, but we can't be sure so we're going to put the disclaimer out there.

Would love to report that this is the finest blog this side of Mason-Dixon, but sadly, when you write a blog about Mason-Dixon, you've said all that you have to say about your status.  Maybe I'll just buy one of those "Adopt-a-Highway" signs so I can at least put myself on par with Mason-Dixon, give or take a bicentennial.

The Library

I found that one way to stay out of trouble when I was in college is for people to think that I was in the library.  This interesting building was a perfect place to people watch which, if you're a faithful reader of this blog, you know is one of my favorite hobbies.  The library was set up with a room full of tables as you entered, then there were random places to study that were dispered through the stacks of books.  Our library was 3 floors, including the basement.  I loved getting a seat in the first room when you entered because you could see everyone that entered and left the building.  I must admit though, I got almost no studying done in this room.  I basically just put my headphones on and watched everyone that entered or left.  These tables were so hard to come by that I eventually came to the library first thing in the morning, set up my books and notebooks all over the table and then went to breakfast, classes, lunch, more classes, dinner, and then eventually to the library.  Isn't that horrible?  Someone went through the library two and three times unable to find a table because there wasn't one available in the people watching room.

If I ever needed to study, I had to go somewhere without distractions.  I went to tables in remote areas of the library, but that didn't work because I felt like a special agent who was hiding from the police.  My mind raced about things I had seen in the movies about tipping over the stacks of books in a domino formation to get away from prosecution.  Then there was the "secret" stairs that went down into the archives from the front desk that I would get easy access to freedom from. 

I also tried a cubicle and that was no good because I would listen for people talking around me to see if there was anything interesting going on.  I was pretty much the nosiest person on campus. 

There were some chairs on the upper floor that were pretty secluded.  I found out very quickly why this wouldn't work for me.  The chairs sat in front of a huge window which overlooked "The Heart".  This was a formation in the mountains where there was an absence of trees in the shape of a heart.  I spent all day looking out into the scenery.

No, if I wanted to get studying/work done, there was only one place in that library where I could do it.  That was the bathroom in the basement behind the stacks.  It was the perfect place, because barely anyone knew this bathroom existed, and even better, there were only 2 stalls, so most people that did know about the bathroom opted for another choice that provided many more stalls.  I would bring my notebook, textbooks, and pens in there and sit down and study for hours.  It was perfect.  There were no distractions because I was basically looking at the walls of the stall if I looked up.  If someone came in, I was pretty sure they weren't going to be talking to anyone, especially since there were only 2 stalls and I was using up one of them.  I got so many "A's" from the studying that I did in that bathroom stall.  It's hilarious to think about now.

My roommate and I had a pact that anytime either of our parents called if we weren't there, we were always in the library.    That strategy worked well until Big Red told my parents on a Saturday night that I was in the library.  They didn't buy that for a second.  There actually was one Saturday that I was in library during the evening time.  Rather than use the bathroom, I went into the basement and around the right corner.  Back in this area, there was a row of tables, but hardly anyone went down this way unless they were going to get some microfilm.  So, there I was doing some of my most productive studying ever until the lights went out.  When I say they went out, I mean all of them.  There were no safety lights and since I was in the basement, there were no windows to let in street lights or other means that would have helped me get out of the basement.  So, I scurried my materials together as quickly as I could.  The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in the library all night.  I got down on all 4's and crawled my way back as I remembered coming in.  I reasoned that on all 4's, I wouldn't have far to fall if I ran into anything.  After a considerable effort and with minimal bumps and bruises, I finally found my way to the staircase that led to the main level of the library.  I crawled up the stairs and arrived on the main floor, where I got to my feet and ran for the front.  Luckily, I made it just as the front desk staff was sitting by the door waiting to exit.  There were like, "Oh wow!  We didn't realize anyone was left in the library!  We're so sorry!"  I was ok with it, after all it was approaching Saturday night and here I was in the library studying.  What kind of life was that?  That was pretty much the last Saturday I was ever in the library, accused or actual!

Living on the Edge

You know that you've become slightly domesticated when your wife says to you in the most excited voice ever, "Honey, Country Crock is buy one get one free AND we have a coupon!!!"

I am really glad that we're about to have 2 gigantic tubs of butter/lard in our refrigerator.  Who am I kidding.  I got excited about paying only $2.47 for a gallon of milk. 

I've decided that the USA Today is trying to rip me off.  They want to charge me $190 for a year's subscription.  Seriously?  This is why all of our newspapers are going under.  Who in their right mind would pay this?  They have to get creative or something, because no one says that it's all about the Benjamins when it comes to paying for the news.  Worst off, most days I end up reading the newspaper in bed before I go to sleep.  I really like the paper, but it is way too expensive. 

Nothing like hearing Martin Bashir say the name of the band Insane Clown Posse.  That reminds me of this one day at Fila.  This guy came in and asked if they carried Gangsta Wear.  Kelly, the store manager, replied "Oh yes, we have gangster wear".  There wasn't a more caucasian phrase ever uttered in the history of the world.  As a follow up to the Martin Bashir story, he is interviewing Insane Clown Posse and wants to know what "....from Pluto to your anus" is supposed to mean to youngsters.  ICP (I stole that acronym from Martin) asked Martin if he was a grown retard.  Who decided to put this combination on television?  It's painfully awkward to watch.

Bedroom Thrashing Post Mort.

Day One of the new bedroom setup is much better than the carnage of yesterday.  Sammie has returned to the friendly confines of her crate.  The blankets and comforters in her crate look like no one has even slept in them.  How crazy is that?
Well, at the very least, we don't have to worry about coming home to a Winter Wonderland of cotton and stuffing all over the place.
So, I told Jill that I want Upside Down Flint Rubble Bubble Cake for Thanksgiving.  I'm pretty sure she's sorry that she asked what I wanted for dessert.  She's like that cake doesn't even exist.  I'm pretty sure in this day and age, some moron has created a recipe for this cake.
This weekend will be a lot of fun.  Jill and S.Diddy are going to see Star Trek in concert at Bobcats arena.  They are so excited.  Nichole and I could care less about this.

On another note, time to break out the bubbly!  The Yankees won their 27th championship last night, winning 7-3 over the Phillies.  By the end, Jill was cracking jokes, so that should tell you how bad of a game it was.  I wasn't too thrilled by the end of the game.  I'm really glad that they won, but the game wasn't very compelling.  Not like the Jets who take every game down to the wire, mostly in the losing effort.  Too bad we can't get a happy medium.
Happy Friday for Tomorrow!
News flash, Charlotte is taking credential raises away from their teachers and putting them on a pay for performance raise system.  We'll see how this goes.  This should weed out some of the teachers that mail it in and have been teaching the same lesson plans for the past 20 years.  Personally, I don't think that this is a good idea.  If you pay all of this money to go and get a Master's, then you should receive credit for that, unless it is determined that you don't deserve it otherwise.  Just a thought.  What do I know, though?

Destruction

Ok, pictures to come...
The untimely death of our beloved pillow was not an isolated hate crime.  Instead, today, our once placid bedroom is now a path of destruction and carnage.  Our bedspread, forever warm and comforting, is now best served as a window, or basis for how paper mache is made.  Jill's Phillies hat, similar to that of many Phillie fans after this evening is now defaced and worthy of nothing short of the garbage.  You know how IRA companies send out their perspectus every so often?  Well, I would near to be Inspector Clouseau in order to read the latest version.  In all seriousness I would have better luck finding Waldo in our bedroom rather than being able to piece that little envelope chock full of sunshine together.
When you see the pictures, some clarity will be brought to the situation.  More to come.

15 minutes later....
Here are the pics.. bear in mind, that this was formerly an immaculate tranquil scene.  Image your reaction to this shit.

Cow pies

So we had tickets to go see Blink 182 with All American Rejects and Fall Out Boy. The concert was at the Verizon Wireless Amp. on October 1, last Thursday. We bought the tickets to go with Fish and Margaret for 80 bucks each. That's a lot to pay, but for 3 great bands, it was worth it in my opinion, plus the seats were really close to the stage.

Well, about 3 weeks before the concert I get an email that the date of the concert is being changed due to the death of DJ AM. So then we find out a week before the concert that Fall Out Boy and All American Rejects have pulled out of the concert due to the change in dates. In their place is Asher Roth. I'm sure he's great, but REALLY????? Am I really going to pay 80 bucks to see a concert with a marginal band who hasn't put out anything new in the past 5 years and a rapper who I've never even heard of? I don't think so. Of course no one bothered to let us know that the bands that we really wanted to see weren't playing anymore, so here we are in the lurch. I wonder if this is how Asher Roth has gained his following. If it wasn't for the fact that I was reading Creative Loafing on Thursday, I would have never known. Luckily I called and they refunded my money, so it was no harm, no foul, but man that would have been a serious buzzkill.

The best part of this was that the Charlotte Observer posted this review of the concert saying that it was "Worth the Wait". I was like, how could you say that knowing that the 2 best acts weren't there. It's totally biased. They should tell it like it is instead of trying to sugar coat things. Talk about stepping in your own poo. I can't view anything they say as credible anymore.