Cursive is Incredibly Useful

My youngest student has to write five cursive sentences a day, because, as we all know, the third grade decree clearly states - "Learn Cursive or Die." Plus, cursive is a super-essential skill and if you can't execute it with some aplomb, you're pretty much going to get fired from any job immediately. Yeah right! I never use cursive! What is it even for? Signatures? Embroidering names on jackets? I actually heard it was developed so the writer wouldn't have to lift his or her hand from the page as often - economy of movement so to speak. Fantastic. Thank you for those eight seconds a year I get back. Might've been nice to have the fifty hours I spent learning cursive back instead. No offense to any of my teachers; I appreciate their instruction. Plus, I can't complain too much since I continue to teach it as well. The tradition lives on. In any case, all of her sentences have to do with my little daschund, Cooper. She decided to include a portrait of Cooper at the bottom, dressed up as "The Cookie King," not to be confused with "The Boom King." It's kind of hard to see, but he's saying "My cookies!" She gave me permission to post her work on the blog after we studied Cooper's portrait a little more carefully and then both burst out laughing.

Best Friends

Wow. I love stories like this! There is an article here, too, in case you can't watch the clip.

Also, I went ahead and included a picture of my new BFF! Check it out.

I know, we're an unlikely pair, but somehow we make it work! BFF 4-EVA!

The All-Electronic House

This is from Chris Smith's Home Movie. It totally reminds me of "There Will Come Soft Rains" by Ray Bradbury. The whole clip is pretty fascinating, but if you can't watch the whole thing, just catch the last five seconds when the coolest bathroom fixture of all time makes an appearance.

Fun Dip is a Liar

Lik-m-aid Fun Dip haunts me. Not literally - I mean, the phantom of a sugary treat doesn't hover around me at night waiting to stab me with its dagger-like Lik-a-Stik; it's just that something about it doesn't sit well with me. I can't seem to shake this particularly bold claim it continues to make.

First let me direct your attention to the lower-left-hand corner of this familiar wrapper. As you can see, it champions the fact that its blue raspberry powder changes to green apple on your tongue via some kind of wizardy. I remembered this vividly and it was confirmed by Wikipedia, "The most common flavors are cherry, grape, and blue raspberry. The blue raspberry flavor was changed so that it changes from blue raspberry to green apple when it comes in contact with saliva." Even the newer version of the candy makes a point of saying that the magical powder changes colors and flavors! [Sidenote: Why do they always make food eat itself with delight? It's unsettling].

So, all of this adds up to the fact that the blue raspberry changes to green apple on your tongue. Here's the thing though. It's never blue raspberry. It's only blue apple! I don't doubt that it turns green. I've seen it. It's just a little hard to believe that it changes flavors. Listen Fun Dip, you're telling me that when the powder is sitting in its little packet, it tastes like blue raspberry, but "when it comes in contact with saliva" it becomes green apple through some kind of spectacular transmogrification? Are you kidding? You could say that about anything. You could be like, "This strawberry tastes like a roast beef sandwich until it comes into contact with your saliva and then it tastes like strawberries! It's a miracle!" It's impossible to prove. You can't taste something without tasting it, and once you taste this powder, it supposedly changes flavor. It's like chasing a constantly retreating rainbow, or wondering if the refridgerator light really goes off when you shut the door, or hearing a tree fall in the forest, or cutting out a mobius strip, or wondering if your terrible analogies will distract everyone from your extremely good point.

In any case, the good news is that all of this candy fury brought up what I believe is going to be my most fantastic and controversial idea yet.

A Partial List of The Worst Candy of All Time

5) Atomic Fireballs

I told you this was going to be controversial. Right now, many are saying, "But, I looooved atomic fireballs!" Yeah, I know, they were totally popular. In fact, I totally pretended to like them in order to be cool! "Mmmmm! These are great!...ouch...Let's listen to Debbie Gibson! eyes are burning...I mean, are you going to the skate party?" I was so relieved when the trend died and dipping your finger in Jell-O packets took its place.

4) Banana Runts

In Hell, everything you touch turns to banana Runts. Oh, you want a glass of water? Here's a never-ending supply of banana Runts. Enjoy.

3) Tie Between Rock Candy and Honey Stix

Rock Candy: It looked like rocks. It tasted like rocks. What the fuck.

Honey Stix: They used to sell these at the Crystal Mountain General Store. Just flavored honey in a tube. Kids would just mainline them on the way home. I imagine in the old ski bus driver's nightmares, Honey Stix march in on him like storm troopers. [Sidenote or Nerd Trap: storm troopers, one word or two]?

2) Giant Jawbreakers

Hey, do you want a huge, chalky, piece of candy the size of Gliese 581 c that gives you a debilitating cheekache and destroys your mouth with its patina of white sandpaper? Do you want to keep a sticky Ziploc bag by your bed for weeks? Do you want a piece of candy that will last through all of 6th grade? Giant jawbreakers are for you!

1) Black Licorice

Black Licorice is a total polarizer. You either love it or you hate it. There's no halfway with black licorice. That actually makes me kind of like it.

Honorable Mention: Twizzlers
As Scott said, you might as well not even take off the wrapper before eating them, because it will taste the same.

Now, I'm going to go eat some Sixlets, the best candy of all time. After that, Rachel, Whitney and I are going to ride our bikes to Country Corner. See you there.