DNAologist...

Now let me preface this post by stating that I'm not a DNAologist. However you don't have to be a doctor to notice this:

So watching the news about the fate of Michael Jackson's 3 children I noticed something startling. Although all reports claim that his 3 kids are biologically his, I can't help but wonder: why are these kids white? I'm a history teacher. Biology and Math are not my strong suits, yet I know enough to function in society. I remember Punit (sp?) squares and dominant vs. recessive traits and know how fractions in math work that that 2 halves make a whole. Now I know that by the mid 90s the man was whiter than Casper the ghost, but biologically his DNA was black. And he had kids with women who biologically were white. So how are these kids not mixed?

Lets begin with the oldest 2: Micheal Joseph Jackson Jr (known as Prince Michael) and Paris Katherine Michael Jackson. Real creative. I'm gagging as I type. Anyways, Michael and Debbie Rowe (his dermatologist, obviously she wasn't a good one, look at the man) married and had 2 kids. They married right after he was divorced by Lisa Marie Presley, so they were obviously "for real" and not a sham. Anyways here is the happy couple:

Again, I know he looks white here but we all know the man isn't. I mean I don't know if he bleached his skin or just what, but for those of you too young to remember, this is what he should have still looked like:

Now the kids:

Handsome little devils huh? Cute as can be! But they're white. Right? They don't look anything like Michael, the before or after look. So I can't help but wonder, are these really his kids. I mean did they REALLY, REALLY, TRULY come from him? Hmmm, I'm skeptical.

Now the third child. You know the one he hung over a balcony with a sheet on its head a while back. Yeah that one. Again Michael stepped outside the box when naming this one. Drum roll please: Prince Michael Jackson II (sorry bud, you get this, your old man and older bro already took the normal versions of the name). And guess what he is called: blanket. Not just by the media. I read that is the kid's name and what he goes by. Only thing I can think of is because Michael had a blanket over his head when he hung him off a balcony? Coincidence?

Now this kid has is bad. I honestly feel for him. Not only was he thrown about outside a hotel window, and goes by "blanket" at preschool, but he has no mother. When reading about how Michael Jackson's mom will keep custody of the three kids I saw where they released info from the court documents. In these documents under "child's mother" it was filled in as "none." NONE! WTF? What this kid is an alien? He just magically appeared on Michael's doorstep one day with a note from a stork? Are you kidding? He's gonna be messed up one day when he stumbles across those court documents and realizes that he has no mother. That'll send a kid on a drug-induced tailspin quicker than anything I know. Here's a look at the poor soul:

Again, the child is white? Yes? And stylish too-- just look at those mini loafers. And devilish grin. I smell a future heartbreaker ladies!

So in conclusion, I am in no way a licensed medical practitioner, so you don't have to take my word for it, but I do feel that I bring to light some very important questions regarding these kids. Just something for you to think about.

Song of the Post: For this I picked my ABSOLUTE VERY FAVORITE Michael Jackson song of all times. Not Thriller (so cliche), Billie Jean, or Beat It. No. I'm talking about his 1991 mega hit: "Black or White." Fitting I know. But I swear, that's just a coincidence that it aligns so perfectly with the post. This was the first MJ single I owned-- cassette tape of course-- and played religiously in my walkman. It takes me back to the carefree days of Shadybrook Elementary and Roll-er-Rink Saturday mornings. We would skate around for hours listening to this (along with Paula, NKOTB, and other early 90s icons) in our puff paint tshirts, neon colored biker shorts, and sick side ponies full of curls. Man life was good back then. I feel that this song helped instill values of racial tolerance in my generation. Like the man sings: "But if you're thinking 'bout my baby/it don't matter if you're black or white." Well said.

BTW: on related note, Michael Jackson died last week. Just wanted to make you aware. They aren't covering it much in the news.

Typical Saturday?

Get ready for a long one....

Let me tell you about my day this past Saturday. I'm wake up to find my mom in the midst of her Saturday morning cleaning routine. Oh how I despised the Saturday morning cleaning routine growing up. When I was younger I hated it because it meant she would come in my room and vacuum, dust, change my sheets, and anything else she could to disrupt my morning. I mean how I am suppose to lay in the bed and watch Saturday morning cartoons with her yanking the fitted sheet out from under me? Or she would vacuum and somehow completely destroy the arrangement I had set up for my Barbies. Yes I played with Barbie's. I'm an only child remember, who else was I going to play with? I didn't do the whole babydoll thing, too sissy, but Barbie, now she was cool. I had a whole corner of my room dedicated to her- a house, 2 car garage, school, grocery store, pool, and ever popular rock concert stage. Barbie lived the life with me. But enough of that, back to Saturday morning. In my teenage years my hate for this routine turned from being merely inconvenienced to forced participation. Now it wasn't a labor camp, but the woman made me work! And we started before 10am usually. Although I thought it was a form of child abuse, her and the State of North Carolina didn't agree and I did several years of hard labor under her watch. That was until I moved away to college. Then magically the Saturday morning routine wasn't around whenever I was at home for the weekend. I think it's because I turned into a guest or something like that. I'd come home Friday evening and the place would be spotless. Like I was real company coming over for the weekend. Well folks reality hit me this Saturday and I'll be danged the routine is back! Its worse too because now with cleaning we throw in a healthy dose of organizing my crap from Raleigh, and cleaning out old stuff here to make room for my crap from Raleigh. I pulled my fair share and after lunch decided that I needed to make a break for it before I was gonna go insane. So being the helpful daughter that I am I decided to run errands. We needed large storage containers, gardening stuff, and groceries. Lightbulb! I'll just go to Walmart and knock it out in one place. Although the Walmart was built in high school (and was the ever popular hangout parking lot back in the day I might add) I never used it for groceries although I always heard how cheap the groceries are. Well I decided to go-- in the name of fiscal responsibility of course. Mistake! I think I'd rather slowly drown then go to the ONLY Walmart around (mind you if you don't go to this one you have to drive to a "real" city like Winston, Greensboro, or High Point for one) in the middle of a Saturday. It was a freggin zoo. And let me tell you I fit in nicely navigating the packed isles and dodging small children with a cart filled with 3 large rubbermaid containers, potting soil, and random groceries stuffed in where they would fit. Of course I'd run into about 50 people I hadn't seen since high school and I hadn't showered yet-- who showers for Walmart? White trash I was. I might as well of been toting around my son Junior with a kool-aid mustache and only one flip flop. I vowed never to make that mistake again...

Later that evening...
So Neal and I go with his 2 good friends and their girlfriends to the RibFest in Winston. According to what I was told this was a pretty big and fun gathering in downtown Winston. I thought cool lets go! Well not this year. First of all they moved it to the Dixie Classic Fair Fairgrounds. I mean its no State Fair fairgrounds but its pretty large. Its directly beside the LJVM Auditorium (where they hold concerts and stuff). I'm talking they share the same parking lot. And directly across a small side street from the Wake Forest baseball stadium. I'm thinking it'll be packed but no big deal. Wrong. Saturday was the day that every high school in WSFCS graduated at the LJVM. In and out all day long! And there was a game at the baseball stadium. You wanna talk about a madhouse. That place was one! We walked around, sampled some tasty ribs, and then decided to continue on to our next adventure of the night-- but not after spending an ungodly amount of money; 6 bucks each to get in, 11 to split ribs, 4 for fries, and then drinks were 5 bucks each and ice cream for another 5 bucks. Was it worth it? Doubt it, but you live and learn. The best part was the ice cream on the way out. It was like an ice cream sandwich but stuffed between 2 waffles! It was AMAZING! Again, classy I was as it dripped all over me across the parking lot.

Later that night...
So from there we decided to go to Bowman Gray Race Track for the Race. Yes you heard right race. Not Nascar, but not go-karts either. I mean these are real races. After being told it was Ladies Night (score! I got in for a dollar instead of 10!) and the final race was Demolition Derby I was all for it. I couldn't think of a better way to end my Saturday. So we get there and boy were they right-- all kinds come out for this event. I mean you can probably picture the scene. Girls in bright colored flip flops, tank tops, and "shorts" that can barely be called shorts and not underwear. Men in white or black t-shirts with brightly colored font and pictures of their favorite drivers with sleeves cut off as home made tank tops and jean shorts with boots. Malboro's and Bud Lights for as far as the eye could see. So one would think I might feel a little out of place? But nah, I loved it! I'd never been before-- its not really somewhere Robin and Dave went for a family fun Saturday night. I wasn't sure that I would like it (in fact Neal asked if I was in hell yet soon after we got there) but quite the contrary. It was some serious fun! We got seats about 5 rows back from the track right in the curve. Now its a small track and they race normal sized cars so it can get a bit jumbled. They had frequent wrecks which were fun to watch but then you had to wait out the caution and it drained from the excitement. After one wreck a guy kept driving even though the hood of his car crinkled up in the wreck and had to be totally blocking his view out of the front windshield. It was like something straight out of Talladega Nights. I guess sticking his head out the side window to steer got old because he left the track shortly after. Then I was gonna take a picture (for the blog of course!) of this guy who didn't have a hood at all on his car from a wreck-- the whole engine was exposed. I couldn't get a good picture so I decided to video it and lucky me, look what I got on tape right in front of us:



Keeps getting better right? Nope. About 10 mins after the video it started to rain and before we could get out of the race track it was pouring-- as we ran across the street and through a field where everyone had to park to our car in the pouring rain. I know it keeps getting better! No demolition derby :( But I've since found out that since they didn't do 3 races my ticket is now a rain check and I can come back to see the races and demolition derby free of charge. I'm thinking of waiting until my girls from Raleigh come down for a weekend. That'd be fun right?

Song of the Post: "Louisana Saturday Night" by Don Williams. As the title suggests it speaks about a typical Saturday night in Louisana. You know things like sitting on your front porch with a shotgun and an one eyed- dog while you brother walks up with a possum (or opossum for you technical spellers) in a sack. I feel that it adequately sums up my Saturday.

Life Changes

So for those of you not completely up-to-date on my life here is the condensed version. Last week I moved back to Kernersville from Raleigh. Back to good ol' Pine Meadow Drive, upstairs, first room on the left. Yes that's right, I'm living with mom and dad. And yes I'm 25. And currently unemployed. Judge away.

It was a hard decision to leave Raleigh. I mean I called the place home for the last 7 years. That's insane when you think about it-- like a 1/3 of my life! Raleigh saw me through some really crazy times and it wasn't the easiest to say goodbye to. I came to love it as much as home-- heck I learned how to navigate it way better than I know Winston and Greensboro!

There were several factors that led me this way. The largest of course was the fact that Neal and I are getting married next June and I didn't want to spend my engagement living in two separate area codes. Our relationship has been largely long distance based and it was getting old. I mean I just want to see the guy and go to Moe's on a Tuesday night and vent about my terrible day. Talking on the phone wasn't the same and the more I had to do it the more I hated it. I just want to be at home on a Thursday evening and him come home and give me a kiss on the forehead and ask about my crazy teaching stories and get to relive them in person. Again the phone did very little justice to this. Also there was the fact that the last of my 3 roomies is getting married in August. She sold the townhouse I'd been in for 4 years and I really didn't want to live on my own in an apt-- practically all my MC friends are married or living out of Raleigh. I have no desire to be the teacher that lives by herself and has a lot of cats. You know the type. Not really my style. Also I missed home. I missed my parents and seeing them during the week. When I moved to Raleigh (at the wise age of 18) I knew what was best for me. I didn't need my parent's advice because believe it or not I knew everything. (Gah I wish I was as smart now as I was then.) I've since come to appreciate my parents and family more and realized that I wanted to be around them. I hated zooming in on the weekends and balancing parent time, Neal time, and friend time. It was impossible. I would usually only see them at church on Sundays and then for Sunday supper before rushing out to return to Raleigh. I want to be able to see my mom during the week and hang out with my dad on weeknights and just catch up on life.

So I did just that and moved home the beginning of June. Since Neal and I are getting married next June we decided to both move in back at home to save money until we buy a house and get married. Again all my friends here are married up so no one to be a roomie with, and we didn't want to live alone if we didn't have to. It's got its pluses (home cooking, clothes folded on my bed when I come home, quality time with Robin and Dave, free internet and cable) and minuses (where'd ya go? what'd ya do? who'd ya see? what'd you know? every time I walk in the house), but overall its pretty good. I feel a little bit like a high schooler-- did I mention I had to return to my twin size bed in my room? Yes you read right. Twin. Oh it's luxurious.

Now the job hunt. Yes I'm unemployed. And unlike 10% of the population, its by choice. I know I'm crazy. You don't have to tell me; perfect strangers do that enough. I gave up teaching at Southeast and moved home with the hope that I'll be able to find something around here. Despite the economic CRISIS and school budget cuts, I think I'll be able to find a high school somewhere in Kernersville, Winston, Greensboro, High Point, or Davidson Co. that needs a Social Studies teacher-- and perhaps a coach. I used to think I'd find something over the summer but I'm pretty convinced that it'll be August before I know anything. For all you non-teachers there's this thing called the "first 10 days" -- not sure if that's its official title or not. This is when they take attendance like crazy and by the end of the 10 days they have their official enrollment. The state mandates that there is a certain number of teachers for kids. No more. No less. If schools have more kids they hire teachers after that period. If they have less they let some go. They can't put 50 kids in a classroom, so I'm hoping that during that time schools will realize "holy crap we shouldn't have let all those teachers go, we need them!" Then I'll swoop in gracefully and answer their prayers. Tada! Genius huh? Well lets just hope it goes like that. Being a substitute until then is not my idea of a good time.

Whew that was a lot. See why I only write every few days? If all my posts are this long feel free to only read parts of it each day until a new one comes along.

Song of the post: "Closing Time" by Semisonic. Now this is a middle school throw back song, but fitting of the post. My favorite lyric is "every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end." Cliche but fitting. I used to say that I was gonna put that on the bottom of the back of my wedding program one day. But that was back when I had braces and bangs. What did I know...

Such the copycat

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I'm a copycat. Can't stand to be left out. So keeping true to my nature, I've decided to jump on the bandwagon again-- this time in blog world. I've never had a diary or journal (I was the person making fun of those who did) so we will see how well this goes. I definitely won't write everyday. Let's be honest, my life is just simply not THAT exciting and random anymore :)

But since 2 of my besties and lots of other friends have figured out how to keep this thing going, I figured why not? Now that I'm back in Kernersville (don't worry I'll explain all that and update you on my life soon) I can keep tabs on my Raleigh-ites and you can keep tabs on me.

Along with updating you on the greatness that is my life I figured I'll expose you to some wonderful music that will make your life more interesting. You're welcome.

Song of the post: She's Country by Jason Aldean.
Now I'm not a huge Jason Aldean fan (like everyone else in Kernersville) but I enjoy some of his songs. The main reason why I've not been a huge fan is because his first single "Hicktown" he sang about grandma on the front porch smoking Pall-Mall cigarettes and going to Bingo drunk. He rubbed me the wrong way. Well "She's Country" is currently stuck in my head, and its not that bad. For those who know me well, you know I can't stand to be closed up and I'm pretty claustrophobic (hence why I pee my pants when forced into elevators). Well I'm not scared of flying per say, but the enclosedness of the airplanes really freak me out. So when the plane was taking off I played this into my ear (I don't think I was "technically" allowed to used approved electronic devices until 10,000 ft but I'm a rule-breaker) and hummed along while rocking back and forth with my hands between my legs. It sure helped calm me down, but I bet the people around me thought I was a real freakshow.