Why the SOLs don't evaluate your future.

SCENE: (you're in a classroom, with the walls covered with cute posters of strange and violent history turned into happy cartoons like "The Greek Gods" and "The Crusades!", with atlases on the wall and maybe a room border of the alphabet..in cursive! Desks are in rows so that the small children won't cheat off each other. Folders are put up around the corners of desks so they really won't cheat. Kids are around a fifth grade level. There is a girl and a boy in desks next to each other with their lunches crammed in with all the books and colored pencils and odd things children keep in their desks, like glue piles and melted crayons. Both are brunette.)

Boy: (leans over to girl and whispers) Hey, what's box 2-I-i-a-b?
Girl: (whispers back): uhhh they just want to know if you're male or female
Boy: (whispers...still): yeah...am I male or female?
Girl: (whispering...this is a test setting): ...You're male...i'm female.

End Scene. (Please note the gender stereotyping in the script)

Now folks, you may be thinking "oh that Jenn, she should write screenplays. Or at least Lifetime movies" (I'd prefer the latter), but no! Alas, I did not come up with that on my own. This really happened. Hint: the girl was me. Now lets fast forward to the modern day, yesterday. I'm at the grocery store buying, you know, groceries. All to prepare a fine dinner of herb roasted pork, red potatoes and green beans. Also, a pumpkin cheesecake. As I look to my left, woe, I see said boy from the fifth grade classroom. He does not recognize me. Thank goodness. While I chat it up with the butcher about pork loins, in the meat section, I eye him up and down in my peripheral vision. In his nice collared buttondown shirt, tucked into his neatly pressed pants (they were from Express for men, previously known at Structure), I noticed this: an office building ID badge attached to his pocket.

There you have it ladies and gents! The boy who inquired about his gender to me in fifth grade is now gainfully employed. And I, smart little pigtailed fifth grader, who spent no doubt life being smarter than he, am not. I don't mean to be vain, i'm not the smartest kid ever (although let it be said that fifth grade was the year I decided I was going to read my Dad's college textbook: William Shakespeare..the complete collection!), BUT I did go to elementary school, middle school, and high school with him. I'm smarter, I swear. (Plus, employers, i'm super nice, outgoing, a hard worker and a quick learner).

anyway, just letting out a little frustration. I have a phone interview tomorrow at 3:30, perhaps it will work out for me.

Luck please <3

Your tickles pain me.

To the Male Population

Hi! Jenn here. Wanted to drop you an FYI about flirting. Here's the thing that i've experienced many times in my life as a flirting technique, yet absolutely despise. It started maybe circa 8th grade. I do not know if there was a male memo on this but it seems popular. In reality, it should have stopped maybe after 10th grade, or the end of high school if you're particularly shy. That would be me.
So lets address it. The tickle-cuddle. I'll think of a better name later. But that move where you tickle us and so we get all squirmy and cute and you use it as a way to get in there and make a move because we're so incapacited buy your silly tickles we can't fight back. Yes, you know what i'm talking about.

A. If I wanted to be that close to you, I would.
Its simple. When this started in 8th grade, I was shyer, a bit meeker. Understandable, cause you were as well. It was cute, and it worked well to jumpstart the dating. But here's the thing. I'm not that shy anymore. I'm a flirt who loves hugs and cuddling. So really, if i wanted to be that close, I would be. So stop making me! This leads me to point B.

B. Hey, Godzilla.
I'm not the largest girl you'll come across. I'm 5'4. Don't call me short, it's fun sized. (For some reason the phrase funsized reminds me cupcakes. Who doesn't like cupcakes?) But unless i've entered into a parallel universe when I like my boys short and scrawny, you're bigger than me. Much bigger. Hence, when you start with your "tickles" (the use of quotations will be promptly explained in C.) I don't really have a choice. I lose. Your giant mass of a body will engulf me in a awkward cuddle because I have no choice! You win. And I usually give in so that I don't have to be tickled. Which clearly brings me to the most dreaded part of this 10 minute incident of uncomfortableness.

C. Fella, that's not tickling
Tickling. Who invented tickling? Why do people tickle? Hypothetical, don't get all scientific on me. And yeah, you bet i'm ticklish. Pedicures send tickles up and down my body and I embarrasingly giggle to myself. But what you're doing, is not tickling. You only think it's tickling. It's mostly just hurting. Tickling is much more gentle. You have to have soft movements, light and quick. But no! Not you! Maybe, you think, if i press harder, she'll giggle and laugh and get closer. NO! you press harder, it hurts. I've had people "tickle" who left bruises. You're kind of just poking and stabbing at my stomach. Awesome!! Keep it up. Really. I'll like you more if you do. (Just because the internet can be a bit unclear...that was sarcasm).


So all in all, theres my complaint. Don't get me wrong. I love boys. I love kissing boys. I just...think some should try new tactics.

Mrs Teasley on Beverly Hills 90210 has crazy long shaniqua nails. Random, I know.


hates it <3