This is blog of a woman who didn't know what she wanted and so chased after dreams and men in search of the answers...drunken hilarity ensued. Then one day she met a man who was everything she wanted, but he wasn't so sure. Then she did the unthinkable; after they broke up she gave him this blog address and she let him into her mind as well as her heart. Unbelievably, even after sorting through the sordid archives of failed relationships, one night stands and her lusty (and embarassing) pursuit to secure the heart of a certain young line cook, John somehow managed to fall in love with her too. Melina and John were married a little over six months after they started dating, running away to Las Vegas to seal the deal. You can imagine what the over/under bet was to see if they'd even make it a year!! Over a year later and they are still going strong...this blog has become their story. Need to tell me something? Email me at Melinalovesjohnny at gmail dot com
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Sunday, January 20, 2008
Dance the Night Away
Last night I chose to chaperone an underclassmen dance. I don't teach underclassmen, I don't even know what to do with these small children, however, I do know what to do with thirty dollars an hour. Who doesn't? But I didn't expect such culture shock. Seriously, it's a world of difference between 14-15 and 17-18. I'm no scientist, nor do I know the actual difference I'm just trusting my own ability to cope with children and their hormones and at 17 they must be getting laid steadily or something because 14-15 year old seem like they have hormonal hotflashes. They are crankier than Bea Arthur was on her worst day as Dorothy on the The Golden Girls. (That's a little shout out for my new reader B).

I did the boring job, I offered to do it. I checked kids in and out of the dance and let other people watch the actual dance antics (my one friend referred to it as "girls trying out for the pole"). Since I didn't actually know the kids, I couldn't make fun of them (it's a little rule I have), I save that for the Prom. Part of my job was to make sure that kids who wanted to leave had a ride home. Sure enough, I found the "Crier" of the evening. Crier heaped herself in the corner very close to me so that I would be sure to notice her.

Being maternal, loving and made of all that's good in the world I went over to her and attempted to soothe her. My attempts were thwarted with bitchiness and whatever this generation's Electic Youth is...seriously, she smelled worse than a syphalitic whore...and I'm trying to be charitable here. Anyways, my job was to make sure that she had a ride and that she wasn't trying to run out into the night dramatically in her tissue which was tastefully fashioned into a dress. This is how it went down:
Me: Are you OK? I mean, I know you're not and that you're upset. Can I do anything for you?

Her: NO! I don't fucking need anything!

Me: OK. Have you called your parents? Do you want to go home?

Her: I fucking called my dad already.

Me: Alright, good. And...I know you're upset and everything and I would be cursing up a storm too but...since I'm a teacher you probably shouldn't use the word fuck around me and since I'm trying to help you get out of here quicker maybe you should try being polite to me? (ok, had I been the Crier, I would've punched me as a 14 year old, but she was seriously pissing me off so I pulled on my passive aggressive authority mask)

Her: Are you fucking kidding me?

Me: Well, now I know why your boyfriend broke up with you.

PS. I didn't really say that, because I'm not evil but I wanted to...and that made me a little evil but kept me mostly sane because this same scene played out about four times throughout the evening.

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posted by Melina at 2:08 PM