Edubabble and other Blither

http://www.addictinggames.com/hidethefart.html

My high score is something like 22,000.

The link above leads you to a game played by seventh graders in my school's t.v. crew. We have an in-school station which airs announcements every day. Its advisor, a new father, has taken some time off to get to know his son. I volunteered to stay after school for a little while every day to supervise the students.

There's not really much to do, thankfully. The kids know how to record the announcements, how to use the equipment, how to do it all. A director does all the hard work. There are two "talents," who read the announcements a la Peter Jennings. There are three kids who are on stand-by in case something should happen. These three kids play Hide the Fart and other games. They remind me of our district's tech suport personnel, which, as far as I can tell, do the exact same thing but get paid.

The staff of WDPS are all seventh graders. This year's eighth graders cannot be bothered to do much, whether it be participate in a trivia competition, join a club, or seek glory on the tv screens of Dogpatch Middle School. I had forgotten what seventh graders are like. They're enthusiastic. They're fun. They're annoying. They are tenacious. They try on personalities for size, like miniature yuppies. On the staff of WDPS we have the dramatic, witty, self-deprecating short kid; the overstressed, often-sighing, ballsy diva who is certain she's the only one who can get anything done but is actually clueless; the pudgy, disheveled nerdy kid who often closes his eyes condescendingly, as if the sight of all of the stupidity in the world is too much for him to bear; the borderline geeky jock who tries so hard to be cool that it's hard to watch; the twins, a boy and a girl, whose mother wanted them to join a club, but who aren't enjoying it at all and alternately wince and stare blankly when I ask them to do something.

So, Friday I oversaw WDPS, then wandered out into the beautiful spring day. On Saturday Tripper and I had a perfect day. We went to a gun shop, a brew-pub, a surplus fabric store, a farm-league baseball game. It was close to 80 degrees. Since he's a peach, he surprised me with a new team hat upon return from one of his smoke breaks, as my sunglasses weren't cutting it. Now that's romantic.

Today I need to mow the lawn. We'll see.

My father may be dangerously depressed again, I fear. He had to put his dog to sleep. He told my sister that he cried more for the dog than for his own father. (What's so strange about that? Pets rock.) He also told her that he's had two best friends in his life: one he just lost (the dog), and one he let go (my mother!!).

In lieu of thinking about my family or mowing the lawn, I think I'll play Hide the Fart. Maybe I'll make it to 30,000.