Reason 158

Healthier eating. Last week I made the mistake of watching Food, Inc., a documentary about processed food and the disturbing evolution of farming in our country. The film outraged me so much that I, an historically complacent eater, have actually started to change my eating habits, reading nutritional labels before tossing items into the grocery cart, loading up the fridge with fresh fruits and vegetables, and counting the days until the farmer's market opens across the street so I can buy tasty organic treats that didn't travel a thousand miles to get onto my plate. A few days after watching Food, Inc. I went to a showing of Fresh, another documentary about America's desperate need for a food revolution, which only cemented my determination to use my almighty dollar to fight the ginormous food corporations. Don't worry, Jason, I haven't become a health food zealot, looking down my nose at anyone who indulges in the creamy goodness of Kraft macaroni & cheese or chiding coworkers for shoveling some cardboard Lean Cuisine meal down their throats in the limited amount of time we have for lunch. I still indulge in a triple chocolate muffin from Costco almost every morning for breakfast and will happily knock back a martini or two when the mood strikes - it's not like I have become a poster child for Whole Foods. When we do hang out, however, I promise to drive right past McDonald's when your belly starts to rumble, no matter how much you beg and plead for some golden, deep-fried taters, and then kindly remind you that happy, grass-fed cows taste a whole lot better than corn-fed ones who have been standing in their own shit for days on end. Before you know it you will be cultivating your own vegetable garden and planting sweet-smelling orange trees in your yard so you can enjoy fresh squeezed juice every morning before call time. You'll troll the internet for fresh recipes on preparing healthy and delicious meals, become a regular at the L.A. farmer's market (assuming there is one), and walk around with a smug smile on your face knowing that your colon is one of the healthiest in town. After just a week of avoiding processed foods I have noticed a change in my energy level, so I'm hoping the positive changes I'm making stick with me for the long-haul. If I happen to fall of the fresh food wagon, though, and start gorging myself on frozen pizzas and canned bean dip (not together - don't worry), you have my permission, Jason, to knock me over the head with an artisan baguette until I come to my senses. Then we can skip off to a nearby Trader Joe's knowing all is once again right with the world.

Reason 157

Data. There is no denying that data is sexy. No, I'm not referring to Data from The Goonies (although all of his gadgets were pretty hot), but rather groups of numbers that can be poured over and manipulated in order to paint a clearer picture of something. In college I majored in Sociology, mostly because it was the only subject that I thought I could stomach for four years, and one of the unexpected joys of studying how groups of people around the world interact was the program's emphasis on research and data as a way of understanding human craziness. Sophomore year I signed up, kicking and screaming, for a required statistics class and was shocked to discover the work was interesting and I actually had a knack for calculating probabilities and creating oddly shaped graphs. Fast forward seven years later to me being hired as a teacher who, as it turns out, needs to constantly evaluate data about students in order to understand which concepts they are struggling with and which information thay have a solid grasp on so we can, as a class, move on into new territory. Every year students across the state take a standardized assessment of their reading skills and when the results arrive a few months later I practically bathe in all those scores, cackling with delight as I create spreadsheet after spreadsheet of information that will be critical in shaping the next year's classroom experience. Jason, I have no idea if you geek out about data, too, but if you do I will always be ready and willing to discuss the latest box office draws or most recent research around employing acting techniques peddled by Strasberg versus Stanislavsky. And, if you aren't too keen on numerical measurements, I will happily preach the gospel of data in an attempt to bring you over to the dark side. Really, anyway you slice it I come out a mathematical winner.

Reason 156

Procrastination. I have been putting things off since before I was born, arriving three weeks later than my expected due date and cementing my future as one defined by avoidance. All through middle and high school I ignored homework assignments and projects until the night before they were due, driving my very organized and responsible mother crazy. In college I wrote my entire senior thesis a mere 12 hours before I was required to hand it over to my professor, although I did conduct all of my research beforehand (I'm not a complete masochist). Now that I am a teacher one would think I'd have my act together, spitting out batches of corrected homework and quizzzes almost as soon as they graced my desk, but alas, I am constantly scrambling up until that first bell to assess my students' brilliant work and enter all the scores in my grade book. Unfortunately, the enticing arms of procrastination stretch beyond the educational setting, swaddling me tenderly with false ideas about how often laundry should be done, the garbage needs to be taken to the dumpster, and groceries should appear in the refrigerator. I blame my superior reasoning skills for my dilly-dally attitude - I can spout off a litany of legitimate excuses for putting off what can always be done tomorrow. If I am out of food I can always go to mom's; if I run out of clean underwear there's a Target just around the corner; if I'm not in the mood to write my blog I can simply write about not wanting to write my blog. Well, you get the idea. Jason, as a person who has his fingers in many pies, I imagine you are fairly regimented and can multi-task almost as well as Martha Stewart (without the condescending smile). Perhaps your dedication to getting things done will inspire me to respond to email within twenty-four hours, scrub my bathroom more than once every three months, and open the Beatles RockBand box that has been sitting in my hallway since September. And if you are actually a procrastinator in sheep's clothing, at least we can commiserate together (but not right now).

Reason 155

Dates. When it comes to dating, my track record is not too hot. It's not that I am some socially awkward recluse, holed up in my condo building dioramas of favorite scenes from 80's movies (although that does sound like a pretty kick-ass time), or an overly aggressive she-devil who lures men into my web and then devours them (metaphorically, of course). Honestly, I just haven't been motivated to spend hours seeking out funny, intelligent, kind men in their early 30's who live within a 30-mile radius and know the difference between there, their and they're. Teaching seems to take up a considerable amount of time and energy, and when you mix in commitments to my friends and family, writing this fabulous blog, playing games on FaceBook, and watching Glee, just the thought of dating makes me want to crawl into bed and sleep for days. Even though I seem to go on a lot of first dates with unimpressive men (yep, jobless, carless and living with roommates when you're 37 is pretty hot), I do think I am a fairly good judge of character when it comes to people my friends date. Last year when I met the woman my best friend had been dating for three months I immediately knew she was not the peanut butter to his jelly and he broke up with her three days later (not at my urging mind you, although if he asked for my opinion I would've told him to cut and run the minute they arrived back in San Diego). In high school, I was notorious for setting classmates up with the decent guys in my neighborhood, and after college I accurately predicted how many years a certain marriage would last. What this all means for you, Jason, is that I will be more than happy to screen all of your dates, providing you with ample feedback about each lady's pros and cons, before you find yourself in a monogomous relationship that rivals Jon and Kate's. My tolerance for bullshit is pretty low, so I think I'll have an easy time spotting the women who want to hang on your arm simply because you're a celebrity and those who are genuinely interested in all of your amazing qualities. I won't even charge you for my services, unlike some other matchmakers out there. All that I ask is, when I do introduce you to the woman of your dreams, you name your first born child after me. A small price to pay for true love, I think.

Reason 154

My own currency. No, I don't have a private printing press in my basement, cranking out paper money whenever I need a buck like the Fratellis in Goonies. What I do have, though, is access to an endless supply of Feudal Farthings, colorful fake money in four denominations used by the 6th grade teachers to bribe our students into submission the last few months of school. Teachers from each core subject pose for a group shot that is printed onto the money, a nice reminder to our kids that we are vigilantly keeping tabs on their behavior, even if it's just from their pockets or binders. Since I have been a part of the 6th grade team for five years (we are, hands down, the most awesome grade level), my gorgeous mug has, at one point or another, appeared on every bill put into circulation. I bet none of your fancy celebrity friends can brag about being pictured on highly valuable fins and sawbucks, Jason. If you play your cards right I may even be willing to create a limited-edition C-note that showcases your regal profile. I'll need a few weeks lead time, though - our print shop is notorious for 'misplacing' orders. It must be all the fumes from the copy ink.

Reason 153

Grocery carts. In 1937 a man named Sylvan Goldman invented the very first grocery cart, forever changing the shopping experience. No longer did weary housewives have to brave the flourescent aisles, one arm laden with Wonder Bread and Miracle Whip, the other with a squirmy toddler who desperately wanted to run around the store screaming like a banshee. Now consumers were free to stroll up and down the lanes, tossing whatever their hearts desired into the mobile metal basket and battling that one wonky wheel that had a mind of its own. What Goldman probably didn't anticipate was all the vehicular damage orphaned carts would cause in parking lots the world over or the proliferation of stolen carts in apartment complexes from Seattle to Shanghai. It really gets my goat when I pull into a parking spot and an abandoned cart is blocking my path, its back wheels propped up on the sidewalk or curb, as if the last owner really made an effort to be responsible. How difficult is it to walk an extra twenty or thirty feet and put the cart in its nest? All it wants is to be with its own kind, snuggled up, basket to basket, waiting patiently for the teenage wrangler to make his hourly sweep of the lot. What chaps my hide even more, though, are the people who see nothing wrong with walking a cart all the way to their building, even if they live half a mile away. Yes, I applaud you for getting off your ass and walking to the store instead of burning up valuable fossil fuel, but your attempt at saving the planet is a tad overshadowed by the fact that you just committed theft! Please suck it up and live with the humiliation of looking like a bag lady with your own little cart, so responsible shoppers like me don't get shafted by increasing prices that are a direct result of the thousands of dollars stores lose every year to replace their missing carts. Jason, rest assured that when we are done trolling the aisles of Safeway together I will always return our cart to its home, saving drivers everywhere the frustration of being dinged by runaway baskets. Besides, careening through the parking lot on an empty cart en route to the nest is the highlight of any shopping excursion. Why would I give that up?

Reasons 151 & 152

May Day! May Day! The first of May is upon us and with it brings thoughts of either two things: bountiful bouquets of spring blooms (I heart alliteration) or sinking ships and safety drills. Well, Jason, stick with me because I have firsthand experience in both areas. As a teacher at a public school I am expected (with the rest of the building) to participate in one fire drill each month, as well as an earthquake and lockdown drill every three months. Lucky for me the school I work in was remodeled about ten years ago and the new smoke detection system is extremely sensitive, so we end up having fire drills upwards of four times a month. Any time someone leaves popcorn in the micorwave for two seconds too long, conducts a science experiment involving fire (the best kind), or moves dust around too aggressively, the dang lights start flashing, we immediately stop learning about ancient civilizations or cockroaches or whatever, and march out to the field, where we wait for twenty minutes for the fire department to show up and clear us to return to our classrooms. As you may know, middle school students are as patient as a gaggle of Buddhist monks and just love standing in straight lines until kingdom comes. So, not only can I get you out of a building quickly if the alarm goes off, Jason, I can also entertain you in the pouring rain with nothing more than my wits and a foil blanket until the drill is over. Now, if that fire alarm goes off on May 1st I may even pluck some flowers from a nearby neighbor's yard, whip up a basket out of strips of construction paper (a la my kindergarten days), and lovingly place them in your arms in celebration of May Day. Heck, we could even create a maypole from a nearby tree and our shoelaces, then prance around it, giving thanks to spring - clothing would be optional. As an atheist I fully support any holiday originated by those wacky Pagans, especially one that involves flowers. Ironically, the Druids used to start a giant fire to celebrate May Day, which was the halfway point in their calendar. Hmm, with all of my fire safety knowledge perhaps I should have been born pre-Christ. On second thought, I don't think I'd be down with the whole human sacrifice thing. As awesome as Wicker Man is (the original, not that Nicolas Cage schlock), it still scares the crap out of me. I guess I'll stick to showering you with flowers, Jason.