Trekkychick

I thought my classroom needed some sprucing, but I’ve never had much of an eye for decoration. So I did the only logical thing and bought a betta fish to bring some much needed color to the room. After all, on what planet is a class pet NOT a great idea?

(I’ve just been informed by my publicist that a class pet is not a great idea on the Planet Mercury, where there is little to no water, and fish aren’t able to breathe. Pets that breathe, and thus are alive, are on average considered healthier than those which don’t breathe, and thus are dead.)

But since if you’re reading this blog you live on Planet Earth, let us proceed.

Step One: Name the Fish

I knew that banding together to choose an appropriate name for the fish would promote camaraderie among my students. Each student got to choose a name, and I would draw a random name from the pile, thus promoting equal opportunity.

Here’s a typical dialogue:

Me: What should we name the fish?
Kindergarten Student: Saw.
Me: I didn’t hear you right. I thought you said Saw.
KS: I did.
Me: Do you mean Saw as in the sharp cutting tool used to slice through things, or Saw as in the horror movie where a lot of people are violently murdered? Because you’re too young to have acquired the irregular past tense morpheme for the verb “see”……

Saw is not the only interesting pick. Another kindergarten student chose “Haiti” which is only one consonant away from Hell. There was also Hunka Bunka, Samantha (for a male fish?? Okay it does have the word “man” in it but still), and Tele Tubbie. So my “random drawing” had to be rigged for the sake of salvaging what little respect that poor fish has left.

Step Two: Feed the Fish

It turns out that students will do just about anything to get out of work, even going so far as to jeopardize the fish’s metabolic health by insisting that it looks just famished and really needs to be fed immediately before we start the lesson. When the fish became so overfed that it began sinking to the bottom of the bowl, I knew that something had to be done, and fast. So I established a feeding schedule wherein one group of students per day gets the privilege of feeding the (still nameless) fish. The fish has really perked up now that he is fed one time a day, not eleven. He’s even starting to float again.

Step Three: Clean the Fish Tank

This is by far the least appealing step in the process of raising a classroom fish. And yet, it’s vital to a positive work environment that there not be a fish floating around in a bowl of its own feces. So off I traipsed to the faculty lounge last week to clean the fish bowl. I tell you, it’s not the first time this has happened, and it probably won’t be the last, but that darn fish was so excited to get out of that dirty bowl that he jumped right out before I had the chance to put him in a nearby container. And flopped all across the counter. Every time I got ahold of him, he slipped right back out of my fingers and back onto that coveted kitchen counter. After a lengthy battle, I managed to scoop him up in both hands and dump him into the container. I wasn’t quite sure he’d make it after such an extended period without water, but nameless fish are a persistent bunch and sure enough he was swimming again in no time. (And I was carefully disinfecting the faculty lounge to remove all evidence of the incident.)

And that, loyal blog readers, is how you have a classroom pet.

–Troi out

A younger, skinnier you is just a planet away! According to this website, your age in years varies drastically from planet to planet, depending on the the amount of time it takes for the planet to revolve around the sun. I may be approaching 30, but on Mars I would be a spry 15 years of age!

I know what you must be thinking, “But Troi, I use Botox to reduce the signs of aging. Why would I move to another planet to achieve the same effect?”

Botox stands for Botulinum toxin. It is a potent neurotoxin. One gram, widely dispersed and inhaled, could kill a million people. And if the looming threat of death doesn’t convince you, Botox paralyzes underlying facial muscles, reducing emotional expressiveness. Research has found that it may damage social relationships and the development of emotional IQ. And did I mention that Botox kills?

Now that I’ve convinced you that the only way to stave off age is to move to another planet, the only question that remains is to which planet you’ll be moving. This is where your weight comes in. Certainly, the last thing you want is to move to a planet where you’re younger but fatter. Thankfully, this website also informs you how much you’ll weigh on the planet, and on various stars. After much contemplation, I have decided against moving to the Sun, where I would weigh 3,140 pounds, and have chosen to move to Uranus, where I will weigh a mere 103 pounds. It is slightly unfortunate that on Uranus I will be only .33 years old, and that I will have to wait until the year 2063 for my next birthday, but at only 103 pounds I will be the talk of the planet!

Readers, please forward future responses to my new home on my new planet.

–Troi out

So once upon a time (yesterday) in a land far, far away (here, in my apartment), it came to pass that I was having a conversation with a male friend (you know who you are, Chris) about the differences between relationships and dating.

Male Friend: What is the difference between relationships and dating?

Me: Dating implies that it’s more casual. It does not have to be exclusive. A relationship is more committed and it’s exclusive. You can date more than one person at a time.

Male Friend: Can’t you have more than one relationship at a time, too?

Me: No, that’s called cheating.

Male Friend: I thought that was called fun!

While I’d love to take advantage of his comment as a fresh opportunity for male bashing, I’m presently on another mission. That is, am I correct in my definitions? Are there other interpretations? (Well, clearly there are for males.

Perhaps a real-life analogy will help to clarify the difference between dating and relationships. I like to think of dating as petty crime. Have you ever bought a small fountain drink at a fast food restaurant and upon empting your plastic cup, dared to venture back up for an ILLEGAL refill?? That’s sort of like dating. You’re skirting something serious, but it’s probably not punishable by lethal injection. (Lucky for you, Jamie.)

Relationships, on the other hand, are more akin to bank robberies, or perhaps assault. Once you’ve been caught in one of these offenses, it’s harder to get out of it. And if you spend a lot of time robbing banks, you may even wind up with a life sentence.

You know, readers, I’ve been told that I am terrible at analogies, but I really feel that I nailed this one. Your thoughts?

–Troi out

Recent research (by Troi) into gender differences has uncovered that the fundamental difference between men and women is not what we once thought. The primary difference is not anatomical, nor is it emotional, nor is it intellectual. The primary difference is actually the level of desire to fix material objects that have broken. A simple dialogue taken from a recent real life event can serve to demonstrate this striking difference:

Troi: My vacuum is broken.

Unidentified male friend of Troi: In dismantling your vacuum, I see that the belt has broken. We will drive to the local vacuum store to buy you a new belt.

Troi: That sounds like a lot of work. I think I”ll just get a new vacuum.

UMFOT: But a new vacuum is several hundred dollars. A new vacuum belt is only $4.95.

Troi: Yeah, but, putting a new belt in the vacuum sounds kind of hard. Look at all the nails lying on the floor. I don’t think I can fix it.

UMFOT: Those are called screws. And anyway, I’ll drive you to the vacuum store, help you find the new vacuum belt, and replace it on your vacuum for you so you don’t attempt to hammer the screws back in. Really, it will be easy and much cheaper than buying a new vacuum.

Troi: Are you sure I shouldn’t just buy a new vacuum?

Readers, the thing I want to get across here is that I am not lazy. I am a dedicated employee, volunteer, and good samaritan. Why, just the other day I saw an elderly man hobbling across the street and I slowed my car so as not to hit him too hard. Clearly I am a concerned citizen who is unafraid to go the extra mile when duty calls.

But I just don’t like taking things apart. My unidentified male friend (UMF) is just one of many MFs I have who seem to derive some sense of pleasure from taking things apart, inspecting their insides, and then putting them back together. Not only does this type of behavior sound unappealing, it in fact actually repels me. It repels me to the extent that I would rather spend $200 on a new vacuum than face the daunting prospect of fixing the old one.

I admit that ultimately hundreds of thousands of UMFs will save their money by dissecting their respective vacuums, computers, cell phones, blenders, paper towel holders, and pet hamsters to see what is wrong and fix the problem themselves rather than the alternative of buying new vacuums, computers, cell phones, coffeemakers, paper towel holders, and pet hamsters.

But I’m willing to accept that fact. As long as you don’t make me dismantle my appliances.

–Troi out