Hissy Fits, Deletions & Being a Big Fat Baby

After spending last weekend running around Austin with 10 little DIs, I got to spend more quality time with three DIs this weekend at the regional journalism academic writing competition at the University of North Texas in Denton.

Jeepers, creepers how blessed am I?

We almost didn’t go though because someone wasn’t acting her age and threw a big, fat hissy fit when she was told that the journalism crew would have to be ready to rock’n’roll at 5:50 a.m. on a Saturday morning even though the competition didn’t begin until 10:30 a.m.

Luckily my principal likes me and commanded that another gas guzzling suburban be procured so the journalism crew could leave at the more reasonable hour of 8 a.m. I think he also ordered another vehicle so that someone would start acting her age, stop throwing a big, fat hissy fit, and–for the love of all that is holy–leave him alone to do other, more important principal-type stuff.

Ya gotta love that guy.

So here we are in Denton with one more contest left to go. I found it rather amusing that the journalism competition was held in Room 411. Get it—4—1—1. My DIs just rolled their eyes. I guess stupid humor is lost on these young’uns. I suppose, though, if you really have to point out a pun, then it probably isn’t very funny to begin with.

All in all though, if I had to describe this past week, I suppose I would have to characterize it as a week where everyone had difficulty acting one’s age.

I think we can safely blame the sports guys for setting the tone for that. They started it, and the rest of the week just disintegrated from there.

Travis was working on page 20 when Zach discovered that Travis deleted Zach’s soccer story. Deleted as in gone forever, zapped, bleeped into computer oblivion.

Zach, of course, wrote the story on the page, so there’s not another computer file of his story.

Zach, of course, can no longer find his notebook with his interviews.

Zach, of course, immediately launched into the three Rs—Raging, Reviling and Ridiculing—his compadre. For the rest of the week, class went like this…

Zach…“I was fine until you erased my story.”
Travis… “I didn’t erase your story.”
Zach… “Did too”
Travis… “Did not”
Zach… “Did too”
Travis… “Did not.”

Do you see the pattern here?

That even spilled over into the back room where the DIs are not allowed to eat at the computers. Despite telling them that they are not allowed to eat A lunch and then eat B lunch, C lunch and D lunch, some of them still ignore me. Me. Yeah, I know.

Me… Put your lunch away.
Staffer… I’m not eating it.
Me… Quit eating your lunch.
Staffer… I’m not eating it. I’m just picking at it.
Me… You are too eating it…
Staffer… Am not
Me… Are too
Staffer… Am not
Me… Are too…

Do you see the pattern here?

So it should come as no surprise when I had that little meltdown in my principal’s office over the 5:50 a.m. thing, and it should come as no surprise that I later had a bit of a meltdown with my exercise instructor—make that my former exercise instructor. You can read more about that little incident by going here.

Let’s just say she had a bit of bad news and tried to rationalize it. Instead of acting my age, I rolled my eyes, stomped out of the room, drove home and threw a big, fat hissy fit.

Then I stopped answering my phone and emails. In general. For days. Because I didn’t wanna. It was all rather cathartic.

But go ahead, you can call me a big, fat baby.

Am not.