One-Way Trip to Davy Jones' Locker

If we lived in the days when pirates ruled the seas and were free to mete out their own form of walk-the-plank style justice, I would undoubtedly be sent to the briny depths for all eternity because of the things I have done in this lifetime. Here are but a few recent examples.

For encouraging and allowing Emma to watch the Britney Spears episode of Glee on our DVR each night. I mean, what two-and-a-half year old even watches Glee anyway?

For getting my church-going night nurse Mele addicted to the new television series The Walking Dead.

For actually purchasing William Hung's debut cd when it came out.

For still owning it today.

For forcing everybody I know to watch my copy of Heavy Metal Parking Lot with me. If you haven't seen it, you really should.

For laughing so heartily at the one and only typo on La Entrada's California Distinguished School application: the charitable organization now forever known to me as One Warm Goat

For asking my former principal to bequeath to me upon her retirement the child-created poster advertising a community-wide book drive for impoverished Chilean school children that was hanging in her office that actually read Books for Chilly Children.

For proudly displaying that poster in my classroom upon receiving it.

And for dragging my retired school teacher friend Mary Lou -- aka The Hen -- to see The Last House on the Left in the theater. Every time we hang out she reminds me of that experience; especially the climactic exploding head in the microwave scene.