If I ever find myself on the receiving end of a marriage proposal, it had better not be during the pre-joust knighting ceremonies at Medieval Times.

I don't want to sound snotty or elitist or superior, but Medieval Times? We are talking about a venue that forces you to eat with your hands while wearing an adjustable paper crown, for crying out loud. Not exactly the first scene that comes to mind when I picture someone professing his undying devotion to me.

And yet, tonight I witnessed this very thing. Which brings to mind two questions: 1) Did the girl accept? and 2) What was Daisy doing at Medieval Times?

I ended up at Medieval Times as part of their Educator Appreciation Night, where they invite teachers to come to the dinner show for free, and give you goodies (like a mouse pad and a behind-the-scenes DVD and a pen), and try to convince you to bring your students to one of their "educational shows".

Several members of our English department had receive invitations, and I was lucky enough to be invited as the guest of one of my former departmental colleagues, who I shall refer to as Gatbsy because a) he teaches American literature, and b) he is from Michigan, which is close enough to Minnesota for me, and c) he spends every summer on one of the Great Lakes and comes back to school blond and tan.

Gatsby and myself were joined by two other ladies from the department and the husband of one of them. Several other teachers were supposed to have joined the group but as is often the case with teacher's, they bailed on Friday night plans because the week just wore them out.

So, the five of us, sitting in the black and white knight's section, spent slurping soup out of our bowls and watching melodrama on horseback. Aside from the garlic bread, to which I am always partial, the best part of the evening was listening to one of my female companions screaming "Champions!" at the top of her lungs as she waved her hands excitedly in the air after our knight had defeated one of his less chess-board-ish-ly clad competitors. I bet she wouldn't object to being proposed to at Medieval Times.

As for the actual proposee, she did accept, and so is now officially a Medieval Bride-to-Be. I assume that she and her future hubby will follow in the footsteps of another happy couple announced that evening an will spend their 5th anniversary at The Castle, as the Medieval groupees like to call it. Of course, I'm sure the whole thing seemed romantic after downing one of the 40 oz. margaritas they were selling outside the dining hall.

Note to self: there is a reason they sell such large drinks at events like Medieval Times.

Posted at 10:40 PM
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Channel Flipping at 3 a.m.

One of the many side effects of school starting is the disruption of my normal sleep schedule. During the summer months, I feel like a cross between a teenager and an elderly woman: staying up until 2 a.m., taking naps in the middle of the afternoon. The start of school means the end of naps, which turns my 2 a.m. bedtime into something closer to 7 p.m.

Of course, I use the term "bedtime" loosely, as I typically fall asleep on my couch for a couple of hours, wake up, and shuffle down the hall to collapse in bed for the rest of the night.

The problem? Falling asleep early tends to make me wake up earlier than usual...like 3 a.m. early, apparently.

I was hoping a little TV would lull me back into oblivion for a couple more hours, but that plan has been nixed. Why? Possibly because 3 a.m. TV is a frightening experience that could lead to nothing but nightmares.

Without a Trace on TNT: because being a single woman awake in a house alone at 3 a.m. isn't sad enough, now I have to be afraid that I could be abducted by the pizza delivery guy, or worse, the Winged Monkey who I may have failed to notice is really a sociopathic drug dealer.

Or an infomercial for Slim in 6 two channels over: because being surrounded by anorexic 17-year-old girls and the tradition of post-30 ballooning bottoms on my mother's side of the family isn't enough to make a girl body conscious; now I have to watch complete strangers, many of which are currently as thin as I am, talk about their weight loss struggles.

Then there's Hardball Weekend on one of the news channels, which sounds like porn but is really politics--not that there's much difference between the two, since it's a bunch of unattractive people yelling and groaning, and it's all for show, and no one ever really does anything, though someone's sex life is frequently the topic of conversation.

One more channel and you hit Suze Orman, who let's face it, is just altogether frightening. The contrast between her overly tan skin and her shockingly white teeth is rather unsettling. And what's with the pointing? She keeps pointing at you the whole time. And the cadence of her speech? I can't quite place it, but it comes close to Jack Nicholson's monologue in A Few Good Men, so I always feel like she's barking "You can't handle your finances!"

And we wonder why Americans, with their average 2.4 TVs per household, suffer from growing rates of depression and anxiety. Duh! Look at the shit we are watching! And that's at 3 a.m. In the middle of the afternoon? Well, you have soap operas (pick one) where no one every really knows who their daddy is, or you have Law & Order SVU where a woman gets raped, murdered, and, more often than not, chopped into little pieces every hour on the hour.

And the children's stations? Lilo & Stitch. Aliens, people. Aliens. And I don't care how cute he is, or how much he looks like a cuddly blue koala bear. Have you seen the teeth on that thing? My advanced education has taught me that most creatures with teeth like that like to eat meat and that little Lilo is a plump little thing with golden brown skin...kinda like a rotisserie chicken. Perfect for an alien snack if you ask me.

It's disturbing, people. Disturbing and dark in a way that only a breakfast of leftover pizza and vanilla wafers, enjoyed while listening to the testimony of actual Bowflex users, can cure.

Posted at 4:06 AM
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Daisy's Tweets

My Momma Taught Me To Share

Tag, you're it!