No TV For Me, Plz.

So, there's a producer in my classroom - he's working with a dog trainer out of Akron to make a TV show that is basically Lassie the Reality Show (<---not the title.)

The producer is eccentric to say the least, and did I mention he's the fucking weirdo that practically stalked me for a week, before deciding that - gee, I don't know - maybe two professionals who are working together professionally should act... professional?? IE: The idiot producer should probably stop trying to get with the dog trainer before she breaks his freaking neck.

You know, that sort of thing.

Anyway, I was never worried about him in the beginning because ... well... to make an ass out of myself ... I assumed he was ......................gay.

He's not.

Damn it.

In any case, we knew he was the producer to this TV show before he ever stepped foot in our classroom, but we pretended that he was just another student. (Ass kissing? What's that?) We also have a municipal judge in our puppy class, but we don't fawn over him, either.
Wanna know why?

He's a person. You know, real live human being who has to breathe air in and out to survive? Yeah, that kind.

Besides, no one likes an ass kisser, and we ... quite frankly ... suck at kissing ass. Which is why we just don't do it.

I had a business meeting with said "professional" producer - all about the TV show and how we could maybe help out in the background (name in credits woohooo!) or whatnot.
It turned into a freak show.
I mean.
Here we are talking about those sickeningly sweet stories of dogs and their humans and how amazing and misunderstood that bond between them is, and ...
I don't know how this happened, but he told me that I could call him in six months when I was in love with him because we're compatible.

Did NOT know what to say to that.
Deer in the headlights, anyone?

Yeah. That was different.
See. The worst part of it all is that I know better.
I don't do private consultations by myself because
I know better.
Or, at least, I should.

By now.

Really.

So, not being able to do that talking thing for sheer shock, I ended up e-mailing him a WTF? (but worded nicely) e-mail when I got home. Like. Seriously. Not cool. Not professional. Not going to happen.
And... whatever.
I mean. I thought it worked, but it took about a week to get into his head. Yeep.
..............

Yeah, so anyway; I want nothing to do with said TV Show. Why would I? I don't want to work with someone that... well ... excuse me, but this is my blog, so I'm just going to come right out and say it.


I don't want to work with someone who is that seriously fucked in the head.

Are you kidding me?

Grrrr.

He says he wants us (brother and I) to be ON the show, you know... doing something or other.
Sounds like a great opportunity, not gonna lie.
So, suck it up and see where it can take us? I don't know.

Guess we shall see.

Other boss said that we should really do it. Like REALLY. Of course, we just told him that he's weird because I don't want the I-told-you-so lecture that will come with that whole situation.

Yes, I get it now.
Some boys will try to jump on any girl who so much as looks in their direction. Or pays any sort of attention to them.
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