Heroine, not Heroin

I keep my apartment at sixty-five degrees because I don�t like to live in an oven. I normally wear a sweater or a long sleeved shirt, socks and shoes when I�m home so it doesn�t need to be piping hot in here anyway. That is no excuse to shut of the heat because I sleep as skimpy as I want to be (I still wear clothes to bed that in a frightening metrosexual way match). I woke up this morning freezing and right now I am waiting for things to heat up for breakfast so this temporal hell might end.

In other news, yesterday this parent called my house as high as a kite to complain about her kid�s grades. The problem with calling someone high is that people who are stoned or drunk are first of all inherently honest. You say a lot of things you don�t mean to say but do really feel when your inhibitions are dropped. The second problem with calling YOUR SON�S TEACHER high is that I have statutory obligation to inform my boss and the authorities of this. Basically, a parent who gets stone a lot is an unfit parent. The third problem with her calling my high was that she called the wrong teacher for the wrong reason. Bitch. She caused me to be late to my second job.

I�m always saying in Staff Meetings in reference to that parent, �A little less on the heroin, a little more on the children, please.�

No, this isn�t some rich woman who is neglecting her children while servants are caring for her children. This is a private school but it is far from an elite haven. These children live in squalor, filthy home, dirty clothes and not enough to eat. Dad and Mom are constantly fighting over the custody of his children and somehow the courts are stupid enough to let her have them.

Why? Society has this misimpression that a vagina qualifies someone to parent better and that have a penis disqualifies you from being a decent human in general. Stupid.