Today, for no reason the subject of conversation in my class was grits.
This is why I could never be gay, I know too much about men to ever want to touch one. Women at least have mystery associated with them; do not dare destroy that for me. I like to pretend that you are clean people.
That having been said, Alex Vance sent me the absolute hottest shirt ever today in the mail. It says, �even idiots can get lucky but the Yankees dominate year after year.� I am going to wear it tomorrow because that is the only day in the week that I eat with the other teachers. It is just too bad my grandmother is dead, that crazy woman could have shrunk it for me because it is a bit too big but that will just aid in my sister and I sharing the shirt. Thanks, Alex!
Monday my principal asked to see my plan book. This is fine and all, but I had deleted, without thinking, my entire iCal, which is what I use for my plan book. This was an incredibly boneheaded thing to do. This is like the time I misplaced the WMD in Iraq. I have no idea if I will ever find them.
At my second job, I like to remind my boss, Mo, that since I am in graduate school I am capable of doing anything and doing it better than anyone else is. This is our little joke since I am extra incompetent at all things Fast Food from being friendly to unhappy people, to making sandwiches or French friend potatoes, to sweeping the floor. Melissa Potter reminds us that I was born to govern, to think, and entertain, � not to actually labor.
Yesterday, I convinced Mo to let me run the Drive Through because someone was five minutes late. This is a great job for me because it befits my attention span and I do not have to stand there and politely chatter with you while I wait for someone to figure out how sandwiches together. I did not screw up the entire six hours (minus a ten minute break!), which means that my drawer was at least thirty dollars short (at an average of $5 damage to the store, per hour).
Yesterday also precipitates the need for someone to have the �good touch, bad touch, � talk with the teenage boys who I work with. When I was a kid, we never touched other people�s nipples. I do not feel like I �missed out� on any bonding with my friends and even if I did, I would not want to be included in other people�s bonding. I would not necessarily call this interaction, �gay� but I will say that it is little wonder none of these boys can keep a long-term girlfriend, they are rough and ungraceful.
With regard to me: there is �good touch, bad touch but just stick with �no touch.��
I wrote about the man who brought his kids to Hooters last week. This week, I have more to report about him. He came through my drive through in his Mini Cooper and his Mini Cooper has decals all over it that match his tattoos. They are not even cool tattoos.
This brings his over compensating for his masculinity at Hooters full circle. It all makes sense. Seeing his car brought everything into focus, clearly this man is not a human at all but a Fig Newton of my imagination. One person can not be that ridiculous at the same time being a distinct and separate personage from myself.
