I Smell

Yes, I smell. I smell so bad that children cry, paint peels off of passing cars when they go by, and I roll around in garbage because my smell is so bad that I consider it perfume in comparison. If you are wondering why I'm saying this, you obviously don't know me as a person, or at least have never been within 50 feet of me. Ok, I'll be honest. 100 feet.

That said, I can drink again! I went out last night with Jon and three beautiful French women and we had some beers at a bar called Le Jazz, where the do not, in fact, play jazz music but rather thumping rave music. It's always a treat. I don't think I'll be hitting it hard every night (I really didn't drink that much last night), but it's good to be able to suck back a beer or a whole bottle of wine that only costs 1 dollar again.

There is no transition here between drinking and talking about my students. This morning I had my favorite class do Valentine's Day cards, and they were absolutely hilarious! I wrote "Roses are red..." on the board, and told them that if they wanted to they could write their own version. One wrote, "Giraffes are blue, Platypus are Orange, Stegosaurus are Green, and so are you!" Then, on the back where the Hallmark seal would usually go, she wrote "God shaves the Queen!" Another: "Cakes are burnt. You are glue. I am gardening. And so are you." In response to my sentence on the board, "You have stolen my heart," the first girl wrote, "I had some chocolates to give you but you have stolen them." This is the girl that said Valentine's Day was too commercial. I have to admit that I love these slightly jaded, but witty, 15-year olds, and as it was my last class with them, perhaps will even shed a tear or two. I guess this is the reason people teach.

Some of the other classes did really cute stuff, like write poems with lines such as, "You are the sun of my life, you are my oxygen, without you I cannot breathe. You are the star of my heart," etc, which was outrageously funny. But this class of nerds trumped them all by being sarcastic and funny in a language that is not their first. Speaking of, one wrote "I love you" in seven or eight different languages, and in parentheses said, "Now if I could only know who you are..." Hilarious.

Oh, and I did taste wet dog food, in response to TJ's comment. It was when I was about eight. For all of those who wonder if wet dog food tastes good, well, it doesn't. I remember eating a piece that was mostly light, brown coagulated fat. I don't remember if I swallowed, but I do know that it tasted like really, really bad meat. And dirt. How do dogs eat that? Oh, and why do they always advertise when they change the flavor of a dog food? Who the hell cares, and who will really know besides old, poor women that can't afford regular food? And me.