Highlights

First day of school.
There was this:

• Student: You don't look like an art teacher.
• Me:  Oh?  What does an art teacher look like?
• Students: (Shrugs) I dunno.  Maybe like...her! (Points to a girl at another table), like...cool.

wah wah.

And then this:

I had an Q&A session during my about-your-teacher schpeal.  A student asked me how old I was.  I did my typical mock-horror response, which is the ever-annoying "(Gasp!) You should NEVER      ask a lady her age!" (God, I'm such a teacher).  I then followed with "Guess.  How old do you think I am?"

(side note: I usually looooove  this.  Students suck at guessing ages, and they always think I'm       between 18 and 21.  It feeds the ego, people.  I get the compliments any way I can - I ain't too proud to beg!)

Student thinks about it for a moment and then says, "38!"

wah wah.

I wasn't the sole object of ridicule, however.  I retaliated when possible. Made fun of a few man-earrings, laughed at a students genuine attempt at wearing a anime inspired hairdo (it was baaaaaad),  and started calling a student randomly wrong names (because I r.e.f.u.s.e. to call him Slim Shady).  

Unfulfilled.

If you have any taste at all, you know that the fresh, hot rolls from Spring Creek Barbecue are manna from heaven.  I just want to bury my face in them.  I want to be buried alive in pit of those rolls and eat my way out.  I want to bathe in them.  I want to eat them till I puke doughy, bready, yeasty vomit.

You get the picture.

So, tonight we ate us some Spring Creek Barbecue.  I had the roll that came with my plate, and then anxiously awaited the roll wench, to get a second roll.

She never came.  SHE NEVER CAME.  

She.  

Never.  

Came.

I'm crushed.  I'm pissed.  My night is in shambles.

Life sucks.

Disgustingly delightful!

I love hoarders.

I mean, they are disgusting people in every way (ever see an attractive hoarder?), but I am obsessed with their dysfunction.
I'm a throw-away-er.  I don't do clutter and like getting rid of things (sometimes, things I actually need).  I"m a hoarders nightmare.  I think one of the reasons I love hoarding shows is because I love watching them throw so much stuff away.  That's messed up, I know.
  
So my life took on a new level of exciting when, perusing Netflix streaming this past weekend,  I came upon a delightful series - "Confessions: Animal Hoarding."
 Be still my heart.
(Quick aside: Animal Planet, marry me.  I am deeply in love with you.  First, "My Cat From Hell", and now a ANIMAL hording show?!?!)

I'm having to pace myself with watching the episodes.  There are only 16 total, which could easily be blown thru in a marathon day.  To maximize the longevity of the series, my routine has become:

• Get up.
• Make my morning cup of coffee.
• Watch an episode.
• Do something productive - laundry, perhaps.
• Watch an episode.
• Pick up the house.
• Watch an episode.
• Nap. (Duh).
• Get dressed and brush my teeth before Luis comes home.

That's three episodes a day.  Tragically, I'll be done by the end of the week.

I'm at episode 7.  The synopsis:
"A retired Army linguist shares his house with 158 roosters and hens.  A popular waitress is fired because she reeks of cat urine."

I'm giddy.