Friday, March 02, 2007

And, as a final act--the cherry on top, if you will...

My day:

Underwear up ass: four hours of class time, where picking ass is discouraged. Two cumulative hours of driving time, where space is too confined for ass picking. Finally reach around to pick ass in Fred Meyer Parking Lot (through a denim skirt, which is no mean feat, let me tell you), only to turn around and find a two-year-old watching me. With her finger up her nose.

Exposed: Fly down. Three. Separate. Times. Each time, I realize it while standing in front of twenty or more teenagers. Fucking denim skirt.

Ass: so big it knocked over loud items twice in class without my intention (just to clear that up, because sometimes my ass knocks over loud items with my intentions) in front of teenage audience (who are oh-so-forgiving, haven't you noticed?). Once, a metal bucket full of writing utensils. Once, a large stack of paper. Um, very large. And now, no longer stacked.

My karma: really, I need to be humiliated on top of everything? In front of other people? This week, it hasn't slapped silly enough to know I'm its bitch? Seriously?

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