When I eat salty food, I have a coughing fit. I have always done so, ever since babyhood. People try to pat me on the back, and I have to tell them no, it’s just the salt. You should hear me eat Tostitos. I hack & wheeze the whole time. But I put salt on everything, because I love it. Now it’s so bad, even the thought of salt makes me cough. I’m coughing as I write this! I am a freak.
Friday at Starbucks I was given a Canadian nickel for change. I gave it back to the barista and asked for a US nickel (nothing against you northerners, I just like my change to work in the soda machine, OK?). She took the Canadian nickel and threw it in the trash can. I stared at her, open-mouthed. She just stared back. The other barista was having a hissy fit over it, and yelling at her. I just stared, and then said, “I’ve never seen anybody do anything like that before.” You’d think with such an important-sounding job, she’d be a little smarter.
As we walked on the streets in Boston, one of my students* poked me in the arm to get my attention. I said, “I see your arm poke, and raise you two jabs to the neck.” Joking back, he said, “I see your two jabs, and raise you an Indian twist.” This went back and forth a few times, until he said, “I see your thumb-wrestle, and raise you one hearty spanking!” Wow. Boy, did that conversation came to a screeching halt.
*This is the same young lad who had the beer-opener sandals; who said, in class, "it puts the lotion in the basket!**"; and who, last week, sang Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood (which, if I am not mistaken, is about sixty-nine) until I stopped him. So he is quite a character. Actually, he is me, only 14 and male.
**Click here for danceable version of "It Rubs the Lotion on its Skin"
One day on my drive I noticed a Quiznos, a Subway, and a Blimpie all within one quarter mile. What does that say about us?
Now I want a BLT. Soooooo badly, but noooo, I have to eat f***ing soup. Oh yeah, I made it. Mmmmm, yummy soup.
When I was in fourth grade, my mom and dad got called into school for a conference. It seems that I wasn’t taking school seriously enough. The proof? My friend Amy (not Amy Campbell. F*** you, Amy Campbell!) & I were writing “silly sentences” for our vocabulary. For example, “It is raining noses.” With accompanying picture of rain cloud, umbrella, and
Speaking of childhood, one of my mom’s favorite time-out spots for me & my twin sister was at the bottom of the basement stairs (one in each corner). We (well, I) discovered that if I clacked my teeth together it would resonate through the stairwell and make a really cool boooiiinnnng, boinnnng sound. I convinced my sister to join me, and we boiiiinnng boinnnnged until my mom came down and spanked our asses. It was still really cool, I think.
I don’t feel like doing any work, ever again. All I wanna do is zooma zoom zoom zoom and a boom boom. Is that so wrong?