Shaddup Already!


A Bad Hair Day


I woke up, showered, half-way dried my hair and sprayed it. All good, right? Uh-uh.

It was at least three hours before I had an opportunity to gaze at my loveliness in a mirror. In that time, I had spoken to no less than 30 people. That was at least 30 (fairly innocent) people who had to see my locks. I had no idea what I was subjecting them to.

I peered into the unforgiving, reflective glass to see that I looked like a dimestore hooker. Can you say sleazy? Yeah, I thought so.

Now I had every intention of brushing my hair before my first class. Honest, I did. Yet, somehow between the teacher's lounge and my portable, I forgot.

Me: You need to clear your desks so we can start spelling bee practice because, instead of doing actual lesson plans, I intend to drag this madness out for the entire week.

Student: Your hair is really frizzy.

Me: Actually it's more sleazy than frizzy, but thank you for noticing. Seriously, I woke up this morning and thought, "teachers don't make shit, so I think I'll try whoring."

Student: What's whoring?

Me: It's doing the work of a 'ho'.

Entire class giggles.

Me: See, I figured it out, I make about $1.47 per student. That works out to about $213 a day. Now, I could go down to First Street and blow a guy for $25, at least. At that rate, I would only have to go down on 9 guys to make the same as I would teaching 145 of you.

Student: I thought this was language arts, this sounds like math.

Me: Hey, life isn't divided up into nice little subjects--you better get used to it now. Anyway, if I were willing to do more than suck a guy, I could probably make more money. Which I might seriously consider because either way I'm getting screwed.

Okay, that wasn't the true conversation, but one child did actually tell me that my hair was really frizzy. Why thank you my dear. Whoever said you have to appreciate the honesty of children was apparently smoking crack down on First Street.

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