spanish teacher level#1: you like my class?
me: yes, it is good preparation for those occasions on which i shall be called upon to recite the alphabet or repeatedly inform someone that "i'm well, and you?"
*
span.prof lev#2: hmmm, i think you're too advanced for this class. sorry!
that's cool- guess i'll just have to figure out another way to spend six hours a week staring at your goiter
*
span.prof #3: this class will be too hard for you if you skip the others. what do you think of that?
me: i think i wish for a recombinant genetic engineering disaster (a la jeff goldblum/fly in 'the fly') to result in a sickening hybrid of all three spanish teacherettes, a tweed-clad, be-bunned expatriate monster which will accept me as the only student suitable for their bafflingly exclusive community college language program.
after that i was walking to the bus and i saw this indie-rock looking girl sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette, so i approached her.
mccullen:do you have an extra cigarette by any chance?
indierockgrrl: yes, but you have to show me your buttons.
me:(great)
irg: theyre girly cigarrettes, though.
me: thats okay. hmmm, misty 120's. hey nice belle and sebastian pin...did you go to the show in detroit?
irg: yeah, i took my mom. wanna trade pins?
me: um lets see NO (like i really want to trade an Adult. pin or a soviet pin for her retarded b+s "my grandma bought this at walmart" badge). i have to go GOOD-BYE
irg: but-- bye
remember that time i saw shellac, tracy and the plastics and glass candy and the shattered theatre all in the space of three hours? that was awesome. especially when ida no of glass candy ended their totally unappreciated set by dropping the microphone and shouting "that show is dedicated to all the homos in the crowd" which was actually just me and some lesbian in a wheelchair. similar props go out to the aforementioned tracy for calling for the all the "fags" to "make some noise." that was probably the only time i've been a solitary screaming person in an otherwise quiet crowd and didn't feel like a jackass, at all.
[this entry was lame -ed.]