Friday, March 13, 2015

Like A Throbbing, Exposed Dendrite

Everything has been getting on Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's last nerve today. She has not the wherewithal nor the inclination to elaborate, so a list shall have to suffice:

Why do you prop open the door with the doorstop, not fully open, but in the crack so it won't close, when it is not even locked today, due to the revolving for office requests, nurse, counselor, bathroom, drinking fountain, library, computer lab, art room, last class...I swear I never knew there were so many placed to go, so many things to see.

Fish shapes in the cafeteria are no longer those cute breaded-bread nuggets in the form of anchors and minnows, but rather long fat sticks of fried seafood, allegedly. So there is no need to stick a fork in them and bite off the ends, because they are finger food, ya big priss, and not for using utensils so that they fall off onto your tray as you try to take a bite.

Stop that coughing at the lunch table! It's bad enough that you are filling in, but when you sound like the expulsion of a lung is imminent, and your eyes are red and closey, I don't want your phlegm flying at me as you hack. And you on the other side of me, how dare you turn your face TOWARDS ME while hacking, even when nobody is sitting to your right!

I can really do without two calls every class period asking for a pupil  to come to the office. The principal is not even here. What could be so pressing?

Just because you bring your stuff into my room before the bell does not mean I want to chat. I run a tight ship, you see. A time for every task, and every task at its time. So drop off that project stuff and hit the hall, Jack. I'll see you soon enough.

Would it be possible to get at least ONE day per week to drive to school without pitch dark and mist, rain, fog, tailgaters, deer, or rabbits?

How hard is it, exactly, to put markers with markers, colored pencils with colored pencils, scissors with scissors, tape with tape, and recap the glue sticks? Oh, and not leave a marker up front on the assignment turn-in desk by the pencil sharpener, when you got it on the back wall beside the TV?

AND...to the big dummy who parked a black Escalade sideways at the gas station chicken store, in a spot that was clearly NOT a parking space, thus making Mrs. Hillbilly Mom walk around you in the driving rain, and blocking in a car at the gas pumps under the roof...YOU ARE AN IDIOT!

2 comments:

Sioux said...

For your response to the owner of the black Escalade, I have a solution.

For just $9.99 I have a 10 pack of official-looking parking tickets for sale. They tell the offending parker, "Apparently you are mentally handicapped; your lack of parking ability is proof of your handicap. Please apply for your disabled hang-tag at the state licensing office, because you are definitely an idiot."

Let me know how many packs you need. Checks or credit cards are accepted...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
I would never put a fake parking ticket on another person's car, Madam! That's because I would be impersonating a law enforcement officer/metermaid, because there might be an alarm that would sound and people would gawk at me, and because Karma and Even Steven would make sure to even the playing field by having somebody give me one of those fake winning scratch-off tickets.

However...I am sure many people would have no such qualms. So I might be able to skootch stuff over and make room for your packs of fake parking tickets on the counter of my proposed handbasket factory. We could split the profit 80(me)-20(you).