my last scatalogical post...for now

I've had an odd week. I know last week I talked about my aunt and farts. It seems I can't escape the weirdness when it hits. I think that like airplanes crashing and celebrity deaths, these things happen in 3's.

Yesterday I had a unique experience at school. Now, understand that I try to keep my posts about work to a minimum--not because I have nothing fascinating to say, or out of some profound need to be respectful, but because I'd like to keep from becoming a statistic--you know--those people that get fired for blogging about their jobs.

Nevertheless, being a teacher doesn't define me, but it is certainly a part of me, so every once in a while I gotta say something. Here's my something:

A poor unfortunate young man totally lost it yesterday and went into a wild and woolly expletive-filled diatribe in one of the study centers. Let's just say, if it wasn't so offensive, he'd be congratulated on a superb and flawless conjugation of a particular anglo-saxon word. The sheer creative force behind the rant was eclipsed by the incredible speed of release. I mean, I suppose I could create a verbal bomb like his, but I don't think I could do it extemporaneously. He really needs to be recruited by one of those debate groups.

Naturally, the reaction was utter apoplexy on the part of everyone present, which soon gave way to fear. I mean, who wasn't expecting a shotgun after that rage? Michael Richards (Kramer) has nothing on this poor kid. Unlike Richards, though, it turns out the kid has tourettes syndrome. How wacky is that? Case closed.

Having recovered from that, I proceeded to move through my day today in a drone-like state. It's the end of the grading period, and tensions are running high, so I try to stay out of the way. Let's just say my exit after the last class is quick, and generally uneventful. Cue today's weirdness: I'm walking through the courtyard behind a very loud chick talking at the air in a very loud voice, which of course means she's a) crazy like a bat outta hell, or b) using a bluetooth.*

I vote for option b) the bluetooth, because it's better for my mental health.

I figure that since she was broadcasting her conversation for everyone in the courtyard, it's ok to talk about it here. She was arguing with her friend for leaving her behind for going to the bathroom. It was an amazing conversation, filled with accusations of abandonment and paranoid conspiracy implications--including demands for knowing who the abandoning friend was with at that very moment at the bus stop.

It ended on an unpleasant note, with a loud lamentation: "How long do you think it take fo' me to do number two?"

I couldn't make this up.

*A rant for another day--I am fascinated by people who use the hands-free devices in an effort to get the offending loose phone full of radioactive waves away from themselves--and stuck right into their ears for maximum exposure to their brains. Darwinism. Just sayin'.