It's a Monday/Thursday--a Thursday, but the first day back with the kids at school so it feels like a Monday. I don't feel like Monday, actually, I feel like a pile of poo that desperately needs a full night of sleep without dreaming of replicant clone robots, but whatever.
If you are like me and shudder when you recall having to sit through the painful, painful trailer for the new Alvin and the Chipmunks movie, gasping when you saw your beloved Jason Lee as Dave, poured one out for the Brodie-Man's career, then said, "Oh fuck no" and thought art is dead when you saw that David Cross was also in it, you should read Cross's justification of why he did this god-awful piece of shit movie. It's entertaining.
Also, just FYI, in my first hour class of the day, Creative Writing, I shit you not, I had a kid say, to the entire class, that he was highly intelligent, had a narcissistic complex, and was a "very skilled writer". Seriously. He said all these things about himself as the entire class simultaneously rolled their eyes. This is the same kid who came in the Writing Center last year and said that Coldplay was "good music to chief to." Who says "chief" as a thinly-veiled euphemism for smoking pot in 2007? In front of a teacher? Who does he think he is, Slater from Dazed and Confused?
2 comments:
I wonder if my high school English teachers have similarly amusing stories about me and my friends from back in the day . . . I'm kind of scared to find out!
(Not that I was a narcissist, mind you, or at least, not any more of one than any other teenager. One of my teachers did call me a solipsist once, and I can sort of see where he was coming from, but he was incorrect. I had social anxiety, which is a whole other animal.)
Once I found out that many years after I graduated, my old English teacher still showed kids in her class a picture of me when I folded my arm up into my t-shirt and said I was Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre. Nice to know she didn't hate me.
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