The end of the year approaches

I teach about 6 classes.

One of them had their last on the year.

I bought, brought a bunch of mexican sweet bread: conchas, cause they look like shells; elotes, cause they look like corn.

They also had "donas" on sale which I gave a pass. See below.

He owes my father an XL golf shirt.

Lolita couldn't find "roller coaster" in her dictionary. Neither could I.

I asked for another, confident I would find it.

Max bet me $100 that I wouldn't find it in any body's dictionary. We shook on it. Fair and square.

Well, guess what. I found it. 'Russian mountain' they call it. He confirmed (his folks are from Argentina and speak Spanish to him at home so he mostly just doodles in class and corrects me when I say something ridiculous, non-native).

Since I knew he wouldn't fork over the cash, I suggested a compromise.

"Bring me some soccer gear", knowing that his father works for Nike.

"Soccer gear is a no-go", he said. His old man works in the golf department.

I don't golf though I have done it before. It's good fun and all: you get to drink beer and drive a little car around a park and get out every once in a while a whack a little plastic ball. It's fucking expensive, though.

"Fine", I said. "Bring a shirt, XL for my old man; he's into golf."

The little fucker told me he would.

He still hasn't.

"Jake in inappropriate"

Lolita struts up to me after class.

"Hey Mr. Gringo Vasco, I don't think I like Jake anymore."

"Oh yeah," I feign interest.

"No. He's too much of a jock."

"That's too bad."

"Besides, he's inappropriate," she explains.

"Hmm," I try not to look into her eyes, fearing she'll see that Jake and I are not so different.

"Yeah, I don't think he likes me for me."

Get used to it tootsie.

Lolita II

one of them, while greeting me and standing in between me and the door, casually unbuttoned her shirt then tried to play it off as an accident.

them girls are trouble I tell you, trouble.

I finally got after them the other day for greeting me more than 5 times a day, "Listen, you've already said hello to me 5 times, now go away!"

I'm losing my cool man, losing it.

Another teacher who was standing right there said, "Oh, they're just flirting with you."

I wish I had some kind of built-in, cyborg annoyance meter that kind of flashed from green to red every time these little pigeons came near with their squeaky little voices and perky little tits. Maybe that would make them go away.

different strokes

I spotted John McCain's stubby little head peering at me from behind a desk.

"What is that!" I forcefully inquisited. The girl, whose t-shirt bared the screen-printed avatar, was understandably embarrassed, as she should be.

"That, what is that!" I continued.

"It's John McCain!"

"Are you serious?"

"Um...yes."

"Different strokes for different folks."

Slippy freud

Had a good time last night. Beer drinking.

Got some good sleep. Or so I thought.

Showed up to class. Thought it a good idea to put on a movie and let it ride.

As the 7th grade teacher was leaving the class and taking the laptop and digital video projector with him, I requested that he leave it with me. I asked if he had a good G rated movie with Spanish audio for, as I casually proceeded to inform him, I was, in fact, hung over.

I corrected myself: told him that I was actually a hang... I had a headache.

Bloody hell.