Today is my last "official" day of class for the semester. Sweet Jeebus, I don't think I could be any happier about this unless somehow monkeys, cheese and new shoes were involved.
I am as sick of these guys as they are of me. My students are great and all, but we have spent WAY too much time together these last 1.5 years.
Couple that with the fact that the building is about 95 degrees and my entire department is bickering so much we're considering setting up a kickboxing ring in the office (actually, when I say we're, I mean I'm), and well...I've had quite enough for now.
I'm tired & cranky and I need to have some quality Whiskeymarie time.
I need time to catch up on my beloved hobbies: making homemade cosmetics from leftover cooking grease, and my door-to-door missionary work for the church of the divine Steve and Edie.
Sweet sweet summer.
Before you're running out to find your sparkly green "jealous" pants, I should let you know that I am not at the point in my teaching career where I get paid over the summer. Nope. You have to wait THREE years to be considered a "real" employee, and to get all the tasty treats that go with it. At least where I work you do.
THREE fucking summers of finding something else to do, when really all I want is to lay in the front porch, read, nap, drink cheap white wine, watch the neighbors & yell at the young hoodlums cruising the 'hood in my "crazy drunk grizzled old-guy" charming way.
Well, actually...(me getting a little sheepish now)
O.k, I may be exaggerating a bit here. I know, your illusions are shattered. Me? Overlord of all that is only the absolute, factual fact?
Say it isn't so, WM.
My sweets, I may lean towards hyperbole occasionally.
There! I said it and it feels good- like I imagine a hot velveeta rubdown would feel. I feel warm & melty all over- and craving chips & guac for some reason.
But I digress...
I'm not going to work much this summer. Not much at all. And I'll still make enough $$ to get by just fine. I'll just have to settle for jug wine and Karkov vodka in the plastic bottle, that's all.
Give me a can of Treet and a pack of ramen noodles and I'll cook the crap out of that mofo.
Really, I just like to bitch. At least today I do.
Summer may actually be satisfactorily awesome this year.
I just have to get through today and 1/2 of Monday.
If you're looking for me today, I'll be the one rocking back and forth mumbling something like, "must not kill them, must not kill them, must not kill them, one more day, one more day, one more day, monkey, monkey, monkey..."
Have a good weekend, my little banana cream pies.
I'll be in Duluth belatedly celebrating my b-day with the girls on Saturday. If I knew for sure what we were doing after dinner, I'd let the rest of you D-town ladyfolk know. Tomorrow is going to be pretty random, though.
If you happen to see me out, say hi. Or slap my ass. I like those sorts of "surprises".