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Must Control Fist of Death. Saturday, a very persistent, extremely stupid, bovine saleslady at Dullard's tried to sell me a dress for the Pilot's funeral. I told her "conservative" and "funeral." She showed me red and hot pink numbers. Told me "the dead don't mind." I walked away. My right fist was clenched, biceps tense. I didn't realize that, or that tears were running down my face, until I was in the shoe department. Bought flowers and planted them instead. Got really, really filthy doing it, too. Echinacea and veronica, rudbeckia, lantana, and some other fun doodles. Very purty. Finished my grades today. Collected my textbooks. Gave my stoopid two-day city-mandated posttest. Broke up a cake-throwing fight in the cafeteria. Got called a "beeyatch" twice, by different kids. I was standing in my door between classes today when one of my darlings, a six-footer I'll call "Julius," caught me full in the left shoulder with his right one. He had to duck a bit so as to hit me just so. Hurt, too. I had his sorry booty in the hall so fast that I'm not exactly sure how I did it. I read him up one side and down again about respecting personal space, never, ever touching a staff member, and how to get someone to move out of a doorway without resorting to tackles. I also asked him if he thought he could scare me, or intimidate me, by smashing into me. The bastich *smiled* at me. I smiled back, and told him he'd be discussing assault and battery with our school resource officer tomorrow, after the principal got done with him. I also told him he'd best stay three feet away from me at all times, lest he discover what would happen if I saw him trying to strike me with any part of his body. He quit smiling then. Followed this with three hours of linguistics class. Got another exam on Thursday. Paper due Saturday, since I won't be in next Tuesday's class. On the bright side, tomorrow is our twentieth wedding anniversary, and Fin's birthday! |
 
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