my nemesis, as i've said earlier, is three years old, blonde, and cute as a button. and, i'm convinced, a budding sociopath. he rampages around the room like a wounded elephant, giving you this "what are you going to do about it?" smirk. he fills his shoes with water. he dumps sand on the carpet. he knocks the garbage can over after we had swedish meatballs for lunch.

this is saying nothing of the physical dangers of being his teacher. i am currently writing this with a swollen, purple bottom lip. he butted me with his head, knocked my teeth almost through my lip. and when i said, "i'm bleeding because of you" he smiled at me and said "no you're not." he thinks nothing of running up and kicking me in the shins. smacking me across the butt.

and really, i don't know how much longer i'm going to be able to stand working with him. i've never actively disliked a child before (and i have known some horrible children), but i really can't stand this one.

in other news, the same day i busted my lip, i went to the drugstore to get soap, and maybe some chapstick. and as i got out of my car and walked across the parking lot, there was smoke. more accurately, there was smoke billowing out the windows of a blue coupe. yep, there was a carfire in the drugstore parking lot. i ran into the store and told the clerk, who called the fire department. and as i stood there, it occurred to me: my car wasn't nearly far enough away. there is a feeling you get when you decide to take a risk that you probably shouldn't. your heart decides to sit somewhere around your throat, and your limbs decide to get shaky. i think it's the adrenaline. anyway, that's how i felt walking across the parking lot, praying for that smoking car to just keep quietly smoking, and "please don't explode, please don't explode..." as i got the hell out of there, i saw people standing around the front of the drugstore, watching. i imagine their conversation something like this:
"hey earl, y'think it's gonna explode?"
"i dunno mike. i'm glad it's not my car though, huh huh huh."
meanwhile when the car does explode, and an angry fireball shoots toward them, i will be a half mile away, and they will be new candidates for the darwin awards. that's why it's called survival of the fittest, folks.

and speaking of the darwin awards...i'm not even going to write an entry right now about the stupid kids in my hometown who decided to take potshots at mailboxes and ended up shooting a cop and getting killed. because listing the ways in which they have been failed, and the ways they failed themselves, and the consequent sorrow for the state of humanity as a whole is just too damn much this early in the morning.

and something else. if you bring me ice cream in bed when i have a migraine (which was really nice dad, thanks) please remember to bring me lactaid too!

with intense pain,
--beatpoetgrrl

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