No theme

There's no theme here. There's not anything pulling any of these things together in a clever conclusion. It's all random, but I've gotten to where I'm starting to hate that word "random" from all the overuse it's getting from my college students (as in, "Oh my God, that's sooooo random"), so I refuse to use that word in the post title. In fact, forget you even saw it earlier in the paragraph.

What word?

When I was in the 7th grade, I took typing class as an elective, and I typed out the following sentence as part of a class exercise - "My ears hurt from typing." For some reason, I've never forgotten that.

My iPod is loaded with over 100GB of music, and I really love all my music. The only time I don't love it is when it's set to "shuffle," and then I suddenly can't stand anything that pops up. I've also noticed that the "shuffle" feature seems to have a hidden camera, and it purposefully selects music that would likely get me embarrassed if anyone else could hear it. For example, this morning I had a "shuffle" thing going on, and right when a half-dozen African American students came bopping in the building together, my iPod went with "Man of Constant Sorrow." I'm so glad they couldn't hear it, because I would have lost every bit of coolness I'd built up with them over the semester.

My view of the news online is becoming increasingly slanted, and it has nothing to do with politics. I refuse to visit CNN.com anymore, because it seemed like every headline link I clicked took me to a freakin video instead of an article. I hate that. I am now no longer getting a balanced view of the world simply because CNN has a stupid webmaster.

I hate my sister-in-law, and there's no way I would ever call her on the phone. However, I keep her phone number stored in my phone, just in case she calls me, and then I'll know not to answer it. That is the entire purpose for having her number in my phone. How sick is that? By the way, her ring is Meredith Brooks' Bitch, but you probably already knew that..

Yesterday morning, a student of mine left the class in order to answer her phone. It started ringing right in the middle of Schumann, and she quickly leaped up and ran out of the room to answer it. I was kind of curious as to which type of emergency she was responding. The entire class - all of us - could hear her say, "Hello? Hello? Who? You've got the wrong number." This girl LEAPED out of her chair and the room to answer a call from a number she didn't even recognize.

Another student fell over in his chair yesterday. He leaned back too far, and there was that wonderful precious moment right when he knew he'd gone too far and couldn't save it, and I was looking right in his eyes when it happened. The last time I fell out of a chair was 1998, and I had a broken hand. I was sitting backstage at a play rehearsal, and my chair went back and then toppled off the backstage area down a two-foot drop. In made a helluva ruckus, and everybody came running up to see if I was okay, except for one person - my wife. She stood there and laughed while everybody else ran up to help me. I'm pretty sure that's why I love her.

I am giving a test on the Romantic Era the week after we come back from Spring Break, and I've decided that all the answers to the questions on page 3 will be "C." An entire page of the same letter-answer. I'm curious to see how many students actually have the courage to write down the same letter in each blank for the entire page.

My 20-year old neice has a habit of sticking a huge fake smile on her face whenever she says something that may be controversial. It's almost like she's trying to smooth over any potential rough spots in the conversation with a big old toothy smile to make it better. The funny part is that she types LOL in all of her messages in approximately the same place as the smile would go if she were speaking. Therefore, whenever I read her e-mails or texts, I know to beware of whatever she says if it's followed up by a LOL. I don't think she knows what it means.

Everyone learned how to write cursive in the 2nd grade. I skipped the 2nd grade. Therefore, I missed out on learning how to write cursive, and I still can't do it. I'm not ever allowed to write out checks, because nobody can read them. I was also born without tonsils, but I don't suspect that the two things are connected. However, that's what I tell people when they ask me why I can't write.

A week ago, our trivia team was waiting for the next round to start when one of them told a story about something funny that happened to him in graduate school with a foreign professor. When he finished the story, one of the other people at the table said, "Actually, that happened to me, not you. That's my story." Awkward...