Monday, September 24, 2007

The Future Of Our Nation

It has been an interesting day for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. An interesting day of unintentional eavesdropping.

Standing in the hallway, doing my duty of...umm...preventing anarchy in the hallway, I spied two of my stragglers walking head-in-arm up the hallway. It's kind of like the young 'uns when they're sweet on each other, walking arm-in-arm. But not exactly, because this is usually one kid bullying another to show his power. But in this instance, the two are classroom companions, though not exactly friends outside of class. They were joking about the not-quite-a-headlock but more than an arm-around-the-shoulder contact. They entered the classroom. And I heard a kid on the front row say, "I had no idea. I suppose next, the two of you will be buying a little chihuahua."

Am I missing something here? Is he insinuating that they are gay, and all gay men of course own little chihuahuas together? As opposed to big chihuahuas, I imagine. I don't really know where this one came from. It's not an expression I've heard before. Nor wish to hear again.

My class after lunch had turned in their assignments, and I let them sit where they wanted for the last 5 minutes while I got a head start on grading. Then I heard, "I didn't even wash my belly-button after lunch." Hmm...another new saying, I suppose. Which begs the question, "Are you such a messy eater that you need to wash your belly-button after lunch?" Or perhaps the retort, "I didn't wash my belly-button after lunch, either." Is this some new clean fetish, like those people on at 4:00 a.m. showing you horror slides of what is really in your colon? Should we all be washing our belly-buttons after lunch?

To complete the Non-Sequitur Trilogy, my 7th hour class ponied up the following command. "Feel my butt! It's all wet! Feel it. Not my butt, just the pants. See? They are soaking wet. It must be from P.E. class." I certainly hope so. And why, OH WHY, would anybody actually follow through on that order? Some people are born leaders, I guess.

Behold, the future of our nation: wet-butted, chihuahua-sharing belly-button washers.

Hold your heads high, my fellow Americans!

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