this talk about school reminds me of something I read recently that made me laugh and laugh - I finished "It's Not About the Accent" and towards the end (after all the angst is over) the main character is thinking about the high school biology teacher. He was kind of twitchy and she was thinking he'd do better in a lab - the microbes would be quiet and "wouldn't string up the dissection frogs like holiday lights". And from the tone, it sounded like something that had actually happened.
'Bring On The Night'
Spike's Bitches 42: Which question do you want me to answer first?
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Corset I could see on Pix: [link]
Yes please.
Very strange. A number from my mother's area code showed up on my cellphone. No one left a message. So, I googled the number and it came up connected to the first initial and last name of a woman my mother works with. So, figuring it may have something to do with the fact that Mom might be retiring this year, I called the number back. A woman who did not sound like Mom's co-worker answered the phone. So, I said "Hello, did you just call my number because it showed up on my caller ID." I ended up getting screamed at for bothering her until I hung up.
Darn you, GC! I had to order those nautical cutie socks! and some tights.
Yay lisah! Pictures, please!
Former RI senator and former Republican (he's now an independent) Chafee calls Sarah Palin a "cocky whacko".
Overheard in the hall:
7th grade boy: Dude, you can't lie to girls like that.
Other 7th grade boy: What she doesn't know won't get me slapped.
Well, I called and left the cute doc a message about my mom and left my phone number. He called her back on her phone (darned HIPA act). I get to go pick up some more prescriptions in a bit.
7th grade boy: Dude, you can't lie to girls like that.
Other 7th grade boy: What she doesn't know won't get me slapped.
BWAH!
(darned HIPA act)
I can sign for and pick up Hubby's major league narcotics, but I can't be told what the pharmacy has on record that he's taking. Yeah, that makes sense.