This morning, I woke up about fifteen minutes before I had to leave for work. I realized that I was oversleeping when, from within my dream, I became conscious that I was dreaming of how great I think sleep can be.

I quickly got dressed, and, unable to indulge in a relaxed pre-work morning of drinking a little coffee and checking my email, I took the route to work that takes me by the local Starbucks. I made a promise to myself to make it up to my local real cafe later...this morning, I just didn't want to walk that far before I got some caffeine in me, and the Starbucks was closer.

So, I get the drink I always get, which is the biggest sized chocolate coffee they have, with an extra shot of espresso added for just that much more ass-kickability. In my early morning haze, I forget to tell them that I DO NOT want any whipped cream. I find that the cream usually makes the coffee not as hot as it could be. As a result, I take the lid off the top, insert only my lips into the frothy cream, and inhale. I learned today that it is impossible to lick one's lips and swallow at the same time (if you can do it, let me know), so for a short period there I was walking like the attractive chap I am down a Chicago street with a halo of sugary cream around my lips, helpless as I attempted to swallow the cream, all in the name of saving my coffee.

It's just how sexy I am, girls.

Anyway.

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

That's exactly the kind of bittersweet consumery shmaltz one might recieve in an email Forward from an annoying girl they went to high school with that they haven't talked to in years who, despite that fact, still sends them annoying fucking Forwards.

Do you guys have one of those too?

Actually, I stole it from Sally, who in turn stole it from a guy she refers to as "Big Gay Seth. You remember Big Gay Seth, don't you?" At that point I usually reply "That Val Kilmer Guy?" as he looks a lot like Val Kilmer, even though she doesn't think so, but it puts us on the same page.

Speaking of Valentine's Day, I forgot what this "holiday" was like in high schools. I'm walking down the hall today, ducking red and white heart shaped balloons taped to lockers, navigating through oceans of smiling teenaged girls clasping teddy bears, and dodging young men wielding single stemmed roses like swords, fighting the four minute passing periods to win hearts and make time.

And maybe touch a tit later.

Yesterday, I'm walking from the Discipline office to the Guidance office when I realized the sexual connotations of there being rooms, the function of one to tell teenagers what to do, and the function of the other to punish them when they didn't. High school is truly a constant conversation between guidance and discipline, power exchanges between staff and student. Interestingly, just as it is with adults and sex, there are always those students that exist on either extreme, some of them testing just how much discipline they can endure, and others doing nothing but absorbing guidance from their teachers, their books, their peers.

I'm thinking these things when, without any warning, someone shouts in my left ear "Hey, how you spell faculty?" I stop and look over, and two girls are in front of a bathroom door, armed with art supplies. I guess that it's their job to paint the door, which they are probably enjoying more than sitting around in a study hall. I say "F-A-C-U-L-T-Y." They thank me, and I nod and move along.

Today, I walked by that door, and I see painted, in all of it's verbatim glory: "Men and Womens' Faculity."

Someone in this building today are two embarrassed girls that are blaming me for this.

I finished all my work, and I literally have nothing to do today, except wait out the clock until 1:30pm and dodge the man who wants to put me on security detail.

If I smoked anymore I'd go to the boys room.