Disgusting. I remember the first time I heard it. I was in fourth (ish) grade and a group of teachers were discussing a colleague's sabbatical, which meant nothing to me at the time; but the teacher whose lips formed this word seriously skeeved me out. They were all warty and dry, probably a little slimy in the corners. I could NEVER look at him while he was teaching for fear of projectile vomiting all over the damn class room. Even now, I want to vom.
Also, whenever he erased stuff from the chalkboard, he would never do it cleanly. He'd just swipe at the board like a blind/rabid monkey, throwing chalk dust around. When the dust settled, you could clearly see all the spots he missed. Those leftover markings would drive me bat shit crazy for the rest of class BECAUSE after leaving them up there for several minutes, he'd just write over them, which made it impossible for me to see what the fuck he was trying to teach us. Asshole.
My little 10 year-old neurosis was fully developed by this time. It's not my fault I couldn't pay attention. I was too busy staring at the leftover marks and developing hives because I couldn't stand them [told you, neurotic]. Every time I looked at the chalkboard, there they were: mocking me, taunting me, waiting to be written on. How in the holy hell COULD I pay attention when I had to concentrate on sitting in my seat fighting every fiber of my being that screamed at me to launch myself across the room and devastate those stupid leftover marks? How I ask you. How. So every class, I became fully involved in an epic battle against myself. I couldn't even distract myself with daydreams or doodling. You KNOW I couldn't very well look at that man and his sick disaster of a mouth without puking so I had to sit there tortured, dejected, and a little itchy because the chalkboard was such a mess. Now you all know why math is my worst subject.
This little trip down memory lane is giving me the sweats.
Let's move on, shall we? I've been MIA for quite some time. There are a few reasons for this. The number one reason is that I've been rocking some seriously weird eye strain. I couldn't even watch TV after work...you know it's bad when I give up on the ol' idiot box. For the lucky SOBs who've never had seriously weird eye strain [i hate you], it feels like this:
Please forgive me and my unintentional sabbatical [barf]. The dancing fire man has finally gone away from my ocular organs, and I'm ready to regale you with cautionary tales, true stories, and sage-like wisdom [obviously].
