After we finished decorating, I waited for my friend Kris to come pick me up so that we could go watch Hamlet. (Word to the wise: Don't watch Branaugh's version unless you really have an unbreakable case of insomnia. He'll shatter it for you in under five minutes. Most of the cast is brilliant, but most of the time it just glorifies Branaugh in that same obnoxious way that Lord of the Dance glorifies Micheal Flatney. (Or whatever that guy's name is)) So I'm waiting, and sitting on top of the Branham Rock, a spray painted monstrosity that was once a normal chunk of granite. Unfortunately, the class of 2002 needed to claim it as their own, so it is now a tacky blue with a huge '02 on it. A couple of freshmen were sitting on a metal bench about five feet away. While I'm enjoying sitting on the rock and playing Queen of the Stone, one of these guys comes up to me, and we engage in the following discourse:
Freshie: Ma'am, do you have a cell phone?
Me: Yes, do you want to use it?
Freshie: Yes please.
**I hand the kid the phone, which thanks to Kris now has a pretty sky blue faceplate**
Freshie: Hi, Dad? Can you come pick me up now? **pause** I'm using this lady's cell phone, I think she's a teacher or something.
Me: Thunk! **sound of me falling off the rock from shock**
Freshie: Okay, bye. Thank you ma'am!
Me: You're welcome, kid.
Now, what does this say about me? Do I look like some old maid schoolteacher who goes to school on Saturday and sits on top of The Rock? I mean, come ON people! Let's apply some critical thinking skills next time, okay? Especially you freshmen...I've got my eyes on you now. My ancient, spinster teacher eyes.