Incongruous

I warn you: This post goes nowhere, like the little man above.

I still confuse the names of my father's nine brothers and sisters. Occasionally I call them by the nicknames by dad coined for them back in the day when ripped up grey sweats were the height of fashion. So...classy nicknames.

When drunk I make it a habit to rave about Ken Kesey to disinterested English majors, stick my tongue out far more than appropriate (especially for pictures,) offend foreign exchange students by labeling their homeland an EU defector, and fall down flights of stairs.

I want fluoride in my tap water....put it back Japan, PUT IT BACK!

Yesterday I taught my third grade students, as photographed below, to high-five. Not that it requires formal English training, but this I know.

A man in the 7-11 this morning wouldn't keep his eyes off me, trailing my every move with a disdainful look. What can you do in those kinds of situations? Other than cuss at yourself to make up for the fact that you can't walk up to him and tell him to fuck off. So now, not only does he think I'm a despicable foreigner, but a despicable schizoid foreigner who not only talks to herself, but yells and lets slide a string of obscenities, occassionally rolling her eyes and shaking her head in anger... all. at. herself., while buying coffee in the 7-11.

Once I was forced to play the role of an Amish phone sex operator for a Spanish presentation. Yeah....yeah, clearly I was absent when choosing roles AND writing the script. They don't even have an Amish population in Spain...who thought of that crap?