Grave Dirt and Underwear

So we're learning about dirt. Yep, dirt. My students live in the "inner city," which means that the only dirt around them is what you find on the floors in their nasty homes. Well I wasn't about to spend a damn penny on buying dirt at the Home Depot, but I needed about five pounds for this lesson I was teaching.

So um, I stole dirt from a cemetary off of I-10. Woodlawn or Wood Forest or something. I mean, it's not my fault that the security guard didn't catch me as I peeled out of there and sprayed gravel in his face. And besides, the people are dead and don't need the dirt! Anyway, I'll let y'all know if any ghosts start trying to eat me in my sleep.

In other news, I pissed myself in the bathroom of that Half Priced Books on Westheimer and Waugh. I'd just come from dance class and was looking at the comic books when I decided to pee. So I got in that bathroom, pulled down the dance pants, and just let it out. Oh goodness...see, normally I don't wear anything under my dance pants, but for whatever reason, I had on some whitey tighties. I stood there, with those underwears hanging off me like a soiled baby diaper and you know I just looked a damn fool. I left that bathroom with my underwear hidden deep in the trashcan.