1-800-HOTTLEE

1:50 p.m.

I sometimes get made fun of for the way I talk. It might strike people as odd, but I really do use words like "egregious" in everyday conversation. Some folks suspect that I'm going out of my way to sound smart, but the truth is I just talk like this - I'm not consciously trying to use my entire list of SAT vocabulary words in one sitting. So come on, be a wee bit more conscientious when you say things like that. I mean, you make me sound like some kind of snotty well-to-do gentlemen who sticks his pinky out when he drinks stuff. 'urts my feelings, it does.

Well, I just slipped into a limey accent there, didn't I?

I believe I may be inheriting my father's need for a clean-shaven lawn. When I came home it was obvious that they hadn't mowed it for a while, and I made a joke to that extent. Dad's answer? "I was waiting for you to come home so you could mow it."

Well, poo poo to that idea, I claimed. I didn't come home for manual labor, I came home for relaxing by the pool with a bottle of berry sangria while a friendly sun covers me in his warm and inviting waves.

Well, except that we have no pool or berry sangria. And if I go out in the sun too long I burn very badly because I am so pale. But you get the gist of what I'm saying.

Well, I thought to myself. I can wait this out. That was about two days ago. I mowed the back yard this morning. I couldn't help it - it looked horrible. The grass was as high as my ankles, man. My ankles! And when grass gets that long it only means that there's more deadly nature stuff hiding in it, waiting to eat me. And I'll be damned if I go out to check the mail and just never come back because a giant centipede drug me down to his underground lair to bite my head off.

Fuck that.

Yesterday I went by the high school here in town to visit with my old biology teacher. Well, not old as in old. More like old as in used. And not used as in used. But like used as in once had. But now I'm straying from the point.

I went by to visit with her and found out that she's not going to be teaching here anymore. Apparently she got this badass new offer in some place that I've already forgotten the name of. Frisca? Fresco? Fresca? Look, it starts with an F and it sounds like a refreshing soda. All I know is that it's not here.

I can only assume that the real reason she's moving (you know, besides the obvious raise and better school district to teach at), is to get away from my infrequent but bothersome spur-of-the-moment visitations and escape the inevitable crayon-drawn gifts I leave her every single time.

Such is the displeasure one has to go through when she has the label "favoritest teacher ever."

I'm gonna miss bugging her, but she asked me to leave her numbers and addresses so she could forward me her new address and the like, so I appreciate that she's set herself up for future bugging. I think I left her every possible way to get ahold of me, right down to my love hotline, 1-800-HOTTLEE. I realize that's a toll-free number, ass. Lee's love don't cost a thang.

But it still pays the bills, ladies. It still pays the bills.

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