All I Ever Wanted Was To Be Sexy….

Yesterday, as I mentioned in my “I Don’t Cook” entry, I cut up 250 pounds of chicken.  I did not tell you the REALLY ugly part of that debacle (as if the thought of 250 pounds of dead bird isn’t gross enough).  The AWFUL part was that the chicken was packed in 50 pound boxes.  Each box was wrapped loosely in plastic.  The chicken, which had been frozen when purchased, was thawing.  When chicken thaws…chicken blood drops…..into the loosely wrapped plastic.  SO when I lugged a 50 pound box from the cart up to the sink to rinse it off…..the damn plastic started to leak and I got chicken blood ON MY TOES!  Yes – I had on sandals.  

Did you hear me?  I said CHICKEN BLOOD ON MY TOES!  And it got sticky!  And it was gross and awful and I hopped around doing a cross between the pee-pee dance and the gotta-barf shuffle.  I was shrieking and moaning…ew!ew!ew!ew!  And laughing at the ridiculousness of it all….as the male teacher and 1 student who were helping me laughed and laughed and laughed.  Fat lot of help that unsympathetic lot were!  I had chicken blood on my TOES for pity’s sake!!

I have one of those round mirrors like the put in convenience stores to catch shoplifters in my room.  My room is poorly laid out and the mirror is supposed to let me keep an eye on one part of the room while I’m in another.  This morning, as soon as I opened the door for the little darlings to begin pouring in, one of the boys was standing under the mirror trying to look up his nose.  I just looked at him…you know.  One of THOSE looks.

“Miss!  My nose was bleeding this morning and I was just checking to see if there’s any blood crust left on it.”

Oh Gawd no.  Please tell me you didn’t just say that.

Mid day and one of my more sexually precocious girls is chatter chatter chattering in class while she is supposed to be working.  Please!  I informed her that I didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but she sure as heck wasn’t going to get it at that rate.  About that time one of my cutie boys walked in … and she says LOUDLY – “I’ll get what I want from HIM!”

Oh.  Someone help me please.

We are working on a fashion show and 2 boys couldn’t go to the fitting today, so I had to send their measurements instead.  Do you know what it’s like trying to measure the inseam on these boys with those baggy-arse pants with the crotch about knee height? Well, son – just grab your pants and yank ’em up there.  Right.  Grab your privates.  Good job.  Now hold it there while I stick this tape measure up in your groin……….

Last 5 minutes of the school day….one of the boys sneezes……all down the front of his shirt.  Then he proudly showed me.  THEN he cleaned off the front of his shirt.  FINALLY – he wanted a hug good-bye.

NO FLIPPING WAY, BUSTER BROWN!

Finally, in further preparation for tomorrow’s festival–dealie….I spent 2 hours shredding 60 pounds of cooked pork roasts.  All by myself.  I have pork fat embedded under my fingernails so deep that it won’t come out for 3 weeks.  I may have to just get my nails all cut off.  Up to my armpits in pork perfume.  I hope it doesn’t clash too badly with the chicken blood foot bath!

Please help me.  I am a SCORPIO.  You know – the sexy sultry sign.  All I ever wanted was to live up to my astrological potential.  Sultry.  Sexy.  Come Hither Hair, Bedroom Eyes, and “DO ME” shoes.  Instead I have chicken blood, pork fat, crusty bloody noses or snotty shirts.  Where oh where did I go wrong??????