So the kid walked into class late...after I'd already left a note for the students to let them know I'd be a few minutes late because of a fire that broke out along the interstate and slowed traffic to a crawl. I've only smelled pot...like...twice in my life (thank you Dave Matthews concert 2001), but it was very sickly, sweetly obvious that he wreaked of weed. When the 40-year-old wild child that sits near him in the back got bug-eyed as he walked past, I knew I was dead right. I pulled him out into the dept. head's office after he finished his quiz and relieved him of his place in class for the evening. He tried to say it was his ride to school that was smoking it, but I told him I didn't give a fuck (in not quite so many words) and to keep his stinky ass at home the next time he felt the need to spark one during my class. Shitheads. Just call me Buzzkill...Andi Buzzkill.
On TV: Some gawd-awful Toby Keith video
Music: Broken, Seether
Saw today: The 40 Year Old Virgin...again!!!
In my head: Big smiles and excellent weather.