I'm Employed and Can Afford a New Spatula

I am employed and excited. Today I signed for a Language Arts position at a nearby high school. I've had a few offers in the past week and it's been difficult to commit to one knowing it will be my life for at least the next year. I made a goal recently to be a more decisive person, which has truly been put to the test now that I've had to make some of the most important decisions of my life.

As terrifying as this step is, I'm eager to move forward and be a real person. I'm not quite there yet, but it's time to give it a go. It helps to know that I'm being well compensated in this process. The common belief is that teachers don't make much money, but when you sign with the highest paying district in the area, you make bank! I never came into this profession for the money, but let me tell you, I'm gladly teaching for the money now. I'll make more in a day than in an entire week last summer on full time minimum wage. Take that silly internship!

After returning home, Michael Michael and I decided we had to celebrate my hiring upon spotting an ad for a sale on liquor at Rite-Aid. En route, I repeatedly got the store mixed up with Sav-On and calling it "Right-On!" which made Michael Michael giggle. In the parking lot, we encounter dozens of lame paintings for sale in front of the store. Michael Michael made a derisive comment about the hack art. "You mean these paintings by the artist that's sitting right here and can hear you?" I asked. Michael Michael blushed in embarrassment and we ran into the store where our conversation degenerated into gibberish until we broke into full-blown Beavis and Butthead dialogue as we shopped. A $5 handle of brandy? Yes, please. A pricier bottle of irish creme? Why not, I'm employed. Two bags of candy for the price of one? That's a must-buy regardless of your income. The cashier tried to charge me for both bags, but I caught the error and made eir run it up again. No matter my wage, I will always be cheap. On the way out of the store, Michael Michael attempted to book it past the artist, but not before I loudly exclaimed, "We're going to need this alcohol after having to look at this art."

The night became an impromptu party. Inviting a couple people over to celebrate our good fortune led to about fifteen people yucking it up in the house, which turned out to be an intoxicated blast. I'm quite content with my extended circle of friends. Allison and I played a nonsensical game of go fish using household items. The only explicit rule was to find ways to be racist in the hopes that casual observers would be offended. Only the overly-sensitive Jews bothered to complain. (Point for Kevin!) After each success, we'd cheers our glasses and sputter, "Chink!" to match both the sound of our beverages and the racial theme.

Later when I tried to share a story about a peculiar student, Allison admitted that she already read about that on my blog. That's the worst part about having a blog, people often learn of my amusing stories before I have a chance to tell them in person, which is fine except that it makes me that much more of a boring companion.

The highlight of the night came when a loopy Allison proceeded to the (passenger's seat of the) car. Noticing something protruding from her purse, I asked, "Is that spatula?" She checked in disbelief before doubling over in laughter upon realizing that she almost committed the ultimate party foul by inadvertently stealing the hosts' spatula. Most people would use an incident like this one as an excuse not to invite someone back to subsequent social functions, but frankly, I think anyone absurd enough to attempt to pilfer a semi-concealed kitchen utensil is just the type of entertaining guest I want to play with all of the time.

Apologies to Allison who "already knows" this story from having been there. On second thought, she might not even remember.

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