DearScotty

For the first time in, oh, 28 Christmases I am working! I suppose I can go on to create a sob story, but so far it hasn’t been so bad. I got to see the Seahawks blow it in the fourth quarter. I have also seen the case for a controlled demolition of the Twin Towers; I’ve also been catching up on Beauty and the Geek and Two-A-Days. Curse MTV reality shows to high hell! Well, I just wanted to wish the world a festive holiday season. I’ll be back next year and hopefully with some added color to my skin.

Today was the last day of school this year. They had a small ceremony in the gym to celebrate something, I wasn’t sure what for; I was too busy trying to learn how to sleep and stand at the same time. After the boramony the students had to clean before going home; I got to eat a chocolate muffin with hot chocolate. By the time I finished up tard-blog.com and an episode of Day Break, the teachers held a meeting. Usually I stop what I’m doing and pretend to pay attention but this time I was pissed because they didn’t invite me to the ceremony. Just like last week, the teacher’s room was empty except for the janitor pacing back and forth. Students were giving election speeches so the entire school was in the gym. Today, it was the end of the year ceremony. Somehow I figured this all out from the janitor so I went to the gym both times just so I could show that I care. Well, I’m tired of not being invited. So, no sense in pretending to pay attention to the meeting.

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Now that my brain feels like it’s bleeding, I’m officially sick of the kerosene heaters placed in the classrooms to turn frozen Japanese kids into radioactive epileptics. I can barely type; I’ve clogged my sinuses with brain juice. So what’s my escape from this kerosene fueled hell?

Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to have been volunteered for to participate in the kindergarten Christmas party. There weren’t many white Santas on break from the mall so I was chosen to dress up as Nick. I didn’t fight it, it got me out of the junior high and I figured I would go home after it finished. Besides, my mate Steve dressed up as an alligator at a skating rink and danced the chicken dance and handed out prizes to kids with the best moves. I could never trump the image of shy old Steve inside an animal costume waving to little children while somehow trying to free one hand to slit his wrists. So, I knew I didn’t have it bad.

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You know that feeling you get when you’re stuck in in the waiting room at your Doctor’s office? You become sicker than ever because you fear that you might contract one of the many diseases that’s sitting next to you reading last month’s issue of Highlights? You’re afraid to put your hands on anything because you know only sick people have been where you are now. Well, do you also know the euphoric feeling of finally being in a place that feels familiar after having been gone for a while? I think McDonald’s capitalizes on that feeling and so tries their best to make all McDonald’s around the world, pretty much the same just so you get that feeling of home. Well, combine the two mentioned feelings and you’ll know the struggle I went through as I found myself in a waiting room that felt like home next to people coughing and sneezing and giving me looks like they hope I catch what they have.

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While catching up on season 2 of Prison Break, I’m rudely interrupted by the large woman who I’ve yet to learn what her position is. I take my headphones off and give one of those infamous Japanese, “Ehhh??”s to her. She gives her best impression of a starving Ethiopian that you see on late night TV eating flour meal that costs 9 cents a day. I know what this means; I have to eat food prepared by the school’s “Underachiever.” I don’t know how I became the guinea pig but I find myself these days trying food that has been sneezed, coughed, and drooled on by the special student. Don’t get me wrong, the girl is a sweetheart, I just don’t want to be eating her home-eck homework. I’ve already had bizarre flavorless miso soup, some strange pickled potato thing that they kept calling cognac, and some tomatoes marinated in sugar water. I am told that I will get to try food later, that this was just the warning.

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