My Life... In Tweets

Tweets, for those of you who don't use Twitter, are updates on your life, like mini blog posts in 140 characters or less to let the world know what you're up to. If I were attached to Twitter constantly, this is what a fully Twittered day might look like for me:

It's 5:30am. Why - WHY - is there Cher on my radio alarm? Who down at the radio station thought that was a good idea?

Is it bad that the only thing that gets me out of my bed is my tiny bladder having to pee? Well, that & Golden Girls at 6am.

Dear bathroom moth: You almost made me pee in my pajamas. Don't scare me like that again! Kthxbai.

Why do I ALWAYS get the idiot Starbucks lady? And why does she refuse to learn anything about how to take my order?

Any bets on when I spill coffee on myself today?

$5 to whoever guessed "Before you even park the car."

Hai, I can has lessun plans pleez?

Passed HTG in the hall just now. He looked busy. I avoided eye contact to seem cooly nonchalant. Can't seem overeager, ya know?

Walking into my room is like a game of Climate Roulette. Sweltering hot or freezing cold? Who knows! It's like Russian Roulette, but safer.

Personally, I think the kids should thank me for Climate Roulette. It keeps things interesting, and they don't fall asleep.

I can hear HTG teaching next door. Even his voice is hot.

24 kids in the room = 24 chances to ruin a life FOREVER. Pressure much? No wonder teachers develop ulcers.

Lunch. Yum. Am loving the silence in my classroom right now.

I wonder where HTG eats. And with whom...

Why does my SILENT study hall have to right next to the loudest and most exciting teacher on campus? He teases the kids with his nearness.

Of course, HTG teases me with HIS nearness, so...

Last class of the day. La classe de francais. Je ne parle pas le francais. Quelle dommage!

Ah, last bell. Go, little gremlins. Hound someone else for a while. No, just kidding, I love you gremlins.

HTG just walked past my window. I think the world paused to watch. Or maybe that was just me.

I am a lean, mean grading machine. I am going to finish these essays today, I swear.

And two hours later, I am less than half done with these damned essays. I am apparently a grading machine that needs maintainance.

If I shout loudly enough, do you think the baristas at Starbucks will hear me and bring me a vanilla latte? No?

A mere 12 hours later, I think maybe it's time to consider going home. And picking up Wendy's on the way.

Home! Jiffy Pop (kitty) is happy to see me. I can tell by how enthusiastically he cracked that one eye open to glare at me.

So, what's on TV tonight? "Family Guy" reruns? Good enough for me.

I should do laundry. Or take out the trash. Or do some more grading. Instead? I'm going to bed. Night all.

And that, my friends, is what a day in my life looks like, 140 characters at a time. I know, it's not like any of it is surprising, but, uh, maybe the 140 character limit made my mundane life seem more interesting. And if it didn't, well, my bad. You can go back to the high school English books post, 'cause apparently, that was the most popular post EVER.

In the meantime, why don't you all leave your own 140-characters-or-less comment on the status of your own lives? I'll love you forever if you do. (Or at least for 140 characters.)