But because I know I love you better

It is the end of the trimester. I am grading like a motherfucker. I am exhausted.

Not only am I teaching an assload of economics-- real economics, the kind they teach in college-- but our weirdo French teacher "quit" a month ago and so I had to pick up nine French classes. I barely speak French.

The kids are sad. Their old teacher actually taught them Morse Code so that, when he was finally captured by "The Iraqis", and his "Please negotiate. Send ransom soon." speech was aired on news stations nationwide, his students could relay secret messages between him and the US Government. The kids are sad because this is what they are accustomed to doing in French class everyday.

I spend all day with geeky, pissy children aged 13 to 17. When I get home, I hate children.

And yet, all I want to do is to fuck. The irony is not lost on me.