Cheers because she did not oversleep like yesterday! Accidentally deletes an email she needed. Smacks hand to face.
Realizes she spilled old cherry tea all over the pile of papers to grade. Grumbles.
“Mrs. Princess why is my paper all wrinkly and brown?” Frowns.
Eats a banana. Distracts her students by ranting about banana peels: “No one has ever slipped on a banana peel! EVER!! And no banana peel would ever be so slippery as to send a car spinning out of control! I’ve never even seen a banana peel on the ground! Mario Kart is FULL OF LIES!” She leaves her banana peel on the ground in experimentation. “Someone is going to slip on that and sue you,” her students say. Princess leaves the banana peel as is, then thinks, “If my name was Sue would I appreciate my name being used as a verb in such a derogatory manor?” She feels bad for the Sues of the world. She names the banana peel Sue in honorarium.
Princess’ students are brainstorming article ideas for their upcoming newspaper. “Mrs. Princess can my group interview your brother for a human interest story about the time he held up that giant poster of Uncle Jessie’s head at College Game Day and John Stamos tweeted about it?” She pats the student on the head. “Yes, yes you can, dear child.”
Accidentally deletes an email she needed. Smacks hand to face.
Slips on banana peel. Poor Sue. She scoops Sue up so as to not get sued and places her gently in the trash can. Goodbye, Sue.
Wonders how her car is doing out in the parking lot and realizes Babs has not tweeted in a while. She may have given up Twitter for Lent. Wonders if Babs is Catholic.
Accidentally tells her class about the time she was on the phone with Tia and Tamara and fell out of her chair and became entangled in the phone cord. “Phones can have cords?” they say. She almost mentions the strange and inappropriate thing she inadvertently said to Carrie Underwood’s publicist. She stops herself just in time. She reminds herself also to stop telling people that her dad calls Ms. Underwood “Scary Underwear.” She reminds herself that generally, she should stop saying a large percentage of the things she says and also to stop tying any ribbon she finds around her head. She can’t recall a single birthday party or shower where she did not leave with a giant bow on her head. 2 p.m. is the hour of regret.
Mumbles to herself, “It’s tooth-hurty! Time to go to the dentist!” followed quickly by “Please stop telling that joke.” 2 p.m. remains the hour of regret.
Googles “funny sentences” to prepare tomorrow’s Bell Work. LOLs at "Haunted French pancakes give me the crepes." Checks on Lil Wayne. Publishes a blog detailing her exploits.