I teach 15-year-olds about the New Testament at church every Sunday. The class is coed. Close your eyes for a moment and remember how you acted around the opposite sex when you were 15. Yes, very little learning about the New Testament takes place in my class. I feel good if I touch on the main points of my assigned lesson and if less than 5 minutes is spent discussing who is hotter - Jennifer Garner as Electra or Jessica Alba as the Fantastic Four girl (why does Michael insist on asking that question every week???) (and hello, Jessica Alba. Like you really need to ask).
This Sunday Michael asked (he always adds such insightful comments) why everyone on Myspace pretends to be older than they are. I mentioned that when I put a fake birthdate on my Myspace page, it said I was a Scorpio. (Rude) Well, my class freaked out. "You have a myspace page?!?!?!" they yelled in surprise. Suddenly Stacy proclaimed, "I'm going to add you as a friend! What is your nickname?" Since Stacy babysat for me a few weeks ago and spent the entire time on Myspace (yes, I checked the Internet history), she already knew it. Didn't think too much of it. I spent the rest of the hour trying (in vain) to discuss the Resurrection. The kids were not interested. Everyone was high on Harry Potter.
The next day, to my amazement, I received a friend request from Stacy. A few hours later, one from Michael. Then Stacy's younger sister (also one of my babysitters). Since I honestly joined Myspace just so I could see my friend's private page, my page is verrrry basic and I only had a few "friends." Now half my friends are in their young teens. Ha ha So did they friend request me to beef up their own friend numbers? Or can I put away my cynicism for a minute and just allow myself to think it's cute? I think my affection for my insane class is adversely influencing me.
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Btw, my husband has been canning tuna for two days straight. I try not to go in the kitchen at all. The last time I did, I picked up a pan and it was stuck to the counter in sticky raw tuna juices and I started hyperventilating. Both kitchen and dining room are trashed. Dh has dirtied every kitchen towel we own. The house is starting to reek of tuna. BUT. He opened a new can and we tried it. SO delicious. Plus, he's doing all the work. So I'm not complaining. (Did it sound like complaining? It was more like a series of...statements.)