Things I think in the shower.

[gement]

(This may or may not be the first of a series, depending on how many of my random thoughts send me crawling up a wall. Welcome to Random-Associative Gementland.)

A belated curse upon the 5th grade gym teacher (or was it music teacher?) who repeatedly made the class dance to the "Chicken Fat" song, which was written in the 1950s and, if it was geared toward any age group other than sadistic bastards, was designed for first graders.

A belated apology to any orthodontia dental hygenists I worked with in middle school. No one should have to face half-inch globs of pizza wedged in braces.

A belated query... two different guys I met as a freshman in high school claim that they have twice as much saliva production as normal humans. They don't know each other, and they both claim their doctors told them so. Why on earth would a doctor measure your saliva production?

Comments

[shadowblue.livejournal.com]

Maybe if their parents go "he keeps drooling all over everything!"

"Chicken Fat"? Never heard of it.

[garillama.livejournal.com]

You've never heard the Chicken Fat song? You lucky, lucky person. . . I am scared for life because of that song.

[annissamazing]

"A belated query... two different guys I met as a freshman in high school claim that they have twice as much saliva production as normal humans. They don't know each other, and they both claim their doctors told them so. Why on earth would a doctor measure your saliva production?"

Yes! Thank you! I sometimes think about that and wonder, "Why?" So I know who one of them is. Who's the other?

And that's not the only thing Eric told me that I cringe about now. He used to tell me about how the slaves in the old south were happy about their lives and how awful it was that it ended. It didn't sound sensible even then, but I didn't argue. Wish I had, though. Bastard.