Kids That Can't Read Good

"Hey...those are my pants," Ryan says to me, strumming the final chord of a song. I laugh. I've been smirking the whole time, wondering how long it would take him to notice. We made it halfway through the set before he recognized them.
Maybe someday I will give them back. But they are comfortable.

We've got a show in exactly a week. I'm honestly nervous about it. It's our first time performing since August (unless you count the time we popped out of a closet and sang a love song in Klingon on Valentines Day...don't ask...) and we're still a little rusty. We're also struggling with ticket sales a little. But there's still a week left. We'll get there.

I've started subbing as an educational assistant to earn a little extra money. My goal is to make enough to pay for my half of the gas on tour. The work isn't bad except for the fact that it requires me to get out of bed before noon and work with children. After just one day of subbing at a grade school, I remembered that I don't even really like children.

Me: "Hi kids, I'm Miss Lauren. You are the group of semi-retarded children that can't read and I am here to help you."
Semi-Retarded Child: "Hello, Mr. Ding-Dong."
Me: "That's not my name."
Chorus of Semi-Retarded Children: "Mr. Ding-Dong!"
Me: "Uh...Mister? Do I look like a man?"
Especially Special Asian/Arabic Boy: "Yeah!"

The things I do for rock and roll.