White Girls...

Before you get offended, let me set the record straight. I like white girls. I'm friends with some white girls. White girls have some great and very handy characteristics,especially when you ask one to come pick you up from the airport--they'll be on time, even early.

I have white friends.

My co-teacher is white. I love her to death. She's absolutely wonderful, a fantastic educator who is incredibly creative and unnaturally kind. We eat sushi and Thai together. We occasionally engage in a glass of wine. All things considered, I frequently consider myself honored to be in her presence.

She's absolutely fucking nuts.

She's one of those tree-hugging, eggplant-eating, feral cat-saving, protesting do-gooders who are making life difficult for plant-slaughering, meat-eating, feral cat-hating, MAC wearing self centered Americans like me. When I mentioned the intensity with which I HATE the feral cats that congregrate outside my neigbor's door waiting for their next meal, she mentioned that she had thought of bringing them a can of food so they won't be hungry at night.

Right.

She then expressed her disgust with me for calling feral cat social service (also known as animal control) and requesting cat traps so the disease carrying kitten breeders that urinate on every package that comes to my door can be trapped and sent to kitty playland (aka, euthanaisia).

Well today, this friend of mine was teaching a lesson on synonyms to my most rambunctious class. I was sitting at the desk taking attendance. I look up and notice her absence from the classroom. Quite startled, I call her name. Then I hear kids sniggering and busting a gut. Ms. Leon is on her hands and knees, crawling on the floor. Imagine my suprise. I thought she was plugging something in, looking for a contact, praying...something reasonable.

No.

She was trying to rescue a cricket.

Yes, dear readers: she was trying to RESCUE a CRICKET.

This same cricket I saw the hour before and I tried to stomp on. It was too quick. I, being a benevolent human, let the cricket live as long as it was not near my foot. She crawled on the floor, diligently trying to catch a cricket between two cupped hands. I sat there, stunned, and watched the circus unfold.

She caught the cricket, then scurried outside to the hundred degree weather and sent the cricket off on its merry way. (as a side note, today it was over 100 degrees...the cricket was better off being quickly stomped on by my foot than it was cooking to death in the desert or being eaten by one of the many many sparrows which congregrate in the parking lot.)

White girls.