I "accused" one of my students today of being unfailing and bottomless blog material. Mr. "W" (the same bloke who had his eyes forcibly bikini waxed with tape a few months ago) has this retainer that he flicks constantly out of his mouth sort of like a lizard tongue. Retainers in seventh grade are a common sight--lots of dental moving and shifting, orthodontic appointments, and tons of metal flashed up at me. But Mr. "W" can't leave his alone. Today he was flipping it in and out in and out, and it flew out onto the carpet (a veritable ocean depository of seventh grade scum, sputum, and booger remnants). I said, "Mr.'W', someday that retainer is going to land in something which could very well infect you and cause twitches." He replied, "That already happened last week out in the field. It landed in the cytoplasm (his words EXACTLY) from the newborn calf. But I washed it off in the trough." Oh...Cytoplasm...Trough...Way too much information. I can't wrap my head around where else that retainer has been. Better him than me. If I came across cytoplasm I think I'd call Ghostbusters, and anything with trough conjures up images of green moss, water skippers, and the beginnings of plagues capable of wiping out whole countries. We do actually have a trough here at Rancho-Take-a-Your-Money-and-Wave-Bye-Bye. As soon as the snow blanket melts here, perhaps we'll sidle some little llama bodies up to it. Or a piggie. Or a lamb. Maybe Mugsy. But I hope to NEVER EVER find a retainer in it. That's just wrong.
