Me and my big mouth

I always volunteer to do Career Day at the boys' school to tell children what it is like to be a writer.

*RUN RUN RUN! DO ANYTHING ELSE IF YOU WANT TO BE ABLE TO PAY YOUR BILLS!!!!*

Oh wait, that is just the thought running through my head, it isn't what I actually tell them.

I manage to teach them about self-discipline (BULLSHIT), the importance of meeting deadlines (BULLSHIT), how important a dictionary is (ok, not bullshit), the importance of good spelling and grammar (MORE BULLSHIT) and how much fun it is (Only BULLshit some of the time.)

I leave out how most of us wind up lonely, withered, divorced and alcoholics.

Tomorrow, I go to speak to the fifth-grade kids in Pickle's class. He's in a special class for kids with issues, so this is always interesting. They typically respond best to my Nascar story as well as those involved dead bodies and blood.

The first grade class is hard to impress, too, because they've never heard of Roger Staubach, Wil Wheaton, Dick Conrad or others that I've interviewed although I can still impress them with my interviews of the now President and First Lady.

But, it gets worse. As I'm firming up the time and details with the first grade teacher, she asks me to talk to the entire first grade. Oy vey. (can a Catholic say oy vey?) She said there are 45 of them "but, they're little" she says.

Yes, yes, true. But, so are ants and I don't want to be thrown in an ant bed! I will let you know how it goes.