Three students showed up for my English class today (note: this is not my ESL class, it’s my community college class, pre-ENG 111). One of my students looked up from her writing and said:
“Miss Martin, this is kinda off topic, but….wher yo’ man?”
Me: “….I’m sorry?”
“You so nice. You ain’t got a man?” (Wait…I’m nice?!)
“Um, (insert name of student here), being nice doesn’t mean I have to have a man.” (momentary pause). “How long have you been wondering about this?”
“Since the first week of class.”
Then I went on to enumerate all the reasons I should continue to be without a man. But I couldn’t help thinking: I’m glad my student was focused on my relationship status and not her pesky education.
I just realized something about myself: I get inexplicably angry when musicians from my favorite bands make major changes to their facial hair.
I hate the Fu Manchu mustache being sported by people like Steven Tyler (Aerosmith) and Justin Hawkins (The Darkness). I lost my mind when Joe Perry and Dan Hawkins were sporting similar Fu-taches. I nearly had a seizure when Foxy Shazam’s Sky White shaved off all his hair and became apoplectic when I saw recent photos of Foxy’s drummer, Aaron McVeigh, who appears to have adopted Sky’s look from two or three years ago.
By the same token, I would be devastated if Lemmy Kilmister (Motorhead), Daisy Caplan (Foxy Shazam), or Frankie Poullain (The Darkness) got rid of their facial hair. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m so emotionally invested in this particular aspect of their faces? (That’s a rhetorical questions. Please don’t respond with a laundry list of what’s wrong with me.)