FOOT-IN-MOUTH DISEASE

So I put my foot in my mouth Wednesday afternoon.

I'm used to it.  I try to keep my feet clean and covered in BBQ sauce because I have at least one foot in my mouth weekly.  Maybe even daily.  Hourly.  A lot.

I was sitting in my grad class waiting for the teacher when a gentleman from one of my summer classes came in.  We got talking about writing and got on the subject of the poetry class I took last spring.  I mentioned that I didn't think the professor did a very good job, and that the first words out of his mouth were, "I'm going on sabbatical next semester, and I don't even want to BE here."  The poetry professor's last words were, "I really wish someone had written poetry about basketball."

Say, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT, Jack????

And after having a good rant about that and how my poetry was considered shit in that class, I realized that two of my current classmates sitting at the table and bearing witness to my mini-rant were, indeed, from my poetry class two semesters ago.  One of them was very friendly with the professor, as well.

Mother-f****r. 

Someone get the jaws of life, will ya?  My damn foot's in my mouth.  Again.