Career Day Rocked — Mostly Because I was there

Posted on May 29, 2009
Filed Under Daily, I Need to Get Over Myself, Little Kids Smell, My Best Friend is an 8 Year Old | 7 Comments

I went to Little BFF’s school for Career Day yesterday to talk about what it’s like to be a journalist.
In case you’re new here, Little BFF is my cousin’s 8-year-old daughter whom I call my “niece,” and she also happens to be my BFF. We’re so seriously in love with each other that her family and my family think we’re lame, even though we’re really cool and they’re probably just jealous, so to rub in our coolness, we’re all, “Sorry, there’s no room for a third person in our group,” and they’re like, “No one was even talking to you guys,” and we’re like, “Whatev. You guys were totally thinking it.”

So Career Day was pretty awesome, but since I haven’t been in a public place for more than like two hours since I quit my job in October, all that time talking to real people (my imaginary friends don’t make me iron my clothes and put on makeup) really took a toll on me. I was seriously wiped out when I came home and the only reason I’m still awake is because I have to pray the last prayer (of the five that Muslims do) and since it’s summer time now and the days are much longer, the time for the prayer doesn’t start until like 10 p.m., which means that even though I’m totally exhausted I have to keep myself awake so I don’t end up coming back in my next life as a baby goat fetus.

Well, Muslims don’t believe in reincarnation so I guess I’m in the clear with that one — but the point is, I’m so tired right now it reminds me of my freshman year in college when I took Vivarin so I could stay awake to finish an English paper and the back of my neck started to tingle, I couldn’t blink for about six hours, and then my fingers went numb — it was so awesome I took those pills for the rest of the year creepy that I never touched that stuff again.

Moral of the Story, Kids: Don’t do drugs because you’re a procrastinator, do them because you like how they make you feel.
(Just kidding.)
(Kind of.)

The older kids asked a lot of great questions and they were really into what I was talking about. But the real fun started when I had a group of about 40 kindergarten and first graders all at the same time.

The kindergartens, who were like way uninterested in anything I had to say, were sleeping, and talking to each other, and scratching themselves, and getting their hands stuck in the eighth graders’ lockers, but they were all so cute that I’m going to forgive them for totally screwing up my presentation just doing the regular disgusting and horrid things that kids do.

One of the kindergartners asked a really intelligent question related to journalism, which actually blew my mind, but I can’t remember what it was.
If I remember what she asked, (yup, it was a girl with the smart question) I’ll add an update to this post later in the day, so check back.
(Actually don’t waste your time, I’m probably not going to remember anyway.)
(You should totally come back just in case I do remember.)

I talked about writing for my college paper, and my first job as a reporter in the professional world, WaPo.com, this site, examiner.com, and the magazines I freelance for and…Holy Crap that first grader just picked his nose right in front of me and ate it!

And then I’m all, “And does anyone *gag* know how you become *gag* uh, *gag* a journalist?”
And that kid raises his hand and he’s all, “I’m 8!”
And I’m like, “What? Uh, okay, that’s nice…”

AND HE KEPT PICKING HIS NOSE!

I never picked my nose and ate it when I was little — I ate Elmer’s Paste, and it was actually pretty delicious.
I also ate paper, but not like the wide-ruled kind you had in your Trapper Keeper.
We’re talking the multi-colored, heavyweight construction paper that came in the plastic seal.

What can I say?
I had high standards.

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