time to kill between classes

so hello. although this is hard due to the fact that i am writing on a french keyboard since i am in my school's library. i was going to mess around on facebook but it is taking forever for that to charge up, so i figure this is a better way to pass the time than sitting in the break room drinking cup after cup of coffee.
i am normally teaching one of my groups of CM1 kids, but they had to go to some thing... i don't quite remember what it is. so i am waiting until my youngest class starts, but they have also left the school to go elsewhere, and i am unsure of when they will be returning. my one teacher was like oh! you're done! good for you!
but i don't think that i am. i wish that i had been able to move this class up to this block - then i could go home and tackle that all too important task of napping.
oh well. what can i tell you folks?
i have three full weeks of work until my february vacation starts, when i will be heading up to paris for the night (i rented myself a hotel room and i am quite looking forward to a night by myself in paris) grab my jet lagged parents from CDG, come back to tours, and spend the next week with my parents. we will be ending our trip in paris, and then i will be making my way back to bonnie scotland! three nights in edinburgh, and i still need to make reservations for a hostel in glasgow. i should get on that. i am quite excited for this trip - there is a lot that i meant to do last time that i didn't get done, and i want to check out the university scene up there. grahame told me that i wouldn't like glasgow - even though he's from there - but then he decided i might actually get on quite well in glasgow. christine seems to love it there, says the people are even nicer than the ones in edinburgh, which is saying something. i've been reading lonely planet and checking out what each city has to offer and both seem excellent.
last night jen brough some chicken downstairs (i know that i am random right now - bear with me) for us to grill up with some rice and some of the veggies we have. have you ever opened chicken and had it smell like fish? because i did last night. i asked her about it and she said it should be fine - alyson pointed out that when she worked in the deli they had to use chicken within three days. well i cooked it anyway, then saw on the package that she had bought it the 10th of january; yesterday was the 20th of january. so i cooked it an extra five minutes and didn't eat any, nor did jen cause she was like oh yeah it does taste weird (i chalk part of that up to the weird dijon mustard she said to cook it in - we all know i don't like mustard). alyson was the ballsy one who ate it and she's fine today. i am impressed.
but you know what i was not impressed by?
i got off the bus this afternoon and was walking down the sidewalk, minding my own business, and i see a man next to his car with the door open. i think nothing of it until i see that he is leaning on his car with one hand on the roof of the car and one hand hidden in front of him, practically lying on his car. now - i have been to enough field parties with enough of my drunken male friends to know the stance of a man peeing on something. this was in the middle of the street, next to a high school at around one in the afternoon. are you kidding? really? and there was a flow of pee down the curb. that is gross. this is a country where men apparently mark their territory like dogs all over the place - and speaking of dogs - let their dogs shit all over the sidewalk. you can't gaze at a beautiful blue sky above you because chances are you'll step in a nice little present left by a dog. they also seem to have no qualms about nose picking. i clearly remember being in kindergarten and a boy in my class getting YELLED AT for picking his nose. here people will talk to you while digging for gold. it's crazy, and everyone i talk to seems to have the same reaction as me: trying really, really hard not to laugh at these people while they talk to you with their fingers up their noses. a small child would be expected to have a finger up his or her nose. not a 30 year old.
anyways. enough of my gross france rant, let me rant about french men. they seem to think that as a woman you are obligated to fall in love with them the second they show any interest in you. it's incredible. i have had one kid tell me that he wanted to marry me within ten minutes of knowing me, and that he wanted to go to the US with me to meet my family. i told him he was scaring me and that he was too intense (in french because the boy spoke no english) and finished it with a f*** off in english. i think he is the only person who does not know the f-bomb, it seems like the only word all of the frenchies know. i met someone else who said "why can't you tell me you love me? (known him for ohhhhh 5 hours) are you scared of love?" no, psychopath i am not. i am actually quite a loving person. and yes i do have attachment issues and i have something equivalent to fort knox built around my heart, but that has nothing to do with why i will not say i love you. i will not say i love you because i don't love you because i don't know you. go be a crazy-ass elsewhere.

well the recess bell has rung: i am going to get going.
peace