I'm Too Tired To Think Of A Good Title

Me, tired after a long day of school and pit rehearsal: Hi.
Very nice guy at school who helps build sets, helped me in art and can jump over six people: Hi.
*Hug, which turns into long, spin-around hug*
Nice guy: You smell nice.
Me: Thank you. So do you.
Nice guy: You smell like (insert word I've never heard of here).
Me: What's that?
Nice guy: My favorite scent ever, which sounds like a pick-up line but it's totally not.
Me: Right. Thanks?
Nice guy: You're welcome.

I taught Tommy, one of the pit orchestra violinists about hip-checking.

I moderated a Socratic Seminar about the Irish Potato Famine in European History.

I cannot get songs from Jekyll and Hyde out of my head, which is bad, because the lyrics are as fake and cheesy as Cheez-Wiz. "Look in my eyes, who do you see there? Someone you know, or just a stranger? If you are wise, you will see me there. Love is the only danger. Love meaning me, love meaning you..." I have a difficult time not bursting out laughing backstage.

Fixed my shoelaces so that they're laced normally, and not backwards.

Do not understand Statistics.

My friend Olivia spends most of pit orchestra surrounded by either guys she likes flirting with or guys who like her, or some combination of the two. It's amusing.

I really like chocolate chip cookies. And white cheddar popcorn.