Everybody Knows My Name

Lately, I have become a regular Norm in the Cheers of the school cafeteria.

A kid from one of my morning classes sits at a table near the hall, and when I walk in, fashionably late, after most of the students are seated with their trays, he hollers, "Mrs. Hillbilly Mom!" Now he's got three more boys at his table doing it.

I usually nod, or roll my eyes, or shout his name back at him. He thinks this is hilarious. I think I'm hilarious when I call him Jeremy Roloff in class. The kid is a dead ringer for the tall twin on Little People, Big World. He says the teachers at Basementia used to call him that, too.

Thank the Gummi Mary, I don't look like Norm. At least in my opinion. Gasp! What if I have body dysmorphic disorder, and have a skewed perception of my outward appearance? What if I really DO look like Norm?

If they start raising their milk cartons in a toast, I am going to eat lunch alone in my room.