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Let's face it, there are days when you know within the first fifteen minutes that you should turn around and get right back into bed. But as a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant with a enough guilt to make any Catholic proud, I trudge along on these days even as I continually get kicked in the tush.

Most of these days start out on a smaller scale. There was the day when I sleepily poured a can of soda over my breakfast cereal and then stared at it in disbelief, my grogginess delaying the thought process a bit before I realized what I had just done. That same day, as a teacher, I needed to make a trip up to our school's library before the students arrived. As I checked out a few items, the librarian had a puzzled look on her face. She said, "Is that your shirt or what is that?" I looked down, only to find a pair of panties static-clinged to my sweater. To make matters worse, it was a granny-like pair of undies. All class, this one here. Thank goodness my students didn't get to witness it first.

Perhaps my most notable moment though, is one which started perfectly innocently. Quite a few years ago, my boyfriend and I, along with a couple of his friends, purchased tickets to see and hear Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin at the local arena. The tickets were not cheap and as a way to alleviate drunkenness, the powers that be decided to jack up the price of beer to an unheard of amount at that time. Being poor college students who had just spent part of our tuition money to go to the concert, we decided to bring a cooler and fill it with some beer for the men and a bottle of wine for me. Our plan was to drink a bit in the parking lot of the venue where the concert was to take place. It was a no harm, no foul sort of situation. No sooner had we cracked open our beverages, did we find ourselves being busted and hauled into the police station for the horrible and unthinkable violation of "no drinking in a public parking structure". After we entered the police station, they plopped the men down at a table and proceeded to take me someplace else. Despite my boyfriend's protest (they handcuffed him when he did), they placed me in a room away from them. I wasn't alone however- quite the contrary. Dressed in my white lacy and ruffled blouse (all the rage back then), and my prim and proper pants, I felt quite out of place. After a few snickers from my audience, one of my "cell" mates piped up. "What are you in here for?" I quickly surveyed the situation

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