Can you match my crazy day?

First of all, my days are normally pretty calm- not a lot of drama, etc. My economic classes are working on their ad campaigns for their companies they created. Most of my class is downstairs in the computer lab working on their ads, but one group wants to use my classroom upstairs to film a commercial for their company- a teen dance club. (Originally, they wanted a nightclub. They had to make a list of goods & services offerred, and the only good they wrote down was "booze"... um... no way.) I thought it was not a problem for them to use my room. So, about 20 minutes into class, I walk upstairs to check on them. DOWN THE HALL, I hear music pumping out of my room. Hmmmm.... when I get to my room, all the window shades are closed, the lights are off, there's a strobe light blinking, and 20 KIDS ARE HAVING A RAVE PARTY IN MY ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!! No adults- just kids raving in my room.

Awesome.

I walk in and address the ring leader of this whole thing. Here is our conversation:
ME (trying to hide the fact that I'm really pissed off): Where did all these kids come from?
KID: I got them out of other classes.
ME: For what reason?
KID: I told their teachers we were filming a commercial for your class.
ME: Did you use my name?
KID: yeah.

Awesome.

ME: Why didn't you ask me permission?
KID: I didn't think about it.
ME: You have 3 minutes to finish filming this commercial and then all these kids need to get back to class!
KID: I'm sorry. I'm an idiot.
ME: I just can't believe you turned my classroom into a rave...
KID: (pointing to an ACTUAL SMOKE MACHINE in the corner) It's a good thing I didn't plug in the smoke machine I brought. You might have been really mad, hugh???

Awesome.

So then, I'm heading back downstairs to the computer lab, and a classic high school destructive relationship is unfolding in the hallway- 9th graders who I don't know, crying... boy hitting his fist on a locker... stuff like that.

ME: you two need to get back to class NOW.
9th grade boy: but Miss... she just told me...
ME: I don't care. Get in class NOW
9th grade girl: but Miss... I'm pregnant.