Don't Make Me Hurt You
YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK
Websites spotted on various computer screens during instructional time:
Crying, While Eating (Rm. 13, LoB)
Black People Love Us (the gym, no one would own up)
Are You Smarter Than A Third Grader ? (5th period, behaviorists from several agencies)
Travelocity (Voc Ed. room, Shoe)
Netflix (Rm. 13, me adding Death At A Funeral to my queue)
Dancing With the Stars (Rm. 21, Ju Ju)
WHY I HATE HIPPIES
There it was- a red counting bear, just like the ones Darko used to steal from Sunrise, floating perilously close to where the emu was scooping up water. Concerned that Emu might tip his head back during a guzzle and end up choking to death on said bear right in front of the kids, I bent over to retrieve it and plop ! My cell phone did a triple gainer out of my shirt pocket and into the emu pool. After we'd returned to the classroom, I was blowing frantically on my speaker to speed its drying time, which prompted this exchange with Hippie Volunteer, whom I've despised all year for his sky-is-falling rhetoric:
Hippie Volunteer: Did you apply nail polish to your phone ? (raises left eyebrow)
Me: No, I dropped it in the emu pool.
HV: Do you believe in signs ? Maybe the Universe is trying to tell you something by causing your phone to fall into the pool.
Me: Um, that I shouldn't pick up any more toys and just let the emu choke instead ?
HV: (malignant look, because I've deflected his weekly lecture on the evils of cell phones)
Scuzie (just to be a smartass): Since God fixed her cell phone and it's working again, isn't that a sign that He loves cell phones ?
Scuzie continued to needle Hippie Volunteer by whipping out her Motorola and calling her son during HV's lecture on how there's supposedly 39 teaspoons of sugar in a can of Coke. Actually, it's 39 grams of sugar, not teaspoons. There are 4 grams of sugar per teaspoon, which comes out to 9.75 teaspoons of sugar per can. I found that out within 3 minutes on the internet, after Hippie got mad because I questioned his inflated figures and challenged me to look it up if I didn't believe him. He then returned to his lecture on how everyone using a cell phone is going to get brain cancer, causing Chris to panic because his mom has a cell phone and he doesn't want her to die. Way to go, Hippie !
IT'S HER ENTHUSIASM THAT WE APPRECIATE MOST
LoB and I had a friendly chat, so we are buddies again just in time to unite against our common enemy, Sahara. Sahara still tells LoB "you go home, no come back. AJ come back." at least 15 times every hour, and if it's one of her unmedicated days she also tries to grope the nearest person and laughs hysterically for no discernable reason. She's on my shit list this week for helping Triple A escape the confines of his desk. Triple A roamed about licking the paper shamrocks Moonbeam had just hung up, then stuck some picture icons I hadn't laminated yet into his mouth, forcing me to redo the entire set again while Sahara sniggered and made kissing noises. In a fit of exasperation, LoB declared Zahra "hopeless", which made her laugh inexplicably for another 5 minutes until Moonbeam finally snapped and put her in the corner.
BRINGIN' SEXY BACK
The one hippie I actually like is Freud, the pony-tailed substitute teacher who wears a fanny pack laced through the beltloops of his overalls. Speaking of snappy dressers, I took photos of two memorable student outfits this week and sent them to a few lucky friends' cell phones.
Pebble caused quite a stir when I sent the picture of him kitted out in a neon yellow-green Izod shirt, a black mesh tank top and a checkered green and purple tie. Devoted readers of this blog may recall that I equate mesh tops with gay discos- given Pebble's unhealthy fascination with The Rock, I'd say my theory about mesh has been proven yet again.
Second in silliness was Fozzie, who appeared at the basketball game in a sombrero with lavender tassles dangling from the brim. My friend Noni was so impressed by Fozzie's purple dingles that she asked if she could borrow his hat- at least I think that's what she said. Her scrambled text contained lots of exclamation points, several question marks and no spaces between any of the words. Please, folks, don't drink and text !
ME EITHER, FOZZIE !
As Fozzie passed me in the hall on Wednesday, he gave my spikey orange hair and racoon eyeliner a good staring at, and then sternly announced, "I don't like cheap dates !"
RAH RAH RAH, SIS BOOM BLAH
The basketball team took another beating, this week from the Swiller kids, who are all steroidal hulks yet capable of actual teamwork. Bo had the announcing duties this time and rather than comment on the train wreck of a basketball game, he decided to heckle the gardeners instead.
This did not go over well with Adolph. Thanks to Bo, Adolph was in a fouler mood than usual and stomped over to demand that I remove G from his safety zone, so that the leaf blower guy could redistribute all of the detritus that has heaped up in front of the gym. Adolph may not fear the Reaper, but the gardener valued his own life enough to heed the murderous gleam in G's eye, and told me G could stay put. He then proceeded to blow M&M wrappers, leaves and used tissues all over G, and into the gym itself. G thought it was hilarious and rocked so hard that he knocked his head on the wall a few times, but I don't think Gio, absent due to an appendectomy, will appreciate having to shovel that pile of trash off of his computer desk when he returns on Monday.
IT WAS REALLY TOUCHING- LIKE TOUCHING THE BACK OF MY THROAT
On Thursday, I cornered the occupational therapist and asked her to demonstrate some deep pressure techniques for Triple A. I never dreamed that she'd pick Marv to demonstrate on- few people have ever attempted to penetrate the nicotine cloud that surrounds him, and that's just fine with him. Marv looked mortified as the OT demonstrated "touch that feels good" on his scrawny back, and turned beet red when she asked him to comment on her technique. Josie and I couldn't resist ribbing our favorite (aka only) OT with suggestions that she at least buy him a drink before she got so friendly, and Marv finally evaded her clutches by jumping up and declaring it was his break time (10 minutes earlier than usual).
Mace had peeked in at some point and noticed poor Marv's suffering. During 5th period, he and Josie speculated as to whether Marvin owns one of those vans with the windows painted over, whether he had a sound-proofed basement full of bondage gear and wickedly sharp surgical tools, and whether it's always the quiet ones who snap first or if charming guys like Ted Bundy beat them to it. Mace advised me to be especially friendly to Marv so that I won't be first on his list when he goes postal, then stated there's no hope for any of us if Jai finds a scratch on his beloved car and decides to hack several people to death with his squeegie.
THATSA NOTTA MY TUBE, IS THATA YOUTUBE ?
Young guys love to brag about their units, especially on my Youtube channel. What young guys don't seem to like is when I call their bluff and reply that if you have to tell me you have a big penis, then you probably don't. This enraged one youngun so much that he sent me messages implying I was a pedophile because I dissed his penis, which I had no interest in until 4 messages regarding it hit my inbox and he posted a reference to it on my beloved channel ( www.youtube.com/Benmontfan - check out my playlists).
Then he whined that because he's only 19, he is excused from any responsibility for starting it in the first place, because an older woman should not be remarking upon his penis. That was so poorly reasoned that I had to block him permanently, so as not to be reminded of his retardation everytime I log into my account. Let me make this crystal clear: if you jam up my inbox with dick jokes, you will indeed get the attention you so desperately crave. If you can't take the heat, keep your member out of my Youtube kitchen- or at least be thoughtful enough to upload a video of it...
Websites spotted on various computer screens during instructional time:
Crying, While Eating (Rm. 13, LoB)
Black People Love Us (the gym, no one would own up)
Are You Smarter Than A Third Grader ? (5th period, behaviorists from several agencies)
Travelocity (Voc Ed. room, Shoe)
Netflix (Rm. 13, me adding Death At A Funeral to my queue)
Dancing With the Stars (Rm. 21, Ju Ju)
WHY I HATE HIPPIES
There it was- a red counting bear, just like the ones Darko used to steal from Sunrise, floating perilously close to where the emu was scooping up water. Concerned that Emu might tip his head back during a guzzle and end up choking to death on said bear right in front of the kids, I bent over to retrieve it and plop ! My cell phone did a triple gainer out of my shirt pocket and into the emu pool. After we'd returned to the classroom, I was blowing frantically on my speaker to speed its drying time, which prompted this exchange with Hippie Volunteer, whom I've despised all year for his sky-is-falling rhetoric:
Hippie Volunteer: Did you apply nail polish to your phone ? (raises left eyebrow)
Me: No, I dropped it in the emu pool.
HV: Do you believe in signs ? Maybe the Universe is trying to tell you something by causing your phone to fall into the pool.
Me: Um, that I shouldn't pick up any more toys and just let the emu choke instead ?
HV: (malignant look, because I've deflected his weekly lecture on the evils of cell phones)
Scuzie (just to be a smartass): Since God fixed her cell phone and it's working again, isn't that a sign that He loves cell phones ?
Scuzie continued to needle Hippie Volunteer by whipping out her Motorola and calling her son during HV's lecture on how there's supposedly 39 teaspoons of sugar in a can of Coke. Actually, it's 39 grams of sugar, not teaspoons. There are 4 grams of sugar per teaspoon, which comes out to 9.75 teaspoons of sugar per can. I found that out within 3 minutes on the internet, after Hippie got mad because I questioned his inflated figures and challenged me to look it up if I didn't believe him. He then returned to his lecture on how everyone using a cell phone is going to get brain cancer, causing Chris to panic because his mom has a cell phone and he doesn't want her to die. Way to go, Hippie !
IT'S HER ENTHUSIASM THAT WE APPRECIATE MOST
LoB and I had a friendly chat, so we are buddies again just in time to unite against our common enemy, Sahara. Sahara still tells LoB "you go home, no come back. AJ come back." at least 15 times every hour, and if it's one of her unmedicated days she also tries to grope the nearest person and laughs hysterically for no discernable reason. She's on my shit list this week for helping Triple A escape the confines of his desk. Triple A roamed about licking the paper shamrocks Moonbeam had just hung up, then stuck some picture icons I hadn't laminated yet into his mouth, forcing me to redo the entire set again while Sahara sniggered and made kissing noises. In a fit of exasperation, LoB declared Zahra "hopeless", which made her laugh inexplicably for another 5 minutes until Moonbeam finally snapped and put her in the corner.
BRINGIN' SEXY BACK
The one hippie I actually like is Freud, the pony-tailed substitute teacher who wears a fanny pack laced through the beltloops of his overalls. Speaking of snappy dressers, I took photos of two memorable student outfits this week and sent them to a few lucky friends' cell phones.
Pebble caused quite a stir when I sent the picture of him kitted out in a neon yellow-green Izod shirt, a black mesh tank top and a checkered green and purple tie. Devoted readers of this blog may recall that I equate mesh tops with gay discos- given Pebble's unhealthy fascination with The Rock, I'd say my theory about mesh has been proven yet again.
Second in silliness was Fozzie, who appeared at the basketball game in a sombrero with lavender tassles dangling from the brim. My friend Noni was so impressed by Fozzie's purple dingles that she asked if she could borrow his hat- at least I think that's what she said. Her scrambled text contained lots of exclamation points, several question marks and no spaces between any of the words. Please, folks, don't drink and text !
ME EITHER, FOZZIE !
As Fozzie passed me in the hall on Wednesday, he gave my spikey orange hair and racoon eyeliner a good staring at, and then sternly announced, "I don't like cheap dates !"
RAH RAH RAH, SIS BOOM BLAH
The basketball team took another beating, this week from the Swiller kids, who are all steroidal hulks yet capable of actual teamwork. Bo had the announcing duties this time and rather than comment on the train wreck of a basketball game, he decided to heckle the gardeners instead.
This did not go over well with Adolph. Thanks to Bo, Adolph was in a fouler mood than usual and stomped over to demand that I remove G from his safety zone, so that the leaf blower guy could redistribute all of the detritus that has heaped up in front of the gym. Adolph may not fear the Reaper, but the gardener valued his own life enough to heed the murderous gleam in G's eye, and told me G could stay put. He then proceeded to blow M&M wrappers, leaves and used tissues all over G, and into the gym itself. G thought it was hilarious and rocked so hard that he knocked his head on the wall a few times, but I don't think Gio, absent due to an appendectomy, will appreciate having to shovel that pile of trash off of his computer desk when he returns on Monday.
IT WAS REALLY TOUCHING- LIKE TOUCHING THE BACK OF MY THROAT
On Thursday, I cornered the occupational therapist and asked her to demonstrate some deep pressure techniques for Triple A. I never dreamed that she'd pick Marv to demonstrate on- few people have ever attempted to penetrate the nicotine cloud that surrounds him, and that's just fine with him. Marv looked mortified as the OT demonstrated "touch that feels good" on his scrawny back, and turned beet red when she asked him to comment on her technique. Josie and I couldn't resist ribbing our favorite (aka only) OT with suggestions that she at least buy him a drink before she got so friendly, and Marv finally evaded her clutches by jumping up and declaring it was his break time (10 minutes earlier than usual).
Mace had peeked in at some point and noticed poor Marv's suffering. During 5th period, he and Josie speculated as to whether Marvin owns one of those vans with the windows painted over, whether he had a sound-proofed basement full of bondage gear and wickedly sharp surgical tools, and whether it's always the quiet ones who snap first or if charming guys like Ted Bundy beat them to it. Mace advised me to be especially friendly to Marv so that I won't be first on his list when he goes postal, then stated there's no hope for any of us if Jai finds a scratch on his beloved car and decides to hack several people to death with his squeegie.
THATSA NOTTA MY TUBE, IS THATA YOUTUBE ?
Young guys love to brag about their units, especially on my Youtube channel. What young guys don't seem to like is when I call their bluff and reply that if you have to tell me you have a big penis, then you probably don't. This enraged one youngun so much that he sent me messages implying I was a pedophile because I dissed his penis, which I had no interest in until 4 messages regarding it hit my inbox and he posted a reference to it on my beloved channel ( www.youtube.com/Benmontfan - check out my playlists).
Then he whined that because he's only 19, he is excused from any responsibility for starting it in the first place, because an older woman should not be remarking upon his penis. That was so poorly reasoned that I had to block him permanently, so as not to be reminded of his retardation everytime I log into my account. Let me make this crystal clear: if you jam up my inbox with dick jokes, you will indeed get the attention you so desperately crave. If you can't take the heat, keep your member out of my Youtube kitchen- or at least be thoughtful enough to upload a video of it...
posted by Fredrika Krueger at 10:07 PM
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