Lance Bass Ruined My Life

This Is The Reason I Come Home And Just Pass Out

Yes, I know I have been absent for a while, but my life has been one big jumble of what the fuck that I have not had a whole lot of time for bitchy introspection. So let me fill you in a little of what has been going on.

I have been extremely busy with the substitute teaching thing. I’ve pretty much been going to the same school for a while now. This is sort of fun because I have become known as something of a tyrant to these kids and as I work my way through all the classes word starts getting around. This strikes fear into the hearts of kids, which as anyone can tell you has been one of my life long dreams.

It’s just that being at the same school gives me a little more power than going to different schools. The school actually trusts me with a bit more of the discipline. I’m just saying, my classes have been known to be dragged outside and forced to walk a straight line for thirty minutes. It teaches them how to walk in a line like they are supposed to and it wears them out so they can’t misbehave. It’s really a win win.

But there is a downside to this. The more I have been going there, I find that they keep sending me to the same classes over and over again. Mostly kindergarten classes. There is nothing in life that will make you lose your mind faster than a kindergarten class. These kids have the attention span of...well of kindergartens. Have you ever tried to get a five year old kid to pay attention to something? Now imagine trying to get 20 of them to pay attention at the same time. It’s not fun. Because sure enough, just when you think you’ve got there undivided attention, one of them will decide it will be a good idea to throw a crayon at someone, or just punch the kid next to her for no apparent reason whatsoever. And then it all breaks down and turns into a massive hurricane of laughing and crying and “He touched me!” and “She hit me!” and “He’s looking at me!” and you are just wishing school was over so you could go get a drink.

But I keep getting put in these classes because this school apparently thinks I am the Kindergarten Whisperer because one time I got lucky and somehow I got those kids to line up and be quiet just as the Principal walked by. So this is what my life has become.

Do you know what the average five year old’s favorite thing to do is? Grab your hand and tug on it so that you will pay attention to them just so they can tell you that they just went to the bathroom and didn’t wash their hands after. And they tell you like it is the most fascinating thing they have ever done and not possibly giving me E coli or cooties.

You know I have never imagined that I would die under a pile of five year olds who don’t understand the concept of personal space who want to play their other favorite game “Let’s climb on the teacher and if he gets kicked in the process oh fucking well”.

Fucked Up Mother Awards

This weekend was rather eventful at the hotel. It turned out to be what I took to calling Shitty Mother weekend. I didn’t know there was a convention for that, but am totally not surprised. I mean look at Miley Cyrus. Isn’t her mother the president of this group?

But this weekend did give me the opportunity to do my absolute favorite thing in the whole wide world. I had someone kicked out of the hotel. It really is the gift to myself that I will always enjoy.

Okay, so all this started with something I really fucking hate. A child roaming the hallways in the middle of the night. This bothers me on so many levels, but namely it gives me flashbacks to the time in my life where I worked for an even crappier hotel and was forced to babysit the owner’s Demon Spawn for free while trying to run the front desk. So I kindly told the kid to get his ass back to his room. And I may have hissed at him to put a little extra fear in him.

Well, of course, he tells me he can’t because his mother told him to get out. What happened next, I completely blame on the fact that I am substitute teaching and my cold icy heart has started to melt towards children a little. I asked why. (Just so you know, this is the wrong move. It is always the wrong move.)

As it turns out, the kid can’t go back into his room because his mother is “entertaining”. Yeah, I think we all know what that means. So, since I am now obligated to figure out what the hell is going on I begin to investigate. After numerous phone calls to the manager, who won’t answer his phone, I start to call my fellow employees to see what they know. As it turns out, this kid has been roaming the halls all day because his mother has been “entertaining” all day. My next question is why am I the only one who decided to do something about this?

Well, then I talk to one of the cooks in the restaurant to find out that the woman in that room had went up to the kitchen workers when they were outside on their break and offered to blow them for $25 dollars. That was $25 dollars total, not per person. I know, right, classy. I haven’t seen such a cheap whore since that episode of South Park when Cartman got hit in the head.

So the secret of her “entertainment” has gotten out. Well, now, the hotel will never be accused to being a classy or even a decent place, but we are still not going to allow someone be a prostitute on property. At least I won’t.

So I called the woman and told her to get her skanky ass out. What ensued was a profanity laden diatribe about how I must not be a man because I don’t understand how women need sex and how she is just trying to get what she needs. I calmly responded how I have lived a life of heterosexual bliss until that moment, but thanks to her stank ass I was magically turned gay and I was considering a lawsuit about that. As for what she needs, it didn’t seem so much like she needed the sex that bad it was mostly that she needed the $5 that she was charging. There was more curse words thrown around, until I pulled out the best one of all, cops.

The bitch beat it. For which I was thankful. But now I am assuming that we are going to have to deep clean the room to kill all the things living in the room.

This was made better when, on my way out for the day, I walked past a woman standing in 35 degree weather, holding her baby, and smoking a cigarette. Yeah, it was like my very own personal Britney Spears sighting.

Look, I know that there are a lot of bad parenting going on. I’ve seen lots of shit. But come the fuck on. Hooking and blowing smoke in a baby’s face. That takes white trash to a whole new level. This is Texas, bitches, take that shit back to Louisiana where it belongs. (Sorry, Louisiana, but well, you know it’s true.)

There Isn't Enough Febreeze In The World

This is a message to all the parents out there. I am about to do something that I probably shouldn’t do and has the potential to piss you off. Well, that’s just how I roll. I am going to dish out some parenting advice. Let’s face it. Some of you are doing an okay job in teaching your kids how to act. And I’m pretty sure everyone thinks they are doing a wonderful job, but just know, that if you aren’t, then the rest of the world is talking about your kids behind your back. So just keep that in mind.

But what I want to talk to you about it something that kids should be taught at an early age. There should be some sort of discussion with the parents at some point in a child’s formative years to prepare them for later in life when this will become an issue. I am talking about farting.

What the fuck is up with kids these days who have no control over their gas? Do parents just not fucking tell their kids that is rude to fart right out there in public where there is an entire class within smelling range. Especially in a classroom with ventilation that hasn’t been updated in about 20 years. That shit has nowhere to go but up our nostrils.

And I really want to know what these kids are eating in the cafeteria that is making that horrific smell come from inside their bodies. I mean it seriously smells like part of them has died and has been decomposing for quite some time. If the paint on the walls wasn’t already mostly chipped away, it would be peeling.

Now at the same time, I think it is also important to sit down with your kids and tell them that when a child in your class farts, it is not the same thing as a terrorist gas threat. There is no need to fucking freak out like the world is coming to an end. Yes, their nose may be burning and their eyes may be watering, but they are not going to die. There will be no need to evacuate the building and bring in hazmat suits. Tell your children to chill the fuck out.

Now I have to admit, there have been quite a few children in my classes that have severely gotten on my nerves. And I won’t lie, to get back at them I have totally crop dusted their desk just to see their face distort into the mask of fart terror. But like I tell all the kids in my class, if someone farting is the worst thing that has ever happened to you, then you are never going to make it in the real world.

So the lesson here is, that it’s just fucking gas. Get the fuck over it. But at the same time, stop fucking farting. No one wants to smell your rotting insides.

And as a bonus lesson, one of the benefits of being a teacher, or at least a substitute, is that you can be a complete hypocrite and the kids can’t do shit about it.