Lance Bass Ruined My Life

If I Only Had A Window

Has you life ever been taken over by a small, wailing child and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it? And the sad thing is you could totally do something about it, but parents seriously frown upon throwing their children out of a window. Though in some cases it would probably be a serious improvement on their attitudes. And as an added bonus, my day would be a hell of a lot more livable.

The problem with this is that I should really not know the horror of a small thing sending my life into a whirlpool of what the fuck. The fact that I was born without that deathtrap called the uterus, combined with my strong preference for the hee hee instead of the hoo haa, should have insured a brat free existence. I mean there is always the possibility of adopting, but really no. As each day goes by it seems less and less likely that Lance Bass is going to show up on that white horse (Is the problem that you can’t find a white horse, Lance, because I’m sure you can find one on Amazon. And if worse comes to worse, it doesn’t have to be a white horse. I mean it might mess up the fantasy a bit because who the fuck ever heard of riding in on a brown horse, but if you must, Lance.) and he’s the only one who I would want to raise a Madagascar Hissing Baby with.

Anyway, I’ve kind of gotten off track. That tends to happen when I’m discussing Lancey Poo or bitching. Or shiny things come into my life of vision. This whole line of thinking was brought about by one of my sub assignments. (Yes. Yes. I know you are asking why the hell am I a sub if this is my attitude? We’ll I’ll tell you. Deep down inside, I’m sort of a marshmallow. If you repeat that to anyone, I will, of course, destroy you I the worst possible way ever, namely forcing you to listen to hours of Tyra Banks talking about herself. (You know she has a ton of free time now that her show is off the air and I am sure her stuffed animals need a break from her.))

So there’s this one particular class that I’ve sort of fallen in love with. It’s a kindergarten class and they are just adorable. There is only a small underlying evil. Well, the school knows how much I like this class so they keep me sticking me in it. At first, it was all rainbows and sausages, but after a while it got a little old. Namely because the class got a little used to me and that small underlying evil became a big ball of pure crazy.

I mean, I guess it must be nice when the worst thing in your life is someone cutting in front of you in line (And I use the term line in the loosest possible sense because these kindergarteners think a line is some screwed up Harry Potter lightening bolt zig zag.), but is it necessary to break down when it happens? And I’m not talking just crying, I’m talking full on hysterics. Sobbing. Snot. High pitched whining. Fucking hysterics. From the level of hysteria this girl has, you would think someone just told her that they had gang raped the Easter Bunny.

After the fourth time this girl pulled this shit, I just had to sit down and ask myself a very important question. “Am I really going to let this little dictator-tot run my life like this?” Sadly, the answer is yes. Because, quite frankly, I am just a giant whore for a paycheck. And it’s not so much that I’m a whore, it’s that I need money or they are going to threaten to take my car away again. Not only that, but I will no longer be able to afford books anymore. Then I will be sentenced to a life of reading the Twilight Saga over and over again, which for a nerd like me is a death sentence. And if that were to happen and I start quoting lines of Bella’s dialogue, therefore causing myself to yank my brain out through my ear, I will blame a screeching child. And then I will be extremely bitter. Okay, I am already extremely bitter, but I will be even more bitter than that.

Yes, it is possible.  

Don't Give Us Your Tired

Okay, so I have reached a time in this life that I have decided to do something that I don’t normally do because it’s like against my code of ethics or religion or something. I am taking a stand on an issue that has recently become very near and dear to my cold, shriveled, blackened excuse for a heart. And really this should be a cause that everyone takes up. I am of course talking about the scourge presented by old people.

Look, I have nothing against old people. If it weren’t for old people we wouldn’t have wonderful inventions for me to take advantage of, like the early bird special or handicapped parking. (Oh lighten up. It was only one time at a McDonald’s and I really needed to pee. I left right after.) I’m just saying that sometimes old people should be banned from certain activities. Like fucking up my day.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am all for everyone having a job and being all empowered and full of Geezer Pride, but all I’m trying to say is that once you have reached the age of, say, four hundred, perhaps substitute teaching is something that you might want to consider not doing anymore.

There was a sub just like this at school yesterday. She’s been there a bunch of times, so I’ve seen her there before, but I’ve never quite understood what the fuck she is there for. And I’m not sure what her name is because everyone just refers to her as Ms. Old Lady. Well, I don’t know who’s brilliant idea it was to let this woman take this one particular class, but whoever it was should be slapped a couple times. Sadly, the class I am talking about was a pre K class. This isn’t just your ordinary, everyday pre K class. This is like the super crazy, borderline violent pre K class. (Yeah. They are really scary.)

Well apparently someone wasn’t as drunk as someone else because they sent me to the class to make sure that kids did not destroy this woman. Though the people who watched me walking to the class later told me that I looked like I was being sent to my death from the look on my face. Stepping in the class, I was a little shocked because I had never seen the class so well behaved before. It took me a minute to realize they were only well behaved because they were scared shitless because of the specter of death sitting in front of them. (Look, I’m not trying to be mean, but she kind of looked like the Crypt Keeper.)

Well, let’s just say that fear was not a deterrent for very long. The kids went nuts not long after. I mean there was screaming, hair pulling, hitting, and in some manner that I am not sure of, but I am 100% sure that I don’t want to know, a pair of panties ended up on the floor, which of course, she didn’t bother to pick up at the end of the day. Yeah, ew.

Well, I escaped for most of the day, but they sent me back at the end of the day to help her with dismissal. Really, if they are going to ask me to do things like this, I wish they would at least provide a bullet that I could bite and then shoot myself with later. I get there and the only thing that can describe the room is a clusterfuck of crazy. At some point, one the kids shredded an entire roll of toilet paper. Several of them were crying. And two of them were still asleep from naptime. Not a scene I wanted to see when I have a line of angry ass parents who want to know where the fuck there little brats are.

Needless to say I just started grabbing kids, sleeping or not, and just started dragging them out to cars. I had to be quite rude to some parents who were quite curious as to why their child did not have his backpack and/or was unconscious. Which I just had to answer, “I don’t care. I’m not your kid’s teacher. It’s cold. Peace out.”

See this is the kind of shit that happens when you let old people have free reign over their employment. It’s not cool because it starts to affect my shit. I’m not saying that all of them should, but a good amount could be set adrift and it would be alright. Perhaps the world would be better for it.

But until that time, I wish old people would stick to the jobs that were created for them, like Walmart door greeter or coffin model. I’m just saying. Don’t shoot the messenger.

There Is No Kung Fu Move To Protect Against This

I know you might be thinking I am beating a dead horse with this issue, and to that I say, tough shit. This is my website and I will beat a dead horse, a dead cow, and a dead emu if I feel like it, dammit. And really, since I quite the hotel and have been deprived of the ignorant masses to make fun of, I really tend to harp on the smallest thing that crosses my path. Like children hitting adults and thinking that is kosher.

As sad as it is to say, I am not even talking about the first grader who punched me. I am talking about another student. Don’t worry, they are both at the same school, so at least some of the crazy is contained inside the walls of one fucked up institution. This time it was even worse than a first grader. It was a pre-kindergartener. Like what the fuck is up with that. I would have totally expected it to be a fourth grader or something. Because back in the day, there were a great many times that I wanted to slap the living shit out of my teacher. In my defense, she was a complete bitch and could have benefitted from a good punch to the face. And really, my fat 4^th grade self would have been the perfect person to give it to her.

And seeing exactly how crazy kids are these days, you would expect that from a 4^th or 5^th grader. (Moving up into the higher grades, you tend to expect more of the shanking and selling into white slavery.) But a pre kindergartener, not so much. Because really how fucking hard is a pre kindergartener’s life? I mean, you come in. You color. You eat lunch. You go to recess. You take a nap. You have a snack. You go home. The only thing you are really expected to do is learn to write your name. Fuck. Life is sweet. Enjoy that shit while you can.

But luckily, I was not the one who got slapped by a pre kindergartener. It happened to a woman who is a lot better than me. Because if it had been me, that little girl would be transported home via some sort of giant sling shot. She would just be gone. There would be no mystery as to what happened. She took it a lot better than me and just transported this little monster to the office, where she was promptly suspended for two days.

Yeah, she got off a little light in my opinion, but they obviously didn’t ask for my opinion in this matter. The sooner people would realize I know exactly what to do in these matters, the better off these people would be. I mean they didn’t invent expulsion for no reason.

So can anyone guess what the mother’s reaction to her evil little daughter’s suspension was? Oh yeah, she was pissed. She proceeded to bitch and moan for like 20 minutes about how it was unfair that her daughter was being suspended. And of course this is done in full view of half the school, like a true classy person. So after the big white trash tirade, the little girl was still suspended. Well, the mother did the unthinkable. She pulled her daughter out of the school.

Okay, bad parents of the world, here’s a little inside information for you. If your child is evil and you feel that their suspension is unfair so you pull that evil child out of school, you didn’t punish anyone. In fact, the second you left all the teachers had a little party in the lounge. There was cake. It was delicious.

So I hope that woman is having fun with her little demon spawn at home because the whole school is treating this as a holiday. I can’t speak for everyone, but it is nice to know that I don’t have to wear protective armor into a pre K class.