everybody hates comic books...

well, it's finally here.  2012 is upon us all, and it has hit the world with a force that is not to reckoned with by anyone.  i've been waiting for the better part of three years to be able to say '012 (pronounced oh twelve) for some reason.  i can't explain why, but it is what it is.   i suppose the niceties must first be observed.  happy new year to everyone, or if you're one of my japanese readers...あけましておめでとう...actually the hip thing to say these days (or at least it was hip during my time there): あけおめ…ことよろ.

so, a few changes are in order in keeping in line with my erratic ways.  my new favorite color for the year is...wait for it...pause for dramatic effect...a little more...aquamarine.  and you know there's a reason behind everything i do, even if it only makes sense to me.  now, most people might even know what the hell aquamarine is...

that's right...blue and green make aquamarine.  i remember hearing this some years ago when i was watching blue's clues.  what a great show that was.  anyway, i digress.  the reason i'm choosing such a non-traditional color is because of my newest obsession.  if you have been around me lately, you might have noticed that i carry a green lantern wallet (that was given to me), a green lantern ring (also given to me), a blue lantern keychain, button, and glass (which i got), a blue lantern shirt, a white lantern shirt, a green lantern shirt, and a blue lantern ring (which was given to me by my big brother james, who is also in the corps).

most people don't know unless it somehow comes up, but i have become a huge comic book geek.  well, technically i'm more of a nerd right now.  you have to work up to the ranks of geekdom.  i've been obsessed with the green lantern and all of his counterparts for a while now, to the point where i'm at the comic book shop as often as i can afford to go.  if you ask me about it, i would tell you, but if not, you would probably never know.  it's not something that everyone is excited to learn about, but when i can sense that they are, i go off on all kinds of tangents, like this one.

the various lantern corps: red (rage), orange (avarice), yellow (fear), green (willpower), blue (hope), indigo (compassion), violet (love), and black (death)...not pictured is the white lantern (life)

it's a whole lantern thing, but in short, i have identified myself with the blue lantern corps, who represent the emotion of hope.  i'm a hopeful person...sometimes...usually...every now and then...i'm working on it.  the caveat is that a blue lantern works at his/her fullest potential only when around a green lantern...because hope requires willpower.  it's a whole checks and balances, rock-paper-scissors thing.  it balances out, though, trust me.  anyway, that's why i own blue and green lantern stuff.  the white lantern shirt is just for backup, in case i need it...

my symbols

so, that's why my favorite color is aquamarine.  it's a combination of blue and green.  what a wonderfully long and winding way to explain something otherwise so simple.  i think i just chuckled a bit to myself.

speaking of chuckling...trip and luby (insert scowl here...explanation later) guilted me into going to a kid's basketball game.  actually, trip is the coach of our school's kindergarten basketball team.  he wanted me to be the ass. coach, but i said i'd rather be the assistant.  then i said i didn't want to do it at all.  i know next to nothing about basketball, much less how to coach it.

i just found out the other day the difference between double-dribbling and traveling, which i had always thought were interchangeable.  and even if you ask me the difference today, i still might not give you an accurate explanation that makes sense.  furthermore, nobody has ever, EVER (nene voice)...seen me play basketball, and i mean that in all senses of the word.  i've never been seen passing a basketball, shooting a basketball, dribbling a basketball, or handling a basketball.  the reason is simple; i suck at it.  there are things that some people can do well, and others cannot.  i play volleyball well; i play basketball...not well. again, the whole checks and balances thing.  you just can't be good at everything.  yes, trip, not even the almighty you can be good at everything...meanwhile i'm still waiting on the day you try to play volleyball.

trip, for some reason, insists that he's god's gift to the world of sports.  he, allegedly, can play any sport, from baseball to football to hockey to jai alai to wrestling to water polo.  give it up, dude.  there's one person alive who can do those things, and you it is not.  unfortunately, it's not me either, though i come close...much closer than the average person.

i digressed, and then re-digressed.  aw hell, there i go again.  anyway, so i went to this basketball game, where our team got...for lack of a better word...killed.  whatever you call losing thirteen to four.  it was a kid's game, after all.  and i don't doubt that some of those big old kids would wipe my arse all over the floor.  i ain't hatin'.  to be honest, the biggest reason i went to the game was because we were going to the red lobster afterwards.  when it comes to seafood, i'm all about it.

random digression.  so there's this girl...beverly...who is a student.  i can't stand her.  that's the nicest thing i can say about her at any given time.  anyway, we regrouped all the students into ability-based groups, so that the kids in any one group are all on the same academic level.  she falls to the very bottom.  so, we put her in the appropriate group.  in this group are all kinds of crazy kids, many of whom clash with her.  i don't really blame them, but that's for another time.  her parents came to the school and requested that she be given the royal treatment, to which i responded by looking at them crazy.  i tend to get this crazy look when people say crazy things.  i live my life like it's an ongoing sitcom, and i imagine there's a studio audience.  let's say a conversation happened such as this...and this is a clip from a part of my sitcom...

this was a true incident.  i only wish the cameraman was more involved with the scene.  it was really a hard scene to do, especially considering that we only had one take because these guest stars (ie: beverly's mom) don't like to stick around and do more than necessary.  what an appropriate statement.

i think i got so caught up in that, that i forgot the original point.  well, beverly went home and basically twisted something that i said to her and that bitch of a mother came up to the school and called me into a meeting with the principal behind it.  apparently i have a reputation at this damn school; i am not very well-liked by the parents.  and the feeling is completely mutual.  in fact, i make a point not to support the PTA in any way possible.  i won't buy PTA paraphernalia (more like propaganda) nor participate in PTA sanctioned events.  and i most definitely will not be joining the PTA itself, though teachers here traditionally do it for whatever reasons.  f*ck what ya heard.  long story short (if that's possible), i've got my own agenda for that spastic family...

speaking of spasms...i left my original original rant.  so, the reason i went to the damn game was to get to the red lobster.  k-ci and jojo were going to come (it would have been my dream come true) but they had other plans.  so it was the usual suspects: luby, trip, and me.  trip also brought his cousin, whom we'll call "prima."  so there were the four of us.  by the way, there is no doubt that prima and trip are related.  i'll leave it at that.  anyway, we're talking, as we tend to do, and i don't know how it always comes up, but we ended up talking about this weird relationship that the three of us have.  luby always wants to know what people think about her...like she's stuck in that "me" stage of life and the gear won't shift.  before i reveal what i said, let me preface it with the fact that almost one hundred percent of everything that i've said (except that one time, but i was on narcotics), has been true.

i told her that i thought she was self-indulgent.  this bitch pinched my arm so hard that i made a face.  from here, there are basically three roads you can take.  i'm gonna give you the two that luby and i would go, and hell, just take the middle road...

if luby was telling this story:
wesley: you $#@% %$#@% %$#@%.  pinch me again, baby, pinch me again and see what happens.  i wish the hell you would put your %$#%$# hands on me like that again...never in your life have you...
luby: (pinches wesley again...harder)

if wesley was telling this story:
wesley: you didn't have to do that, dear sister.  please don't do that again.  it hurt a lot.
luby: (pinches wesley again...harder)  now what #$@#$, now what?  you always talkin' all that yak about this and that and think you all that and you ain't got...

yeah, just take the middle road and that's what actually happened.  basically, the bitch pinched my upper right arm...twice...in the same place.  yes, it made a nice red mark on my previously nice-looking arm.  now, had prima not been there, there would most likely have been some smoke in the city.  i liked to dun slapped the sh*t out of that girl.  of course i would never do such a thing to a female, but it did happen in my mind.  i'm better than that.

it's funny.  i'm such a random person with such a quirky sense of humor.  as it has been said to me, the most random things will have me on the floor crying because they're so funny.  i never know what it is, or when it will be.  it just comes like a thief in the night.  conversely, the most random things will piss me off.  i don't know why.  i can't explain it.  i have pet peeves like most others, but those are different.  a very small number of things that people do will drive me away for a long time.  pinching is at the top of the list it seems.  jab tried that sh*t a couple years ago at the old school and i (being a different person back then) called her some very unpleasant things.

i was much better this time.  i just smiled and got eerily quiet.  it was calm feeling, like when your soul has settled and you finally realize what must be done.  that kind of feeling.  we ended the night not long after that because...well...it was time for me to go.  in retrospect, i'm not really sure what trip's cousin prima thought about me; she probably thinks i'm crazy as hell, but oh well...you gotta call 'em like you see 'em.

this mornting, when i woke up, i noticed that my upper right arm was clearly tarnished by a darkish red mark that somehow appeared during the night.  i could only assume that it was the workings of luby.  she was all up on my mind this morning.  so i texted her and just asked her in the future not to pinch my arm. i didn't care if she hit, kick, punched, slapped, stabbed, shot, or pushed me.  just don't do the pinching thing.  well of course this opened up a whole can of worms with this...girl.  "don't try and hook me up with trip."  "don't call me self-indulgent."  don't do this.  don't do that.  i was like, "fine.  i won't call you anything ever again...i just don't like being pinched."

i've got a new attitude in '012.  i'm trying to wean myself off of passive-aggression.  i think she was testing me.

challenge,

-w

everybody hates friends...

i must admit that i, by some extremely strange twist of fortune, have ended up with possibly the best sets of friends one could ever wish to have.  i've always shared my philosophy of friendship with people; family will always be there, but friends are a different story.  sometimes you choose them, sometimes they choose you, and sometimes your paths just cross.  i consider all my friends to be actual friends...they're like different extensions of families.  that was random.

2011 was an interesting year for me.  what had once promised to be a three hundred sixty-five day torture session actually turned out to be quite decent.  all kinds of sh*t happened to me, but then...more sh*t happened.  i don't have a lot of time, but here were some big things...

i moved from one place to another...even though they were five hundred feet apart...i've gone through more roommates than toilet tissue...i've had to let go of some friends...i've driven across the country...i've been "fired" from a school just to be hired at another...i've found my long lost siblings...i've hit the mid thirties...oh, and i had four teeth ripped from out of my face...


the dentist and everybody in there were like, "what the hell are you doing?"  to which i replied, "taking a picture."

this was me a couple months ago, sitting in the damn chair, breathing in copious amounts of what was probably just oxygen with a fake "nitrous  oxide" label.  my body's always been way ahead of western medicine, but that's for another day.  the dentist had been telling me that i needed to have these things taken out years ago.  i was like, "ten, fifteen years ago, i didn't have the pain that i do now.  it was unnecessary."

the operation ended up going well.  by "well" i mean i'm still alive.

school ended decently.  when i get time, i must introduce a new child from the new school...beverly.  yeah, it's an old school name, but trust me when i say it's well appropriate.  this bitch has been trying her best to ruin my life at the new school.  she's been going home and twisting my words so that her people are coming up to the school and trying to go in on me.  bitches be trippin', because the truth shall whoop her arse.

anyway, the star of this blawg is the new year's eve eve party i decided to throw here at my nice little hideaway bungalow.  i decided to text about seventeen people to see if they wanted to come, figuring that maybe six or seven would say yes.  why did they all reply yes?  they were like, "yes, i'd love to come...it sounds like a great idea."  i was like, "aw hell, all y'all can't fit in my living room."  but it ended up working out very well.

in attendance (hopefully i can get everybody right)...my high school classmate "pooh"; trip & luby (current coworkers and hopelessly ignorant siblings who should practice "incest"); kandi, big mama, jab, jab's former boyfriend/current fiance "chris", and pepper (former coworkers); my volleyball friends...daddy, "coach", "genevieve" (pronounced john-vee-EVVV-uh), and "mango"; and then trip's two stooges..."k-ci" and "jojo".  it was a pretty good turnout, but kandi ended up being the star of the show.

have you ever seen n*ggas in their natural habitat?  well if you haven't, send your kids to bed and hold on to something secure...

the category was "terms of endearment" and the letter was "s"...there was a controversy...

the category was "kinds of dance" and the letter was "s"...is "swing-out" a kind of dance, or what you do when you dance?  we may never know...

these are just a small small small SMALL smidgen of the buffoonery that went on in my little bungalow.  how dare n*ggas get that comfortable in my home.  good god...the level of buffoonery was so high that it made my camcorder keep skipping and jumping.  this was about an issue that trip had about kandi's answer to something during a spirited game of scattergories.  i mean, i ended up winning, but it was hilarious to see them carrying on about this and that.  we played a lot of games.  genevieve brought encore, a great game that she's gonna have to bring to everything we do.  you basically have to sing songs that have certain words or fit into specific categories.  it was very enjoy.  of course, like any n*gga we played taboo.  the guys stomped a mudhole into the girls' va-jay-jays.  their performance during taboo was the worst thing to hit the streets since the pt cruiser.

now, this isn't from my party, but from another engagement we had a while back.  big mama is giving clues.  and she was sober in that video.  she gives clues like she's playing password or $100,000 pyramid.  that's what the women had to put up with in the game.  big mama is one...funny...bitch.  chris, who is normally the hitler of taboo, opted out of this one...and here's why...

he actually did play once.  he managed to net us guys a negative score that round.  it was like being strapped to a chair with your eyes forced open and someone making you watch mariah carey's "glitter" over and over and over again...in the span of one minute.  trip did not take kindly to him because of that...they made up later that nite.

scattergories, was...well...scattered, as you could tell from the videos.  but i think the best game we played by far was a game that not too many like to play anymore.  so many people think that it's overrated and antiquated, but i highly enjoy it, and everybody should.

it's a simple game called...conversation.  the conversation pretty much dominated the night.  actually, i take that back.  conversation itself is a pretty good game, but it's played best when drinking.  and boy did we drink...scratch that...and boy did we drank.  there was wine (moscato of course, the n*gga's national drinking emblem; it overtook the forty years ago), beer, and liquor.  kandi, pepper, and big mama brought some peach ciroc (which they kept spelling ciroq [sic]), and luby kept calling it pink ciroc.  there was all kinds of liquor.

kandi kept calling trip and luby...trip and luby...damn...i think in her drunken stupor she stumbled on to something.  oh well...when she sobers up next week she will have forgotten everything.  and for good reason.  this heifuh got so...wasted...plastered...hammered...to' up...blasted...shtupped...drunk...that it was like a one woman show for a while.  she enlightened us all on everything, from marriage and back to marriage, and everything in between.  for those of y'all who are married...i'll send you kandi's contact information because she has become a self-proclaimed guru on the institute of marriage.  find her teachings and philosophies at www.thisbitchdrunkashell.com or follow her on the twitter at @premaritalsexistheonlysexyouwilleverhavesodontevergetmarried.  big mama and pepper were not far behind in their antics.  turns out they all had shots before walking through the door.  who'd've thunk.

even jab got drunk.  she went so far as to tell somebody to sit her "drunk tail" down.  i looked at her crazy and was like, "girl say arse, arse, arse...sit your drunk arse down."  these ladies tore it up.

let's not forget luby, who (as we all know) holds her liquor slightly better than a bucket without a bottom...or sides.  she didn't see this, nor did any of the other drunken folks, but when she got up to go to the restroom, trip...well...he...

i told luby that i think she needed her drink refreshed, but she drank the pink ciroc anyway.  trip just sat there while he, k-ci, and jojo tee-hee-heed and cack-a-lacked.  i almost regurgitated.  it was just further proof that they need to know each other.

well, it was a hell of a party i threw, and i had the best time of the year.  we'll definitely get together and do it again, and i'll have my camera crew there next time.  maybe next time we'll actually sit down and play some games.  poor daddy, pooh, coach, and mango didn't really get to play too many game.  we'll do better, because when you know better, you do better.  oprah said that, and look at how she turned out.  i won't be able to blawg again until next year, so unfortunately y'all are going to have to wait.

i have come up with  resolution for '012, but you'll have to wait until next year to read about it.  it's new beginnings for me in '012 (pronounced "oh twelve").  stay tuned to a year full of prophesied buffoonery and foolishness.  merry '012.

just enough time to find something to do...and somebody please refresh luby's damn drink,

-w

everybody hates worlds colliding...

alright, here it is, the overly anticipated berfday blawg.  i apologize in advance if it's not everything people have probably hyped it up to be.  it is what it is.  meanwhile, now i'm thirty-four years old, and feeling every bit of it. some people feel younger the older they get.  i just go with the flow, and the flow is telling me that i'm old as hell.  when i'm playing volleyball, i find myself constantly ending plays with some version of "ten years ago i could've...".  that's a damn shame.  just last year it was only "five years ago."  i guess times be hard, and bitches still be trippin'...

so to start...RIP (2009 - 2011)

 

that's right.  it's all gone...the hair that i worked so hard for two years and a half to grow was chopped off in a random act of violence known as "going to the barbershop."  so now i'm slowly getting accustomed to this:

what you see here is a strong willed black man (little angry)...

most men remember the day that they realize that their hair is not going to be growing back anymore.  for me, that unfortunate day was 25 october 2011.  that's when i knew that this receding hairline was going to be receding at a more alarming rate than anything i've ever know.  it's so depressing to have to go through something like that.  most women won't ever understand it, but to all the guys out there...look at your father and grandfathers (specifically their heads).  it's just so weird; i never saw it coming.  baldness doesn't particularly run in my family.  my grandfather managed to maintain his 1972 afro until the day he died.  it was a shock to find out years later that the reason his hair never went gray was because he used shoe polish that was so black that light itself could not escape.  and my father is not balding at all either.  i must have done something wrong in a past life to have been cursed to be the first of a future long line of descendants to go extra-prematurely bald.  i'd rather have done the anderson cooper and gone gray at age five.

i think i digressed.  anyway...so my berfday began officially at midnight.  for as long as i've been able to stay awake until midnight, my mama has always called me then to sing "happy berfday" to you (but surprisingly, never has she informed me that i would be soon going bald).  it's become a sort of tradition with us.  she calls me, i call her.  either way, my day won't be right until she calls.  i mean, why not?  she's the one who had the privilege of berfing me, right?  i'm just kidding...it was the furthest thing from a privilege.

i decided to go and play volleyball.  what better way to enjoy the happiest day of the year for me than to do something that i really enjoy.  so i went, and every time i'd see somebody i'd shout out, "it's my berfday!"  of course everyone was wowed by my new look.

random person: oh my god, what happened to your hair?
me: i cut it.
random person: oh my god, why?
me: it was time to let it go.
random person: oh my god, you look so good.
me: thanx, but please stop saying "oh my god."

it's a hit...and apparently i look years younger without all that hair.  and what's really interesting is that all the caps and hats i used to wear are now way too big for my head.

anyway, after volleyball i was to meet my new "family" to go shopping at the outlet mall in frisco.  luby and trip (for some reason) take up too much of my life these days.  so when volleyball was over i went home to meet them, shower, change, and go right back out again.

from youngest to oldest...arrogant butthead, overly emotional control freak, me (not pictured: trip's ego)

so now, here's something you might not know about me: i'm very selfless and extremely considerate of others, despite...well, everything else.  that being mentioned, i feel like my berfday, 29 october, is the one day that i get to not care about anything or anybody else and it be okay.  so, imagine the three of us going all the way to frisco (which is only twenty minutes from me, but a small eternity from luby and trip) so luby can shop for her kids.  i started out saying something, but since i have "the eye" i can sort of see things coming.  so i decided to just bite my lip (which hurt) and go along for the proverbial ride.  truthfully, i just wanted to go hang out with those two knuckleheads and just go in and out of stores and have fun and eat because i was absolutely starving.

we went to baby gap, the children's place, gymboree, stride rite, osh kosh b'gosh, every other kid's store imaginable, and then coach.  what the hell do i need from any of those stores?  on my berfday?  my berfday?  my berfday?  being thirty-four has really softened me up.  i used to be so vocal about such things, but this time i just let it go.  so, we followed luby inside all these kid stores (none of which had a single toy, which could have eliminated any ill feelings) just to stand there and listen to her rant about how she wants her kids to look like their own selves, while simultaneously buying two of everything as if she were noah planning for the ark, or trying to raise the doublemint twins.  anyway, we ended up having a good time hanging out...after we finished shopping for luby's kids.

when we were done, it was time to get to the party.  i'd like to take this time to point out that my friend (whom i'll call x) is the bestest best event planner in the world.  she really is.  so, the plan for the party was twofold.  we were to meet for karaoke and then go to a haunted house.  the party was supposed to start for seven o'clock, and i knew in my mind that i was going to finally get somewhere on time for once in my life.  needless to say, it didn't happen.  we were late getting back to my place to get changed so we could make it for the party.

i run my life on cp time.  for those of you who aren't in the know, cp time refers to being a little late for something, but at the same time it's on time in your mind.

in addition to all of this, my long time roommate and good friend "chong" drove all the way from houston to come to the berfday party.  he's the bestest.  so the four of us were here getting costumed.  for the past few years, i've always just worn a halloween costume for my berfday party.  just because.

chong and me

me, my sister, and my brother

we got to the party twenty minutes late (which wasn't too bad) and of course pretty much everyone else had been there for a while.  i won't bother to talk about how difficult it was to get to this korean karaoke place, at least not this time.

the whole reason for the title of this blawg is this:

like most people, i have many sets of friends...worlds, if you will.  i have my current work world.  i have my former work world.  i have my family world.  i have my volleyball world.  i have my church world.  there are many worlds.  and the point of having all these worlds is the challenge that comes along with them.  when you have multiple worlds, the challenge is to keep them from colliding.  worlds can't collide. luby and trip are proof that it shouldn't happen.  but i'll save that for when trip decides to start a blawg of his own...which probably won't happen because he's an idiot.

at the party were the following worlds: from my church world was my pastor (who's only twenty-nine) and his wife.  from my former work world were jab, kandi, big mama, jerome (who also worked with me at nysp this past summer), "jennifer," "pepper," and jab's boyfriend "chris."  from my current work world were luby, trip...and to a lesser extent, trip brought his friend "kenny."  from my volleyball world were x, "seefuzz," seefuzz's sister "anna," "daddy," "nene," and nene's husband "greg."  and of course there was chong, who doesn't really fit into any of the aforementioned groups.

there were too many worlds, and the thing is...as much as i try not to, i tend to act differently around different people.  in a perfect world, i'd be the same person with this group as well as that group, but it just is what it is.  they're not dramatic differences, though, just subtle ones.  but it concerned me.  in my volleyball world i am extremely goofy and always have a joke.  in my church world i'm more quiet and reserved (mostly because i'm a heathen).  in my work worlds i am more myself, which is an overly analytic and highly sarcastic son of a gun who's always on my p's and q's (i know the apostrophes don't actually go there, but i shy away from capital letters).  it was hard to balance all of that, but i was able to overcome.

karaoke itself got off to a rough start, mostly because everything was in korean...with no english subtitles.  the remote was korean, the book was korean, all the signs were korean.  we had the hardest time finding the place.  sidenote...i just sneezed directly onto my computer.  yuck.  anyway, we finally found the place and they gave us a room that was the size of three jupiters.  everybody had acres of space.  i wanted a smaller room so that everyone could mingle and get a chance to know each other.  instead, there was so much room that all my worlds just segregated themselves in different areas and hung out with themselves.  despite that, some new friendships were made.  luby and x seemed to get along well.  trip and x...not so much.  that's for another blawg, though.  kandi and jab said that they were jealous of my new friends, meaning trip and luby, because they were taking all of my time these days.  i felt badly hearing that, because i want to get along with everybody.  when everybody's at the same school, it's just easier to hang out.  when everyone's scattered across dallas, it gets a little harder.  but i am going to dedicate this blawg to kandi, whose overbearing personality prompted me to blawg...every time i made correspondence with her.  she f*cked up some grammar on the facebook and i went and corrected her, because i just can't help myself.  she was like..."n*gga, while you patrolling the internet, you need to be on that website putting up a berfday blawg..."  she can go in on somebody without conviction.

kandi is hilarious because she gives me a chance to see what i look like to other people.  we make the same faces, we tell similarly styled jokes, we laugh at the same things.  it's always nice to have somebody like that in your life to understand you.  you just need that one person who can be like, "you know what? i get you."  she gets me, and i get her.  too bad she's already married with children, otherwise i would...still leave her alone.  she's married to a giant.  i think i've mentioned that before.  it kinda makes me wonder if...nah...too gross.

anyway, karaoke...

this was trip (featuring me) doing r. kelly's "i believe i can fly."  the thing about that damn trip, is he only wanted to sing slow jams.  how do i look at a berfday party when he's trying to turn a festive occasion into midnight love?  we would find all these fast songs, and then he would follow it right back with luther vandross.  he's more like "loser" vandross.  don't tell him i said that, though.  he doesn't quite yet know who he is in the blawg.  by the by, my luther was much better than his luther...anytime.  random shout out to kandi.

after the fun times at the karaoke, a few of us went on all the way to fort worth for the haunted house.  this place scared the bejesus out of us...last year.  this made our third time there, so we kinda knew what to expect.  i was all over x like white on rice.  i didn't really pay attention to anything else because these people in there, they follow you for like ten minutes.  we passed this zombie with a chainsaw...why was he still there half a mile later?

from left to right: greg, nene, me, trip, x, chong.  luby took the picture.  this was after we got soaked from the rooter to the tooter.

when the whole thing was done, we went through this place where there were bubbles that reached eight feet high.  we were completely soaked.  it's the same mistake we made twice before.  it was fifty degrees outside.  you put that together.  we were some miserable folks when we came out of that.  trip pulled his pants off and drove home in his drawers.  um...goodnite everybody.  his penis looks like scooby doo's face.

after the haunted house debacle, we all parted and went our separate ways.  we three siblings ended up at an ihop for hours because luby is a girl.  all she wanted to do was talk about feelings and emotions, neither of which i have, and she wanted us to open up and be real with each other.  i was like, if people knew what went through my head...even for thirty seconds...

well, while we were there, all kinds of crazy people came and went.  it was halloween weekend, so there were some off the wall buffoonery going on.  i didn't laugh.  i tend to not laugh at things anymore.  i just make these confused faces, as if it doesn't make sense to me.  tell me something stoopid one day to my face; then you'll see the face yourself.

it was at least five in the morning when i got to bed...and had to go to church the next day because my pastor had come to the party, lol.  it was really fun times, and i enjoyed myself immensely.  i even thanked all my well wishers on facebook individually.  i love getting together with fun people and having good old fashioned FU...n.

yay, i'm thirty-four.

-w

everybody hates aging...

well, here i am, sitting here in the living room (which i would consider to be on location, since i always do this from the comforts...or confines...of my room) watching the rangers game.  i am so oblivious to most things.  last night i fell asleep early on the game.  it's so rare that i get home at a decent hour to get a decent night of sleep, so yesterday was especially good.  on the flip, i fell asleep during what i guess was the most decisive moments of the rangers game.  when i was awake, they were winning against the cardinals, 7-4.  when i woke up this morning, every radio station within a two hundred mile radius was talking about how much of a disappointment last night was.  i was like, what?  didn't the rangers win?  well, apparently not.  i now realize that it was all my fault.  so...i apologize to all of the texas rangers, as well as the fans, for falling asleep during the game.  i understand that my conscious viewing of the game was crucial for maintaining our winning streak.  i'll not do that again.

i'm just getting old.  my berfday is tomorrow.  maybe that's why i've been prompted to blawg.  that, and luby has been on my arse about putting up another blawg.  that luby.  more on her later.  i'm going to be entering my mid-thirties officially.  thirty-four isn't much of a special age, but i've always told myself that if i'm not on my way to where i want to be by thirty-five, i'm going to take hold of my life, close my eyes, and do what i want.  hey look, i'm george bush.

speaking of getting older...actually this has nothing to do with getting older, but it's quite the hilarious story...this is a continuation of the paul story.  you must remember paul, the boy who sent me on my downward spiral to a semicolon a couple weeks ago.  operation: payback was a majorly successful plan...

well...because of the sh*t that paul pulled that night with his parents there, i had sworn that i would get my revenge.  i didn't say where, i didn't say when, i didn't say how, but i did say that i was gonna get him back for that.  i'm not much of a bible reader, but "'vengeance is mine,' said the lord" is a favorite of mine.  anyway, the students had a test that next week, and i decided to make the king of study guides.  it was sofa king detailed that it was basically the test.  it broke down the number of questions that were going to be on the test, it mentioned how many they had to get right to get an A, it mentioned the extra credit questions, it had information about every single question on the test.  it had everything.

that reminds me...there's another test coming up in a couple weeks.  i originally scheduled the next tests for 10 and 11 november, but since then i've had to squeeze in a dentist appointment.  i have to get my damn wisdom teeth cut out of my face.  that's how i tell the people at the dentist's office.  of course they don't think of it that way.  everybody's telling me their horror stories of wisdom teeth removal.  strangely, though, people who work at the dentist's office say that it's not that bad.  who to believe is hard to say.  i'm so gullible and naive that i give credit to just about anybody off the street.

i've been hitting the dentist hard over the past couple weeks for checkups and cleanings and this and that.  i'm not ashamed to admit that i haven't been to a dentist in years...mainly because of my aversion to sharp things.  the last time i went, the dentist used one of those sharp, hooked things that i've always called torture devices.  anyway, that thing slipped off of one of my teeth and cut through my gums.  i don't remember how old i was (that's how long ago this happened) but i knew that dentists were bad news.  at the doctor's office, the worst thing i've had to do was turn my head and cough.  when i was twelve, i cried when i was asked to do that.  long story.

i digress...so it turns out that i needed to get some fillings for cavities.  i got that taken care of, but i still had these headaches on one side of my head.  that was when they said that i had to get my wisdom teeth removed.  actually, three of my wisdom teeth have grown in nicely.  there's one that is slightly angled, which is apparently what it causing the headaches.

dentist: well, you might as well get them all taken out.
me: why?  don't but one have a problem.
dentist: was that english?
me: sorry, i tend to lapse into n*gga-speak when things like this happen.
dentist: i see.  so, about those wisdom teeth...
me: why all four?
dentist: actually, everyone should have them out in their teens.
me: fifteen years ago, i didn't have any problems.

it was just a back and forth thing.  eventually i consented to let him cut open my face and remove my teeth.  i did insist, however, that i get to keep them.  i wanted them in a jar, but they said that they couldn't do that, so i got the next best thing: a small box-like...box.  like a ring box.  i've always had this thing about my body.  things that belong to me, i want to keep in a jar.  it's like that amber stuff that keeps things suspended that will be in the jar.  for example, if i ever have the misfortune of needing to have my appendix taken out, it's going to be put in a jar so i can keep it.  the same would hold true for a kidney or gall bladder.  pretty much anything short of sh*t is going to be put in a jar for me to keep.  but everybody thinks that way, right?

so next next week i will have that operation that will have me out for two days and then the weekend.  unfortunately, that means no volleyball for a week.  i also won't be there when i have my two tests scheduled.  i was thinking of doing them then anyway, and just having a substitute administer them.  who knows...i just may.  i want to be there, though, because these idiots love to do the fool when teachers are absent.  it just wouldn't do to have them act out and cheat on the tests because i'm not there...

speaking of...MY PLAN.  so...i had given out these tests/study guides for the kids to...well...study.  hell, they could have just memorized the thing and been okay.  i thoroughly explained that none of them should fail the test because everything...EVERYTHING...was on the study guide.  i wanted to make sure that if they did fail, it was because of them and not me.

so, the social studies test rolls around, and paul and his class are testing.  now, it's not a "this sh*t is gonna take all damn day" test.  it was twenty easy questions, and most of the class...take that back...twenty-three of the twenty-four kids finished in fifteen minutes.  only paul was left.  i was wondering, why the hell is it taking him so long to finish, when everybody else has been done for a while.  i continued to walk around...and that's when it hit me.

paul had been acting oddly the whole test.  his head kept moving back and forth, up and down, it was just weird.  well, he had his backpack between his legs, and after a little investigating, i saw that his study guide (which was essentially the test itself) was nestled on top of his backpack so that he could easily look at it as he took the test.

oh yes, i laughed...hard.  this n*gga was busted wide open like a brazilian nut (which my grandfather called n*gga toes) after being hit with a hammer.  i calmly took him outside and asked if he was cheating, to which he remained silent.  i asked if his silence meant that he was cheating, to which he replied yes.

i absolutely love it when a plan comes together.  this one came together quite nicely.  so...i wrote a note on his test in the top right corner (remember that...it's important) and had him sign the bottom of the test.  i also put another line for his parents (who were complete arseholes to me at the parent/teacher conference) to sign as well.  i also wrote a note in his planner for them to sign.  the kids get these planners, which are datebooks where they write down their assignments and teachers and parents can write comments in there to communicate.  anyway, he took the stuff home and i, of course, smiled the whole time.

the next day, he came in.  i asked if he had my stuff, and he said he did.  now this is where the story gets crazy.  had i not been there myself, i would never have believed it.  paul gives me his test.  the top right corner (remember?) has been very neatly torn off.  i asked him what happened.

paul: it got ripped on my way home.
me: really?
paul: yes.
me: really?
paul: yes sir.
me: what kind of fence tore this paper like this?  it must have been a neat fence because this is a ninety degree tear.
paul: yes sir.

i had him right where i wanted him.

me: did your parents sign this before the corner got torn, or after?
paul: they saw the note.
me: but it tore on your way home.  how could they have seen it?
paul: (silence)

i asked for his planner.  i have to mention, i almost never show any emotions towards the students besides utter frustration and annoyance, but when i saw his planner i fell out laughing.  i don't know if i can do justice describing it, but...

the part where i wrote the note was cut out and replaced with a matching part from another page.  the area where his parents "signed" was still intact, and he had rewritten my note in the same color ink on this newly replaced part, all of which was taped with scotch tape...blue scotch tape.

me: are you serious about this?
paul: huh?
me: what happened here?
paul: it tore on my way home too.
me: really?
paul: yes.
me: really?
paul: yes sir.
me: i love it when a plan comes together.
paul: huh?

i proceeded to explain the difference between cutting something and tearing something.  the sh*t had obviously been cut.  it went for a while until i got a bit tired of it, and asked for his parent's number.  i asked if his parents would say that they saw the notes if i called and asked, and he said yes.  as i was dialing the numbers, he shouted "WAIT!"  i calmly asked what, and he said that his dad was working so he probably wouldn't answer the phone.  i replied that it was okay, i'd just leave a message.  just my luck, the mailbox was full, but i just hoped that he would return my call.  fifteen minutes later, he returned my call.

my personal policy is to be professionally short with parents with which i want nothing to do.  i asked if he saw the note, he said yes, and confirmed by telling me that his son cheated and would not do it anymore.  he also said that the incident was ironic.  i finished his thought...

me: yes, it was ironic, considering how he's such an A student, and considering the things you said to me the other night.
dad: his butt's not gonna do that again.
me: well, i just wanted to let you know that your son did cheat on the test.  i also wanted to let you know that there was a mistake in the computer, so his actual score for the first six weeks was a ninety-one, not an eighty-six.
dad: that's good to know, but it still doesn't change the fact that he cheated on that test.
me: no, it doesn't.  because he still cheated on the test.  especially considering the way i was spoken to on parent/teacher conference night, i thought it was very strange that he cheated.  but, i was calling to let you know that, and to confirm it with you because...

i explained the whole missing notes fiasco and about how i had to take off my teacher hat and put on a forensic scientist hat to collect clues.  he said he saw the note, and he understood why i called.  i said good, thank you, and started to hang up.  it's not in my nature to say "hello" or "goodbye" to people who have pissed me off. he pissed me off, so after i said my piece, i was ready to end the conversation.  he quickly jumped in and asked how paul was doing lately.  i responded by saying that sometimes he talks, but he's mostly quiet.  then i thanked him politely, and hung up.  he may have had something else to say, but i wouldn't know.  i hung up.

he got a zero on the test, which translated into a D on his progress report.  i wish either of his parents would come up to that school and say something.  that's a difference with black and white people.  i don't think: i hope they don't come up here.  i think: i wish they would come up here...

and i lived happily ever after.

-w

everybody hates hard work...

ain't it the truth.  i guess i should preface this by mentioning that it's about that time for me to be on a semicolon, and boy, do i have a semicolon for the time being.  it's one of those big ones, like the one that fred sanford thought was gonna take him out, but never actually did.  it's like that one kid that homey the clown could never hit enough times with the sock.  it's like the last crumb of a piece of cake that a fat kid just can't reach...

here's the story.  last nite we had the first set of parent/teacher conferences at the new school.  it went for about four hours.  and on a sidenote, i sat in a chair for the WHOLE four hours.  no restroom breaks, no water breaks, no anything.  there were that many parents that came out.  now, keep in mind that i'm coming from a different school.  at this different school i would maybe see a parent if i was lucky.  i have to admit that i was completely caught off guard by the...fervor...that these parents have for their children.  it could have been heartwarming...you know...if i had a heart.

so things are going in a pretty hectic manner, and i get this set of parents with their child (who's in my homeroom) who put on this...what i can only describe as a performance.  this is what sent me on my downward spiral into this semicolon.  this kid...let's do "paul"...and his parents walked up with ne'ry a smile on their faces.  they came up looking like someone had already done them wrong, and they hadn't even gotten paul's report card.  when they did, they pretty much went in on me because they could not, and would not, understand why their child got the grade that he did in my class.

i proceeded to explain that he is quiet and doesn't say too much, but that he'll participate when he's called to do so.  i said that he's not a particular problem, but reiterated that he is a quiet person.  i showed them grades that he received.  they looked at every other child's grades (which is illegal) and pointed out that on a particular test, most of the students did poorly, so "it must be something that you are doing."  the "you" was apparently referring to me, wesley.  it's probably a good thing that we can't see our own faces, because i'm quite sure that i made a face i wouldn't have wanted myself to see upon hearing a comment like that.  it was approximately fifteen minutes that they went in on me, criticizing my teaching methods and anything else that came into their heads.  they talked about my homework procedures, mainly that they way i assign homework is too advanced for a fourth grader.  well...i give out homework on monday and it's due on friday.  i'm an open-minded person who can see things from many perspectives.  however i could not see the logic in their reasoning.  and that's probably because they were being illogical.  it was basically one of those things where, as a teacher, i had to sit there and listen, even though my mind had checked out a long time ago.

as much as i do for these kids, to be got at like that was unacceptable in my eyes.  meanwhile, MEANWHILE, paul is standing off to the side, crying as if it was part of the whole act.  had i known better, i would have given him the award for best supporting actor in a parent/teacher conference.  it was...strange.

i almost forgot...the grade that they were so pissed off about...was an eighty-six (86).  it's a B+.  it's not an A, but it's a B...+.  now, had they come in raising hell about how paul received a forty-three that would be different.  this was what caught me off guard so hard.  every parent likes to think that his/her child is a straight A student.

excuse the hell out of me for teaching science with academic rigor.  i'm sorry...excuse the sh*t out of me for teaching science with academic rigor.  actually...excuse the f*ck out of me for challenging the students and not bogging them down with worksheets every day.  excuse the f*ck out of me for raising the bar.

needless to say, i was, and have been, utterly pissed off about this since that night.  i've vented, and now i've blawged about it, so i feel vindicated a bit, but until i see them again and get this straight, it's always going to be there.  i'm such a passive-aggressive person that i feel like i need to do something to balance the scales.  it's not a "two wrongs don't make a right" thing, but more of a "i need to right your wrong" thing.  it pisses me off that students like paul act a certain way in class, then go home and tell something completely different to their parents, making me out to be the bad guy.  don't get me wrong, i am cold-hearted, and sand flows through my veins, but i'm never unfair or outright evil to children.

i remember the days when a teacher would tell a parent that his/her child did something and there were no questions asked.  the parent would deal with the child.  nowadays, if a teacher tries to communicate something with a parent, there has to be explicit documentation, no less that two hundred pages worth, recorded video and audio, signed and notarized affidavits, and written confessions for a parent to even consider the possibility that his/her child did something in class.  ri-damn-diculous.

and if that weren't bad enough, here comes parent after parent trying to do more or less the same thing.  now, i realize that i made a mistake in the grading of the students on the computer, so this weekend i'm going back in and manually calculating grades.  one error kind of threw off a lot of scores.  i didn't know that people weren't allowed to make mistakes.  so now parents are up my arse about it, even though i'm telling them that there has been a mistake.  でも実はあなたの子供はバカバカしい事をして、何もやってないし、多分確かに落ちるんだ...or something like that.  oh well...i am in the process of formulating a plan, which is great because then i get to do my plan laugh...

when no one's watching or listening, i sneak off somewhere and laugh like that.  it makes me feel like i've done something insidious, which is just a fancy word that means good.  anyway, when i get my plan together and execute it, i'll blawg about it.  operation: payback is in the works, people, it's in the works.  you know it's serious because i've repeated a sentence...that's right, i've repeated a sentence.

so...that is that...now to this.  my semicolons bring me to a point where i don't want to do anything with anyone.  i just want to be by myself and work my way out of it, because i'm resourceful enough to do that.  trip and luby, bless their hearts, convinced me to go and do karaoke with white people at a bar in midtown.  i can't say that i had the best time, for a number of reasons which i will decline to mention here (that whole hurting people's feelings thing, i guess), but i tried to at least pretend i was having fun.  it probably didn't go well, though.  you know, that whole not being able to see your own face.  i just hope they don't ask questions about it...because then i'll have to talk...damn.

it wasn't because of them...mostly, but it was the semicolon, and the added bonus that i didn't want to do anything.  i think i've put myself into an awkward position.  i tend to live on the lighter side of life.  i joke around a lot and don't take things too seriously.  however, those few times where i do get serious, nobody seems to believe me.  it's almost like that idiot who cried wolf.  i'm not an idiot, though.  i'm an idiot savant...shout out to stella valand (nee morrison).

speaking of idiots...

this was trip singing at karaoke, and luby dancing with some random stranger.  i will mention this about trip.  he's my brother, so i can do this without conviction or fear because c'mon, what's he gonna do?  i'm gonna make an analogy that perfectly describes this situation.  i'd never heard this wide-mouthed n*gga sing.  i play volleyball...a lot.  every now and then a new person will make his way into the gym.  he'll be extremely tall and have that air about him that makes him look fierce, and you're happy to have him on your team.  after the very first play, however, you're like..."he fooled the hell out of me" because he turns out to be awful.

it's not exactly like that...have you ever prejudged a person based on their everyday actions and then gotten surprised when they did something that caught you off guard?  i'm not saying (not at all) that he's a great singer.  it's just that...his talking voice and his singing voice are like two different people.  the sitcom that perpetually plays in my head had the studio audience laughing for five minutes from the face i made when the first note came out of his mouth.  i guess i was expecting a barry white voice, but got keith sweat instead.  it was...funny to me.  now that, i did enjoy at the karaoke.  he whined for two songs, and i could not get enough.  i want him to sing at my wedding...for my own fiendish purposes...and then i'll sneak off somewhere and...

luby looked like a free spirit, just moving where the wind blew her as she danced with that man.  bless her heart; she didn't care how she looked.  life should be that way.  she's going to lead the soul train line in my wedding...again, for my own fiendish purposes...and then...

oh goodness,

i have a training in less than five hours...nappy time...

-w

everybody hates esmerelda...

if you don't know who esmerelda is, i'm not talkin' about that ho' from bewitched, but i'm talkin' about this b*tch from a place called the magic time machine.  it's supposed to be this fantastically magical restaurant, where every section is a different theme.  there is a section where you're in a genie's bottle.  there's a section where you're on a magic carpet ride.  there's a section where you're in neverland (not michael's ranch...i said fantasy, not fetish).  you get the point.

meanwhile, i went to a former coworker's berfday party.  she's forty, and she'll be called..."big mama" because that's what one of her students called her once.  it kinda stuck with me.  now, the cast of characters in this blawg are a completely different set of folks, so try your best to keep up, and i promise i'll do the same.  before i came to this new school, i was at my old school.  there was a group of us who had been thrown together by the forces of fate.  there was me, obviously, there was "kandi" (a hilarious coworker who for some reason found my jokes funny, and always would be singing at any given moment), there was "jab" (a large eyed lass who usually underestimated her own strength when she "playfully" punched people in their arms while demanding that they shut up), there was a lot of us.

anyway, we're all at this place, the magic time machine.  there were quite a few people there.  pretty much our whole old school clique was there, as well as big mama's other friends and family members.  it was such a diverse crowd that i don't know if i can do justice trying to describe everything that happened.

first of all, though, there was out server.  the people who work there are dressed like all kinds of creatures and characters from fairy tales and storybooks and urban legends and what not.  our server was esmerelda, like from the hunchback of notre dame.  she came in with an attitude, probably because she saw all of us black people in one place.  i don't remember esmerelda being a b*tch in the story, but this chick was playing the part especially well.  she came in and was like, "here are your napkins!"  she threw everyone's napkins in the air and we had to catch them as they rained down upon us.  it was marginally funny, but when she did the same thing with the straws, enough was enough.  now, big mama has a sister, who i'll call "lil' mama."  this heifuh is crazy.  i was sat at the opposite head of this table, and lil' mama was right next to me, so i could hear her all night cussing the hell out of esmerelda's hunchback quality service.  i pretty much cried tears of laughter the entire time.  eventually i just stopped wiping the tears away.

meanwhile, kandi and jab were sat on the other side of me, cracking jokes and laughing at "blanche," who was an older woman who was likened to big mama's own mother, but wasn't.  she was too old to be talking about sex as explicitly as she was.  she was talking about how she used to drink moonshine, you know, the bottle from the cartoons with the "xxx" across it in big black letters.  everything that came out of her mouth was rated m, which was bad because two tables over were some of the most shiftless children i've seen since i was at my old school.

keep in mind that this was supposed to be a party for grown folks.  even though it was at a place that could be considered for children, the party itself was adult themed, especially when you take into account the level of conversation.  these kids were maybe around between six and nine, and i suspect that they ran their parents ragged, or their parents were ashamed to do anything because everybody was there.  we were at their sorry excuse of a salad bar when the mama asked a boy if he wanted something on his plate...this niglet screamed out, "i don't want any of that!  leave me alone...you don't know what i want."

pause.

had it been my child, what would have ensued would have been possibly in the top five list of all time best arse whoopings in history.  it would have been up there with ike and tina, joe jackson and any jackson child, bobby and whitney, and steven and irene from the real world.  i would have damn near broken my wrist on that boy.  this woman was a lot better than me, or was she?  she just stood there and took it.  hell to the no. but we all know that it's not in my nature to cater to the whims of children.  just not my style.

anyway, also in attendance was "flo," another former coworker of ours with whom i never truly got along.  her personality is very similar to sandpaper.  she is extremely rough and tactless.  that seems odd because i'm more or less the same way, but i think i just have a better grip on reality than her.  she also acts like she's hard of hearing, yet knows everything about everything.  example...

principal: make sure you have your paperwork turned in by friday.
everybody else: okay.
flo: (leaning over to kandi) what she say?
kandi: she said we need to have our paperwork in by friday.
flo: oh, that's what i know.

that's her catchphrase: that's what i know.  what she doesn't know, though, is that she ain't all that.  i think i was the only one who saw through all her bullsh*t at the old school.  she's quick to put you out on front street, too.  i'll save that story for another blawg, maybe around my berfday (there's a relation to that day) because i tend to get a little snippy the more i think about it.

i digress, though.  she was at the party, eating...nothing.  another thing she does a lot of is not eating.  all she eats is rabbit food: lettuce (which has no nutritional value whatsoever), carrots, celery (again, no nutritional value at all), tomatoes, and lemon juice.  if you never saw her, you'd think she was as thin as that chick that played ally mcbeal.  if you did see her, though, you would probably spend all your time wondering how she ended up with that big ol' back porch of an arse.  you could set up a gazebo on it.  and i'm not sure, but i bet if you threw a quarter at it, two dimes and a nickel would bounce back at you.  the point is, she came to a restaurant and had three bites of lettuce.  we should have split the bill evenly; that would teach her.

kandi, jab, and i have this special bond, where we just tend to sit around and talk about everything that happens, even if it's right in front of the people who are the topic of our conversation.  we were the moral center of our group (there's that moral center thing again).  when big mama or any other crazy folks would get into their trademark crazy shenanigans, we'd catch each other's eyes from across the room and shrug.  it never happened more frequently than when we were in a faculty meeting, because our principal there had to have come straight from timberlawn to that school.  timberlawn is a mental institution.  anything she said, i would laugh.

kandi has two kids, both by the same man, a half-giant similar to hagrid from harry potter.  the guy is unnecessarily tall.  they both look like both of their parents, but they both inherited her mustache.  it's cute; it's like peach fuzz.  i'm the godfather, so i can mention it without hesitation.  kandi once wasted hot fish grease on her arm...if she had been dark skinned like jab, she would have been in big trouble.  she's my complexion, though.  it's a nice caramel java mocha skin tone.  we had a lot of interesting misadventures together.  she and another coworker, "adelle," were leveled from that school recently.  it's very odd, especially considering that they've been teaching for at least ten years.  it doesn't make sense, but it's not my place to speculate, even though my hunches are never wrong...

so this party was so funny, i lost two pounds just from laughing.  lil' mama and i both ordered this prime rib.  i wanted mine medium well, and she wanted hers borderline burnt.  when they came out, mine looked fine...a little more done that i would have liked, but edible.  hers winked back at her.  the middle was the color of fresh blood.  it looked like her plate was being sacrificed to the gods.  she did her best not to raise hell, but i just kept on eating.  it sure was good.

i also had "salmon baby."  that's big mama's way of referring to what would normally just be salmon.

when the party was over, around midnight i would say (or perhaps earlier), we were wanting to go do karaoke upstairs or something else.  let me mention this about big mama: she can't drink.  she gets tipsy just looking at a bottle of alcohol.  somebody f*cked up and got her a drink.  keep in mind that she nursed it all night, which was hours, and at the end of the party, why was she walking like estelle getty on golden girls?  she was shuffling worse than cupid, and swerving like a drunk driver.  she was still walking.

she once got so drunk off of a virgin shirley temple, she texted us with this message: "i'm drunk as a scuk."  i guess perception is reality.  b*tches be trippin'.

needless to say, she was so drunk (not quite as a scuk but pretty close), she ended up going home and there's really no telling if she's gotten up yet.  this was two weeks ago that this all happened.  alcohol doesn't mix well with her inner workings.  oh yeah, esmerelda didn't get good tips that night...it wasn't because we're black, either.

and that's a typical outing with my old school crew,

-w

everybody hates "treasure"...

it's true.  we have a student, who will be called "treasure" (as you remember from earlier blawgs) for no real reason at all, except that he looks like the younger brother of precious, from the movie of the same name.  well...it turns out that nobody likes him.  he's a little shorter than i'm, which would put him at about 5'5" or 5'6". it's not the normal height for a fourth grader, but wait...there's more.  he has to weigh a whopping two hundred pounds of solid...well, he weighs a couple hundred pounds.

for the longest time, i took up for him because he was always saying that he was being picked on by others.  for once in my life, i felt a twinge of pity in that space i now refer to as my anti-heart.  that's for another blawg.  so i would watch over him from the shadows and give him advice on how to handle these so called bullies.  well, i found out that he is the one who is bullying others.

the counselor told me that she did a class with them about bullying, and he told her that he does pick on people.  how bold are you to up and tell someone something like that?  pretty damn bold, let me tell you.  so from that moment, i was somewhat suspicious of him, but i didn't judge just yet.

warning: this true story may cause a violent upheaval of laughter...read with caution...

well, the sh*t hit the fan this past week when harvey and i were taking our classes to the gym.  a girl was standing outside the gym door with one of her shoes and socks off.  she was crying.  with as much "compassion" as i could muster (because i don't tend to have much), i asked, "girl, what's wrong with you?"

"treasure accidentally stepped on my foot."

my eyes kind of widened up as she said those words to me.  "what?"

"treasure accidentally stepped on my foot."

this poor girl had them big ol' crocodile tears in her eyes.  they hadn't come out yet, but they were on standby.  if she had blinked, they would've fallen and splashed on everybody in a twenty foot radius.  i wasn't too far behind, because tears of laughter began to well up in my eyes.  all i could say was "oh" and turn around and start walking away.  harvey asked if i was alright.  i looked at him, tears streaming down my eyes, and told him no, because i had just heard the funniest thing anybody could possibly have said that day.

so, harvey and i were walking to the office to check our teacher boxes for anything.  i'm crying the entire time.  just when it was about eighty percent contained, i turned around and there that girl was, still with one shoe on, limping into the nurse's office to get some ice.  i lost control and i'm not quite sure, but i think a little bit of pee came out.  this girl proceeded to go for the rest of the day with one shoe on, even going into the restrooms and outside the school.  it was so hilarious that it made me forget how bad the kids were that day, because from what i can remember, they were terrible that day.

digression.  i do know that whatever happened had treasure written all over it, because my fourth period class was spent complaining about him.  all the students had stories to tell about how treasure had done something or said something to them to be an instigator.  it was idiotic from a grown up's point of view, but it is what it is.

i'm aware of treasure at all times now.

and curse the day he ever steps on my foot.  i'll unleash trip on him.  i don't even think he could clothesline this kid.

my berfday approaches,

-w