The Accidental Humorist

EMAIL THAT I HAD TO WRITE TO MY SON'S TEACHER THIS MORNING:

Ms. H--

I have a request that I'm not even sure you're able to do. It's probably going to have to involve a morning talk with Malachi along with someone walking him through this at the end of the day. I'm talking about his locker and how to actually use it to keep his things. Let me explain...

Yesterday he came home stating that he "sort of ripped" his bookbag at school. When I asked how, he said it was under the lockers and stuck, so he "gently tugged," and when that didn't work, he asked another girl to help him and she pulled hard and the thing ripped. I didn't look at it until this morning, because frankly it sounded like something that could be addressed this weekend when we'd have time. It wasn't. The bookbag was ripped from the top of one corner, all the way down the seam to the bottom of the bag and around to the middle of the bottom other corner of the bag. No small tugging could have created that, unless it was by the Incredible Hulk.

Every day since the first week of school, I've asked him to ONLY BRING HOME WHAT HE NEEDS at the end of the day and leave the rest in his locker, and yet every day he continues to bring home every single one of his textbooks, workbooks, composition books, reading books, spiral notebooks, and binders. And I literally mean EVERYthing! His bookbag weighs as much as he does! I know it's not because he has that much homework, since he never touches them once he's home and has been claiming lately that he does most of his homework at school during bus call now.

Apparently, he's been using his bookbag as his locker this whole time. He needs an adult there to explain to him that NO ONE WILL STEAL HIS TEXTBOOKS IF HE LEAVES THEM IN HIS LOCKER (this is apparently one of his reasons) and how to decide what comes home with him and what needs to stay there (inability to make decisions regarding organization is his other reason). Not to mention the fact that he must stop cramming individual papers, worksheets, newsletters into his bag, which leaves them to get crumpled, frayed, and torn. At this point, I don't care if this lesson has to be done through public humiliation... it just needs to be done somehow to get through to him.

I'm at my wit's end with him, really. I have never had to email teachers so much for his brother and sister combined as I have for Malachi... and now a perfectly good, brand new bookbag has been sacrificed. I know you have so many other children to deal with on a daily basis, and I really don't wish to over-burden you with this. Perhaps it's time for the special needs councelor to step in with advice?

--S

P.S. I'm attaching pictures of "the victim" as it looks now, though I wish I'd taken pictures of it the way the young Macguyver brought it home: held together with a gigantic "patch" of packing tape and scotch tape. I pray he doesn't decide to become a surgeon or an engineer someday!

The EX-backpack:







AND THE TEACHER'S RESPONSE:

You know what...you always give me something to smile about. I know it's not a laughing matter, but I almost fell on the floor. You, nor Malachi has EVER been a burden. You two are so awesome. I will talk to him this morig. I promise to have it totally worked out by the end of next week (just so he can break this habit that's he began 7 weeks ago).

Have an awesome day!
Ms. H

No Greasy Aftereffect

I learned a lot of stuff while growing up... especially a lot of stuff that really gets into the deep crevices of the mind and sets itself on repeat, turning you into an instant psycho the moment you retrieve such information and share it with another adult. Case in point: long bus rides on Girl Scouts camping trips. They were filled with useless songs and horrifying myths of oncoming "womanhood" that still haunt me to this day. I guess that's what you get when you subject young girls to an organization steeped in 1950s ideals, regardless of decades past, new innovations, women's lib, and other fun stuff. I've heard it's not much different today, so I've made sure to keep my daughter clear of those wackos.

Anyway, one song that is still rattling about in the folds of my cranium is something referred to as "The Billboard Song." I'm sure many of you heard it, too... or some variation of it. For those of you who don't know it, here are the lyrics:

"While I was walking down the street one dark and dreary day,
I came upon a billboard and much to my dismay,
The sign was torn and tattered from rain the night before,
But clearly I could understand the message that it bore.

Smoke Coke-a-Cola cigarettes, chew Wrigley Spearmint beer,
Alpo is the dog food that'll make your wife's complexion clear,
Simonize your baby with a Hershey's Candy Bar,
And Texaco's the beauty cream that's used by every star.

So take your next vacation in a brand new Frigidaire,
Learn to play the piano in your winter underwear,
Doctors say that children should smoke when they are three,
And people over 65 should bathe in Lipton Tea."

(Apparently this is a variation of the original BILLBOARD SONG by Cy Coben and Charles Grean.)

I don't know about the rest of you unfortunate lads and lassies, but after hearing that damn thing sung by a bus load of happy campers some bazillion times, my vivid imagination has that damn image so ingrained in my head at this point that I could pass a lie detector test saying that I actually did see such a thing.

The only thing that might have scarred me worse is if I had actually grown up in the 50s. I just stumbled upon a wacky site called Weirdomatic.com and took a gander at their "Old Creepy Ads" section. There are some things that will make me never want to eat ham again, that's for sure. And thanks to the ad below (be sure to read it thoroughly for the full effect), I will never look at a can of Lysol the same way again.

Not feeling so fresh, ladies? Just shoot some disinfectant up your cooch for a cool, refreshing, sanitized feeling. Make sure you dry yourself well, perhaps a little talcum powder or lye might help prevent that recurring moisture problem of yours. I'm sure it's all doctor recommended, too! And if none of that works, you only have yourself to blame.

Bigger Than a Breadbox

Want to know what happens when you post a new photo on OkCupid right before lunch on a lazy Friday? Click on the image below to see the details of my stalkers list...



...now imagine that behemoth another 55 entries longer, because the original batch that hit me in the first 5 minutes with my post starting at 11:22am got truncated for lack of space.

Did every XY pay me a visit today or what? Maybe you're on there, too!