Two stories from the wonderful world of education…
I like to play music in class from time to time. One of my favorite songs to play is “Camel Walk” by Southern Culture on the Skids. A very catchy tune indeed.
Now, I normally only play this song from the CD, because some of the other tunes have questionable lyrics. One day, as my class was working quietly, I turned on the CD in question and played the song. I was zoning out as the next song came on, which wasn’t a problem until the class heard the following:
“It don’t matter if you’re dull or shiny, if your dick is big if your dick is tiny”.
I lunged at the CD player and pretty much hit every button at the same time in order to turn the thing off. Apologies and a quick trip to my principal’s office ensued.
Story #2:
A guy a teach with was conducting his band trumpet section one morning. This was a group of fifth grade students. One of the students tried to impress the class with her impression of a cat coughing up a hairball ( a very good impression by the way). Later on, because it was close to Thanksgiving break, the teacher asked the class what their favorite pie was. When said student had a chance to respond, her eyes beamed with pride as she replied…
Back when I was still a good little Southern Baptist church going Doo Bee, I worked for a summer at a SB conference center down in North Carolina (which, incidentally, was only about a mile away from Billy Graham’s house.)
There was a summer staff of about 400 people, usually college kids, who all stayed in dorms with a central living area. In that, there was a small, low powered radio station which I ran for the summer and which piped music into the living area.
They didn’t have any music of their own, so any music had to be supplied by us. Luckily I had brough my collection with me; mostly a lot of lighter rock (Chicago, Genesis, etc.) but I was starting to branch out a little bit more as well.
I had a copy of The Doors 'L. A. Woman" as well. Apparently one of the DJs wasn’t quite as familiar with it as I was.
So one day we’re sitting in the living area just listening to music, when the DJ decides to play a song and we hear at top volume …
“WELL, I BEEN DOWN SO GODDAMN LONG…”
The suddenly “zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip!” as the needle is knocked off of the LP.
For a long time one of my cats and I had a pretty much standing appointment for games when I went to the bathroom. I’d close the door and he’d run over and poke his paw under the door to signal he was ready. I’d then kick a penny over to him, and he’d bat at it furiously! Sometimes it would go right out into the hall and he’d bat it back in to me, other times it would stay in the bathroom and he’d smack at it until it went out of his reach, but either way I’d then kick it back to him. And so we’d go, back and forth, until I was done. It was fun
For a long time one of my cats and I had a pretty much standing appointment for games when I went to the bathroom. I’d close the door and he’d run over and poke his paw under the door to signal he was ready. I’d then kick a penny over to him, and he’d bat at it furiously! Sometimes it would go right out into the hall and he’d bat it back in to me, other times it would stay in the bathroom and he’d smack at it until it went out of his reach, but either way I’d then kick it back to him. And so we’d go, back and forth, until I was done. It was fun
My mom is a very spiritual person, meditates a lot, pretty new-agey. One time when we were kids, my brother and I were talking in the living room. Mom came in from the kitchen with a worried look on her face. In a quiet, existential-angsty voice, she said, "I seem to be lacking . . . " there was a long pause, while my brother and I waited to hear what she lacked. Was it a deeper purpose? Her spiritual center?
Okay, to set the stage… in the days after Hurricane Katrina, we spent a lot of time watching the news. I’m a New Orleans native now living in Baton Rouge, and my mother and sisters had evacuated from Metairie to our house here. It was still in the first horrible week after the storm, and no one wanted to leave the television unattended for too long for fear we might miss seeing someone or some place we know on news footage. My youngest sister and I were watching and talking seriously about what was going on – I remember being right on the verge of tears as I was so much of the time then – when my other sister marches into the living room and says accusingly, as though we had stolen it, “Has anyone seen my Preparation H?” My youngest sister and I looked at each other and just screamed with laughter. I started laughing and could not stop.
I eventually curled into a semi-fetal position in the chair where I was sitting because I was sobbing with laughter, and as I did, I found the tube of Preparation H, which set me off into shrieks of laughter again. My mom and husband came from various points in the house because, obviously, hysterical emotion given what was going on in our world was some cause for concern. Somehow, knowing that just made my youngest sister and I laugh harder and harder. Every time our accusing sister said “Preparation H” trying to explain to them what happened, we just howled and started a new cycle of laughter.
Now my youngest sister (the non-accuser) can just come up to me at a family function and whisper, “Preparation H”, and I freaking lose it. I know she’s going to do this at my brother’s wedding coming up next month.
The kids are taking exams this week, and Ivygirl is studying history. She came across the word “Kamikaze” and apparently found it very catchy, because she starts bebopping around her room while chanting “KamiiiiiiKAZE!” over and over again.
Of course, she didn’t know we had muted the TV and were watching the entertainment coming from her bedroom…“KamiiiiiiiKAZE!”
I walked in on toddler Blucher explaining to mine Frau what he had learned in school today. The subject was caterpillers and their metamorphasis into butter flies.
“And the caterpiller…he goes into a Poopy stage…”
(Which is quite reasonable when you realize that no matter how hard he jumped, he’d never manage to flush a comode.)
“… and after the Poopy stage, he becomes a Butterfly…!”
Being inquisitive (and a glutton for punishment) I asked him, “So, toddler Blucher…will You go through a ‘Poopy stage’?”
To which I was promptly told, “No, Daddy, I use the Potty!!!”
…I’m an Episcopal minister and about a year ago a parishioner died. I got all dressed up in my clericals and went to the visitation. When I got in the lobby of the funeral home I thought it odd that I didn’t recognize anyone in the place…no parishioners. I went into the chapel…got about half way up the aisle and looked up and, when I saw the body, realized I was in the wrong funeral home. Didn’t know te dearly departed, or anyone else there, from Adam. I paid my respects, said a quick word to the family and got the hell out of there. Got into my car and drove to the other fueral home laughing all the way.
Backstory: I’m from central PA, not far from Three Mile Island. I was away at college the year the place nearly melted down.
One day I happened to walk in upon the future Papa Zappa (whose back was to me) and his roommates just as one of the roommates said “…mutant cows from Harrisburg”.
Without missing a beat, I said “Ooom?”, which was my beloved’s first clue that I was in the room. Everyone else went into hysterics while Papa Zappa / Typo Knig attempted to die of embarassment.
It’s so silly, but almost 7 years later, I still giggle over this: when First Grade Caricci was Infant Room Caricci , less than a year old, I dropped him off at day care one day. I put his diaper bag on his little hook and the proceeded to hang up my own coat, instead of his. My clue that I was doing the wrong thing was that the hook was lower than my own hip and the coat spilled out into the room because it was, you know, for an adult, not a baby.
Hehe. My cat did something similar. While I was peeing, he ran up to the side of the bowl, jumped up on the edge of the bowl, and stood staring fascinated. I have impeccable aim, and was able to still avoid hitting him.
Then he walked right into the stream face first and started wildly flailing at the stream with his paws. This simultaneously freaked the both of us out, and I spun about spraying wildly like a dropped firehose, while my cat flopped about the bathroom trying to shake the pee from its face.
Back when I was a Lab Assistant, a man came into our work area looking for me.
Me: I’m Mouse_Maven, how can I help you Dr.___?
Dr.: How did you know my name?
Me: You interviewed me for a job and turned me down.
Dr.: Oh jeez! I came here for your help.
That reminds me of something. When we were high-school age, my brother and stepsister were having an argument. Shaking with (mock) rage, my brother pointed his finger at my stepsister and hissed, “You despise me!”
That was the end of the argument, as neither of them could stop laughing.
Mama Zappa and I were at a potluck supper. One of the attendees brought a lot of wine, and Mama Zappa and I indulged. Not too much, but just enough that when a fellow grad student offered to drive us to our apartment we accepted, rather than walk across campus. Stagger would have been more like it.
Back in our apartment, I sobered up enough to start on the dishes. Mama Zappa was zoned out in the living room area. While doing the dishes it ocurred to me what a good influence my bride was on me. I was drinking less, and therefore my alcohol tolerance had plummeted. I thought I would tell her this wonderful fact. I said “Honey, since I’ve know you I’ve become a cheap drunk!”
… … :eek: … :smack: …
“Um, let me rephrase that!”
Scary thing is, she knew
exactly
what I meant, and was not offended. Until my correction. Then she laughed, and we laughed and laughed.
Here’s what you do, it’s all in the timing.
Get a tube of Prep H and wait for her to say “Preperation H”.
You can than say “Sure, here you go, I knew you would be wanting some.” while handing her the tube.
My best friend and I doubled over laughing when we overheard this on our vacation last week. Some truly annoying, vapid girls were playing Marco Polo in the pool, and when a newcomer asked how it was played, that was the answer. We got dirty looks for a few minutes, but we just couldn’t help it!
This group of girls included one girl who got completely smashed one day (well, probably more than once, but she was hammered when this story takes place). She walks up the the beach bar, bikini top undone and just swinging around her neck, and gets 6 drinks for her and her friends. Trouble is, remember, she’s smashed. She makes it about 10 feet before things start spilling, and then she’s meandering around beach chairs and people, sloshing rum and coke all over herself. Along the path, she encounters one of those trees that kind of grow sideways off a beach. Her reaction? Stop and look around, all confused, swaying left and right, trying to figure out how to get around this tree. Some guy standing on the other side gets her attention and tells her to walk around it. Gratefully, she does, then proceeds to get stumped by a kayak and a paddle boat. Again, some kind beach-goer shows her the way around. We lost sight of her after that, but pretty much everyone on the beach between the bar and the boats was laughing hysterically at this poor, drunken, stupid girl. I’d be surprised if she had more than a 1/3 of any one drink left in the cup by the time she reached her friends! I’ve been hammered in my life, but in all cases, I’m SURE I could still figure out how to walk around a damn tree! My friend and I now pretend to get confused by garbage cans, pop cans, and leaves on every path we walk, just to crack each other up.
My husband and I were at a restaurant known for it’s ‘homestyle’ meals. We were at the register paying for the meal, when the very young cashier asked us if we like the “group meatloaf.” My husband said “we’ve never had it.” She said “no, I mean the group, Meatloaf”, then she went on to tell us about the special offer they had where you could get a discount on Meatloaf concert tickets.
Now when we’re at the grocery store and we see one of those family size frozen entrees in meatloaf, “hey! it’s a group meatloaf.”
… :eek: … :smack: …