TP Insurance

Over the course of the next few posts we are going to time travel and chronologically revisit some of the most hilarious occurrences throughout my high school and college years.  Let's start with the fall of 1997, football season at Edgewater High School.

Before each football game, my friends and I would have our pre-game meal at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant.  There's nothing like All You Can Eat Tacos before rooting for our team.  We would typically gorge ourselves and then head over to watch the Eagles lose (at the time we were not very good).  It was a delicate process, eating as much as possible without crossing the diarrhea-during-the-game line.  Although delicious, grease is not subtle on the GI tract.

One particular weekend, we were playing our cross-town rivals.  We all stuffed ourselves with Mexican goodness and hopped into the car.  On this night, I happened to be riding with two of my best friends: Bale was driving, I was in the passenger seat, and Spanky was in the back.  We made Spanky sit in the back because he wore Birkenstocks with socks (or BirkenSocks as we called them), a doubly ridiculous ensemble.  He was to sit in the back and think about what he had done.  As we approached the stadium, I realized that I didn't have enough cash to get into the game.  We told the rest of the group to go ahead as the three of us brainstormed.  There was a construction site behind the guest bleachers, and in our estimation, we would only need to hop one fence to get into the game for free.  

Bale pulled the car around to the back of the construction site.  I got out of the car and scouted out the path.  When I turned around I noticed that Spanky was still in the car.  "Come on Stocks n' Socks!" I yelled.  Spanky did not look well.  "I can't move, if I do, I might crap in my pants", he said as he squeezed his cheeks together keeping a flood of Mexicans from breaching the border.  Luckily there was a Port-o-potty at the construction site.  Spanky cautiously got out of the car and waddled his way over to the Port-o-potty.  He walked as if he was in a potato sack race and didn't quite understand the strategy involved.  I can not describe to you the horrifying sounds that echoed through the vents when Spanky entered that little plastic room.  

Of course, Bale and I took full advantage of the situation.  We rocked the Port-o-potty back and forth until it came off of the base, we took running starts and dive bombed into the plastic walls (the walls bowed in so much that we were able to knock him off the seat a few times), and we tried to call as much attention to Spanky's situation as possible.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Spanky came out of the Port-o-potty looking a little relieved and a lot embarrassed.  At this point, we could finally hop the fence and go into the game.  When we got to the fence I noticed something strange when Spanky put his foot up on it.  His socks were missing.  "Spanky, what happened to your socks?" I asked.  "I wasn't wearing any socks" he replied.  Simultaneously, Bale and I recounted every last detail regarding teasing him about his BirkenSocks earlier that evening.  There was no way he could fool us.  I asked again "Spanky, what happened to your socks?".  "OK, OK!" he yelled "I did have socks on, but when I got in the Port-o-potty I realized there was no toilet paper.  I didn't know what to do, it was real nasty, I had no choice!  I had to use them!"  Bale and I laughed as a little vomit came up in the back of our throats.  But Spanky did not stop there, "I don't have any underwear on either, I had to use that too!"  This was evident as I looked up while he straddled the top of the fence.

Maybe Bale and I were wrong.  On that night, the functionality of clothing items took precedent over aesthetics.  From that night forward I have never criticized anyone for wearing BirkenSocks, it's just toilet paper insurance, quite brilliant actually.

Beware of TACO

My wife and I are having our first child this summer, well she is the one actually giving birth.  For all of you question askers out there: It's a girl, the due date is July 31st, no we have not decided on a name yet, and yes we're excited.  With the birth of a child comes additional responsibility like caring for another life, being more financially accountable, and of course, child birth classes.

We attended our first class at the hospital on Monday.  It was a little awkward at first.  You know, several couples, strangers, smashed into a tiny room, talking openly about each other's private parts and bodily fluids.  Which brings me to the point of this post, the rupturing of the amniotic sac or the breaking of the water.

We learned a nifty acronym to decipher whether or not we should notify the doctor of anything abnormal when the water breaks.  COAT: C = color of fluid (it should be clear), O = odor (it should lack it), A = amount (may vary), and T = time (usually all at once but may vary).  Now upon seeing these letters on the screen I put together an acronym in my head that is more up my alley and way easier to remember.  Time, Amount, Color, Odor or TACO.  Sounds delicious doesn't it!  So whichever works better for you, a cold weather clothing item or delectable Mexican entree.

Then I really started thinking about it.  If all of a sudden superfluous quantities of greenish yellow fluid that has a putrid smell comes spewing out of my wife, I won't need to remember any acronym to realize I need to call the doctor immediately... after I regain consciousness.

Conan's Greatest Triumph

In honor of Conan moving to the Tonight Show (replacing Jay Leno) this week, I thought I'd share my favorite Late Night clip.

Don't Touch The Time Machine

The kids get weirder the closer it gets to the end of the school year.  I have been giving my students a couple of days of in class time to study with exam week approaching.  Seems like a good idea right?  Not really.

Next to my classroom is the senior lab.  It has a few big tables that are great for group work.  The seniors are gone at this point in the year, and some of the kids asked if they could use that room to 'study'.  It's a bit crowded in my room, so I agreed.  My kids had never been in there before, so naturally upon entering the room they proceeded to ask me several thousand questions.  "What's this?", "Why are these here?", "What does this do?", and so on.  As I was leaving the room, one of the kids pointed to the chemical ventilation hood (which looks like a large microwave with a metal chimney that takes chemical fumes outside) and asked me about it.  At that point I was tired of answering questions, so I responded "It's a time machine, now don't touch anything."  The kids giggled and I left the room.

Several minutes later, I was back in my room helping some other kids with exam questions when I heard the lab door swing open.  "Mr. A! Help! Abby's stuck inside the time machine and we can't get her out!" they shouted.  I ran over to the lab room to see what was going on.  Sure enough, Abby was inside the vent chamber.  I could see her through the glass window.  She looked both shocked and embarrassed.  I guess the anticipation of what the future has in store was simply too irresistible.  I also guess they did not see the OPEN button that releases the latch when the glass door is closed.  I was both stupefied and doing my best to contain my laughter (I'm supposed to be the role model right?).  The only words I could muster were, "I told you not to touch the time machine."  Luckily they did not hit the ON button or Abby would have been in for the ride of her life.  It is quite dusty in there and the exhaust fan is pretty intense.  She would have left the vent looking as if she had spent a few minutes inside a Hoover vacuum bag.

The lesson learned here is simple.  No matter how tempting it might be to foresee the future or change the past, live the best you can in the present, use common sense, and whatever you do, don't touch the time machine.

Dweeb Olympics

For those of you who don't know, I am a high school Biology teacher.  This year I accepted a position where I would be teaching an advanced, magnet program Biology class.  I didn't know it at the time, but I was about to become a bona fide nerd herder.  My first hint was on the first week of school when one class erupted into a round of applause (followed by a standing ovation) after we finished Chapter 1 Notes... not kidding.  If you're a nerd like me, you'll appreciate this.

The year has nearly come to an end and the kids are starting to let loose a little.  My nerd shepherding came to a climax today when the annual frog dissection lab turned into the Dweeb Olympics.  All of what I am about to tell you is the absolute truth.

I'll start with my first period class.  Cutting through a frog bone can, at times, create frog gut projectiles.  The bones are under a little tension, when they are snipped they tend to fling any small particles touching them into the air.  I warn the kids to avoid dissecting with their mouths ajar.  Many students have inadvertently consumed bits of frog in the past (it happens more often then you might think).  Well, not more than 5 minutes after I gave them the projectile speech, I heard a girl in the back of the room screaming.  "It's in my mouth!  It's in my mouth!" she yelled (all of the boys in the class in unison: "that's what she said").  After I gave her the old 'I told you so', she proceeded to explain that she is a mouth breather because of her deviated septum, and would have otherwise suffocated.  

In fourth period, I had a girl show me what she had created after finishing the required steps.  She approached me with a huge grin. "I skinned it!" she said.  This was true.  The frog looked as if it had been caught naked after changing out of its camouflaged wet suit.  "That's pretty demented" I responded.  She scoffed at me jokingly and rolled her eyes.  As she walked away she said "At least it's not a person!"  I wholeheartedly agreed.

Finally, my selection for the All-Olympic Team: fifth period, group three.  Much to their delight, group three's frog was on the verge of emptying its bowels upon its demise.  The frog's large intestine was packed full of digested insect parts.  So much so that one of the students suggested that it might have died from a gluttonous binge.  Chuckling a bit, I walked around the room to check on the other groups.  When I returned to group three, I noticed something in the frog was missing.  "What happened to the intestines?" I asked.  For some reason, this comment instantly caused all three of them to explode into laughter.  As I took a closer look to figure out what was so hilarious, I discovered that they had fed the dead frog its own fecal matter by forcing it through its opened esophagus.  When asked WHY exactly they would force a deceased amphibian to re-eat its last meal, they responded "Boil this and it's considered a delicacy in Asia!"  Wow!  They were so proud.

As I mentioned before, these events are all 100% true.  I do admire the kids in my class, it took me until college to respect the fact that I am a huge nerd.  I like science so much that the profession I chose involves me telling others about how much I like science.  Everyone is a nerd, this is undeniable.  The sooner you embrace it, the more enjoyable your life will be.

Until next time...

HERE IT GOES

I'm sure you all have been anticipating this for a long time, but your nail bitting can finally end.  That's right, your buddy Jonnyace is starting a blog.  Now you can just pray that interesting or funny events occur in my life on a regular basis so I can write about them, and in doing so, give your life newfound meaning.