The lady (her name is Kimberly) works at a private school for little (rich) kids. Often times, she comes home from work and shares with me these stories of hilarity. Mostly involving the weird and silly things kids say. Kids of the younger persuasion are the best types to hold a conversation. They really do say the craziest things. The other day, she told me of such a conversation. Continue reading “Stuff Your Kids Say: The Dinosaur Kid”
I once watched a documentary that argued the pros of allowing athletes the ability of using steroids in a legal environment. They said that if Tiger Woods was allowed to enhance his vision with lacik eye treatment, thus improving his sight and overall abilities in the game, why can’t other athletes use steroids to improve their abilities? After all, steroids have never actually killed anyone. No one has ever overdosed using steroids. Perhaps some crazy girlfriends have been the victim of “roid-rage” but that’s really about it.
So what is the big deal about baseball players using the juice? Why does everyone care so much? I don’t watch or like sports, yet, for some reason, I see on the news all the time. For years. It never ends. Let them get their big-muscles-small-penis and be done with it.
Juicy Fruit is gonna move ya (8/2010)
You shouldn’t be mad at that anyway. What you should be mad at is the fact that they make millions upon millions of dollars to play a simple game. While you and I make nothing for actual work.
Wait a second… I’m unemployed. So never mind.
Which leads me to another question… you are getting paid quite a lot of money to play a game. Why mess your body up with steroids? You can sit the bench for an entire game and still get paid tons of money. Why mess your body up? Your salary is awesome regardless.
For the record, I would like to get it out there and say what you want to say; what your penis is trying to say but can’t because you’ve clouded its judgment. Megan Fox, star of such hideously awful films as the Transformer franchise and Jennifer’s Body, is fucking disgusting. Pardon my language but it had to be said. She is a very unattractive person. But the world says, “No way! You are fucking crazy!” Only I say, “No way brosef, I am not.” I would not have sex with her using your penis.
No Love for Optimus Prime (8/2010)
There is something about her that just scares me off. Maybe it’s the hint of herpes that resonates on her lips. Or her awful taste in movie selection (which proves to me quite simply that she hasn’t the skills of a third-grade reading level). I hate to say it but I like girls who can read. I also like girls who have regular size thumbs. Not thumbs that are bigger than a midget.
Now I leave the decision to you, the fine people of America. What do you think about this hideous beast of sexually transmitted disease?
And if you use them, please feel free to Digg us! We need all the help we can get.
My eyes have recently been opened to a phenomenon I’ve never given a single thought to: children and the interesting conversations they have. I often forget how ignorant children are of the world and all of its awful splendor. Having a conversation with a child is pulling the cord of a See ‘n Say. You pull the chord hoping for, “The cow says, ‘Moooooo,'” but instead get something completely random. But when you speak with children, it’s a lot more interesting than an animal sound (sometimes anyway).
A good friend of mine recently discussed a conversation he had with his daughter during that whole BP oil splendor. Rarely can a kid say something that makes me smile. Despite my completely uncaring nature towards the BP oil spill of doom, I was a little troubled by the thought of this kid not being able to make sandcastles with her daddy. It was the only time during that almost 90-day Gulf of Mexico massacre that I slightly cared.
With that conversation, however, came inspiration for me to do something… for me to take action now. Because as Zack de la Rocha once said, “If we don’t take action now, we’ll settle for nothing later.” I’m not a very smart man but I’d like to consider myself a man of action.
“Cool man, you’re going to do something about the oil spill?”
Whoa dude, you’re seeing the wrong point. Of course I am not going to do anything about BP except fuel up my car there. What I meant by action is that I’ve found a new calling. I’ve decided to start a new series called, “Stuff Your Kids Say”.
This first entry is said conversation with the little girl about her feelings towards sandcastles. Remember that scene in Knocked Up when Paul Rudd said, “I wish I liked anything as much as my kids like bubbles.” I don’t know why but this conversation completely reminded me of that. Here is the conversation:
Daddy where does the oil go?
Right now it’s just floating out there in the water, moving, and some of it will wash up on the beach.
But not on our beach right? Not where we make sand castles!
Is that not the most precious thing ever? Seriously… that conversation almost made me want to drive through the Gulf and suck up all the oil with my Shop-Vac.
Sandcastles for Ally (8/2010)
This picture is for you JD. Don’t be offended by its badness. I drew it without a mouse… and that is a super challenge. Enjoy. -M
So fellow readers, do you think you’ve had a conversation with your child that is worthy of a picture? Maybe you’ve even heard a child say something interesting while shopping at a store (that was for you Bridget… you’re next). If you think you have something for me that is worth my time, then why don’t you go ahead and e-mail me the conversation in dialogue form (see above) at:
Perhaps someday you can see your fine words in a post with a pretty terrible amazing picture to go with it. Full credit of course.
Author’s Note: The following stories are all true. I’ve changed the names not only to safe face for the youth of today, but to save my own, as my job could probably be terminated should an authoritative type actually find this.
I’ve recently touched on the subject of parenting, basing all of my opinions on today’s youth and how they act in the classroom. How kids of today couldn’t live without a cellphone vibrating in their pockets for over 46 seconds. It’s the parents of today that perhaps need the education in etiquette.
I was on my lunch break the other day when a group of female students came into my class. One of them had to grab some missing work from some days she was absent, the others were there because they had nothing else to do.
It was about then when a male student of mine, let’s call him Steve, came into the classroom. He chatted with the girls a bit then headed towards my desk. The kid gave me a fist pounce before leaning towards me and asking, “Do you see that girl right there?”He pointed to one of the girls who was my student.
“Susie? Yes, I had her last period.”
He says, “Ah, I fucked her the other day,” then let out a laugh.
This kid is 16 years-old and the girl he pointed to is only 14. I wasn’t stunned at the fact that kids these young ages are fucking – you’d be a dumbass if you think your kid isn’t doing the same. But I was stunned at the fact that he just randomly told his teacher about his exploits, without showing any sort of respect for my title, age, or authoritative power. I gave him a lecture about how I am a lot nicer than other teachers but that doesn’t give him a reason to share his exploits with me. He has not shared any sort of information since then.
Susie often comes to my classroom during lunch with a group of 4-5 other students. Some of these students aren’t even mine – perhaps they see my classroom as a shelter from the storm of idiocy outside wandering about or in the cafeteria throwing food and openly talking about blow-jobs and “titty-fucking” (these are just a few of the examples I’ve heard while walking around).
Yesterday in class, Steve came up to me and told me he thinks he got someone pregnant. He told me with a smile on his face, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. I thought for a second about what I could tell him. Should I tell him that getting somebody preggers is the worst STD around when you’re that age? Should I tell him about The Three Ps?
I tried as best as I could to explain the severity of this notion. It wasn’t funny, cool, or cheap, and there definitely wasn’t a quick escape out of this one. This would last for at least 19 solid years.
Then I found out he was talking about 14 year-old Susie.
You know that movie Juno that came out a few years ago? About that pregnant white, 16 year-old suburbanite girl? I wasn’t so much a fan of that movie. When I saw it, I was pretty positive that the girl in that movie was too smart for her own good. 16 year-old white girls from suburbia aren’t that smart – they don’t know shit about Herschell Gordon Lewis (a really obscure filmmaker from the 60s – one of the best) or who the fucking Stooges are. They don’t. Want to bet me?
The first day of school this year, I ask my students a series of questions, as part of a “introduction” exercise. One of the questions was, “Who is Herschell Gordon Lewis?” Most thought it was my real name. The rest left it blank. Where do I live and teach? In the middle of suburban fucking America. And that shit won Best Original Screenplay… but I digress.
I Be Pregnant – Lol! (4/2009)
So 14 year-old Susie is pregnant. I couldn’t wait for lunchtime to roll around so her and her band of merry girls and boys would come to my class to eat their triangle tater-tots amongst the company of intelligence. I didn’t say anything about what I had heard.
She had no problem telling, out of nowhere, about the rumor going around about how she is pregnant. “It’s not true,” she said, after explaining how he wore a condom. I did nothing but shake my head.
However, I was a bit curious how this incident happened in the first place. So I asked how she got herself in such a situation. She began, “Well, he texted me out of the blue one day…”
I was too into that sentence to pay attention to the rest of her story. It all started with a simple text – and I hear stories like this all day. Anytime something happens that shouldn’t have, the story begins, “I got this text…” Variations include but are not limited to, “I got this text saying he fucked my mom…”; “I got this text saying to meet in the bathroom in 5 minutes…”; “I got this text saying she/he was ready…”
But I digress.
There are a million other teachers who would do the obvious “report to guidance or administration” to share these tales of childhood woe. And I have done that on many occasions only to find my efforts fail when their parents could care less. Perhaps I am just now desensitized to it all.
Now I think of these stories as mere entertainment. Is that wrong? These stories are better than Crank 2. The dramatics of high school seem to be at an all time high. If I had any sort of motivation, I’d be inspired to make a documentary.
Kids have always had sex – that’s just what they do. They did it in my generation, your generation, your parents generation; and they will continue to do so until out days end. When I lost my virginity during those lonely days of age 16, I didn’t run to school the next day to report it to my teacher. Nor did I send out a mass text to all my friends that read, “I fuk’d dat gurl finally, bro. It wuz sweet yo! Lol.”
Perhaps this generation gap is one which can’t be filled.
Read more “Parents is Dumber” by clicking these colored words.
Last year, I recalled a rather touching conversation I had with an ex-girlfriend about the amazing power of the Day of Fools. This year, I decided to keep that up. The following phone conversation took place.
Mike: Hey Sally. It’s Mike.
Sally: Mike who?
Mike: Come on, you really have to ask that?
Sally: Good Christ, what the fuck do you want?
Mike: I was just calling to check on you; see how you were doing. How goes it? How has life been treating you since we last spoke?
Sally: Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t heard from you in 5 years. You just disappeared. Where did you go?
Mike: My wife found out about our relationship and she threatened to walk out on me unless I ended it. So I ended it.
Sally:… (I could hear her thinking)
Mike: Are you there?
Sally: …You were married?
Mike: Yeah. Funny, huh?
Sally: We went out for over a year, and you never told me? You told me you loved me.
Mike: I know, hilarious, right?
Sally: What the fuck are you telling me this for?
Mike: It’s part of the 12-step program… you know, calling people, and apologizing for shit.
Sally: You’re an alcoholic too?
Mike: Oh yeah, that’s why we got a divorce. I can’t see my kids without supervision. I was an angry drunk.
Sally: You have fucking kids too? Jesus fuck, what the hell else do you want from me?
Mike: I was just calling to ask for your forgiveness. To let you know I am sorry.
Sally: I wondered what happened to you for 5 years, and this is what I learn? I hope you drop fucking dead asshole…
Mike: Okay, wait… calm down, I have something else to say!”
Sally: No, no, no… you’re going to listen to me asshole. If I ever see you again, I will fucking kill you, you got that?
Mike: But wait, don’t you know what today is?
Sally: No, and I don’t care. This conversation is over. I will fucking skin you alive if I see you again, you got that? Don’t ever call me ever a-fucking-gain.
Mike: But wait… April Fo….
Ghost of Fool’s Past (3/2009)
And before I could finish, she hung up. I guess she never got the joke.
Last year I decided to “remake” a blog entry I wrote a few years ago for a completely different website. If filmmakers can remake shit less than a year old, why couldn’t I do the same in with a blog? No one cares about blogs anyway.
I actually liked the remaking idea because you can clearly see how much I’ve evolved as an “artist” over a few years time. This blog appeared in May of 2006 on Film Threat’s Blog page. You can see the original right here by clicking. Here is the remake version, complete with original words and artwork (with new artistry posted also).
Kids often times have one single moment, perhaps more, of complete and utter stupidity that they’ll never forget for the rest of their lives. I have one such moment, a moment that has stayed with me for the past 17 or so years. And the sad thing is, it was a moment that last about 17 seconds, yet, it still resides within my memory; haunting me, teasing me.
It was September of 1988 and I was seven years-old. I traveled with my mom from Jersey to Zephyrhills (yes, that Zephyrhills), Florida to visit my grandparents and their new home. Seeing how Zephyrhills is as exciting as you can imagine, we decided to head to the movie theater and watch movie.
The theater in this amazing town only held two films at a time. Our choices were Lethal Weapon 2 and Gorillas in the Mist. Being that I was only 7, my mom opted not for the Rated R action spectacular. She instead chose the safe PG-13 movie about the life and times of Dian Fossey. I wanted fire, explosions, gun fights, etc. My mom wanted Sigourney Weaver and a couple of monkeys.
I remember the film being longer than one could care for. By the end, when some unknown person stabs Weaver and kills her, I was happy to see the screen fade to black.
As we walked out of the theater, my mom says, “That’s sad. Did you know that was a true story?”
My ignorant mind at the time couldn’t quite comprehend what my mom meant by that. My brain spun that as meaning that the actual Sigourney Weaver went to Africa, fought for some gorillas, then got stabbed. My 7 year-old mind thought that meant that when Ghostbusters 2 finally came out, it would be Weaver-less.
“So, that lady really died?” I asked.
“Yes, yes she did.”
Check out how dumb I was…
“So, Sigourney Weaver is really dead?”
Sigourney’s Requiem (5/2006)
Sigourney’s Requiem – Redux (3/2009)
My mom looked at me like I was the dumbest kid on the planet. She had a look on her face like, “This kid came out of my womb?”
She then explained to me what a film “based on a true story” meant. It was a film, fiction, fake… like The Da Vinci Code. Sigourney Weaver wasn’t dead. The person she was playing was dead.
That was the dumbest 17 seconds of my life. And a moment I will never forget, although my mother has no recollection of this story, which is for the best.
Sigourney Weaver was nominated for an Academy Award for this film. Perhaps there was a member of the Academy who thought she was dead too. But she wasn’t and because of this, we were able to see a few more Alien sequels, that second Ghostbusters movie I was so amped about then, and lest we forget 1492: Conquest of Paradise.
Actually, maybe we lest.
So that’s it. The story pretty much speaks for itself and is, sadly, true. The picture – the new one anyway – isn’t that much better than the old. Sigourney looks a lot stranger in this new one…