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Rocket pubes.

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» The Weird Kid In Class

Oh, loverly- the stories
For a good long while I was the weird one- the spelling-bee champ who would kick anyone's ass for looking at me funny. Had a massive obsession with black holes and such that culminated in me spending my entire fourth-grade career studying them and eventually teaching science class for a week because the teacher couldn't be bothered. Also read nearly constantly, and yet didn't know who'd won the American Revolution until I was 11.

I wasn't the only one, oh no. My Lit teacher in 11th and 12th grade had stories. Oh, did he have stories.

Like the one girl. Had a few mental problems, so had to have a behavior sheet filled out after every class. For the most part, a nice girl, however as soon as she sat down and the bell rang, she'd burst into tears and sob all through class until the bell rang again, at which point she'd dry her eyes, and with a cheery "See you tomorrow, Mr. Yak!" she'd leave.

This went on for some time, and finally he couldn't just ignore it, so on her sheet he wrote down "exhibits bizarre behavior." That's all. No major complaints.

A few days later she comes in with an intense glare.

"Do you like the word bizarre, Mr. Yak? My parents won't like the word... bizarre!"

Now, Guidance isn't supposed to show the kids these sheets- so he was shitting himself in anger as he rang up the office.

Turns out she'd gone through the filing cabinet, taken out all the "J" files, and sat out back casually dumping them in the tip until she found hers. Lovely girl, really. Heard she killed herself a few years later.

Another nutter was one from long before my time- back when Day-Glo pink was all the rage in men's fashion. This kid, too, needed a behavior sheet, for he was on all sorts of lovely drugs and such, and had the IQ of boiled peas.

So one day, as class is going along, Mr. Yak notices the kid's got his tank-top pulled all the way to the side, and he's doobling his nipple. Just sitting there, contentedly, doobling.

Yak is troubled by this, but for lack of a better idea, simply puts down "fondles nipple" on the behavior sheet.

Cue next day, middle of class, when the intercom comes on.

"Mr. Yakavonis?"
"Does this say... fondles nipple?"
"Sure does!"
"Uhm. Thank you."

Few months later, same kid was sitting in class, jerking his head back and forth. Yak asks what he's doing.

"I'm in a race!"

Apologies for length, but NEVER for girth, you filthy little pansies.
(Sat 20th Jan 2007, 9:22, More)

» Personal Ads

Not me, but a friend...
...once replied immediately to a dating site profile that was simply a picture of the guy and the caption "was raised in back alley by wolves."

I only wish I could have been there.
(Fri 14th Sep 2007, 4:23, More)

» Beautiful but Bonkers

The memories...
First serious boyfriend. I was all of 15, 16, he was a year or so older. Oh, the times we had- he'd get utterly baked and call me up at quarter past stupid, rambling on and on about how he felt he really was Valyn Velfor (his mind-bogglingly terrible RP character who was quite obviously ripped off of Vincent Valentine, of Final Fantasy fame), that we really ought to get together and be superheroes, instead of merely giggling over the moronic scripts we were writing, how I had the perfect voice (I sound like Gary Coleman, for crying out loud) and how I should totally come over and we'll go sex one another up in the woods behind his trailer.
He was ruggedly handsome, even despite the somewhat frighteningly excessive amounts of body hair. I would have put up with the madness had he let me shag him.

After that, there was a nice boy that I acted horribly towards... still regretting that. Gorgeous. Didn't get into his pants either.

After him, there was Sicilian Boy. Around, oh, seven, eight years my senior (shut up, it seems more when you're 19). Let's just call him Betty.
Betty is convinced he is at least part wolf, can manipulate people's energy into making them hump like rabbits, has mood swings that rival the most hormonal of women, constantly verbally abuses JUST ABOUT EVERYONE, whines when I slug him for it, gets horribly, horribly drunk off a single shot of whiskey and spends the next few hours telling everyone that they're quite obviously inferior to him because THEY... are not Sicilian. He'd also call my family "a load of sheep-fuckers" and go on and on about how extraordinarily white-trash I was (I'm really not. Really. Stop looking at me like that).
The things I used to put up with for thirty seconds of disappointing sex every friday...

No apologies for length or girth, cos I know you all love it and want more.
(Mon 20th Nov 2006, 18:10, More)

» My first experience of porn

Never actually seen porn...
...at least not beyond a few ten-second clips, but I've read some rather alarming smut.

My introduction to this came at the tender age of 13, when my then-boyfriend (ah, puppy love) brought me over to his house to hang out.

Needless to say, I wound up having a bit of an explore in his room while he took a piss. This resulted in my finding a rather well-hidden stash of softcovers(the Anita Blake series, some older stuff like Emilie, etc.). I, ever the avid reader, paged through a particularly interesting-looking one entitled "School Life In Paris."

Three paragraphs in and he walks in. I hide the book in my hoodie pocket. He asks no questions, and we continue the hang-out.

I get home later that night and hide it among my collection of poetry books. Nobody's found it yet, so I guess I'm safe for now...
(Sat 27th Jan 2007, 23:54, More)

» Pretentious bollocks

Oh god...
There are two kinds of art student here at Kutztown.

1: The kind that wear black and go on about how their life is pain, blah blah blah, and

2: The kind with no higher brain function. Needless to say, I am of this group.

So my very first day in classes, I have Two-Dimensional Design. Lovely, you might say. Sounds like fun.


The other students are in a circle in the back of the room, around the teacher's desk. I push through, and what do I see?

There is the teacher, sitting on top of her desk in a Buddha pose, painting her arms and talking about how every line breathes.

I can't beleive I'm paying $20,000 a year to listen to this crap.
(Wed 5th Oct 2005, 15:21, More)
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