I’m Hot for Teacher - Douchebag Anthem

I was listening to this song on the radio the other day and was tricked. I was tricked by the snazzy bass drum intro into thinking, “Hey, this is pretty cool!” FALSE. The more I listened, the angrier I got. I noticed I was grinding me teeth and my palms were sweating — I realized it wasn’t my wedding night, it was the song. I hate this song because it reminds me of every douche bag I’ve ever EVER dealt with. It’s not the music. The music’s not bad. And it’s not Sammy Hagar. I saw him on Cribs a while back and he seems like a pretty nice guy. The thing that pisses me off are the spoken lyrics they sprinkle like turds in my drink throughout the song. Let’s listen read…

Oh, wow, man, I said
Wait a second, man
What do you think the teacher’s gonna look like this year?

There are the underachievers, sitting with their feet up on the desks. Their ripped up jean shorts showing off half their thighs. Their pastel-colored, stone-washed, button-up shirts over their pastel-colored, stone-washed undershirts. Their greasy beach bum haircuts covered up by their big dumb OU caps. And because they’re inside, in the middle of the afternoon, they’re wearing sunglasses. One guy who fancies himself the joker of the group throws a paper airplane. The teacher walks in. She’s the one they’re all hot for. I mean it says it IN THE TITLE. So I’m guessing she looks good, or as one of these puds might say, she’s a stone fox.

Hey, I heard you missed us
We’re back! (Hey!)
I brought my pencil
Give me something to write on, man!
Whoa

Hey! Whoa! The lyrics read, “I brought my pencil.” But the song makes it sound like, “Ah brawt mah PEN-sooooooooooooool!!1!” This part really makes my sphincter clench because it’s one of those things people yell whenever they’ve opened their mouths without really knowing what was going to come out. A few years ago, I worked at a high school with a bunch of “at-risk” kids. These were kids who needed some extra help getting work done and staying on track in class. What it amounted to was six months of me getting yelled at and made fun of by a bunch of punk gangbangers. One day, these two boys were screwing around and I had to send them back to class. One of them called me a “trick” (I don’t get their words) and the other one, before leaving, didn’t really say anything so much as squealed. It was a high-pitch “aaaaahhh,” and he put his hands up in the air like so…

Cool, right? WRONG!

In these situations, I try and keep a witty retort on hand so the kids won’t think I’ve fallen off the trolley. This time though, I was so befuddled at what I had just seen that I just stood there slack-jawed while these two cholos walked off high-fiving each other. I was speechless. I thought I was in a movie or something. Anyway, the songs over now, right? Ahh sh–

Oh man, I think the clock is slow
(What are you doin’ this weekend?) I don’t feel tardy
Class dismissed!
Ooh-yeah!

Yeah my main man, I didn’t even know I was tardy because I was trolling for tail when the bell rang! Give me some skin! What? Yeah class dismissed! The entire school erupts into some messed up Rock n’ Roll High School orgy. Kids are running through the halls. The teacher is standing there like a big dumb idiot with her glasses crooked and her hair all messed up, and even though this a Van Halen song, the Ramones are there walking through the halls PLAYING THEIR GUITARS WALKING THROUGH THE HALLS. Look the song up on any lyrics site, and you’ll see that the rest is made up mostly of “Ooh yeah!”s and “Woo!”s — or go rent Rock n’ Roll High School. That should help you visualize all of this a little better.

Kids WTF?

 

It is my great pleasure to work as a substitute teacher. The pay is decent, the hours are flexible, and I really don’t have to do all that much. On top of that, I have a front row seat to the Greatest Show on Earth, which is the crashing and burning of America’s youth. For reasons unexplained, I work mostly in high schools, but this past week, necessity forced me to accept a job at an elementary school. Once I got there and got settled in, I asked myself, “What took me so long?” Elementary schools are great. The kids are still scared of authority, so they don’t get too mouthy, and they still don’t know most of the good cuss words. Also, in fourth grade and under, they’re still too young to join gangs. Fifth grade though… you’re done, son.

If there’s a downside to working in an elementary school, it’s that your one class is with you all day. This means you won’t get any real breaks until the afternoon, when lunch and recess roll around. So a few hours after my 9:30 Big Red (straight from San Antonio!), I really had to use the bathroom. I told the kids that I had to run to the water fountain — I didn’t say pee because who knows whether Timmy or Tammy will go to the office, hold up their dolly and say “He touched me here, here AND here.” — and ducked out. On my way I passed by this little boy washing his hands. He had a haircut his mom had given him and gigantic, coke-bottle glasses that allowed him to see into the future. He looked at me as I passed by with a crooked smile on his face and asked, “Hi. What’s your name?” It really caught me off guard. I like kids, and would have stopped to talk, but that Big Red was really sitting heavy on me and it just wasn’t in the cards. “James,” I muttered as I passed by.

This is where the story gets awesome (disturbing?). The kid FOLLOWS me into the bathroom. And not just follows me, I thought he was going to trip over my feet. I walked into a stall and closed the door behind me. Weird Kid stands in front of the stall and continues the conversation. The following is as close an approximation as I can remember. He was mumbling a little bit.

Kid: James?

Me: Um… yes.

Kid: Guess what. Me and my friend, we were playing, and we huffed some perfume.

Me: You huffed perfume?

Kid: Yeah. We were playing.

Me: The hell?

The kid didn’t stick around to talk more. His teacher came in and took him back to class. I have a feeling Johnny was a repeat offender. Anyway, this is one of those things that makes working that much more interesting. Case closed, right? WRONG. Recess rolls around, and I was standing outside watching the kids play soccer, which the kids play on this raised concrete platform, and the ball gets kicked over the railing — wait for it — right to Johnny, who was jumping around in his red sweats with his jacket tied around his waist doing gymnastics or something. Of course all the soccer players start yelling for Johnny to throw them the ball back. This is Johnny’s time to shine. He drops his lunchbox and picks up the ball. His smile is now so crooked it’s sitting SIDEWAYS on his face. Here’s an illustration to better show what happened. Pictured are Johnny, myself and the soccer ball.

 

 

Johnny gets the ball. He tosses it up for a monster dropkick, but…

…Johnny’s thick tree trunk legs can’t swing high enough to actually kick the ball upwards so what happens is BALLSIDEWAYSWTF!!1! The ball comes right at me. I scream like a girl and dive out of the way. Johnny doesn’t seem to notice. He picks his lunchbox back up and skips off screaming “Rraaaaarrrhhhh!!!”, stomping his feet and swinging his arms like some epileptic Tyrannosaurus Rex. I picked myself up and ran back to the classroom. I heard kids laughing at me. I heard teachers laughing at me. The rest of the day was pretty much down hill. I was emasculated in front of half the school, and they had just lost all respect for me. I’m 25 now, and am starting to feel the divide between me and the kids I teach. I never knew things would get this bad. Anyway, I came back the next day and heard the news. Johnny had a weak heart, and the previous days’ exertion wore him out so bad they had to put him in the hospital. Whenever any of the kids gave me lip, I told them I put him there, just for making me mad. Talk about taking lemons and making lemonade! A few of the kids started crying, but it also earned me the title “Baller for Life” from some of those gang kids I mentioned earlier, so I did a small victory lap around the classroom. As for Johnny, we’re all hoping he’s gonna pull through.

 

Is Flavor Flav the ugliest man ever?

The answer just may surprise you!**

Flavor Flav. Rapper. Star of the 1984 film, Gremlins, and VH1’s cultural train wreck, The Flavor of Love. Lover of large clocks. “The Flav” (to his friends) has to be the ugliest man ever put on television. Remember when your best friend performed at the talent show? He jumped around the stage doing karate and yelling, “Hiyah! Heee-YAH!”, then tripped over the gym mat and everybody started laughing. You knew that he was the pear-shaped loser, but for some reason your ears were burning. It felt like everyone was laughing at you, because you were embarrassed for him. Remember when that happened to me? Well, that’s not the case with Flava. We love every sphincter-clenching minute of screen time they give this crazy-*** *****. Let’s take a look!

Here, in an impressive example of movie magic, is a picture of Flavoure as one of those freaky gremlins. Chris Walas, who worked as a special makeup effects artist on the film said, “We were shooting for a week before we realized he wasn’t wearing any makeup. We’re still not sure how he was able to shoot more of those things out of his back every time he got wet… He really is a goblin, huh?” Hahaha, he sure is.

One of The Flav’s favorite clocks. Where does he get them from? Why is he wearing an Oreo letter-jacket with Nutter Butter and Nilla Wafer patches on it? It’s all part of the Flave’s mystique, and the reason why dozens and dozens of dirty women are willing to go on national television to get just five minutes in a jacuzzi with this shriveled-up male specimen - who, without a shirt on, looks surprisingly like a strip of beef jerky. Mmm, I can just imagine those hickory-smoked juices in my mouth right now. And so can dozens and dozens of dirty women.

This last picture needs no explaining. Of course, the smart Gremlin who wore a suit and glasses and sang show tunes made the movie for me.

No amount of editorializing is needed to conclude that, yes, The Flav (I can call him that because I’m his friend) is in fact, the ugliest man ever. And, you know, maybe that’s why haters wanna hate. Because we’re all ugly too, but not nearly as popular. The third season of Flavor of Love starts in January. Set your TiVo’s everyone!

**Answer will not surprise you.