Ok, ok, one more kind of funny teacher story. Any maybe a bus driver story if my hand doesn't hurt.

I probably should have realized I did not get along with teachers early on in my school "career".

I remember in elementary, our class would regularly go to the computer lab and either type, or just look shit up on the internet.

I always hated computer class when we were just looking shit up. Oregon Trail was fun, and so was typing, but I think Mr. Blais was frankly just too fucking lazy to bother to make sure we were all typing, or was too busy ogling the girls and deciding who to creep on when we all eventually had him again in middle school, so most of the time, we were just assigned to look up shit on the internet.

I want to take a second here to note that this was never anything informative. Usually, someone in the class would go "Oh look, Pokémon!", and Mr. Blais would then exclaim:

"Regard la! Tout le monde, allez a le site que Alica a trove!"

And then we'd all go spend a while looking at Alica's pokemon website.

Now, the only thing I think I ever learned from that is that you could make decent Pokémon card money by printing off pictures and descriptions from that site and selling them to people at school for 25 cents a pop. Don't try it now though, it's creepy and I suspect that while copywrite lawyers have better things to do than sue little kids, they probably don't have much better things to do than sue petty 20-something intellectual thieves.

As much as I was a problem child, I think I was also really fucking precocious as a little kid, and could probably describe my elementary school years as "profitable" - from selling the boy's side's box full of paper hornets to the girls for meal card tickets, to trading really worn porn mags I found laying around the school yard for my first and most disgusting cigarette, to my $8 bucks a pop gerbil farms, I think I was definitely an 8 year old's version of a millionaire. I could buy all my own shit, and while I am still very, very skilled at taking people's money away from them, I think that if I could have a proportionate level of adult income for a decade, I could retire.

Anyway, back to computer lab. Many more of the classes were pokemon oriented or spent emailing the friends I'd made at French camp than actually learning anything. This was almost ten years before Wikipedia, long before Youtube, and even before Google, when people still used fucking AskJeeves, and actually ASKED FUCKING QUESTIONS like "Can you find me a wicked fucking Pokémon website?". This was at a time when having a porn site called the White House that featured chicks with really hairy vags actually made sense and was kind of funny (I JUST got the fucking joke, fifteen years after seeing that particular website once, and LAWL!). There was barely anything to learn online without looking hard for it, and let's face it, a bunch of kids are not going to look too hard.

Worse than all that, my dad has always been big on gadgets, and thusly, I had a nice shiney brand fucking new Pentium II at home, and even with the shoddy internet one comes to expect in the Great Northern Wasteland, that machine killed fucking lag like Woodie Guthrie's kills fascists, and was faster than a white trash widow at the Indy 500. By comparison, the school had bought possibly the worse glorified fucking calculators available that were internet capable, and everything DRUG ON. Eventually, I got kind of sick of it and stopped bothering to look things up when I didn't feel like it.

This eventually came to the notice of Mr. Blais, who was not impressed at his authority being questioned. I suspect I was over at someone else's computer, rather than my own, looking up things in collaboration with them. The ultimatum he laid down was that I needed to go look things up online, or type in things for the computer to say back to me, or play the typing game, or I could go downstairs and sit infront of the office.

I need to make it clear here - I am very, very literally minded, despite rarely being serious myself much anymore, and have always been very fucking black and white.

So, instead of taking this as what I'm sure was in reality an icy, stern Gallic rebuke and an order to get back to "work", I took it as this understanding sort of "Well, tell you what. If you don't want to use the computers, then you can go sit in front of the office until the end of class." Logic now dictates that I could have sat in class and not used the computer just as well, but at the time, I thought it was a genuine offer of an option to go sit quietly in a nice, comfortable chair somewhere where I could be supervised.

So, I said "Thanks, I'll go sit in front of the office", and did, stopping at the classroom to grab a choose your own adventure book. I sat there for a long while.

Eventually, someone, I don't remember who except that it was not the principal, as she was a truly miserable old wench who would of laid things out quite clearly and thus not have left me so confused during what came next, came out of the office and asked me what I was doing there.

I smiled and said "Oh, Mr. Blais said that I could come and sit down here while they used the computers, and I thought it would be ok if I brought a book."

She gave me a puzzled look and went to go find him.

I don't really remember what happened next except that parents were called, and because they knew what a literal son of a bitch they had raised, it was one of the few times they ended up taking my side. I was incredibly confused about the whole thing, being a cute little disturber back then rather than an angry, intentional one, but it's pretty funny looking back on it.

I think perhaps I will write more kid stories, as most of them make me chuckle.


The porn website was funny because Bush was the President, thusly, the best place for Bush was the White House. Not G.W. Bush mind you, Herbert Bush, the one from Saddam Vs. Bush I, and who was succeeded by the excellent Bill Clinton. Unfortunately, the site no longer exists and I suspect the government pulled some sort of early virtual eminent domain stunt on them, barring them from profiting from Bush the Second and the joke from being even better.

In case you don't get it, I'll reword - there sure was a lot of pussy in the white house for a while, surrounded by Bush.