Here are the things I wanted to say this week but didn’t:
– (To the sixth grader who performed a “magic” trick consisting of his making one arm shorter than the other) Magic? That’s not magic you walking freak show. School is boring enough without having to pay attention to your anatomical bullshit. Sit your ass back down before I pull some good old fashioned magic shame out and school your ass for real.
-(To the science teacher who married the english teacher) By congratulations, I mean what the hell is the matter with you? You are her third husband in 15 years. Did you notice she didn’t even bother to change her name this time? Because she knows that it’s going to save her a paperwork nightmare in six months when it’s over. And it will be over sweetie. Because you are at least ten years younger than her and you were on borrowed time well before you slipped that ring on her finger. Just take my advice now and squirrel away some of the small appliance wedding gifts. You will need them when you are setting up your bachelor pad again next spring.
– (To the arrogant guidance counselor who approached me in the hall to tell me I was “right” about my data). Right. About the data. Well thank you. Im pretty good with the whole FACT thing. For instance, the FACT that you’ve demeaned me and every clinical team I ever worked with for years does not make your affirmation of my data complimentary. Want to know another fact Im “right” about? How about you’re an uneducated boob?
-(To the doctor who told me I had poor “sleep hygiene”) We both know you said that because you wanted me to feel dirty. You aren’t fooling anybody jack-ass. And know what else? You are a sucky doctor who has poor social hygiene. That’s right because my family and I saw you in the grocery store alone on Friday night. At first we thought it was a sweet salt-of-the-earthish thing that you were doing the shopping alone. Now it’s clear that you did it either because your family hates you or because you are bitter and alone.
Speaking of poor social hygiene, something is seriously wrong with the soccer coach. Despite the fact that he asked me what the kids should call me, he refuses to call me crse, instead sticking to my proper name. Ok but that’s not all. He says things like “ok kids don’t kick the ball at the boys” referring of course to his…boys. And when I do the obvious and laugh, he looks annoyed. He’s really nice but something does not make sense to me cognitively. Don’t worry, Ill keep you posted….