February 25, 2009

Bitches be Bitches

I learned at a young age that girls were the object of my affection. I learned at a slightly older age that they can't be trusted. This is the story (DUN DUN)...

Getcha popcorn ready and let's flashback to the 5th grade. My 5th grade. Leonard Lawrence Elementary in Bellevue, Nebraska (suburban Omaha...yes there's a suburban Omaha). Our mascot was the Leopards.

Yep, the Leonard Lawrence Leopards. And this is an appropriate mascot. It's where I learned chasing pussy is dangerous.

It was there on that tiny playground at the ripe age of 11 where I learned one of life's most important lessons. A place where dreams were made, where legends honed their streetball skills and where bitches be bitches.

My 5th grade teacher was one of the best teachers I've ever had (or so I thought). I'm not going to say her name because I'm only 3 entries into this blog and 4 people have already read it...maybe even 5. So it's just a matter of time before old teachers and old flames start stumbling upon this blog and I have to remove the link two paragraphs above and change the name of the school to Schmenard Schmorence Middle.

So anyways, the teacher,we'll call her Mrs. Elway, was really something. She was a fortysomething tomboy who frequently helmed the quarterback position at recess. She and I had a Marino/Clayton, Manning/Harrison, Thigpen/Gonzalez connection on the practice field, and it carried over into the classroom where I was one of her favorite students.

I reached UFS status (Undisputed Favorite Student) with my Tony Award-nominated puppet show, Froggielocks, an epic tale of perseverance and redemption adapted from Goldie Locks and the Three Bears. I wrote, produced, directed and starred in the production, which required me to fearlessly peform a blonde girl's accent in front of a room full of quick-to-judge 11 year-old classmates. A legend was like, totally born that day.

Everything was going flawlessly my 5th grade year. My teacher liked me. I liked my teacher. I was developing my playwrighting skills. I was catching the eye of a few elementary co-eds. I was profiting immensely from the prostitution ring I was running from my parents' basement. Life was good. And then it happened...

Me and one of my buds decided to talk to a couple of the cuties from class at recess. I was on top of the world and my buddy was brimming with confidence following his supporting role in Froggielocks. Ain't no thang.

Given that I was a campus icon, I didn't feel the need to work on my game. I thought I had the necessary credentials.

I walked right over to them. Grabbed my crotch. Shook my right leg. And let out an EEE-HEE!! so powerful only pre-pedophile Michael Jackson could fully appreciate. CHITTITTY LOCK UM HMMMMMMMMM. EEE-HEE!!! One more crotch grab and the girls were eating this shit up.

It was (and still is) the ultimate icebreaker. We giggled like only school kids could giggle until recess ended. Fifteen minutes later, my universe would collapse on itself...

"Jason, I need you to come outside with me for a minute," Mrs. Elway said.

A couple of your classmates said you grabbed yourself in front of them at recess. Is that true?

Yeah. I was just giving them what they wanted.



Okay, okay. That's not what I said...

How awkward of a scenario is this? Holy shit. Looking back it still makes me laugh my ass off. So there I am, staring at the ground with my hands in my pockets. Embarassed as hell. And fucking pissed that those little bitches ratted me out after laughing and playing with me like they wanted to have my babies...

Yeah. It's true. I was just messing around though. Doing my Michael Jackson impression.

I'm pretty sure Mrs. Elway was fighting back the laughs when she hit me with the next line...

Well, this is pretty serious. You know that's extremely inappropriate and you can't go around touching your privates in front of girls. Gentlemen don't act that way.

I thought it would end here with a steady tongue lashing. But I was wrong. Even Mrs. Elway couldn't be trusted. Even she would betray me in the end...

Unfortunately, I'm going to have to call your mom and tell her about this...

What a bitch. The sheer embarassment from my teacher telling me I shouldn't touch my privates in front of girls was enough to ruin my first dozen sexual experiences. The lesser of two lessons was already learned. Now she was just rubbing salt in my peehole.

School ends. Mrs. Elway takes me with her to the teacher's office area. Picks up the phone. Calls my mom.

"Mrs. (my last name), I'm calling to let you know that Jason got in to some trouble today. He did something inappropriate at recess. He was playing with a couple of the girls and he...ahem...he touched his privates and did some kind of dance. I just thought you should know..."

My poor mom. The only woman I could trust at the time and I embarassed her. I haven't ever talked to her about what she was thinking on the other end of the phone, but I always imagined her holding back laughter thinking...

My son is a dipshit.

But she reconfirmed my trust in her when she picked me up and didn't say a damn thing about it. The look on my face alone must have said...

Mom, it's cool. I'll only touch my genitalia in private. At least until I'm 12.

The greater of the two lessons learned?

Never trust something that bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die.

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