Chris and I followed Charlie to a "cocktail party" on Saturday night. It started off well enough--I got to use my The Lakers flask (which means you know I was gonna get fucked up--I've definitely noticed a correlation there). And I got to do my cripwalk a bunch, which has really been improving by leaps and bounds. I explained to Chris that one of the problems with his cripwalk was that he wears too tight of jeans. He wasn’t really receptive to my feedback. Anyway, when we arrived at the party we were all sweaty from walking straight up hill for like 60 straight blocks. So we posted out front while we cooled off. Then, when we finally went in, we were told to take off our shoes. Ew. Chris and I briefly conferred and decided that we should still stay (we brought cheese). There were funny (read: lame) people there. I got drunk and talked about them loudly. I got drunker and started doing my cripwalk at this "young adults" party. There was some danger in this, as I was holding red wine whilst doing the cripwalk, and I can only assume that they highly value their carpet since I had to take my fucking shoes off and it wasn’t a culture-based house policy, if you know what I'm sayin. I bonded with some guy over Magnum PI and Flavor of Love (we gotta talk about that), then got drunker still and actually stuck my dick through the front deck fencing and peed off their 2nd floor deck onto the street below. Sweet. Then I stayed outside, chillin, for a while. Every time a group of people would walk by, some of them would step in my pee and I would giggle.

I proctored the PSATs this past weekend. I told some of the kids that I am a proctorologist. This one girl laughed, but the other kids didn’t. I said, "Don’t you know what a proctologist is?" to the other kids; they said no. I said she'll tell you, pointing to the girl that laughed. The girl that laughed said, "I don’t know what it means, I just like to laugh." How true. I told them it was a butt doctor. Then they all laughed. With purpose.

In case you haven't heard, San Francisco's mayor, 39-year-old Gavin Newsom, has just started dating a 20-year-old girl. Um, that is so fucking gross, I don't know what to say. I must admit, however, that the weirdest part to me is that there are 20 year old registered Republicans in San Francisco. I mean, I guess there are plenty in the city, but not in the areas in which I hang.

I really like how my mayor looks like a cheesy "Men's Warehouse" ad guy or something in that photograph.

I think that I made this up when I was a drunk (as a way to talk shit): "What came first: Did she dye her hair or become a slut?" It's kind of a new take on a classic (the chicken or the egg thing).

Sage got me watching Flavor of Love, and one of the best scenes of it was when one of the girls called another girl a "Bobble-headed bitch." If you know what girls look like when they are talking shit, then you know how extra funny that is.

PS Yes, I managed to work the bobble-headed part of it into my classroom.

PPS Flavor of Love is gross and fucked up (it is the only reality show I've ever watched), yet it is/was one of my favorite shows on television...and I think one of the best. It has everything that a person could possibly ask for in terms of compelling television. Dynamic characters, catch phrases, posses, sex, drama, fighting, both intentional and unintentional comedy, characters you love (I heart Bootz and Buckeey) and characters you hate (New York, Buckwild, and New York's mom). It also has the David Lynch-like bizarre, seeing as how half of the girls are men in disguise (New York, New York's mom, Deelishus). Also, one of my favorite parts is at the end of an episode, when a girl has been eliminated and is being interviewed, her name shows up on the TV as her Flav nickname, then fades out and is replaced by her real name. I'm not sure exactly why, but it makes my heart skip a beat...

PPPS I want my cell phone's text message alert sound to be Flav going "WAAOOOOOOOW."

We were reading Lord of the Flies and one of my homework questions was to write about a childhood beast or monster, and provide any insight as to where it came from or what it symbolized. I was shocked when almost half of my students in each class reported back that their childhood beast/monster fear came from a threat that their parents made to them. Most of these kids were traumatized as youngsters by a monster that would come from out of their closet/under their bed and eat/kill/strangle/beat them if they didn’t eat their vegetables, do their homework, clean their room, do their chores, or whatever the parental objective was. That is messed up. These kids dreaded these monsters that their parents created. Had nightmares about them and everything. This was the impetus for my new theory that parents should be forced to pay for the first 5 years of their children's therapy, should their son/daughter elect to go later in life. Let's face it, whoever we are (or aren't), it's our parents' fault.

It's hard being a smoker in this too persecuted world. One of the ways that I cope is when I go to a bar bathroom, if it is one of those one-hitters where you close and lock the door behind you, I go ahead and light up a cigarette while I am taking a leak. Show those fuckers. I just have to hope that Bert isn't in line behind me; he might narc on me to the bar-back.

By the way, did you see that they want to add more tax to cigarettes? They used to be like 2 bucks a pack not all that long ago. Now they are at least 4.50 at most places. The proposition would raise cigarettes to like 7 dollars a pack in California. First smokers had to pay to kill themselves. Then they had to pay to kill themselves and pay for the hospital fees. Then they had to pay to kill themselves, pay for the hospital fees, and pay for the new anti-smoking commercials campaigns. Now they have to pay to kill themselves, pay for the hospital fees, pay for the new anti-smoking commercials campaigns, and pay for the state government's inability to balance a proper budget. Weaksauce. And most people see a proposition like that, they don’t even think about it. They block vote: Fuck the smokers. Not fair. Again I am reminded of Bert...

You remember how painfully-fucking-slowly kids walk in the crowded ass hallways in high school? Damn, that drives me nuts. If it bugged you when you were a hyperactive kid, imagine how annoying it would be to you as a hyperactive adult (heh, I am an adult) who has about 4 minutes (it takes the first minute to get the last post-class questions answered) to get all the way to the bathroom, piss, wash up, walk all the way back, erase the board, put up a new agenda and free write, tidy up the room, and pull out the proper handouts for the next class. Not good times...

The newest thing that is making kids walk painfully-fucking-slowly, which drives me nuts, is kids sharing IPOD ear bud headphones. Really, you have to walk down the hallway listening to half a song with your friend? Walking a half a mile at a half a mile per hour takes a whole fucking hour. Know what I'm saying? (and I don’t even teach math) I think that my new defense for this is going to be to walk down the hallway with scissors. Every time there are 2 kids walking down the hallway painfully-fucking-slowly, looking like Siamese twins, I will just snip their metaphorical umbilical cord and push right through. Argh.

This was actually 1 of the 2 biggest fears I had about teaching high school (the painfully-fucking-slowly walking through the hallway thing) The other was the chalkboard; I just didn’t know if I got stuck in some old school classroom with a chalkboard if I would be able to deal with writing on it. I would just have goose bumps all the time. But I have a dry erase board and I couldn’t be happier about it. Thank you.

Jenn's mom is so cheap: Jenn's mom is so cheap that she would always load up, fear-of-a-nuclear-war style, with whatever non-perishable canned goods were on sale at the market. The thing is, she wasn’t afraid of nuclear war. She was cheap. You know how the markets advertise their for sale items and in small print it always says something like "limit 8 per customer" and you don’t even see that small print but if/when you do, you think, "Jesus, who the hell needs more than 8 cans of garbanzo beans?" Well if the price is right, Jenn's mom does. She would give 11 year old Jenn and her poor 7 year old younger brother money and cans and have these poor little kids get in separate lines to buy the limit in the sale items as well. Sweet, now we have 24 cans of garbanzo beans! I wonder what's for dinner this week. Merits mentioning that Jenn's mom would also take regular trips to the back of the market, to the dented-cans-discount-section and get crazy. Jenn's mom was the type of lady whose marketing purchase choices were strictly dictated by sale items. She was, however known to make the sale come to her from time to time. That is, she was known to take a perfectly fine can and put the dent in it herself if it were something that she needed, but that wasn’t on sale already. She would also actually drive from market to market to load up on the variety of "for sale" items that interested her (which is totally different than how some of us buy our milk, eggs, cheese, frozen food, etc at Trader Joes, our produce at a produce stand, and our refried beans and mayonnaise at a regular market, like I do).

I don’t have any charming anecdotes for this that guy, but I can tell you that his sister is a Major in the Air Force. And his list is pretty fucking impressive, considering that he has only been making movies for less than 15 years...Talk about a that guy with upside.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith
The Longest Yard
Empire Falls
The Chumscrubber
Crash
Equilibrium
Black Hawk Down
Pearl Harbor
The Perfect Storm
Go
Armageddon
Contact
Drowning Mona
Albino Alligator
Heat
Strange Days
Virtuosity
Quiz Show
Malcolm X

by Justin
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