Topic: I See A Lot Of Websites And This Is The Funniest Damn Thing I Have Seen In Ages

[Pandora]

I never did any of that stuff.

You were never a teenage boy.

 

Was too!  And Black.

[Libertas]

 

[AlanS]

Was too!  And Black.

I was born a poor black child.

[IronDioPriest]

I Was Born A Poor Black Child

[Pandora]

Exactly.

[John Florida]

I got two weeks for thowing my desk across the room.That bitch failed me for not using a pen for a test that I got a A on.

 I refused to apologise for it,and never did either.

[trapeze]

I never did any of that stuff.

You were never a teenage boy.

 

My rebellion took more of a technological edge.

In my sophomore year I discovered that all of the analog clocks were synchronized. I also discovered how and where they were synchronized. I also discovered how and where the bells were controlled.

This knowledge allowed me to advance the time on the school clocks and then ring the bells to dismiss classes (usually at the end of the day).

I also held my own fire drills (ringing the bells three times in a row would cause everyone to get up and file out the doors).

Oh, the fun I had that year.

And I never did get caught.

Teachers would stand there, mouths open, and watch the clocks advance ten, fifteen or twenty minutes in the space of thirty seconds and then the bell would ring and their students would get up and leave. Cracked me up every time.

I didn't do it too often. No more than once a week.

Terrific fun.

[IronDioPriest]

Our school had the "Little Store", where kids could buy soda, snacks, candy, etc. It was a revenue generator for the school, and the various clubs and orgs ran fund-raisers out of there.

There was no school-wide ban on transporting and eating these snacks. It was assumed that since we used our own money, what we purchased in the store was our business. If a particular teacher didn't want food or drink in class, they would say so, and it was expected that their wishes would be respected.

I made the mistake of taking an "interpersonal communications" class because a hot chick told me it was easy and that I should take it. The teacher and I did not hit it off, to say the least. He hated me for some reason I never knew, and that just encouraged me to show him disrespect every chance I got.

One day per week we'd have a large-group lecture class where all the IPC classes would meet at the same time, and the different teachers would rotate. It was always understood that the large group lecture classes were OK for snacks. I brought Peanut M&Ms on a day Mr. Charpentier lectured, and for whatever reason, he singled me out and chose to make some kind of authoritarian example of me. He told me to give him the M&Ms. I said no, I paid for them. If you want me to put them away until after class, I'll put them in my binder, which I then proceeded to do.

He began walking quickly towards me, yelling, "I told you to give them to me!" I laughed and refused, and reiterated - I put them away, it's not going to be a problem, I won't eat any more, it's never been a problem before, but you're the teacher, if you don't want me to eat them I won't, but I'm not giving them to you.

He actually approached me, grabbed my shirt, and lifted me out of my chair, screaming, "I told you to give me the candy!" Alarmed at being manhandled, I grabbed him right back, so we had one another in both fists by the shirt-collar. I was bigger than him.

He screamed, "You're coming to the office with me!" I screamed back at him, "No, YOU'RE coming to the office with ME!" And we proceeded to haul each other down to the vice-principle's office.

We burst in (the VP and I were on a first name basis, not in a good way), and I told the VP, "This guys giving me sh*t! He's trying to take my candy that I paid for, when all he had to do was ask me to put it away. It was never a rule until today!" I was yelling at the top of my lungs.

The VP said to the teacher, "Don? How about you head back to class and let me and IDP work this out." He said to me, "I think you'd better take the rest of the day off and calm down." My buddies and I left for the rest of the day. (It was easy for them to skip out because with the Mod Scheduling, unless you had a scheduled class, there was no accounting for your whereabouts.)

When I returned to class the next day, I was no longer in Mr. Charpentier's class. I was transferred to another class, and I got along with the teacher just fine.

[Libertas]

They called you IDP even then?

 

Me, I was a smart-ass, I know, shocking, ain't it?!  Some teachers would joke along with me and tell me when enough is enough, others had not an ounce of joy in them so instead I turned my focus to the cute girls in class.  My other antics landed me in VP office too many times to count.  He hated me, I hated him, other than that we got along fine.  I went to a pretty rowdy high-school.  Between first bell and last your ass was theirs, but the cat & mouse games never ended.  Smoking, partying and getting into everything and anything...I was a handful back then.  Pretty good training for going into the military I must admit though.  I had a ton of fun, got in some trouble but man was life a blast.  I could have used a tech-savvy guy like you back in my day IDP...short of operating an ancient PA system or running a neolithic projector in the gym, we really didn't have technology per se!  Tossing a firecracker in the john was high-tech for us.

[IronDioPriest]

I puked on my vice principal. Senior skip day, when I was a junior, me and my buddies went to the quarries swimming real early in the morning before school hours, drinking southern comfort and smoking weed. (I got to share a joint with Robin Ritchie that morning - it was a highlight of my teenage years).

Somehow, somebody thought it would be a great idea to go to school and harass some of our buddies that didn't skip with us. We got there before school even started.

I remember puking out the window of my buddy Mike's car into the school parking lot. The next thing I remember is awakening to being slapped in the face. I was in the school bathroom, on the toilet, and the vice principal was slapping me, yelling my name. When I came to, he asked me if I'd been drinking. I said "No, I just don't feel good." Then I puked, right on him. I remember the look and sound of it splashing on his belt-buckle, down his pants, and seeing it land on his wingtip shoes. I remember him lurching back against the tile wall as if he'd been punched in the gut, gasping for air, trying to avoid puking himself.

The next thing I remember is waking up in my driveway in the backseat of the VP's car. I looked out the window to see him at my front door, and then coming back and saying "nobody's home" to his assistant sitting shotgun.

Next thing I remember was waking up in detox, my mother weeping at the bedside, and a doctor telling me I was lucky to be alive - blood alcohol level was just under .40, and I had been passed out from before school until about 8 at night.

My friends refer to that following summer as the summer I missed. I was grounded the entire summer between my junior and senior year, and I still hear tales of their many exploits to this day. I learned a huge lesson, and the experience kept me completely off booze until I was about 22. I couldn't smell it without being nauseous, and to this day, the smell of Southern Comfort makes my mouth water in a bad, bad way.

The next year, I was suspended for the first two weeks of school. When I finally faced the VP, there was always an understanding look in his eyes. I was from that point forward the kid who puked on him. Even at our class reunions, I could see it in his eyes. I gave him a memorable experience he'll never forget. A "life-moment".

[Libertas]

Dayum, never did that, and I thought I did it all!

I learned early on in life not to mix drinks.  Finish what you start with.

I remember staggering home from a kegger (I went to a lot of keggers) and it was one of those 2 steps to the side/1 forward deals, seemed like it took forever to get home...and I was only about a mile and a half away!  Stink like stale beer and smoke, pants soaked from the late summer dew (why did I walk through that field of high grass?)...Finally got home around 5am, trying to be real quiet opening the door (yeah, real quiet, took like 5 minutes to unlock the door and enter!), went in and started going down stairs to my room...For some reason half way down I thought it would be a good idea to start taking my wet pants off...lost my balance and tumbled to the bottom...as I lay there I thought "maybe nobody heard that?" (yeah, right, dumbass!)...I hear my father say "We'll talk later"...I mumble "Mmmkay" and stagger to my bed and fall face down on it.  That was a legendary hangover.  Father only talked to me...surprised the heck out of me, I was expecting a record-setting whuppin'.  Somehow the non-whuppin' seemed more unpleasant.