TMI Thursday: Green Eggs and Ham? I don't think so!

Once again, as "Rocket Scientist By Day, Dirty Libriarian By Night", Lilu says

 ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!***

Does anyone else remember those little juice containers that were shaped like barrels and had a round piece of foil over the top that you had to peel back?  And the flavors were red, orange and purple (‘cause they tasted like the colors, not any flavor, yo)?  And they couldn’t have possibly been good for kids, but they were cheap so parents bought them anyway?  Well, this story isn’t about that, but it plays a roll in it.

I can remember clearly what I had for lunch that day.  In case you didn’t know, I have a super awesome memory.  Ask Cat.  Seriously, I remember more about my childhood than other people remember.  Anyhoo, what I had for lunch that day was a bologna and American cheese sandwich on wheat bread (my mom never bought white bread), a granola bar, an apple, a hard boiled egg and one of those barrel drinks, red flavored.

My best friend (in elementary school, at least), Robin, and I were sitting on the benches right outside the cafeteria away from everyone else because we were cool like that (actually, we weren’t cool at all, seeing as I had on my sweater with and elephant head whose trunk ran down and arm and Robin was wearing a dress her mom made for her that was brown and green and reminiscent of Heidi).  Anyhoo, we ate our lunch and then went to play on the playground.  And all was well. 

Let me set this up for you now, now that you know a slight back story.

The year was 1984.  Winter of 1984 (well, kinda…Long Beach, California doesn’t exactly have a winter, but it was the time of year and I was wearing that stupid sweater so it might have dipped into the lower 70’s that day).  The place was the last row to the right, third desk back in Mrs. van der Moore’s third grade classroom.  In front of me was Eddie.  In back of me was Veronica (who I hated because she got to be one of the Cinderella’s in our Girl Scout troop's  play…but she was ugly and a bitch and I had to be Gus, the fat mouse and I hated that she got…wait, sorry…I got off track here).  It was nearing the end of the day, like maybe 15-20 minutes left of class. 

And I suddenly was not feeling well at all.  At all, at all.  And I raided my hand to let Mrs. Bitch van der Moore know I wasn’t feeling well.  She ignored me.  So I started shaking my hand around in the air.  You know what I’m talking about.  Flinging the old hand all over the place.  She still ignored.  I kept my hand up there.  I did the arm hold move where you place your opposite elbow on the desk and use that hand to prop your tired arm in the air.  She still ignored me.

So I talked out of turn.  I said, “Mrs. van der Moore, I don’t feel well!”.  And she turned around and glared at me.  GLARED at me. 

“Can I please go to the bathroom?  I don’t feel well.”

“No.”

So there I was.  I wasn’t feeling well.  And I knew something was going to happen.  Something bad.  So I raised my hand again.

And as I opened my mouth to tell her again that I didn’t feel well, it happened.  I threw up all over the fucking floor.  And it splattered.  Red.  Bright, fake red juice with chunks of bologna and American cheese.  Chunks of apple.  And dyed-red chunks of HARD BOILED EGG. 

And that bitch of a teacher just stood there for a moment, speechless.  Eddie, my savior, ran out of the room and down the hall to get my mom, who walked up to the school everyday to walk home with me.  Robin jumped up and came to semi-comfort me.  And that stupid teacher just started fuming.  Fuming!

When my mom came running into the room and saw me sitting there, in my stupid elephant sweater, sobbing and thoroughly embarrassed, the bitch teacher came running up and pretended to be worried.

“Stephanie, oh Stephanie, what happened, sugar (my mom was born and raised in  Tennessee…sugar is everyone’s name)?”, my mommy asked.

“I didn’t feel well and then I threw up!” I sobbed.

“Well, next time you need to let your teacher know so that you can go to the restroom, ok?” my mother said gently whilst hugging me.

“I did, mommy, and she said no and I tried to tell her over and over again but she didn’t call on me!” I sob.

My mom looks up at Mrs. van der Moore.

“She didn’t let me know at all”, the cunt says.

“Yah huh…she did raiser her and hand ask and she said no”, pipes in Eddie.

“Yeah, we heard her”, says Robin.

To which my mother gives Mrs. van der Moore a hard look.

Guess which teacher was in the principal’s office the next day for a principal/teacher/parent conference?

Comments

[BigSis]

Go Mom!

[inkpuddle]

Awwww, what a charming teacher.

Also, you should know I had a nightmare last night about being locked in an elevator and dropped 28 floors into the basement level of whatever building I was in so that no one would find me. I blame you. :)

[LiLu]

YESSSSSS. Your mama rocks! :-)

[*PinkNic*]

Served that bitch right!!

Yay for mums! Mine would have done the same.

[verybadcat]

You should have puked on the teacher. ;)

[Stephanie]

BigSis-no freaking doubt!

Inky-I iz sowwy....kinda...

Lilu-I agree!

Pink-I'm glad to see I'm not the only one to call her a bitch...stupid teacher...

Cat-if she had been close enough I could have tried projectile

[Miranda]

Awful! You poor thing. I can't imagine having a teacher that mean.

[ikss / Karen]

Not only does your mom rock, but so do your grade school friends!

[Jill Pilgrim]

"Does anyone else remember those little juice containers that were shaped like barrels and had a round piece of foil over the top that you had to peel back? And the flavors were red, orange and purple (‘cause they tasted like the colors, not any flavor, yo)?"

DUDE! I loved those things! Purple was my favorite!

[Taylor]

Why, yes, I do remember those drinks! And I loved them.

I'm SO glad the other kids in the class spoke up, HA! Hope the bitch got fired.

[Stephanie]

Miranda-oh, it happened...and dhe was a bitch...I hope she reades this.

Jkss-don't they?

Jill-Purple flavor is my fave, too!

Taylor-she didn't get fied...but she had a son...who was dealing with her..a tiny son..poor soul

[Zandria]

I don't understand why teachers tell students they can't go to the bathroom. I'm surprised more kids haven't peed/shit/puked in the classroom. Serves her right. Betch.

[Mb]

Nice. I'm glad your mom called Ms. Bitch out. My mom had to do something similar once and best believe the teacher never effed with me again. Altho I didn't have to throw up red barrel drink for it. Spew.

[Sean]

The little juice containers were called Little Hugs in Pittsburgh. Were they called that everywhere else?

[Stephanie]

Zandria-I think it's a control issue...you know, nothing else in their lives go the way they want, but they can take control over kids....their mommies and daddies weren't very nice to them....

Mb-high five for moms!

Sean-I dunno...they may have been called that in Cali, too...I just remember that I could only have one a day at lunch because all the cool kids had them and I begged my mom for them...of course, all the cool kids sat inside and ate I didn't unless it was raining, so in the end what was the freaking point, you know?