brain cell shootings

You know what? When I started running out of diary entry ideas by the, oh, I don't know, third day I had this diary, I thought, 'Yeah, I'll have more ideas for entries when school starts.' And do you know what else? This is the third day of school, and I'm not getting any ideas. So prepare to feel your ass slip into a deep, deep sleep as you read my incessant ramblings.

For some reason, I got the impression that high school would be a little more logical than junior high. Here are some minor things I observed at the sick, sick junior high I went to ('sick' as in it's filled with sick fucks, not 'sick = kickass.' Carson Daly uses 'sick,' all right? That should be reason enough spit on its smoldering ruins).

• 'I'm not a people person.' - Mr. Tobias, my 8th grade teacher. Uh, forgive me, but why did this man become a teacher again? He should've gotten some job where he'd work with dead jelly things in tubes.
• Picture frames were hung on the walls. Not only were they empty, but they were sideways. Not crooked -- sideways.
• There were TVs in every room of the school, yet every time we had to watch a movie, they rolled in this tv that must be older than my dead grandparents, and with a screen twice as small (than the other TVs, not my dead grandparents).
• There are recycle bins scattered around the building, but the school cannot afford a recycling service. In 5th grade they talked about the importance of recycling and told us that if we did not recycle, we HAD to. HAD to or our house would be mysteriously burned to the ground.
• The school was millions upon millions of dollars in debt and set up fundraisers often. They purchased fish tanks with exotic fish with the money.
• Also because of the budget problems, many teachers lost their jobs, forcing other teachers to work overtime at other schools in the district. The money that could've paid new teachers and relieved the stress of other staff members was used to purchase gym equipment and pay the three (3) gym teachers. there was one (1) band teacher, and she worked at two different schools. There were three (3) gym teachers. Three (3) gym teachers.
• Mr. Tobias had us write a list of supplies for his class in our notebook. In. Our. Notebook. Level of pointlessness: Off the scale.
• Mr. Tobias does not believe that humans and other such animals receive vitamins from the sun.
• Mr. Tobias made us do a project on toilet paper and expected us to be mature.
• The cafeteria and auditorium were merged into one and was called the 'cafetorium.'
• The principal stuffed his walkie-talkie down the back of his pants. His ass frequently spoke.
• The principal yelled at me for eating a sandwich.
• The principal was angered when I walked in the front doors of the school.
• There were three sets of double doors going into the cafeteria. We were forced to serve detention if we walked through one of the two sets of doors that two teachers didn't guard. The other doors were left unlocked, and using them minimized traffic. They could've impaled spoons into our foreheads as punishment, and it would've been less severe than what they did to us when we walked through those other doors.
• We could only go to the snack bar for the first 5 minutes of lunch (lunch was 15 minutes long), but we couldn't buy anything from the snack bar until we finished our real lunches first.
• One year they gave us schedules that were completely incorrect, and the staff members knew that they were incorrect. The only correct information on them was the student names.
• It goes on and on...

So yeah, for some reason I assumed (that was my mistake right there, you never make assumptions in district #197) that high school would be a little more organized. Just like I assumed that American children would not succumb to the pathetically weak temptation of collecting Pok�mon cards.

But hey, there's a happy ending. My Japanese teacher (Japanese is the only reason I stayed in the district) hardly knows any English. Recently she started teaching us hiragana (a set of about 50 characters). I think my class is doing worse than illiterate Japanese children.

We also picked out Japanese names for ourselves. One person chose Wang (Penny Arcade!). His nametag reads 'Wang the Great'. Someone else chose Moocow, which sounds like a name that was originally chosen, Mikau. Moocow-san. Mr. Moocow. Some other poor soul who wants to transfer into French (poor indeed) now calls himself Sony.

Oh, and I saw a very disturbing company logo on TV the other day � 'IDT Long Distance - We do it for less.'

(The subject train reels off the tracks, killing millions of innocent brain cells.)