Speaking of orange floppy lumps of fish flesh, I have to show you this shirt I’ve been wanting for some time:
I wish things like terminal velocity and whatnot had been taught in the manner of Pokemon while I was in school. Maybe I would have, you know, understood it if it had. That sort of…stuff…and physical science and atoms and neutrons and protons and buttsex completely and utterly escaped my mind and I just could never comprehend how it all worked. It probably didn’t help that my Physical Science teacher was the biggest nozzle of all of the douches in the world. (Sorry Mr. Bryan, but you know it’s true.)
In fact, he was such a d-bag I would often complain about him to my parents. Now, I was a good kid. I never talked back, never disrespected my teachers or any of that crap. And during one fine afternoon — after returning from a dentist appointment — I walked into class, which was about 15 minutes in and dead silent because of a lecture Mr. Bryan was giving. He stopped his presentation, turned to me and said, “Next time you have an issue with me, don’t complain to your mom and have her call me. Talk to me yourself.” He then looked away and continued his lecture.
I BLAME YOU FOR MY LACK OF UNDERSTANDING OF THE PHYSICAL WORLD, MR. BRYAN! I BLAME YOOOOOU!!!
I think this was therapeutic for me. Thanks for listening about my troubled childhood, guys.