Uh, oops. I haven't counted or anything, but I'm pretty sure at least 50% of my posts talk about how incredibly awesome I am. It's even in my profile.
I suppose if I really want more followers, I could put a stop to my awesome talk and from this day forward never mention again that I one of the most fan-freaking-tabulous people on the planet, but...I've always been a rebel. It's pretty much what I was known for growing up. Like in school, we weren't allowed to walk on the grass. Walking on the grass was pretty much the equivalent of murder. In fact, you'd probably get in less trouble if you murdered a fellow classmate than if you stepped on a patch of grass trying to get around students clogging the hallway so you could get to class on time. Because being late to class was the second worse thing you could do. No wait, make that the third. Wait, I mean the fourth.
Now that I have completely digressed, I might as well share the hierarchy of crimes at my school.
In order of worst to least worst (but still pretty freaking bad)
1. Walking on the grass
2. Having your skirt shorter than two inches above the knee (this obviously only applied to the girls, which was like double punishment for us, because there was no male punishment equivalent to getting in trouble for inappropriate dress. Looking back, it's no wonder so many girls at my high school were whores. The way they determined if your skirt was too short? They made you GET ON YOUR KNEES so they could measure. This happened at least once a week. It's like they were training us on how to give proper blow jobs).
4. Being late to class
There. Those are pretty much the worst things you could...oh crap, screw the whole list. I forgot about the absolutely, positively most horrible thing a student could do: Come in contact with a member of the opposite sex.
There was an unspoken, unwritten, but completely understood rule that six inches must be kept between boys and girls AT ALL TIMES. If you committed this heinous crime, accidentally or on purpose, you might as well buy a gun, pull the trigger and end your life because the teachers were just going to do it for you.
But back to walking on grass. Like I said walking on grass = murder. And being the
I was so rebellious in high school that, if a teacher had to leave the room for a minute, they would put me in charge. You know, because I was such a bad student. I was supposed to tell the teacher if anyone talked while she was gone. Of course kids talked, and of course when the teacher got back I
Back to the point.
What? What's a tally?
Oh, shit y'all. I could probably write a whole post devoted to tallies.
Let’s see, in elementary school tallies were worms with smiley faces or pipe-cleaners or something else super awesome that, on the surface, seemed like something you would totally want to put in the little pouch on the bulletin board with your name on it. And they were all different colors, making eight year olds who liked rainbows and pretty colors want to collect them. But tallies were bad. Especially the red ones. One red tally was equal to FIVE of any other color tally. If you got three tallies before lunch, you were punished with silent lunch. That’s right, they took away your one opportunity to talk the entire day. Four tallies in one day and you got lunch detention the following day. And your mom would make you write an apology note to the teacher and give him a box of chocolates.
There were seven things evil little children could get tallies for. SEVEN! you say. How is a child supposed to remember seven different evil, horrible, despicable behaviors they were supposed to never ever do for fear THE TALLY?
The answer: ACRONYM. That’s right. The administration at my school loved punishment so very much they created a happy little saying to help us remember. HOW I ACT.
H is for Homework (yellow tally)
O is for Out of Order (orange tally)
W is for Written Communication (green tally)
I is for INTENTIONAL. This is the evil red tally also known as a FIVE.
A is for Attitude (dark blue tally)
C is for…um…oh no! I don’t remember. Fellow TKAers help me out! (light blue tally)
T is for Talking (pink tally)
(TKAers, did I get all those colors right?)
As you got older, the tallies became yellow cards with boxes next to the letters so you could check off what evil crime you committed. But that wasn’t enough. To the left of the acronym were blank lines where you had to describe what you did. Most of us would just write “talking” or “forgot homework”, but the really, er, creative kids would write, “didn’t do my homework because I refuse to conform to your Nazi communist ways.” Writing that on a tally almost always got you at least one more tally.
All of us thought tallies were stupid and annoying, which they were, and I’m not entirely sure how affective they were. The good kids hardly got any because they were good. And the bad kids got a lot because they didn’t give a shit. I think we were all pretty happy when we graduated and commenced a life without tallies.
However, now that I’ve had a few years away from it all, I wish the tally system were implemented in the real world. You know, when people annoyed you, or cut you off, or messed up your order, or didn’t do their job, or took forever to bring you your drink, or were rude, or stole your boyfriend, or were out of your shoe size in the totally cute stilettos you just had to have, you could give them a tally. Except the adult tally system would look like this:
H is for Humongous Bitch (yellow)
O is for OMG would you shut the hell up (orange)
W is for Whiny Pathetic Jerkoff (green)
I is for Incompetent Idiot (red)
A is for Asshole (dark blue)
C is for Cunt (light blue)
T is for Total Douche (pink)
If the tally system were implemented in the adult world and your coworker took credit for your idea, you could give her light blue tally.
She’d be like “what the f*ck is this?”
And you’d be like, “it’s a tally bitch. Ten more of those this week and you’ll get detention. A few more detentions and you’ll be suspended from the cheering squad. And your squadmates are going to be hella pissed because they can’t do this stunt without you and this stunt is a critical part of the Nationals routine and your squad is totally going to place this year, but they can't unless they master this stunt, which they can't do without you, so you better get your f*cking act together and stop stealing my ideas.”
And she would totally never take credit for your ideas again, because everyone knows you don’t f*cking mess with cheerleaders going to Nationals.
I’m pretty sure I just digressed on my digression. The point of this story is that I’m a rebel. Well, the original point was to (once again) tell y’all how awesome I am, but then I read how doing that is exactly the opposite of what you should do to get followers. And then I was like, f*ck that, I’m rebellious.
So in keeping with my rebellious nature, I'm going to write yet another post about how awesome I am by telling you about my special talents. However, after all that talk of tallies, and instilling a fear of grass in small children, and teaching teenage girls how to give blow jobs under the guise of measuring the length of their skirts, I think my special talents might be a little anticlimactic. But I am not one who doesn't finish what she started, so here they are. My special talents.
Special Talent #1
I have the ability to fall both down and up stairs. For absolutely no reason whatsoever. Big deal, you say, anyone can fall down stairs. This is true, but no one can fall down the stairs the way I do. I take a step down concrete stairs and my shoes, which have absolutely no traction and have contributed to no less than four near death experiences when wearing them, slip out from underneath me. I bet you're imagining I fall backwards and slide down the stairs on my ass. But remember, I have special talents. Which means my foot slides forward off the stairs and somehow manages to fold underneath me, taking the other one with it so that I am sliding down concrete stairs on my shins where I finally crash into the railing, which saves me from the sidewalk where I would have landed face first. I am so good at this supernatural feat, I end up only mildly shaken up, scrape the skin off only one shin and get a, relatively, small bruise on the other.
I first discovered my ability to fall down stairs in such an awesome way when I was in college. I was leading my psychology class down a flight of stairs and my foot slipped out from underneath me. In front of the whole class. I fell on my ass (because I hadn’t yet mastered the art of falling forward on my shins). IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CLASS. And I had this out of body experience where I saw myself fall, but I didn’t know it was me and I was like look at that poor girl falling on her ass in front of her entire psychology class. And then I was like, omg that poor girl is me. And a nice girl next to me asked if I was okay. And I answered by laughing. Not because I was embarrassed or anything. No. Definitely not. But because I was giddy with excitement over my newly found talent.
I am equally good, if not better, at falling while walking up stairs. This, my friends, requires super skill, as walking up stairs is pretty much THE EXACT SAME as walking, but with higher knee action. How I usually like to do it is step forward, place only the upper 1/3 part of my foot on the stair, and then step forward with my other foot. This makes my weight completely dis-proportioned causing me to lean backwards. I usually like to wait until I have leaned really really far back before I grab onto the railing and save myself from
But, sometimes I fall up stairs, because I just can’t help myself and incorporate special talent number two.
Special Talent #2
I have the ability to trip myself just by walking. No fancy walking. No supermodel-on-the-runway walking. Just plain ole normal person walking. The way it works is I take a step with my right foot and then bring my left foot forward and use it to kick my right foot. Every time I implement this maneuver, I am successful. But the most impressive part is that I never know when it’s going to happen. My left foot acts of its own volition, forcing me to be prepared to trip at any moment. This talent is so finely tuned that, no matter how often my left foot tries to catch me unawares and trick me into not tripping, I still trip Every. Single. Time.
Special Talent #3
This talent is the special talent number two upgrade. It starts out the same. I step forward with my right foot. My left foot comes forward and kicks the right one, only this time it kicks my shoe completely off my foot. You can just imagine how impressed people are when I do this at work, in the middle of Publix, at the mall, walking into a meeting. People are literally amazed. They never say it, but I can totally see it on their faces.
I suppose it is possible that those looks of amazement are actually looks of omg what is this girl’s deal? She is such a f*cktard. But they would never say that because then I’d whip out a yellow or pink tally, depending on the gender, (if you don’t remember what the colors stand for, refer back to the adult tally system) and they totally don’t want that because tallies lead to detention. Which leads to suspension from the cheering squad. Which leads to not being able to practice the stunt in the Nationals routine. Which leads to not placing at Nationals. Again. Which leads to pissed off cheerleaders.
And nobody f*cking messes with cheerleaders.
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