The Classroom of Doom?

So my senior year in high school is coming up crazy fast, and I still think that I can live in the delusion that I have a real shot of being Homecoming King.  Now I have no logical explanation as to why I could possibly win the quintessential popularity contest, but I still want to have that delusion, just because I would have such a horrible and/or amazing time being the undisputed King of high school.

If this were to happen, I'd have a long series of battles to face.  But don't worry about me, I have always managed to reach a level that all the other popular kids have reached previously, even though I have always been a little slower in terms of reaching my goal.  The point is that I got the Popularity Accomplishment, okay?

I mean, sure, it took me almost ten years after it was popular among the cool kids, but I FINALLY got my Charizard card.  And for extra measures, I got a second one.

See, I'll be fine.

But in all honesty, I'm really not expecting to even be in the running for homecoming king.  I just wanted to brag about having the one thing that would have made me cool ten years ago, back when I probably could have used it.

See, now that I'm feeling old and am about to graduate from all that I know and love (okay, despise), I've been all nostalgic and crap.  Also, with my intense love of Youtube, which by the way has been more supportive than ANYONE in all my ROUGH TIMES (trying to stay immature here for nostalgia's sake), I've pretty much been watching my childhood all over again.

But because I don't actually own a laptop, I get to awkwardly watch it from my parents computer while they're out watching TV or doing something important, and I don't even show off my interests to people my age, let alone people thirty years my senior.

BUT MOM, I SWEAR YOU STILL LOOK 25.

Don't ground me.


So, as I've wasted my computer time looking up old clips from various 90's cartoons, I've found myself thinking of a simpler, happier time...

***insert flashback wavy camera shot, making everything fuzzy***

See, I was a cute kid.

In Kindergarten, the punishment for not following the rules was to get your name on the board.  Yeah.  Intense.  But it kept us in line.

And in Kindergarten, we had this ongoing joke that when you used scissors, you'd say, "Snip Snap all done."

Yeah, I know it isn't funny, but the fact that we were all five years old means you should be going "AWWWWWWWWWWW."  Now back to the story.

See, this whole "snip snap all done" was the most fun thing among my kinder-buddies for that day because none of us had developed our brain enough to utilize this thing called memory, so we were saying it as we cut up our paper to glue it on to something involving numbers or the alphabet.  I can't really remember because I still have yet to utilize this thing called memory (I say as I'm telling a story from over ten years ago).

Anyway, our teacher, this wonderful lady who, looking back, was probably the female equivalent to the guy who ripped people's hearts out from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.



Yeah, it might sound like a bit of an exaggeration, but she wasn't that nice to us.  She scared me so much, I went to the assistant teacher for everything that I needed a figure of authority to approve anything.

Anyway, the whole point to this story is that I said, "Snip snap all done!" when it was quiet time and got my name on the board and was mortified until noon when we went home.

I then told my mom about my defiance to the teacher, but she wasn't exactly thrilled, possibly because I walked up to her excitedly and yelled, "I got my name on the board!" in a relatively happy tone and didn't explain further.

This gradually morphed into me being labeled as "that weird kid" in elementary school.

***ending flashback scene bringing the viewer back to the present tense***

Well, that story had almost no point, apart from filling the length of a typical blog post for me.

But in reality, this and any blogs I post for the next couple of weeks will probably be memories of my childhood/awkward junior high years.  Stories from Bad-Storyland which have to be revamped and have characters from awesome 80's movies.

Don't miss next week, when I talk about how I used a flying DeLorean to go back in time and revisit myself during the dark years that were my junior high years.

And if you thought this whole thing was stupid, let me remind you that you read the whole thing, so I still win.

And that reminds me.

I lost the game.