Why I Left Public Schools

I went to Midvale for pre-school.

I stapled my finger to see how it would feel.

It fucking killed.

(I wish this could have been a haiku.)



Finally, there is someone who can understand my pain.

The Beginning

I'd like to think it all began when I made a day trip up to Toronto for a fake ID. Yeah, that's definitely it. It all started when I realized I'm a BAMF and was able to convince some kind of Indian-Canadian crossbreed to make me a fake ID that says I'm from Montana -- 50 bucks well worth it.

So I have to test the motherfucker out right? Well, to skip a few more stories, I was able to totally pull a fast one on this minimum wage Kroger employee at the U-Scan and, get this, buy a bottle...of ALCOHOL. What a fucking moron!

I was on top of the world. The day was mine. I was going to be a mediocre, white boy peppered into a sea of underachievers -- STATE.

Needless to say, I had hidden the contraband in the safest, most secure place any guy can hide only the darkest of his secrets: my undies. What teenage boy is going to let his Mom or Dad snoop through their unmentionables? Definitely not this guy.

Exit: my parents Enter: ELPD

I'll be honest with you guys right now, the details from here on out are a bit hazy. But what I do know is that I felt like the Queen of England when I had about, oh, I'd say 8 people in my room that night pregaming before we went out. (It'd be safe to say they were all dudes.) Boy, was I kicking it into high gear in COLLEGE!!!

At this point I'd like to quote a simple man, Andrew Bernard, who once said: "Beers buzzed... Shots drunk..." In those wise words, I think I'm able to paint the picture for you.

So, ultimately, we knocked back the bottle of Smirnoff's finest collection and proceeded to walk. "Where'd you walk to, Joe?" you may being asking. And dammit, that's a fine question. It's too bad I'm unable to answer it. Maybe you've been to MSU and you know that sometimes when you head out, you just go in a general direction. (In my case, it was north.) And maybe you haven't been to MSU, and, in that case, where the fuck have you been spending your time cause you've been missing out on a fucking blasty blast. So, we headed north...

"Once you walked north, Joe, where'd you and your posse go?" Alas, another great question without an answer. There's absolutely no way of knowing. I wish I could answer it for you, I really do, but I have better things to share.

After making a complete ass of myself in front of countless people that I may or may not ever see again, myself, along with two of my friends decided to walk home. Like I said earlier, I was living the High Life. So we're walking home, I'm happy as a clam, and some dueche bag pig decides to come and spoil my great time. Buzz Kill City, USA. What a jackass. He thought, just cause I was walking home in the gutter, with one shoe on, singing show tunes, that I was drunk. Talk about racial profiling.

So to make a long story even longer, I got tossed in the tank. But I'm not talking East Lansing's very own jail (that's for a another time). I'm talking Ingham County jail way out in Bumfuck, Michigan -- somewhere around Mason, for those of you with close family of friends in ICJ.

Ever seen Shawshank Redemption when the inmates are all laughing hysterically about the crazy shit they pulled to land them in the Big House? Try waking up to that. Now multiply that by 12. If only Morgan Freeman was there to make it all better. (Editor's Note: We don't call it the Big House in the Big House. Sometimes it's The Joint. But usually it's something along the lines of The Resort. Or My Place for Kids -- but for adults. Or something clever to mask the utter dispair and deep, deep depression we feel for ourselves when we're caught in the whirlwind of our downfall. It's like a Greek tragedy. Minus the whole hero thing. Inmates are quite the comedians if you ever get the chance to get locked up with them for 14 hours. I recommend it.)

The Bullpen -- that's what it's called. That's prison jargon for "you're fucked." Figuratively, if you're lucky. But, hey, I guess underage drinking deserves the same severity as rape and theft. It's all good. No hard feelings though, Judicial System.

So where was I? Oh! That's right. Jail. By the end of it all, I spent a little over half a day in a 15x10 concrete jail cell dubbed "The Bullpen" with 12 grown men recanting eachother's finer moments in life. It what I call now a "learning experience."

It sure is a great story to have. Or at least bits and pieces of one. I'd like to make it into a made-for-tv movie actually. I'd cast my favorite actor, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, as myself --the oppressed white male. The climax, or zenith if you will, would be when I (JTT) is finally released from what seemed like years behind prison bars. I can finally empathize with my fellow life-without-parolees. As I'm granted back my possessions that the pigs snatched away from me, I'll be walking out of ICJ with "Redemption Song" growing increasingly louder. Into the warm sunshine, into freedom. I'll have it be entirely accurate too -- just as it all happened. I'd be waiting for my sister (Tiffany Amber Theissen) to come pick me up. As I would gather my possessions from the plastic bag they were kept, I would finally slide my sandal on the chaffed foot that had been missing it (symbolism of the Cinderella story), and drive off into the sun.

I can look back and laugh now though. Probably not as hard as all my friends did when they heard I was in jail...and probably not as hard as they all are now when they're re-reading this. This story is for them. For all of you. So I can finally join in on the laughter with you guys -- at last justice is finally served.

Final Editor's Note: The picture you see is not the actual booking photo of the aforementioned incident. It is merely an artist's rendition of the author after hearing of his tragedy, and ultimate triumph. It was the artist's idea to portray the author when he was at his lowest point -- the infamous "Bullpen."

Michigan State University: The Happiest Place on Earth

If any of you know me, you know I went to a little place called Michigan State University before I ended up in Chicago writing blogs in my dirt-ass apartment. It's not too bad though -- if you enjoy blackmold that seeps down from the bathroom ceiling; the lingering smell of gas; a constant barrage of sirens; a retarded landlord; and a partridge in a peartree. But that's beside the point.

So, yeah, I went to Michigan State for year. If you ask me now, I'll probably tell you some bullshit story about why I left and how it wasn't right for me and (my personal favorite) how the academics just weren't up to my expectations as an aspiring scholar. FALSE. I left because I didn't want my family members and close friends watching me on an episode of COPS.

Would you stay at a school after you spent the first night in jail? Yeah, I didn't think so.

So, please, lend me your ears while I try to portray my magical first night in college...

The Happening?

I ended up heading back to BIRMINGHAM for the weekend. Of course, P.Ry, Bush, and I had to see the obligatory movie on a gorgeous summer's day. Since P.Ry has had the recent habit of choosing the absolute worst movies, I obviously figured this one would be different.
Going to the movies with P.Ry does have it's additional benefits though. You see, he's a military man, with military privileges. Ipso facto -- military discount. You should see when people DON'T give him a military discount. It's a gong show. (Enter: the homeless man selling hot dogs outside of bars in Pontiac.)
But I digress.
Bush was able to get in for free though, so that was nice. And I was pretty excited to see the movie because I had heard absolutely nothing good about it. Soon enough, once the movie began, I could see why M. Night should have never taken this piece of shit off the drawing board.
SPOILER ALERT! The movie fucking blows.
I don't even know where to begin or end with this movie. I shouldn't even call it a movie. It was like watching a person with no hands try and work their pant's zipper--you just can't bear to watch, but you know you have to see them piss themselves.
If I had more time to tell you all about it right now, I would. But to save your time and money I'll make it easy on you. Basically, people start catch some bullshit disease spread by plants who get angry with them. It's like an extreme case of the Asian Bird flu or SARS or herpes. I didn't understand it whatsoever.

To make a horrifyingly long story short, neurotransmitters are blocked in the head and blah blah blah the infection makes you want to kill yourself. Moral of the story: Half way through the movie I had to turn to P.Ry and Bush and let them (as well as everyone else in earshot) know about my wish at that moment: I wanted to catch the infection everyone in the movie was getting... so I could kill myself.