Paul at the parent/teacher conferences

Teacher: Hello there, I'm Mr. Scelari. And which of my wonderful students are you the parent of?

Paul: Mr. Scelari? What the hell's that? Don't you have a first name?

Teacher: Well, yes, but my students know me and probably refer to me as Mr. Scelari, so it makes it easier . . .

Paul: My kid ain't good enough to call you by your first name?

Teacher: The school finds it impolite for students to call teachers by their first name.

Paul: (Scowling) Do you find it impolite?

Teacher: Well . . . I have to abide by the school's rules and regulations.

Paul: So my taxes pay your salary so you can teach kids not to think for themselves?

Teacher: (Sigh) My name is Scott. Scott Scelari. Now which child is yours?

Paul: See? There we go. Hello Scott, nice to meet you.

Teacher: Glad to meet you as well. Which student . . .

Paul: And now that I know your first name, I can look up your address in the phone book. If you give my kid a bad grade, I'm gonna come over and cram your nuts into your eye sockets, you understand me, asswipe?

Teacher: Uh . . . I . . .

Paul: Ha! I'm just kiddin'.

Teacher: (Nervously chuckling) Well, you . . .

Paul: Maybe.

(Awkward silence)

Teacher: Haha! Wow, you certainly have a unique sense of humor!

(Longer, more awkward silence)

Paul: What do you teach again?

Teacher: (Now obviously frightened) History, sir.

Paul: What kind of history?

Teacher: American history.

Paul: Do you teach kids about people doin' blow in the 80s?

Teacher: No. We tend to go farther back than the 80s, usually to the 20s and much earlier.

Paul: What? People weren't doin' blow in the 1920s! It wasn't even around then!

Teacher: I'm afraid we don't cover . . . "blow", sir.

Paul: That's an important subject. You know you can get brain damage from doin' blow?

Teacher: Yes, I've heard that.

Paul: Did you know you could get the pukes if people who make your sandwich don't wash their hands first?

Teacher: Yes, maybe we should talk about the grades for your . . .

Paul: Did you know you can get herpes from riding a bicycle in your underpants?

Teacher: What?!?

Paul: I was just testing you there. Seeing if you were smart.

Teacher: Yes, but which student is . . .

Paul: I like testing people. Maybe I should be a teacher.

Teacher: Well, there's a lot more to it than tests.

Paul: You ever serve in a war?

Teacher: I thought we were talking about teaching. What does that have to do with teaching?

Paul: You know, in Desert Storm, I once slept in the stomach of a goat. You ever slept in the abdomen of a stinky goat before, and accidentally get your shoe caught in its anus? Have you ever had to disguise yourself by wearing a turban and robe, and saying Arabic-sounding things like "Arooba-sooba-dooba-macka-dingdong" so people would think you were a camel humper?

Teacher: (Speechless)

Paul: You ever shave your face with a dull knife blade, and wipe your ass by rubbing it against a scorching hot dune of sand?

Teacher: Uh, no . . . but I don't see . . .

Paul: You ever lose your favorite Nascar hat during an ambush?

Teacher: Um . . . sir?

Paul: I can close off your trachea in four seconds. You know that, don't you?

Teacher: Excuse me sir, but which student is yours?!?

Paul: I don't have any students. Teachers have students. Parents have kids.

Teacher: Okay, fine. Which kid is . . .

Paul: Asswipe.

Teacher: Excuse me?

Paul: I didn't say nothin'.

Teacher: Yes you did. You just called me a name!

Paul: No I didn't.

Teacher: Yes you did! I distinctly heard . . .

Paul: Asswipe.

Teacher: There! You did it again!

Paul: You're full of it.

Teacher: Look, I know what I heard, and I heard you call me a nasty name.

Paul: Now listen here. I didn't call you nothin', asswipe.

Teacher: (Puts head in hands)

Paul: Keep up the cryin' and soon you'll have a lake to lie next to in your two-piece, nancy boy.

Teacher: Please, I'm begging you: tell me which kid is yours so we can get this over with.

Paul: I don't have a kid.

Teacher: For God's sake, if you don't want me to call them students, and you don't want me to call them kids, then what should I call them??

Paul: No, they're kids. You can call them kids.

Teacher: Then which kid is yours?

Paul: I don't have any kids.

Teacher: What?

Paul: I'm single, I'm not married, and I don't have any kids.

Teacher: (Blank stare)

Teacher: What the hell are you doing here then?

Paul: I dunno. I was bored, and I like talking to people.

Teacher: I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

Paul: Asswipe.

Teacher: Goodbye.

Paul: I know where you live.

Teacher: GOODBYE.

Paul: Lynyrd Skynyrd is the best band ever, and I'm going to do your wife!

Teacher: Someone please call security!

Holy crap, Kate has come through with the perfect drink recipe for summer. The warm weather has come in a huge burst this week, so it's time for a Baileyfloat. 1 oz. Bailey's Irish Cream 10 oz. root beer Fill a frosted beer glass with ice, and then add the Bailey's and root beer. Stir. Drink archives

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gure0301@stcloudstate.edu      Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm        Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm        Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm        Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm        Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm        Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm   Cholly      Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm   One of your best. I\'m still laughing. Paul Ryan      Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm   I got diabetes because I\'m fat. I weigh, like, 500 lbs. It\'s awesome. Cuz      Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm   To Anna FYI \"Unlike some traits, diabetes does not seem to be inherited in a simple pattern. Yet clearly, some people are born more likely to get diabetes than others\" I found this info at the ADA website www.diabetes.org if you are still curious go there yourself and leave Paul alone. zam      Dec 31, 1969 • 4:00pm   Funny as hell, Paul. I could smell your mullet from here.

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