Running was always a fun thing to do. No one ever liked to run. But I certainly did.
If my memory serves me right, I ran the mile in 5:45 (yes, FIVE) in 5th grade beating the all-time record for the past eternity. In fact I still hold the record almost a hundredth of a millennium later in the elementary school. Making sure that I do keep the record, I always hold the annual Break-the-Legs-Of-All-The-Fast-Elementary-School-Kids Event.
Running is fun.
During my shitty swimming experience whose length rivals Cher's career, we always had dryland consisting of pushups, situps, and other crap but mostly talking and chatting. We hardly ran because all the girls were bitching about running in flip-flops on "rough" terrain, also known as inch-high grass. So running was not on the itinerary a whole lot. Perhaps the coach got nauseous watching us run while he was digesting edible barf from McDonalds. (The only girl I'm ever gonna go out with is first gonna have to run the mile under eight minutes, with me timing. As usual no ugly girls need to apply.)
Then at school, part of the blow-off nature of after-season swimming PE, we were mandated to coral around in the weight room, though rooms consists of 4 walls, so we'll go with weight garage, fully equipped with rust and a retractable garage door. That's not all the retractable due to the rust. Anyways, it just so happens that there's a track field next to the weight garage. So I ran on weight days instead of the "bench max for sets of 1 × 1, stare at myself at any one of the five million mirrors, talk, walk around, pick up a dumbbell, go to the bathroom, put it down, put on anti-strain belt, take it off, stare at the cute guy, talk, and go home" routine. (How anyone gets muscular off of that is still a mystery to me.)
One day, the clouds of rain gathered around the track field. Was I going to go inside fearing electrocution by lighting? NO! (On a more practical note, everyone was inside the already crowded weight room. Fearing vomiting due reeking odors, it was more an important concern than some silly bolt of Zeus.) So I stayed. And ran.
I ran about a mile straight when it started to lightly rain. Since humans can melt like sugar from rain, no one was outside. Except of course for Non-Sugar Man himself, me. As the rain picked up, I decided to run another half a mile. Then I rested a bit and took a giant piss in the bathroom. Oh the eternal piss, thou that seemeth for an hour! When I went back outside, the rain intensified further. For the next two and half miles (10 laps) I ran sprinted while the rain turned into a bucket-pouring. By lap 3 or 4, the far end of the track was inundated with puddles, not to be confused with poodles which is how it was raining plus the pussies. Speaking of which, every lap around the track was met with the disdainful look of the JV track team sitting under the rain guard, with their little hoodies on since the rain chilled temperatures about five degrees.
When it was all said and done, I had run a total of 4 miles that day. Although I was soaking wet, including my underpants which were so wet I could peed in them instead of going to bathroom earlier and still no one would have noticed, I felt hot and warm for the next half-hour (no I didn't pee in pants. The hotness was not only due to my normal nature, but the perspiration).
The comment "What an idiot!" remarked by an adult who shall go anonymous was especially uncalled for.
And that's the day I unofficially quit swimming, weights, and all other sports (as if standing around in a garage with rusty weights was a sport). I ran 4 miles, sprinting the last 2 and a half in a complete downpour. While everyone was inside doing "weights" (quite the math anomaly considering there's maybe 20 stations for the 150 people inside), I actually did something.
After that day another coach who shall also go unaccountered for stopped pestering me about not having short-shorts for weights. Apparently, if I can sprint 4 miles in the rain with long pants on, then I don't need to wear proper attire for the weight garage, Castro Street-style. If he would have bothered me further I would have invited him to jog with me. Or bought really short shorts. The embarrassingly short ones and put his name where the cheerleader short shorts have the team name.
And one thing pisses me off even more: the people who drive their cars from one end of the parking lot to the weight garage since walking for two ENTIRE minutes is obviously not an option.
So I didn't exactly quit ALL sports... but I might as well have.
The way I ended the water polo season was quite a marvel. I was given the rare 4-meter shot because some 200 pound ape was playing climb-on-Andras. Given that more people missed 4-meters than made it in the season, it was rather cool to say the least that it went in. Given that the team was no longer tied, it is quite amazing how the second after my shot went in, I was benched. It's rather funny actually: had I not made the shot, I would still have been in the pool since benching only occurs after a goal.
And that's how that season ended: on relatively high-note that was absolutely pathetic. Adding insult to injury, I warmed the bench for the whole next game. I wonder how many points we would have won by had there been a quick defender on that small fast guy who scored virtually all of the other team's goals. Oh well. At least I didn't have to go to Dallas or wherever the hell I would have had to sit for a whole day watching other people play.
It would have been nice if someone told me about me never getting to play so I wouldn't have had to waste all my time driving to/sitting out/driving from games.
Extremely gay.
Apart from the argument centering around some Puritan guy (Winthrop?, Edwards?), I don't exactly remember what it was all about, though I do remember being vehemently against whatever the Puritans were for.
That was the only day in the history of English classes (ever) in which a student talked more than the teacher.
Back in elementary school, recess was a constant bundle of fun. Unlike other boys, I usually played with the girls since they were much nicer and of course easier to beat. It was a given that my team would always win. As a result, instead of two captains picking the teams, I was the one who evenly divided the girls. Hehe, that was fun.
I remember some oil wells burning on TV during probably the first Persian Gulf War in the early 1990's. Then, I had a teacher who made us play some specific sport as a class at least once every week during recess.
This one week we played baseball. This girl was so dumb and she couldn't hit the ball. It was rather pathetic. She was wasting our time and we started calling her a retard, which was completely deserved. So, to encourage her positively, my teacher drew the face of Saddam Hussein on the baseball and instructed her to "strike the evil man."
We all laughed, but more at the fact that she still couldn't hit the ball.
I asked the after-school teacher if the class could outside to the playground. Like every other day, she was trying her best to ignore me, so immediately she started talking to someone else without answering me. I kept nagging her and she finally exploded with a resounding YESSSS! Okay, so I tell everyone that we're headed for the playground. Some big asshole pushes me down and my leg is bloody. A friend and I rush back to the teacher to go ask her where the nurse was. Without paying the slightest attention to my blood engorged leg, she starts screaming at me that I wasn't supposed to go outside. She then tries to turn the class against me by saying that everyone is in trouble, "all thanks to Andras."
What the fuck.
On the very first day of school ever, we went down to the cafeteria to eat something. Since the main course was probably crap that day as most other days, I felt at liberty to fill my hungry stomach with the remaining desert. I only took an extra piece of whatever desert but this teacher yelled at me. He was like "Gee, what if not enough's left for everyone?" I told him that there's plenty enough for everyone since the desert was already leftovers and no one wanted it anyways. Teachers didn't really like me in that school from that day.
All the boys from my class were in the bathroom and we thought it'd be fun to create a disco by flipping the light switch on and off, since there's nothing more fun than a disco in an all guys bathroom. Anyways, the teacher screamed at us that we were wasting money. She said that it takes more money to flip the switch on and off than to leave it on. I checked using our energy-o-meter (or whatever that thing is you measure the amount of electricity used on) at my home by performing my first scientific experiment. I flipped some light switch on and off for half a minute and checked the thing. I did the same with continuous lighting and found that the cool raving disco effect was CHEAPER!
When I told her about this, she yelled at me and said that disrespecting teachers is an grave offense that can lead to the principal's office.
Take a chill pill, honey.
That same teacher always liked to brag about her daughter being smart and all (perhaps to make up for her own lack). She once bragged that she was the only person in her class in high school to get an A for some assignment. We honestly couldn't care less. We all were like, "we don't give a rat's ass", though not with the sophistication of those words.
That same teacher also made us read the same damn boring story about some stupid wolf for a month. Our normal teacher was absent for a long time so she subbed for us. Since the normal teacher didn't leave instructions on what to read next, every single damn day for what seemed like eternity, we read the damn thing again. She made everyone read until they pronounced everything right. So if you made a mistake on your last word in the story, then back to the top you went. It was rather gay and everyone thought so too. We read it so many damn times that I actually memorized it and entered myself into some poetry/story reciting contest. I didn't win anything and I was scared since all the big kids were there. I remember that this really fat girl won some prize for reciting something as long as the dictionary and got some small amount of money maybe. If I was older, I would have said that she used the money for food. Or bribing a guy to be her boyfriend.
Another time she told us that one day there'd be no trees and that we'd have to go to museums to see them (as if 1st graders are a major source of air pollution and therefore somehow responsible). I told her that we'd never see a day when there aren't trees because we'd suffocate first. She got pissed of at me.
Apart from being yelled at for wanting to eat, the first day of school had more fun for me. When I first arrived at school, I saw this second grader screaming on the floor grabbing onto the door not wanting to go in. He was screaming that he didn't want to go to school. What a pussy.
Well, maybe they weren't rabid, but we'll never know. It was about 20 minutes before class and I just saw these two dogs chasing each other thru that the whatever field everyone plays frisbee at but where I played volleyball once. The dogs were just completely out of place. I hoped the dogs would start attacking students and start jumping thru the windows so school could be cancelled that day. Also, no one actually believes me when I tell them dogs were marauding on campus. It's true though.
I haven't played volleyball since. But it was fun. All I remember is me being on the not-so-sucky team and that the seniors were making fun of this Australian kid who they accused of being a "kangaroo fucker." That was so funny. That same kid was on the swim team. He was on the D relay for some crappy event while I was on the faster B relay. Right before I dove in for my lap, I noticed the slow relay was slightly ahead of us. I was mistaken: we almost lapped them. Poor whatever his name was. I wonder what happened to him.
That speaks for itself.