I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but my lips are chapped and my fingertips are dry and rough. Sometimes my lips go all Krispy Kreme like this, during the winter, but my fingers are freaking me out. It’s very strange; everything feels unusual to me. I don’t care for it.
I know you guys will tell me to use lotion on my hands, and Chapstick on my lips, but it ain’t gonna happen. Once that nonsense gets started, you’re a prisoner. You start to NEED it, and before long you’re hocking stuff at the pawnshop, and breaking into houses – for balm money. So, no thank you. I’ll just ride it out.
Last night I drank a 101 ounce jug of water while I was at work, and my chapped lips seem better today. I’ll knock back another one tonight, and hopefully all the massive hydration will take care of my sandpaper fingertips. Weird. Even this keyboard feels strange.
It never stops.
Since our dryer isn’t working, I went to the laundromat on Friday. But, to save me from going again in just a few days, I did some excavation work before leaving the house.
I spent a half-hour or so going through my closet, identifying every shirt I could reasonably wear to work. I get into a cycle where I wear the same ones over and over, while other — perfectly fine — shirts get shoved further down the pole, and out of rotation. For no good reason. After a while they just get moved down, because others have moved in. It’s like Johnny Carson’s couch.
But I wanted to wash as many shirts as possible, so I won’t have to return to that soulless place anytime soon. They were already clean, of course, but I suspected they needed some freshening up. Because of a year or more on the pole…
Feeling like I was on to something, I then went upstairs and started going through my socks and underwear. It was amazing. It’s like the rings of a tree. I can actually move through time, inside that drawer. When I got all the way to the back of the mashed and compacted space, I found a thin vein of tighty-whities and tube socks — clothing from a long-ago era. I’m thinking about sending it all to the Smithsonian.
If I were to attempt to slip into a pair of those old nasties, the blood flow would likely be cut off, my junk might turn black and detach, and the waistband would hyper-extend until it’s only a centimeter wide, then snap and knock a hole in the drywall. It’s freaky. I can’t believe I was ever so skinny, and wore such disturbing undergarments.
Anyway, I now have a mountain of freshened clothes, some of it previously neglected for many months. It might be enough to see me through until we can get someone in here to fix that stupid dryer.
While I was at the laundromat I noticed a large calendar hanging on the wall. It featured paintings of all the U.S. presidents, with a big one of Obama in the middle. Except it didn’t really look like Obama, it was closer to Nipsey Russell following a three day drunk and a fall down some basement stairs.
Then I started looking at the other presidents, and they were horribly rendered, as well. A few of the early presidents looked like they suffered from Down syndrome, and Ronald Reagan was something along the lines of The Scream in an expensive suit. What the hell, man? It made feel ill at ease.
I walked away from the thing, worried those distorted presidents might start visiting me in my sleep. And I don’t think my heart could handle the mongoloid Martin Van Buren. Ya know? Shit!
And speaking of art — or “art” as the case may be — our youngest son turned in a very cool project to his art teacher last week. I don’t have his authorization to show you a photo of it, but believe me… it’s pretty awesome. If he doesn’t have a problem with it, I’ll post a picture next time. I sat and stared at the thing for five minutes, and that’s a long time to stare.
But he received a 60 on it! Here’s the note from the teacher:
This started out GREAT, then you created your own directions. We grade in middle school by directions + effort, NOT ability. You have a wonderful talent and a great amount of creativity… but here we grade by following directions. Not everyone has your gift of creativity.
So, there you go. He colored outside the lines, so to speak. What do you think about this? I’d like to get your opinions. For the record, I told him I give it a 100, and don’t believe in suppressing a person’s creativity. He doesn’t seem to care, one way or the other. Apparently I’ve passed on the “whatever” gene to him.
Let me know what you think about the teacher’s comments. I understand, kinda-sorta, what she’s saying — but she’s an art teacher. She, of all people, should be encouraging creative approaches to her assignments. Right? Please use the comments link below.
And I heard one of the weirdest things of the past 48 to 72 hours at work last night. A woman told me that she used to work with a guy who handed out “ass pennies.” Are you familiar with this? He supposedly shoves pennies up his butt, leaves them there for ten or twenty seconds (you know, to marinate), then hands them out to co-workers and acquaintances who annoy him.
She swore this was true, and I just stood there blinking real fast. Ass pennies?? When I got home I did a search for that term, and came up with this. I have a feeling this co-worker dude didn’t come up with the concept on his own. But I’d like to think that he really did go around awarding people with his “special” coins. Unless, of course, I have one in my pocket right now…
Finally, we discussed our most memorable Christmas presents of all time, a few days ago. Today I’d like to know about the WORST gift you’ve ever received. If you have a story to tell on that subject, please do so. I can’t really think of any super-bad presents I’ve received; none stick out in my mind. But what about you? Please bring us up to date on it.
And I’ll be back tomorrow.
Have a great day, my friends.
Now playing in the bunker
Do your holiday shopping at Amazon: US and Canada
I recall similar comments back when I was school – because I would not trace images.
The Art teacher is jealous.
And a bitch.
I can see where the art teacher is coming from. Art is very subjective. What one person likes, another doesn’t. So when it comes time to put a grade on something she’s got to go by whether the directions were followed and not necessarily how good it is. Otherwise there could be a lot of “You just don’t like my style” , etc.
Sounds like she docked him points for making his art ‘better than it should be’.
Strive to be mediocre. Everybody is a winner. Bah Humbug.
One of the leaders at our company misspoke one day and said “Don’t let great get in the way of good”. So….. yeah… just do a good job, not a great one.
My nephew got a C or D in art. He was 8 at the time. What a bitch.
Screw art teachers, they are giant assholes at that level.
Worst present ever? My brother when he was around 6 gave me a handful of broken pencils, wrapped. The year after or so I got a can of coke wrapped in tinfoil.
Quick question for you kids, I got my girlfriend a personalized song for Christmas by a singer songwriter I really like (Hamell on Trial), any thoughts or guesses how this might go down?
WOW – I would be very flattered! Unless of course some of the lyrics went “You’re the worst lay, hey hey hey.” Then I might be a little upset.
Seriously, I think it’s wonderful. It shows a lot of imagination and thought and acre.
It’s mainly about how I’m a fuck up. Here’s a sample:
I FUCK IT UP CHRISTINE CONTINUOUSLY,
BUT YET YOU STILL SAY U LOVE ME
TOGETHER FOR THREE YEARS,
THRU ALL THOSE PBR BEERS,
I’M CERTAINLY GLAD YOU BROUGHT ME BACK MY EMPTY BLACK KEYS CD
I thought acre was some sort of term I wasn’t fAmiliar with.
not “ACRE” – CARE. Sheesh!
t…
I also think you have a lot of thought and acre. The song is a nice idea. Does it have a name? Following the old punchline, you could call it, “I Love You So Fucking Much I Could Just Shit”.
Not downing all the PBRs is a very nice gift. Anything else is whipped cream on top.
She’ll love both.
jtb
That, t-storm, is fucking romance writ large.
I wouldn’t worry about the dryer too much if it’s an electric dryer. Mine continued to spin awhile back but wouldn’t get hot. The electric heating element went out and I fixed it for less than 50 bucks. I think you had somebody fix the washer or dishwasher recently, same guy should have no problem replacing the part.
I’ll have to side with the art teacher but a 60 seems like a pretty low score.
And I really need to clean out my closet. I bet the shirts at the end of the pole have been there since Bill Clinton’s first term.
That’s better than dresses at the end of his first pole.
Set, and spike!
Oh, I nearly forgot…I can quit Chapstick anytime I want.
I’ll bet that Darger was misunderstood by his art teacher too
I was cleaning out my end of the closet just a couple of weeks ago. My annual clean out. If I haven’t worn it for a year, it gets tossed. Shoes included. My boyfriend has a whole “rack” of shit he hasn’t worn since the 8th grade picnic. A ton of “Bill Cosby” sweater’s, all on a hanger, stretched out to the max. The sleeves would fit an orangutan. He about blew a gasket when I suggested he donate them to the Goodwill. We need the space. Christ. Forget it. Once the sleeves hit the floor, we’ll donate them to the fucking zoo.
Worst gift…hmmm….I would have to say, hoping I don’t offend anyone, a velvet painting of the Last Supper.
I understand grading on direction and ability, but if his creativity is that good, I would think his ability would be equally as good or better. I think 60 is low. But WTF do I know.
I’m offended it wasn’t elvis.
If it was Elvis, I’d still have it.
I tell Beloved “If you don’t get rid of some of this shit, I’m calling up ‘Hoarders’ to come film a few episodes.”
I an’t understand the need to hold on to some stuff. If it has no monetary value – DUMP IT after you haven’t looked at it in over a year.
Bikerchick – just do what I do. When he’s not home, go through the closet and just start chunking shit into trash sacks. You’ll have to do it in stages so as not to draw any attention to the missing articles, but it works. I periodically go through my husband’s closet and he has never noticed. Ever. The only thing I consider to be off limits is the Metallica t-shirt he got at one of their concerts when he was in highschool (circa 1992), so i just shove it to the end of the pole. Then, take the bags, tie them up, throw them in the back of your SUV (or whatever) and haul that crap to Goodwill. Or the nearest dumpster, your choice. Oh, and move the newly empty hangers, they’re a dead giveaway that something is amiss.
Good Luck!!
Damn – I just realized I’m a devious and conniving bitch. Whaddaya know! Heh.
Don’t touch my Members Only jacket.
DeepInTheHeart: Oh…I have already thought about that little tactic. But he would notice a half of a rack missing. Especially these monstrosities. Not to mention the collared, plaid, button-downs that sound like parachutte pants. Fill these shirts with air and they could be used as floatation devices when an airliner dives into the ocean.
Devious and Canniving…my middle names. We must be related!
The worst gift I ever received was a roll of ass pennies.
Were they still wrapped in that shrink-wrapped plastic? I shudder at the thought.
Fuck that art teacher. Goddamn communist. Everyone is “valuable”, even people who produce SHIT. If you held a mother fucking Jackson Pollock next to the Mona Lisa, this lefty bitch would argue that they’re equal.
I’m sure she sings the praises of Picasso, who fucked up art beyond measure. Now we have assholes dropping paint from rooftops and charging $3,000,000 for their fucking “art”.
Don’t let the bitch get by with it. She’s dumbing down your son. We don’t accept shitty writers or shitty actors or shitty baseball players. Why accept shitty art? Well, it’s the artist’s intention that is most important. Fucking nonsense. What if I intend to sing like Elvis Presley? Will you pay $1,000 to see my “interpritation”? Fuck off.
The worst present I ever got was from my millionaire uncle wilbur from Iowa. My brother and I were very excited at what he might get us. We got a bottle of corn husker’s lotion and a pair of goddamn gloves. My brother laughed in his face and threw them in the garbage. I still have the lotion.
I bet you do not have cracked fingers.
Send some of that corn husker’s lotion to Jeff!
It’s all fun and games until someone gets a corn husker’s lotion bottle stuck in their ass and has to go to the ER.
I had a rich aunt that used to give me and my sisters jelly for Christmas. Of course, it was some “special, expensive” European shit made out of cloud berries or something, but the jar was about 2 ounces. It tasted good, but only enough for one good peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and it was gone.
At 10 years old, I would rather had the $3.00 or whatever the hell it cost instead.
The art teacher sounds like a twit. While I agree with the “You need to follow direction” he/she should NEVER discourage someone’s creativity. And a 60? Come on. That’s just cruel. At least give a passing grade for th elove of Christ.
Worst gift? hmmm – toss up – at the company luncheon/grab bag, I opened up a package of duct tape and a Home Depot gift card.
The second was from my Grandma. She must have purchased these “gifts” from a charitable organization – the kind where the “assemblers” are a sandwich short of a picnic. I got a belt with an upside down, lopsided “peace” sign (in like 1997). My sister got the matching head band. My brother-in-law got 4 hankerchiefs in a box marked “6 hankerchiefs included”. They were so bad they were comical.
This may be a foolish question, but can someone explain the drawing with the update? It seems to depict an owl hanging out on a vagina before taking off his gracious hostess’s head. It is confusing me.
I made a tiny effort to figure it out on my own. I Googled “drawing of an owl on a woman’s vagina” but did not come up with anything pertinent to my question. I also Googled “unexpected occurrence” with equally useless results.
Thanks in advance.
I think that painting is a retread from a Surf Report in times past, I could be wrong but I know I’ve seen it before and this is the only place that posts that kind of weird stuff…
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=pussy%20owl
That’s the kind of information that keeps me coming back.
Yeah SeanInSac, I think it was on here before but didn’t confuse me as much for some reason. Maybe I just chalked it up to “art.”
Thanks t-storm. That is what I get for G-rated Googling. I should have known better. Additionally, I learned a new phrase.
That painting is, in fact, Jeff’s son’s art project. He only got a 60 because the girls were supposed to be a multicultural assortment.
My drunk ass aunt Ruth lives in Pheonix and she mails us some really weird shit. In March we got a package from her with “for the Holidays” scribbled across it. What Holidays? Fuck if I know.
Inside the box was a freezer bag full of fudge. It was pretty good at first, but towards the end she had run out of pecans and started using Fritoes instead.
There was also a single hard boiled egg and a ball of foil in the package. I called to thank her and had to listen to her vomit for 10 minutes because she didn’t realize she’d answered the phone. “Awwwww-Goddammit-awwwwwww…. and so on. “
Worst gift ever, an empty box of fucking butter.
What’s worse is knowing someone else is fucking with your butter. Buck Futter!
I was torn between “an empty box of fucking butter” and “a fucking empty box of butter.”
Worst present:
first Christmas the wife and I were married (way back in the stone ages).
Her brother’s wife’s mom was an ‘artist’,
for Christmas she gave us a HUGE painting, must have been at least 3 ft by 4 ft –
picture of a f*cking CLOWN. Kind of looked like Boy George.
and I have nothing against B.G. in fact you gotta admit, Karma chameleon is excellent to dance to, even for old white folks!
Anyway this thing creeped my arse out.
I would not allow it in my house for fear that it might haunt us or something.
Couldn’t give it away to ANYONE. Finally threw it in the garbage.
Further Evidence: Wonder what kind of lip gloss that she/he is wearing? I want it.
It sounds to me like the art teacher needs to get laid.
Or licked.
A good lay includes licking.
hell yeah!
Jeff…
For some reason, I thought the art in the post was your son’s project. Then, by context, I found it wasn’t.
I’m happy to join my fellow Reporters in congratulating your son for not following directions. I give him 100 sight unseen. Learning how to not follow directions is an important life skill that I learned entirely too late. Glad the young man is getting a head start.
.
I have never had anything on my lips that I wouldn’t be willing to put in my mouth. Good job on staying away from lip gloss and other flutsy-tootsy nonsense.
.
If you’re willing to walk around with your hand down your pants, the warmth should heal your fingertips. And your co-workers will probably stay away and let you do your work.
.
Lastly, I’m a lover, not a fighter, but if I discover anybody giving me ass pennies, the pennies will likely make a return visit en masse.
Happiest of Christmases to you and all reporters.
John
My mother was pretty nuts, not quite Sunshine & Nancy level but she had her moments. She had this insane rule that everyone had to get the same number of presents; this just just one of a myriad of these rules but this is a comment not therapy so I’ll skip over this.
One year at Christmas I got a collect of gourmet flavored pastas including blueberry and strawberry and a jar of sun dried tomatoes. Luckily we opened it when she wasn’t there, that was another rule Presents must be opened on Christmas.
A guy I dated for many years had a mother like that too. Everyone had to have the same amount of presents. She would have spent $300 on one person, only 10 bucks on another, but everyone got the same amount. Even though I was an “outsider”, I was still included. So I’d get shit like one pot holder, a chapstick, refridgerator magnet, one taper candle. Mainly shit she’d find in her house that was never used.
The best was the aunt that never signed envelopes of the Christmas cards she gave out. She’d collect them after everyone opened the card to reuse.
Screw that bitch. This is a teaching moment. “son, there are two kinds of people in this world. Those who get it and those who don’t. If she doesn’t get it, fake it so you pass and wait ’til you find someone who does”.
Worst present ever, age 10, Granny gave me an honest to God dickey. Joke away, but I think the garment is almost as bad as the alternative.
Regarding bad gifts, I think I’ve said all I need to in the previous episode.
As for the art teacher, I was just reading something about that yesterday: “Teachers Don’t Like Creative Students”. Here’s a link: http://marginalrevolution.com/marginalrevolution/2011/12/teachers-dont-like-creative-students.html No, that’s not a site I frequent; it’s a thrice-forwarded tale from a friend of a friend.
.
My daughter had an art teacher that actually walked around the classroom and would pick up the kids drawings/projects and tear them into small pieces in front of everyone else if she felt the weren’t “following directions”.
WTF? It’s a third grade art class for goodness sakes! I “get” that a teacher wants students to follow directions, but if a kid DOES get creative, (not enough of those around, sadly) you give them EXTRA points for coming up with their own take. It shows initiative, too.
That art “teacher” is a jealous bitch that is angry she didn’t do something more with her art degree. You can tell her a professional *ahem* comic book artist said so, too. (Although I bet she would say comic books
aren’t art anyway)…
Tracer
Hilarious! So Kevin Smith!
I am a middle school teacher. When I do projects I grade them on a rubric. As long as all of the elements of the rubric are met, I don’t give a flying fuck HOW they do it. For example, I may give them a rubric that says they have to show me 5 reasons war hawks wanted war with the British. On that same rubric I will require that the project be neat, readable, no spelling mistakes, etc. I could really give two shits if they do a power point, a poster, or a interpretative dance. As long as they follow the rubric, they should have learned the material.
It sounds like a really crappy teacher. HOWEVER, to give her the benefit of the doubt, you might want to ask her if he met or exceeded all of the standards she was teaching. If she says no, then ask what standards he did not meet. Then ask her how she graded the project. Did she use a rubric, or a checksheet, or what? Ask to see it and how it aligns with the standards she is teaching.
$1 to doughnuts she just assigns a grade without any type of grading guide. She also most likely does not communicate any of the standards she is teaching. Also, I am sure she is a stuck up bitch that wants the kids to conform and follow procedures, rather than learn the content. That is 1850’s thinking – a place where most schools are.
In the 1850’s they set up schools so kids would make good factory workers. The model and teachers have not changed much, but our workers have. We expect them to be creative thinkers, but our schools want to make them drones that follow orders.
Sorry for the rant.
I had to look up your oft-used word “rubric”, and I found the gobbledy-gookish definition somewhat dismaying.
Sorry about that. I forget it is not a common word. Here is an example of one I found on the internet. http://www.lakhota.net/IMAGES/ElemofArtRubric.jpg
Why they are great for students and teachers: What is needed to complete the work is clearly defined.
Rubric? That is a matrix.
I was trying to figure out what the fuck a ribic’s cube has to do with grading school work.
WTF is a Rubric? some made up teacher-speak? I thought at first it was the character in ‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’? wait, that was Ruprecht, although sounds about the same.
Well, if teachers are going around tearing up kid’s work after they are diligently TRYING, perhaps we can draw a correlation about how/why some of them grow up and then lash out at their teachers when they get bigger. Not condoning that, just saying that I can understand how a kid could develop a bit of anger directed towards teachers.
LOL about rubic’s cube.
Ruprecht, don’t take the cork off the fork!
Jeff– could you snap a picture of the drunk Nipsey Russell falling down the basement stairs? I have an image in my mind and I would like to compare!
Otherwise, everyone pretty much covered what I also think of that dumb-ass art teacher.
Ok. Here’s the deal with the art teacher.
They have students will all abilities and disabllities and have to have a way to grade them fairly. So the kids who are severely disabled have to be able to be put on an even playing field. This is why.
So, it doesn’t matter if you have amazing talent, or paint with your boogers. If you tried and followed the directions: A+! Sigh.
disclaimer: i am not an art teacher.
p.s. believe me. the teachers don’t like this either, but in this pc world of inclusion, they have no choice.
There is always a choice. One just needs the balls to exercise it within the rubric.
Painting with boogers takes a highly developed talent!
My daughter is flat out a fucking artist. Where she got it, we have no idea, but she is good.
Her art teacher this year said she is so far outside what he had planned on teaching the class, which includes 50% athletes looking for an easy grade, that she is on her own. He gives her basic requests…I would like to see a sketched totem, a photo of toys, a portrait, a hand colored photo, etc and grades her on her ability and creativity.
He has also set her up to have her portfolio (which she has been building on her own) reviewed at the local art academy to get some real honest opinions on where she is and what she needs to do to continue to grow.
In my opinion…this is what an art teacher should be. I feel the same about her music teacher last year that told her to quit band (she is a percussionist) and continue with her private lessons.
Your son’s teacher is either a douche, not yet tenured or teaching for the paycheck.
Regarding the “secret’s ” art project. I would suggest reading Ayn Rand’s “Anthem”.
The teacher is just following the indoctrination procedures. It is a good thing they have a decent set of actual parents so that the zombification never takes hold.
As far as the art teacher goes, I am not sure I totally understand. I am a strong believer in people following rules. But what were those rules?
And what about creativity and expression? When those two are mixed with an actual talent that your son has, isn’t that what art is about?
Where is the encouragement? This started out GREAT? And her comment about directions + effort, not ability, bothers me.
So ability is of little importance? I just don’t understand. How about ability + encouragement = GREAT
Unless there is something that I do not understand about this, I think the teacher is a dumbass.
My worst present was from my grandma, who was probably drunk at the time and bought it at the party store picking up her Blue Sapphire. It was a knit sweater with an ENORMOUS American flag on it. I love my country, don’t get me wrong but I was in high school, and unless it was a theme day, I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.
When I reached college, I used it as a layering sweater when we went sledding.
I’ll bet that Tebow never got a 60 on an art project!
Worst gift ever:
In the 70s I was WAY into punk. (saw the Sex Pistols at Winterland)
When I was in the height of my punkness, my mother bought me Neil Diamond’s “Beautiful Noise” album for Christmas. WTF? I guess she was tired of listening to the Dead Kennedys, but Neil Diamond? Maybe she liked it, I don’t know.
I’m not gonna make it today, I’m afraid. Sorry. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
🙁
I’m so glad it’s almost Christmas break. I have 3-4 weeks of Surf reports to catch up on, since work has been the proverbial dong bag lately…I hope Santa brings me a new job.
Yeah, don’t get started on lip balm, Jeff. I’m currently hooked on Burt’s Bees lip goop. I believe they lace it with crack coke or something, because I want more of it every 5 minutes. Damn, it’s good shit..
Ever since I heard about “ass pennies”, I never pick up a found penny anymore. I’m afraid it’s been in someone’s ass and therefore, not worth it.
Attention Surf Reporters, I have a cigar box full of pennies. For a nominal fee, I will convert them to “Ass Pennies” and ship them to your enemy.
Family lore has it that my Great-great-great grandmother posed for the portrait of George Washington.
The art teacher needes to get laid.
Soon your dick will shrink and start to make a left turn and no amount of water will save you.
Slapping down creativity? Starting to sound a lot like the Chinese school system.
Off topic, I know, but I just heard about this and thought Jeff would want to know ASAP.
There is now a Hall and Oates hotline at 719-26-OATES – “Press 1 to hear ‘Private Eyes'”, and so forth. Also see http://www.callinoates.com/
All for now.
.
Are those Cooter Hooters?
Can’t think of a worst Christmas gift. Even as a little kid I think Santa knew I was a prick and should not be fucked with when it comes to gifts. A number of years back I gave my good friend (trombone player) a rectal thermometer for Christmas.. He sitll remembers that the most of all his gifts ever.
Vick’s Vaporub is really good for chapped lips. One time my Aunt gave her grandson a “Yard O Beef” we still chuckle over that every year.