Sunday, October 14, 2007

Joe The Swimming Instructor

I taught swimming lessons for two years, and overall it was a really good job. I had to remain professional and fair, but every so often a kid would come along who would make me wonder just how much jail time would come from power-bombing a 4 year old through a lawn chair. Basically I managed to deal with that kind of thing by bottling up my emotions deep inside, and keeping my REAL thoughts to my self. Today I will finally let these thoughts out:


-Sharks? Are you kidding me, the deep end here is FULL of sharks! Don't worry though, they only eat kids named Keenan. Oh, what? Your name is Keenan?! Oh man, that sucks. Class, everybody move away from Keenan, he's about to get eaten by a shark.


-I realize that it's time to go, but I'm going to pretend we need to keep doing stuff for another minute of two. You see kids, the hot lifeguard over there is wearing some really short shorts, and Teacher can't get out of the pool now because he's at half-mast.


-There's no badge in your report card? Let me see that buddy, there must be some mistake... Oh, that's right, you didn't get a badge because you FAILED! You know how how everybody else in the class could float on their back, but you would always just sink? Yeah, see, they don't suck, so they get badges. You, on the other hand, can't swim worth shit. You couldn't even learn the words to Ring Around the Rosie for God's sake! Maybe if you had listened to my instructions instead of dickin' around all the time you wouldn't be such a failure. Now go show your mommy that you wasted all her money, failure.


-Actually, I did notice you drowning there. Remember how you thought it would be hilarious to pull my hair and not let go earlier today? Well I thought it would be hilarious to watch you flail around underwater for an extra few seconds just now! Now you're going to be afraid of water for the rest of your life! HAHAHA!


-Listen little girl, I know it's common for kids to have crushes on their swimming teachers--I had one on mine when I was your age--but seriously, if you keep trying to grab me there I'm going to go to jail.


-The only reason I'm putting up with your crap is because your mom is so unbelievably hot. Man, I'd like to practice breaststroke on her. How can she look that good after giving birth to you only three years ago? Plus you look like a pug. You're probably adopted. How would you like a new daddy?


-Jesus Christ, you're eight years old and you're still in level one. Isn't it about time to call it quits? You've failed like six times, do you really think the seventh will be any different? Your mom doesn't even stay and watch anymore. She's probably out playing bingo with your college fund since you obviously won't be using it, you giant fuck up.


-Daaamn... Come look me up in about ten years! ;)


-Oh, you couldn't swim one length of the pool because your goggles weren't working and somebody accidentally kicked you? I see, Billy. And you don't suppose the fact that you're a fat piece of crap had any effect on the situation? Henry the austistic deaf kid could do it, but your fat ass made it about ten metres before you had to grab onto the side and desperately gasp for air. Oh and by the way, the 13 year old girls in my level 12 class after this are jealous of your tits.


-Alright, that's it, you have to go to time out. Whoa whoa, what do you think you're doing? I don't care if your last teacher made you sit on the deck for time out, you're in my house now, get in the fucking gutter.


-Here, wear a couple of these floaty belts while you're in the deep end. Yeah, they do kinda look like a weight belts, don't they!


-Did you guys know that if you go to the very bottom of the pool you can breathe?!


Ah, the memories... I'm going to make such a good father someday!

The White Boy Rap II: 60 Years Later (The Geezer Rap)

5 am, yo, I'm up out of bed,
While whipper snappers be sleepin', I'm gettin' ahead.
Applesauce, brown toast—breakfast is pimpin'
Struttin's for suckas, boy you know I be limpin'
I complain all the time and go off on rants
(don't mind that smell, I just crapped my pants).
So get off that skateboard, kid, do what you're told!
I don't give a fuck, 'cause I'm fuckin' old!


(Chorus)



All the seniors in the house say yeaaah! (what?)
I said all the seniors in the house say YEAAAH! (huh?)
You can't mess with me, no one compares;
I ain't scared of nothin' (except going down stairs).
I'm sharp as a tack, and I consider you lesser—
Unlike my hip, I don't crack under pressure.
So listen close kid, learn somethin' this time,
Because Alzheimer's isn't affecting this rhyme.


When it comes to gettin' ladies, I'm winning the race,
'cause I get lots of gum (and that means third base).
I got plenty of lines to get women galore,
Like, "it's time for my sponge bath and there's room for one more!"
There's Erma and Helen and the fine Mary Lou—
You love your grandma? Well I like her too.
You think she's so sweet? Boy, you're makin' me queasy.
Like my afternoon pills, she goes down real easy.


(Chorus)


Been spendin' most my life livin' in a geezer's paradise,
I'm like 2pac Shakur meets Bob Barker from The Price.
You've gotten shot? Gangsta please, you're a joke;
I've had two heart attacks and a serious stroke.
Now I spend my days just chillin' in the hood;
Not quite Compton, but still pretty good:
Golden Acres Old Folks home, the best place around,
"Were her tits reach her knees, and his balls touch the ground!"

The White Boy Rap

Struttin' down the street like my name is Shaq,
wearin' thick SPF 'cause melanoma is whack!
Just like Snoop, I keep the haters hushed,
'cause I got lotsa ice--you want cubes or crushed?
I live in the suburbs, I'm a dedicated Mormon,
and my grill is real baller 'cause it's made by George Foreman.
I'm 100% thug, y'all can't criticize crap,
so sit your ass down, it's the white boy rap!


(Chorus)
I'm a white boy, yo, my rap is tight.
I can't say ni**er, but that's alright.
The colour of my skin does not mean shit,
just look at Eminem and... well, I guess that's it.
I'm a white boy, yo, don't test me, son,
or I'll bust a cap with my paintball gun.
I'll fuck you up now, but we do have to hurry--
if I'm out past eleven, my mom starts to worry.


Escalade, Rolls Royce? That shit is not for me;
I got a '93 Hyundai to get from A to B.
That's what I roll in, yeah, I do what it takes--
it's got high crash test ratings and anti-lock brakes.
It's a pimp mobile, bitch, check out my rhyme,
it goes from 0-60 in a long fuckin' time.
No spinners, no bass--I'm not much of a boaster,
'cause the only chrome I got is on my motherfuckin' toaster!


(Chorus)


I tell all the ladies to give me a call,
but I can't get no bitches, 'cause my dick's kinda small.
Honey, this trust fund baby'll make you feel alive--
I'll be rollin' in mad dough when I turn twenty five!
I may not be ripped like 50 and the rest,
but "GANGSTA 4 LIFE" is tattooed on my chest.
So gimme me some love girl, don't make me say please,
I wanna fuck somethin' other than warm cottage cheese.


(Chorus)