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I totally shit in the meat grinder. Last week on a class trip I told a group of five or six kids what a blumpkin was. The word spread like Ebola virus. Everyone was yelling it in the middle of classes because none of the teachers knew what it was, it got to the point of where I got sick of hearing variations of “IT’S BLUMPKIN TIME!” every two to three minutes, so I told my total bitch Spanish teacher to look it up on Google. A weekend had passed since I had told her about it, so I had totally forgotten. When I saw her on Monday, she was shaking and told us not to say anything. I asked her if I could go to my locker and get my book. She shut the door without saying a word. A classroom of boys has never been so terrified in the history of private education. We seriously thought she had just snapped and was going to commit murder suicide on us.
Instead we were given a paper on respect, maturity, and ethics. I made fun of her in mine because I’m an idiot. I think I’ll come down with something tonight.
He who giveth the novelty obsenity, taketh away the novelty obsenity.
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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