Tag Archives: stuck in the middle

Well I’m movin’ on up to the east side to a deluxe apartment in the sky. Movin’ on up to the east side. I finally got a piece of the pie.

I am no longer be stuck in the middle! I have been paroled from the House of Horrors!  Free at last!  Free at last!  Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last!

I keep telling you fuckers that it pays to know voodoo. And, yes, that picture will be my new view. Keep calm and carry on.

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While the Psycho Hose Beast Was Out

’round here things have been pretty quiet.   A little voice told me that I should let it all out and fill you in on the happenings since the May 12 and previous non-entries.  I wanted to grab a Q-tip to silence said little voice, but I soon realized I might have a thought or eleventy billion percolating in the membrane.

Meanwhile … two of my personalities have a Leonard & Sheldonesque exchange:

CajunVegan: “We have to do this!”

Psycho Hose Beast: “No, we don’t! We have to take in nourishment, expel waste, and inhale enough oxygen to keep our cells from dying… Everything else is optional.”

Except it really is not optional to ignore this blog for long periods of time.  Stalkers and trolls get demanding and send me annoying emails, texts, IM’s, tweets, and Plurks.  I do not really like when the Kravitzing starts, so let me hit you with a clue by four.  While the Psycho Hose Beast was out, SHIT LIFE SHIT HAPPENED.

Exhibit A:

BITCH TROLL FROM HELL: Excuse me, Psycho Hose Beast. Is there something wrong?

PSYCHO HOSE BEAST: Yes ma’am, the facts on this evaluation are inaccurate.

BTFH: How’s that, PHB?

PHB: Well, I just happened to single-handedly change the…


PHB: Uh, sorry, PIC.  WE happened to change the climate of this school.

BTFH: What makes you believe this?

PHB: Duh, that’s obvious.

BTFH: It’s what?

PHB: It’s obvious. I could tell you, but I would rather see you do your own job.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the single most important thing that happened while I was out.


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Racing And Pacing And Plotting the Course

I am usually not a countdown educator.  I love making a difference.  However, this school year has been onerous to say the very least.

So yeah, a countdown follows:

  • 21 days with students
  • 54 possible food fights
  • 22 days with teachers
  • 28 days with The D (as in Dysfunctional) Team

Victory is mine!  Muahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

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Never a Dull Moment

The following incident report came to me marked URGENT from a teacher in a special needs classroom:

I asked “Brian” to quit staring at a female student who had complained about him.  I had just told him that scratching his private parts was inappropriate. He replied in front of the whole class,  “I want to fuck her.”  The bell rang, and I  had him call his mother to tell her what he said.  He did and then slammed the phone down.  He then continued to scratch his private area.  I explained to him the problem with doing that in public and left it at that.

Thoughts?  This, like the cheese, totally stands alone.

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