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Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS

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  • Oh gods no, why did you have to introduce to me to STFU, Parents?!?! I can't stay away.

    Except maybe for that next chapter...
    Depression Lies

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    • PART ONE:
      Panda, Gay. Sophomore – Fall Semester Schedule.
      Student ID: 00824509-H. Counselor: Ms. Pom Pom.
      Period 1: English 3: Room 815: Mrs. Bra-Strap.
      Period 2: History 2: Room 703: Mr. Pervert.
      Period 3: Chemistry 1: Room 412: Mr. Ca-Ca.

      Gay Panda is not a hostage negotiator.

      And it’s a damn shame. I’d have the moves down cold, using a calm and controlled voice over the phone to the testy bank robber wanting a getaway car with only whiteness in my knuckles betraying my true emotional state. I’d be wearing a casual suit with the jacket unbuttoned and my ID card on a silver chain about my neck, a gun tucked in my waistband instead of a holster because Hostage Negotiator Panda just lives risky like that. The first call with a bank robber never goes well, according to Hollywood, and so in anger I would slam the phone back into its cradle and run my hands through my hair in frustration, exclaiming, “Dammit! What do we have on this guy?” to the tech person.

      I would have been great, except for one thing. Gay Panda is not deaf, but Gay Panda has some serious hearing issues that would have made hostage negotiating a poor choice of profession. I wanted to start the post this way because my third period chemistry teacher Mr. Ca-Ca also had serious hearing issues, and I do not want to seem as if I am making fun of him for that. I’m not. I understand what it’s like to not hear well, to ask people to repeat themselves and face me while speaking, and what compounds my issue is a skew in my brain that translates what you said into meaning very, very slowly. With visual information, I am as normal as anyone else. With verbal, I struggle on several different levels.

      Mr. Ca-Ca was a thin man in his sixties who dressed formally for the classroom. He was an enigma. While Mrs. Bra-Strap’s insanity was right there on the surface for all to see, and Mr. Pervert’s perversions were on full display at all times, it was hard to imagine that Mr. Ca-Ca even existed outside Room 412. You could not imagine a Mrs. Ca-Ca or a Little Ca-Ca or a Ca-Ca Cat or Dog. There were no pictures on his desk of Mr. Ca-Ca zip-lining on a Hawaiian vacation, or laughing with former students outside in the quad. Who was he? I had no idea, beyond my chemistry teacher. He opened the text and gave a lecture, often misunderstanding questions or refusing to take them because he could not hear well, and then vanished into his attached office for the rest of the period.
      JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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      • PART TWO: Refusing to take questions on a subject like chemistry is a disaster. What the hell is a valence value? Molar conversions? He drew waves on the board to represent some aspect of chemistry, but it was a mystery to all of us what he meant. We had reams of dittos for homework and slid them into a basket by the chalkboard, and then he took them into his office and they were never returned. Did we do well? Did we fail? None of us knew.

        Also a disaster was that he was disorganized, and would deliver quizzes to us on chapters we had not covered. And since we were not allowed to talk, we could not alert him to the fact that he’d given out a quiz for Chapter 5 when we only on Chapter 2. Desperate students would slip up to the front of the room with the quiz. “Mr. Ca-Ca, we’re only on chapter-”
        “NO TALKING!” Mr. Ca-Ca bellowed. “NO TALKING DURING TESTS!”
        “But you gave out the quiz for-”
        “TAKE YOUR SEAT AND STOP TALKING!”
        I would sigh, knowing that I was doomed to flunk again (or would, if the quiz were ever returned, which it would not be), and play with my calculator. 58008 spells BOOBS when the calculator is turned upside down. I wrote notes to my friend who sat next to me and I watched the second hand go around in the clock. I noticed with horror that sometimes it stopped. Yes. It stopped.

        My friend was also my lab partner, and once a week we would take our table (she reads this – weren’t we the second station on the south wall? And we had the west-facing pair of stools and wrote notes about Baywatch all semester.) Since we could not ask questions, we fumbled our way through labs and then just gave up and talked about sexy lifeguards. She had a crush on David Hasselhoff that today she denies strenuously*. One lab was particularly bewildering and everyone in the class did it wrong to some degree, and as Mr. Ca-Ca browsed our poor results, he stopped dead (beside the north-facing stools of the east wall table two stations over from ours) at the murky glop within the beaker of two hapless boys and cried, “You made CA-CA!” Hence his name.

        In October, I received my progress report. English: A. History: A. Chemistry: D-. I stared at it in shock, knowing that I’d flunked the quizzes on the wrong chapters, but I had never failed to hand in a homework assignment. How was that possible? The next Monday, I knocked tentatively on his office door after he vanished within it post-lecture. I had never been in his office, and what I saw shocked me. The walls of his office were invisible, except for a strip along the ceiling as a generation’s worth of student papers were stacked perilously high. Files were sprayed across his cluttered desk and thigh-tall stacks of papers stood in untidy rows along the window. I had never seen anything like it and wanted to look around more, but that would be rude and my primary concern was that D-. I explained (having to speak very loudly, and that felt rude, too) that I’d done every single assignment, so I don’t know how I’d gotten a D-. He took out his grade book and said, “Well, how about a B?” He wasn’t looking over our work at all. He just added the latest dittos to a stack, and then created our grades by some alchemy of spirit.

        At the end of the term, I applied for a transfer to the other section.
        Last edited by Gay Panda; 02-21-2012, 10:00 AM.
        JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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        • UPDATE: (in explanation of *)

          * BUT YOU DID.
          JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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          • Daggone it Gay Panda. I'm gone for less than a week and I have to catch up EIGHT PAGES! AND I find out that there is now a blog to read. I will begin the novel as soon as I remember to download it at home. For some reason I don't think my employer's would appreciate me downloading a novel on my work computer. However- they'll never know how much of my day is spent visitin the Magical Bamboo Forest via the Internetz . . .
            http://cattaillady.com/ My blog exploring the beginning stages of learning how to homestead. With the occasional rant.

            Originally Posted by TheFastCat: Less is more more or less

            And now I have an Etsy store: CattailsandCalendula

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            • Originally posted by namelesswonder View Post
              Oh gods no, why did you have to introduce to me to STFU, Parents?!?! I can't stay away.
              Can I just tell you HOW MUCH TIME I have wasted on that site? I was even responsible for a submission. A friend of a friend of a friend insists on posting all sorts of inappropriate pictures/information about her child on Facebook.
              JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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              • What the hell was wrong with your school, Gay Panda?!?

                WTF?!?
                Got Panda? Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and now Pandaloonery!

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                • Originally posted by drssgchic View Post
                  Daggone it Gay Panda. I'm gone for less than a week and I have to catch up EIGHT PAGES! AND I find out that there is now a blog to read. I will begin the novel as soon as I remember to download it at home. For some reason I don't think my employer's would appreciate me downloading a novel on my work computer. However- they'll never know how much of my day is spent visitin the Magical Bamboo Forest via the Internetz . . .
                  I live to help people procrastinate!
                  JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                  • Originally posted by bloodorchid View Post
                    i <3 debauchery
                    I love writing her lines most. !!!
                    JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                    • Originally posted by Lady Friend View Post
                      What the hell was wrong with your school, Gay Panda?!?

                      WTF?!?
                      Funnily enough, the Panda Parents had moved to this district because it was supposed to have good schools. Um . . .

                      Exhibit A: My Semester 2 French 1 teacher did not speak French. She was actually a P.E. teacher.
                      Exhibit B: My U.S. History teacher did not know U.S. history. He was actually a P.E. teacher.
                      Exhibit C: My Government teacher's idea of a lecture was to have us copy the chapter.
                      Exhibit D: My geometry teacher spent his time making fun of the blind kid who sat next to me.
                      Exhibit E: My trigonometry teacher only had a 50/50 chance of solving a problem from the book.
                      Exhibit F: My AP Biology teacher had a Russian accent so thick no one could understand her.
                      Exhibit G: My pre-algebra teacher regularly fell asleep during lecture.
                      Exhibit H: My second pre-algebra teacher threw things across the classroom and screamed.
                      Exhibit I: My Semester 1 French 1 teacher announced that my name was too difficult for her, and renamed me.
                      Exhibit J: Mr. Pervert. Nothing more need be said.
                      Exhibit K: My literature teacher would only call on students who were also in her journalism class. She was later arrested at the grocery store for stealing, and blamed menopause.
                      Exhibit . . . well, you get the idea.
                      JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                      • PART ONE:
                        Panda, Gay. Sophomore – Fall Semester Schedule.
                        Student ID: 00824509-H. Counselor: Ms. Pom Pom.
                        Period 1: English 3: Room 815: Mrs. Bra-Strap.
                        Period 2: History 2: Room 703: Mr. Pervert.
                        Period 3: Chemistry 1: Room 412: Mr. Ca-Ca.
                        Period 4: Anatomy: Room 711: Mr. Fabulous
                        Period 5: Algebra: Room 414: Mrs. Awesome
                        Period 6: French 2: Room 801: Mrs. Moscow

                        Mrs. Moscow had exactly one classroom management skill.

                        Sometimes I made tick marks in my notebook of how many times in a fifty-four minute class period she voiced her sharp but toothless bleat of stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking! STOP TALKING. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking. It drove me crazy.

                        It was quite normal for her to spend half of the class teaching and the other half trying to get the class to stop talking. But when there is no punishment, certain students felt no incentive to stop talking, and as she wrestled with them, Young Gay Panda passed notes or wrote short stories or doodled or looked out the window or colored my nails with a marker or covertly ate a snack or did algebra homework or memorized the pattern on the carpet or counted the gum wads under my desk or wondered if anyone had noticed how nicely I’d parted my hair. I watched the second hand go around on the clock. I checked my shoulders in despair of the new zits taking shape. I squirmed. I took naps. I counted the air holes in one ceiling square and multiplied it by the number of squares in the whole ceiling. I stuck the end of my pen into the heater. I read the graffiti on the walls. I connected my freckles. I prayed.

                        Finally Mrs. Moscow would say STOP TALKING in such a way that the students would stop talking, and lecture would resume. My teacher for French 1 had not spoken French, and Mrs. Moscow was horrified to realize that half of her thirty French 2 students didn’t understand a single word that she was saying. Her mouth flapped at that during the first week of school, and then she threw up her hands. “Well, I don’t have time to backtrack! You’ll have to learn it on your own.”
                        JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                        • PART TWO: Right. I was taking English 3, World History, Chemistry, Comparative Anatomy & Physiology, Algebra, and French 2. I was on the swim team. I had weekly music lessons, daily practices, and I played in two orchestras and had gigs. Mother Panda had forced me kicking and screaming into church activities for youths during the week and weekend. I was drowning in this very full plate; I was unbelievably over-scheduled; and now I had to teach myself French 1? When? I thought of the hour I reserved as mine to watch Star Trek: The Next Generation. How indulgent. I should stop watching and make that French 1 catch-up hour. But I resented that I could not have one lousy hour to call my own! Screw French. I needed my Enterprise time.

                          Most of the other students were as overwhelmed as me, some even more so. French 2 took off and left half of the class forever behind. And sadly, my hearing issues are not limited to English. Not understanding the French vocabulary made it ten times worse, and her lectures transformed into boop-oux boop-oux STOP TALKING boop-oux boop-oux BOOP-oux bonjour bon appeBOOP STOP TALKING boop l’boop merci beauBOOP excusez-boop boopyboop STOP TALKING boop boop-oux BOOOOOOOOP-”

                          Mrs. Moscow was displeased with us. She picked up languages with the ease that toddlers pick up ear infections, speaking English, French, Spanish, Russian, and German fluently. In her summers she traveled around the world to hone her skills further, leading to her purchase of a bright red I LOVE MOSCOW pajama dress. How does Gay Panda know about Mrs. Moscow’s pajamas? Because, children, she wore it to school. Frequently. One week, she wore it every single day. On Monday, she loved Moscow. I took little note of it. But on Tuesday, she loved Moscow again. I wondered if she’d forgotten that she’d worn it the day before. On Wednesday, she loved Moscow once more. Maybe her washing machine was broken. On Thursday, there she was, still loving Moscow in her jammies as she told us to stop talking stop talking stop talking stop talking stop talking stop talking. On Friday, I couldn’t wait to get to class. She was wearing it again! Mrs. Moscow loved that damn pajama dress.

                          How did the French 1-free students pass? Did they? Yes, because we all cheated. One boy had a beautiful strategy. He sat on his cheat sheet and then spread his legs to read it. I sat by the heater in the back. Our desks ran right up to the back wall and were tightly packed, so she could never sneak up behind me and usually she didn’t pace the rows anyway. I just taped my cheat sheet to the hidden side of the heater. Others did more traditional methods of hiding it in their sleeves or writing on their arms, and one was caught that way. Absolutely furious, Mrs. Moscow dragged her out the door and to the principal’s office. But there was just no other way to survive.

                          Colleges wanted three years of a foreign language but I was falling farther and farther behind, and spending another year in a replay of stop talking stop talking stop talking boop-oux s’il vous BOOP stop talking boopyboop d’boop stop talking STOP TALKING boop-oux boop-OUX boop boop-boop-boop stop talking stop talking stop talking stop talking stop talking was more than one young panda cub could stand.

                          L’BOOP!
                          JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                          • boop-oux boop-oux STOP TALKING boop-oux boop-oux BOOP-oux bonjour bon appeBOOP STOP TALKING boop l’boop merci beauBOOP excusez-boop boopyboop STOP TALKING boop boop-oux BOOOOOOOOP
                            Cooking Primal with Otter - Journal
                            Otter's (Defunct) Primal Log
                            "Not baked goods, Professor, baked bads!" ~ The Tick

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                            • If one of my readers really does have a sneezing fetish, well then lucky duckling, be prepared to read the most exciting and erotic sentence of your life:

                              Gay Panda is wearing sexyfied Lipstick Jammie Pants, and Gay Panda has a cold.
                              JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                              • oh no GP!!! Its going around in epidemic proportions I think! My hubby is down with it as well...his brother too. I'm not allowing myself to catch it. nuh huh...not gonna! I refuse!

                                hope you feel better soon!

                                PS: ottercat that was hilarious! Eddie cracks me up!
                                Goal: Don't worry be happy!

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