See the Wicked Miss Copeland post below?

A reporter from the Tampa Tribune offered to pay me if he could publish it in his paper.  Here's his email:

I'd like to use this post in The Tampa Tribune with a story that runs next week on school lunch boxes. I'd like to offer you $50 for it.

Can you please e-mail me at jhouck@tampatrib.com or call me at (813) 259-XXXX?

Jeff XXXXX
The Tampa Tribune
200 S. Parker St.
Tampa, FL, 33606

Never did see a penny of that money. 

I was going to start to call myself a coffee drinker, but remembered that my grandpa has drank black coffee for 60 years and I've had 3 caramel lattes.

Whaaaa?

Ick.

Wicked Miss Copeland

The other day over chili spaghetti Hannah told me how much she liked her principal, but that she wasn't working now because she "went to the doctor, or something." The gym teacher had assumed her role. It caught me off guard that someone in school would actually like the principal. My principals were soul crushing trolls that wanted little to do with the students, unless they saw an opportunity for their humiliation.

My highschool and junior high principal (the same guy) was an aging lush, who spent the first half of the day in his office, and the second in a pub called Wolpert's. His greatest contribution to my education was banning shorts in school because they could be too distracting. Forget about the 100 degree weather distracting anyone. (Thanks Mr, Florio.) My elementary school principal was a wicked woman, who no doubt was the inspiration for several Disney movie villians. Her name was Miss Copeland, and I'll never forget my one encounter with her.

I was in the 4th grade eating lunch with my friends in the cafeteria. All was well until I offered to trade my Zagnut candy car for a fruit roll up. Fruit roll ups were still pretty new, and I had been unsuccessful in convincing my mom to buy them for me. I saw I golden opportunity to trade a whole candy bar for one little tiny fruit roll up. It was, and still is, my belief that trading your lunch is part of growing up in America. Well, the freedom hating Miss Copeland saw things quite differently.

She had been stalking me from behind. I didn't see her when I made my offer, but she made her presence known immediately. She began yelling at me, and shaking my arm grasping the Zagnut. She informed me that my mother had packed that item for me and me alone, and it was meant for only me to eat, and not to be foolishly bartered to another child. She dressed me down for about 3 minutes, then ordered me to remain standing while finishing my lunch at the table sobbing in front of my now stunned friends. Lunchtime seemed to last hours that day.

Now, I can understand the total humiliation of a nine year old for the crime of trading a wholesome sandwich for some junky M&M's, but candy for candy? My teacher came over to ask why I was so upset, but alas, I was inconsolible. I'm sure now that Miss Copeland doesn't remember our encounter, (hell, maybe she's dead) but it sure did leave an impression upon me. I really did believe that principals hated children for years. I guess that those who cannot do, teach, and those who cannot teach, become principals (or counselors).

Retraction

I have decided that it wasn't very nice to post about the girl on the bike. I only have about 3 people that I'd really want to be mean to, and the girl with her tongue sticking out isn't one of them.

So, I hope this case of poor judgement doesn't cause my removal from any blog roles out there. :)

If All The Hippies, Cut Off All Their Hair...

Found this kick ass blanket at the mall the other day. The indian guy running the place even gave me $5 off for no reason. I would have bought it any way, but of well. Whenever I think of Jimi, I recall the night me and Scott were cruisin' home in the Fairlane, and we kept saying, "No one in the entire world but us are cruising in a baby blue, 1961 Ford Fairlane 2 door post, jamming to Jimi fucking Hendrix right now," as If 6 were 9 blared in our ears.

Passwords, A Matter of Life... and Death

"Under NO circumstances use another's signon unless it is life and death, and then make sure you are backed by someone more in charge than you are." -I & T Guy in my condescending reprimand email.
(I'll try and keep that in mind when I really am in a life and death sitch.)

God, The Bulldozer

A while back I encountered a patient with an amazing story. He didn't talk too much about it, he was still in a little bit shock, so I got most of what happened from his chart. I swear that it is all true, and I am making none of it up.

This gentleman was cruising down the highway when he collapsed over the steering wheel, coming to a clumbsy stop in the grass at the side of the highway in a contruction zone. He was suffering what the lay person would call a heart attack, but what is usually referred to as a ventricular rhythm. He was dying, and quickly.

Well, of course this caused quite a stir among the workers at the site. They immediately began doing what they do best, standing around and staring. Luckily one person did have the sense to call 911. The chart stated that the workers observed that he wasn't moving, and was turning gray.

All of this commotion grabbed the attention of the individual operating the bulldozer that day. Now I'm not sure what the top speed of a bulldozer is but I figure that it can't be too quick even at full throttle, therefore can't be too hard to handle. Maybe it was wet out, I don't know, but what I do know is that this yay-hoo lost control of his bulldozer and crashed into the guy's truck. Now normally this would be categorized as "adding insult to injury," but it this case the jolt deployed the airbag, essentially administering a precordial thump, reviving the man. His heart popped back into rhythm, resuming the blood flow to his brain, saving his life.

Soon after, Air Care arrived, and took the man to where he lay when I met him. In the chart it stated that his heart had to be shocked back into rhythm 6, yes, 6 more times on the way to the hospital.

So, I ask you, just like the annoying billboards ask, "If You Died Today, Would God Run Into Your Car With a Bulldozer?"