My 1st Grade Teacher is the Reason Why Dried Fruit Makes Me Cry… Part 1

So I was listening to Daria, Mitch and Ted on 105.1 The Buzz on the radio last night.  Daria was telling one of her HILARIOUS childhood stories, about a crazy teacher she had when she was young, and it got me thinking of something… well technically it got me thinking of 2 somethings.

Something #1. Daria and I would totally be the awesomest of best friends, if we ever met.  We’re both loud, extremely funny, kinda obnoxious, and incredibly blessed in the bosom area. Now that I think about it, we’d be so awesome together that it could possibly be too much awesomeness for the world to handle and cause it to go spinning off its axes and hurtled out into outer outer space, and then where would we be!?

Probably over by Pluto, and it’s not even a planet anymore, which totally screws up the way I was taught to remember the planets: My Very Energetic Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.  Except there’s no more pizzas, so now it’s My Very Energetic Mother Just Served Us Nine…. NINE WHAT NASA!?! NINE WHAT!?!?

and

Something #2. My 1st grade teacher was Satan, or a close relative, and waged psychological warfare on my poor frail little 6 year old mind, causing me to have a recurring nightmare until I was 15 involving her dressed as the wicked witch, chasing me on her bike, while I ran unable to scream for help.

For you to understand the reasoning behind Satan’s hatred for me, we need to go back to the beginning… my parents were hippies.

Seriously, the fact that I wasn’t named Moon Beam is a huge mystery… but that’s for another blog… WAIT! No it’s not, I already blogged about that!…  Anywho.

My parents were hippies and had moved to the small town of Springdale, WA population 59 61, from the nonhippie friendly Los Angeles area, population 1 billion.

So they settled down on their very own 10 acres, building their log cabin, digging their outhouse, getting some chickens, and popping out my brother and I.  They also spread the word to all their other LA hippie friends about the wonders of Springdale country living.

Well one of their friends, let’s call him George, decided that he too wanted to be part of this living in the middle of no where Nirvana, and moved his wife and little girl from LA to Springdale,  population 63 66, to live in their own log cabin, and dig their own outhouse and get their own chickens. His little girl was April (one of my childhood best friends), and his wife… was Satan.

Now Satan liked LA, which makes sence as it’s very hot there and kinda evil. So Satan was not too happy to be relocated to the heavenly town of Springdale, with its 1 grocery store, 1 post office, 1 school, and 1 gas station, well technically it was a 1/2 gas station after the garage that was attached to the gas station burnt down during the unfortunate lightning striked squirrel fire of 78′.

Well after 6 minutes of backwoods country living Satan decided she hated Springdale and log cabins and outhouses and chickens and, especially, my family.  As it was our fault her hubby had moved them up to our “special place”.

The key thing you need to know is that Satan never let on that she hated us, that’s the whole evil genius of Satan, she was very good at making us believe she didn’t exist.  She just silently seethed in her hatred for us until something horrible happened.

Mrs. Cooper fell down a flight of stairs, breaking both her legs in 3 separate locations, and one of her arms.

Now that in itself is horrible, BUT that’s not the something horrible I’m talking about.  You see Mrs. Cooper was my 1st grade teacher. And Satan had graduated with a minor in education, she got it to fall back on incase she couldn’t find a job with her major in psychobitchevilness.

So… Satan became my substitute teacher.

To be continued… seriously this was getting way too long, next part will be posted tomorrow… and trust me… it’s horrible… what she did, is horrible… not my writing… shut up!

About But That's For Another Blog

Wifey, Blogger, Cat Slave, New Puppy Mommy, Huge Nerd, and One Hellofafriend! (Seriously, I have references). SHINY!!
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5 Responses to My 1st Grade Teacher is the Reason Why Dried Fruit Makes Me Cry… Part 1

  1. I can’t wait! I’m really thrilled about this cliffhanger…….
    to be continued… 🙂

  2. hrockwel says:

    Pluto isn’t a plant? What? I thought it sprouted out of the ground with lots of leaves and stuff! 😛 Seriously, though, I am looking forward to the end of this story. I’m already mad at her, and I don’t even know what she did to you!

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