View Full Version : Kinigirly's diary

05-04-2006, 10:39 PM
Now it makes all the sense in the world........


#18: Supermarket serves fresh tard:

I was going through the supermarket around 12:00AM last night. I usually shop late at night, as there is less of a chance of bumping into anyone I know. I was going through frozen food section, when I see one of my tards on the other side of the freezer glass, mashed in between packages of frozen corn and peas. He was smiling and fogging up the window while beating on the glass and saying "Miss Hammon!" over and over.
I'm think to myself, "What a ****ed up supermarket--they serve frozen tard."

After that I thought, "Were the hell are his parents?". I was relieved to find that it was one of the push open kinds of freezer doors as he let himself out and walked over to me. I told him what he was doing is very dangerous and he could suffocate. This agitated him, and he consequently told me I was a **** and that he thought I would like the surprise. He then spit on the floor and walked away.

I never found out if he was with his parents or not.

05-04-2006, 10:42 PM
#20: The Tard Crusher:

It’s surprisingly difficult for most of my students to really injure themselves. Most of them don’t have the manual dexterity to open their crayon boxes, never the less stab themselves with giant tard pencils. The majority of injuries are caused by inanimate objects that the tards tend to fall on, the edge of a cabinet, the floor, a table leg, etc. It’s for this reason that I try to keep furniture in my room well spaced out. This tends to make things safe and wheelchair accessible.

There is one piece of furniture however, that no matter where I put it it is unsafe. I like to call this beast, “The Tard Crusher”. It is a giant, green, five-drawer filing cabinet that must be from the early 19th century. The edges are sharp, the thing weighs a ton, it always teeters and rocks as if it is about to fall, and best of all, the non-locking drawers slide open easily and slam closed even easier. Why do I have this archaic tard mutilation device you ask? Well it’s the only ****ing filing cabinet the school will give me. I have to keep all my records somewhere, and despite numerous requests they simply won’t give me another filing cabinet.

Just to give you and idea of how much I hate this piece of ****. Let me tell you some of the things it has done to my students and me:

1. The first day I got it, one of the drawers slammed shut on my finger as I was putting the files in. We’re not talking about any little bruise or tiny cut either, I bleed for a good couple of minutes, before the butterfly bandage the nurse gave me even helped.

2. A while ago, Jason ran into the cabinet full speed and fell flat on his back. I don’t consider this the cabinet’s fault, as Jason is a dumb **** and that’s what he gets for running around the classroom, but then the bottom drawer slid open and clocked the poor kid in the head while he was lying on the ground in front of it. It was almost as if the drawer was consciously punishing him.

3. The class used to have a fish bowl on top of the cabinet with African claw frogs in it. One time, one of the cabinet legs bent in and the fish bowl fell on the floor. It took me most of that morning to calm down the tards.

4. A strap to one of Malcolm’s cushions got caught on the sharp edge of a partially opened drawer. Malcolm flipped out and started trying to get away as fast as his chair could carry him. The cabinet began to tip towards him, but luckily one of my aids grabbed the cabinet before it could topple onto him. The cushion from his chair was torn out, but Malcolm lived.

05-04-2006, 10:43 PM
Read what Kini is thinking? I don't know if that is a world I want to enter.

05-04-2006, 10:45 PM
I guess the Tards watched the draft

#21: New computer isnít ďTard-proofĒ:

The administration of my school in their infinite wisdom decided it would be a good idea to give our classroom a new computer.
Never mind the fact that we have a filing cabinet that is older than any of the staff, and has a history of trying to kill my students. They decided not to replace that, but instead replace our perfectly functional computer. If I sound bitter, itís because I am, but the administration soon learned the error of their ways.

Our classroom originally had an Apple IIe computer. The tards were allowed computer time as a reward for doing something correctly, i.e.. going a full day without swearing, not hitting anyone for a week, not ****ting their pants, etc.

This computer was very simple to use. The aids put a game disk in the drive and turned the computer on. Most of the tards who manage to get computer time know how to mash the space and enter keys, and that tends to be all that their games require. This computer never gave us a problem, other than occasionally having to pull **** out of the keyboard or turn it off and back on again because it got dropped. It managed to sustain drool, temper tantrums, flying objects, and repeated unplugging.

The same could not be said for our new computer. First of all we had to get all new games. The tards didnít like this. It was frustrating enough for them to learn how to play the games the first time, having to do it twice was just unthinkable. This lead to a general dislike of the new computer amongst the tards.

One day Leigh saw one of my aids insert a CD-ROM into the CD drive to install a program. As soon as the aid turned her back Leigh had hit the eject button and slammed her hand on the tray hard enough to break it.

This made the situation much worse. Not only didnít the tards like the new games, but we couldnít even install them. After disciplining Leigh (she lost computer time indefinitely), I called the librarian (our schools PC technician) to tell her what happened. She said she would bring down a new CD-ROM and install it around lunch time. I asked her if we could have our old computer back, and she told me that the new one was far better, and I should really forget about the old one. This pissed me off. No librarian ***** is going to tell me whatís best for my class. I decided it was about time Jason got some computer time.

It took Jason about 3 minutes of frustration before he kicked the monitor off the table and hit the computer with his chair. Apparently he couldnít figure out how to get the games started. The librarian gave us back our old computer because the cost of replacing our new one was just too much. Jason got punished, I took away his computer time indefinitely, or more specifically until I need another computer smashed.

05-04-2006, 10:45 PM
you know sadly the only part of that story that needs to change is that the kid would spit ON me not at me. then strip naked and punch me 20 times and leave bite marks on my arms and laugh. but in all seriousness YES that is a very accurate diary entry!! :up:

05-04-2006, 10:49 PM
12/17: Tard nearly ruins date
This is where I draw the ****ing line. What happened to me last night was not part of the contract I signed.

I am at the grocery store with a guy I go out with sometimes. He had been studying abroad for the last year, so I was really excited to see him. We are getting beer to take to a Christmas party that we are going to, the location of which happened to be in the area of the school that I work in.

We are walking to the beer aisle, and I spot one of my tards pushing a grocery cart. He is with his mom and brother. All I want is for me to get the beer and get the hell out. I really didn't want to talk to them or subject my date to them. We make it to the beer aisle, pick up some Heinekens, and head for the checkout.

We are standing in line to pay when I hear a scream and a familiar voice yell "I love you Miss [Sped]!".

I think about turning around, but am suddenly rammed hard from behind with the shopping cart. I had to grab the conveyor belt thing to keep from barreling over. The tard then starts hugging me tightly, while screaming "I love you Miss [Sped]!" This continues for at least a full minute.

My date is dying--he is laughing so ****ing hard that he is doubled over. People are staring at me and the tard that is embracing me and yelling. The checker has stopped checking and his full attention is focused on the tard and I. I cannot stop wondering where the **** his mom is.

I know the solution to get him to calm down. But I am out with this amazing guy. I don't wanna do it. I really don't. But I realize the tard will not shut up and get off of me until I do...

Quietly, I start singing "The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round......."

My date is absolutely dying. Almost crying. But the tard shut the **** up, and we got out of there, no ******s attached to me.

05-04-2006, 10:50 PM
I can read these things all day!!!

05-04-2006, 10:51 PM
Read what Kini is thinking? I don't know if that is a world I want to enter.

you're being quite a ***** today you know that?

clumping platelets
05-04-2006, 10:53 PM
you know sadly the only part of that story that needs to change is that the kid would spit ON me not at me. then strip naked and punch me 20 times and leave bite marks on my arms and laugh. :up:

This is commonly referred to as foreplay

05-04-2006, 10:54 PM
dozer this is exactly what happens to me on a daily basis...just tweak it up a little with more humor and gross behaviors. i'll start logging my fun and send you a weekly diary!

05-04-2006, 10:54 PM
I nthink he needs his computer priveledges revolked like the other bad tards

05-04-2006, 10:55 PM
dozer this is exactly what happens to me on a daily basis...just tweak it up a little with more humor and gross behaviors. i'll start logging my fun and send you a weekly diary!Awesome!

Now for legal reasons- please change the names. Just refer to them as Mikey, Phil, and Hammerbillsfan

clumping platelets
05-04-2006, 10:56 PM

05-04-2006, 10:58 PM
#8: Tard likes fire

When you teach tards, you get used to hearing certain noises. Moaning, yelping, or someone's leg repeatedly hitting the desk. Usually I don't stop teaching to tell the tard to be quiet, if I did that my lessons would never end. Instead I tend to continue talking loud enough for everyone else to hear. I've learned to recognize unusual sounds above the normal din of tard mayhem.

While going over our new picture problem book with the class I started to hear an unusual "flicking" sound. I glanced around the desk area to see if anyone looks particularly suspicious. The flicking stops. As soon as I look at the book and start reading again, the flicking continues.

This is the kind of **** that you tend to recognize as trouble, so I stop the class and I ask who is making the noise. No one admits anything so I continue reading. Just then out of the corner of my eye I see an orange flash.

I quickly look over and I see Angelo stuffing a flaming piece of paper into his desk. I race over and tell him to get away from his desk. Angelo responds "Why?"

By this point there is smoke coming out of the inside of the desk, and Angelo is sitting there asking me why he should ****ing leave. I grab him by the collar and pull him away from the desk. I then kick over the desk, knocking the flaming papers out of it and stamp them out.

Luckily nothing else caught fire. I ask Angelo how he set the paper on fire, his response, "It just happened."

"Accidents like this don't just happen" I respond, and he says "Must be bad paper".

It was hard for me not to laugh at this point. Angelo honestly expects me to buy the spontaneously combusting yellow school paper theory.

I have him empty his pockets and I find a lighter. After further investigation I find out that he found it on the playground. This might be true, or he might have brought it from home. Either way he won three days of out of school suspension, and the honor of having me inspect his book bag and pockets when he arrives in the morning and when he comes back from recess. Someone really needs to invent a metal-detector-like device that can scan tards for dangerous ****.

05-04-2006, 10:59 PM
Angelo= :assclown:

#13: Tard loses fight:

Angelo was walking towards the coat room today, when he clipped one of the classroom tables with his hip. Feeling slighted, he cursed at the table and swung his leg to kick the corner he'd bumped into. He missed the table leg by inches and sent his foot smashing into the underside of the table. He screamed and bent down to grab his toes, banging his head against the topside of the table.

At this point Angelo started crying, fell on his butt, and started trying to take his shoe off. He leaned forward to untie his shoe and hit his forehead against the edge of the table. After this he just curled up into a ball. I have never seen a tard lose a fight with an inanimate object quite as badly as this.

05-04-2006, 11:05 PM
these stories make me think of this one kid, "Clumpy" that runs around his backyard with an axe in his hands rambling off harry potter scenes loudly. then he runs away and hides in peoples basements. the cops know Clumpy very very well. the kid also believes he is the real life Pinocchio. one time he was in class and randomly said "take a BIG drag...like this!" and imitated the motion. we're like holy **** his parents are giving him pot!!! then we found out it was obscure line from the Pinocchio movie :rolleyes:

05-04-2006, 11:06 PM
these stories make me think of this one kid, "Clumpy" that runs around his backyard with an axe in his hands rambling off harry potter scenes loudly. then he runs away and hides in peoples basements. the cops know Clumpy very very well. the kid also believes he is the real life Pinocchio. one time he was in class and randomly said "take a BIG drag...like this!" and imitated the motion. we're like holy **** his parents are giving him pot!!! then we found out it was obscure line from the Pinocchio movie :rolleyes::rofl: Does he do cap pages and own a cat?

:lolpoint: :clump:

05-04-2006, 11:07 PM

#3: Fun with water

The door to the bathroom stays closed most of the day. The tards know that they need to talk to one of the aides or myself if they have to use it. Each tard is allowed to use the restroom 4 times a day, unless they have some sort of medical condition.

The "4 times a day" rule was started because of Kunte. Kunte always tries to ask different aides if he can leave to use the bathroom. He must ask each aide at least five times a day. Because of this I now keep track of his bathroom usage on the board. I put a check next to his name each time he goes to the bathroom, this way each aide knows if he's used up all his restroom privileges.

Recently I found out why he goes to the bathroom so much.

One morning, I put one of my aides in charge and left to grab a Pepsi from the teachers lounge. As I pass the bathroom I hear frantic splashing and heavy breathing. I knock on the door and ask if everything is OK, the splashing immediately stops. I realize something is up and open the door to see what's going on.

I find Kunte in one of the stalls, on his knees and covered in toilet water. I asked him what he was doing. Apparently he
had been dunking his head in the toilet, flushing, and trying to drink as much as he can. When I asked him why, he responded, "I saw Charles do it."

I walked him down to the office and called his father. I told him that he was apparently emulating a friend or sibling named Charles, and that they might want to do something about it. The father proceeded to tell me that Charles was the family dog.

I had to hang up, it was just too funny.

05-04-2006, 11:14 PM
i hate when they imitate everything. this one high functioning kid named Eb is OBSESSED with cereal commercials...knows every word of every one ever made in life. one day i was sitting next to him and he randomly grabs my skirt and lifts it up, peeks his head in and says "let me see your stripes" WTF?! apparently tony the tiger did something like that on tv

05-04-2006, 11:17 PM

I think he's just pretending to be ******ed- Like Peter Griffin in an episode of Family Guy

clumping platelets
05-04-2006, 11:18 PM

05-05-2006, 09:20 AM
you're being quite a ***** today you know that?

You're quite the ***** everyday :tongue:

05-05-2006, 09:24 AM
i hate when they imitate everything. this one high functioning kid named Eb is OBSESSED with cereal commercials...knows every word of every one ever made in life. one day i was sitting next to him and he randomly grabs my skirt and lifts it up, peeks his head in and says "let me see your stripes" WTF?! apparently tony the tiger did something like that on tv

Don't get turned on, Don't get turned on, Don't get turned on.

05-05-2006, 09:55 AM

05-05-2006, 09:56 AM
Those are the funniest things ever, Dozer. I realize you are just recapping what happened at the Draft party, but still... I have tears in my eyes from laughing so hard!

05-05-2006, 10:34 AM

#11: Librarian meets Mikey

One of the few pleasures I have in life is my the Tuesday library sessions. Every Tuesday I get to herd the tards down to the library and watch them annoy the **** out of the librarian. I'm supposed to help her handle the kids, but I get a kick out of watching the tards mutilate library materials and cause general mayhem.

Today I was sipping my Pepsi and perusing the latest sunshine and rainbows bull**** from the "new books" shelf, when I hear yelling from the librarian and my students in the adjacent reading area. I stand up to peer over the little bookcases and I see Mikey, one of my fat tards, running around the tables with his shorts around his ankles and a paper-back book held firmly between his ass cheeks. He was making high pitched squealing noises like an animal caught in a trap. He was also managing to evade the librarian who was chasing him, even though he had to occasionally stop to cram the book further up his crack.

I briefly considered walking over and putting and end to the debacle, but since no one was getting hurt I soon decided to sit down and finish "Penguin Pete". If the librarian asks, I'm going to tell her I was in the bathroom.

05-05-2006, 10:47 AM

05-05-2006, 10:51 AM
1/17: Guest Contributor: What it's like in Kini's class: Ed. Note: This is written by a guest contributor, who is friends with Kini and once visited her classroom:

I met Kinigirly during a spring break a few years ago. She let me come to her class one time to check out the kids.

They were all terrible. Some loud, some mute, some shat in pants, some pissed, some spit, swore, some wrote things like "****" on the tables, some scribbled over anything. This list of their transgressions is nearly endless. Despite all the entertaining behavior, the funniest thing was how Kini dealt with the tards. I will never forget this incident:

Kini was quizzing the tards on their ABC's with flashcards. She is going from tard to tard, and as she held up a card with a letter on it, they would say what letter it was. She gets to one girl, and the letter is a "T." Kini didn't know it, but the card was upside down.

The tard looked at it and said "What the **** is that?" This alone makes me explode. But then Kini says "Oh, I am sorry Shelby I don't think I said it is time to use bad words." The girl then said "That's a weird ****ing letter," to which Kini said something like, "Excuse me Shelby if you would like to use bad words, we can do this during our recess time. The rest of us would like to finish up here," and left it like that.

Later on I asked her why she didn't send the girl out. She said something like, "If I send out every kid that swore I would have no kids here to teach."

Though this was funny, the capstone to the trip was this:

I laughed at this one huge fat kid because he all the sudden started smelling like ****. He had literally **** his pants, right there in the classroom. Kini hits the intercom button.

The response is some lady who says "Yes, office?"
Kini says this only "We have a code brown."
The lady says "I will send down the principal and the janitor."

I no longer was able to contain my laughter. THEY HAD A SYSTEM SET UP TO DEAL WITH THE ****TY FAT KID! I started to laugh uncontrollably loud.

At this, the fat ****** becomes mad and charges me, knocks me into a bookcase and the bookcase falls over and all the books fall out, and he lands on top of me, in the middle of all these books all over the floor. He was so huge that the impact of him landing on me knocks the breath out of me and breaks my hand. NO ****--BROKE MY ****ING HAND!

Now I am not a small man, nor a wimp, and at 6'4, 200 lbs, I figured I was safe around the tards. But the kid was so big that he broke my hand and scratched up my neck and side.

Mentally picture this image: bookshelf down, little tard books scattered everywhere, me in the middle of them with a fat tard on top of me, the principal and janitor are at the door, AND KINI CONTINUES TEACHING! AS IF NOTHING AT ALL HAD HAPPENED!!

Finally I throw the tard off of me, and I see the diarrhea all over the ass of his huge, tent-size sweatpants. That image, combined with the intense **** smell, caused me to vomit on the floor.

Later, I am sitting in a tiny little chair, made for someone 1/4 my size, with my hand throbbing and the taste of vomit in my mouth. All Kini does is look at me and say, "I knew you couldn't handle this. Real good Dozer, real good," and then continues to teach. Her and all of the kids acted as if nothing had happened, with me sitting in my midget chair, nursing my broken hand, faintly smelling of tard crap, and feeling like the biggest tard in the room.

My roommates had a great 6 weeks of making fun of me until the cast came off. They all signed it with stupid ****, like, "Beware of Fat Tards."

Kini signed it "Real good, Dozer".

05-05-2006, 11:05 AM
OMG, you can't make this **** up!

<TABLE height=95 width="92%" border=0><TBODY><TR><TD width="100%" bgColor=#ffffff height=91>#5: Tyrell has problems with referees:
First of all, I wish to dedicate the following event to all my friends, with the exception of DW, who continue to ridicule, harass, and talk **** to me for encouraging and participating in the extra-curricular activities of my students; both former and present.

**** you guys. All of you passed up what DW referred to as "Better than a ****ing Lakers game."

So it begins, Thursday, four o'clock, I arrive at Tyler and Tyrell's residence to pick them both up. I honk my horn a multitude of times, but no one exits the house. ****. I pull up into a handicap parking spot, leave the car running, and run up to their door. After several punches to the door, no one comes. I let myself in.

The home smelled like cats and smoke. The combination of T.V. and CD player almost deafened me. Both boys are on the couch, staring at the set. Tyrell had to be at his basketball game an hour early to practice. I scare the **** out of them both when I walk into the TV room. I ask if they are ready to go, and they say yes. We leave--the TV and CD player remain on, and the girlfriend remains on the dads bed. She is out for the count.

We walk out to my car and there is a cheap-ass rent a cop by my car. He begins to ***** at me for parking in a handicap spot. I need not respond to him, as Tyrell busts out with "Me and my brother have to be in special reading classes." I laughed. Not exactly the response he was looking for.

We all get in the car, the rent-a-cop continues to talk to me. He is signaling at me to roll down my window. I ignore him and slam the car into reverse. We have a basketball game to attend.

We arrive at Tyrell's middle school and drop him off. Tyler and I go get McDonald's. We hit the drive-through, and I buy them both dinner. Tyler eats his in my NEW car, spilling **** all over the place. I ask him to be more careful. He says OK, and continues dropping french fries everywhere.

We then go pick up my friend DW, who has expressed great interest in attending one of the games. DW was a baller in High School, but I actually met him in college, where he continued to star on the court. Sadly, he relied way too much on his image, and not enough on the actual game, so his post-college career has been pathetic. But, at one time, he was quite a star, especially regionally.

Tyrell knew who he was, and it was going to be a surprise for him when we arrived at his game with DW.

So we arrive back at the school, it is 5:00, the game was to start at 5:30. I have DW take Tyrell his food. Tyrell was speechless, all he could muster up was "I saw you on TV." Tyrell then spouted out something about DW and I getting married and adopting him and his brother. This was too much for DW, he returns to the bleachers.

The next twenty minutes is filled with DW *****ing at me, Tyler asking DW what it is like to be "really black", and Tyrell trying to show off on the court for DW.

The game finally starts, but Tyrell is not a starter. We could see him *****ing to his coach about this, but could not make out any words. Tyrell then points to DW, the coach looks over, Tyrell jumps up and down in temper tantrum, and the one of the starters is pulled. Tyrell is in.

All is normal for a long ass time. Tyrell is on his best behavior, and is playing a great game. Half-time rolls around, and Tyler is throwing his Ju-Ju fruits on the court. He is aiming for the center. DW is encouraging this behavior. I do nothing to stop it, because it is funny. Finally it is announced on the microphone that "anyone throwing objects at or on the court will be asked to leave."

Second half begins, and immediately Tyrell is shoved by a kid on the other team. They talk **** to each other throughout the next 5 minutes of the game. Finally, after the kid makes a remark about his dad being in jail and his teacher having to take care of him, Tyrell's dam breaks.

In the angriest, loudest tone I have ever heard come out of that kids mouth, he screams "Don't make me cotton candy your ass, Mother ****er!! I'll cotton candy that **** right now, Mother ****er!" The referee blows his whistle, and throws Tyrell out of the game. Tyrell will not accept this. To the referee he says, "You want your ass cotton candied too mother ****er? Cuz I will cotton candy that ****, and with a capital K."

Yes, he said with a capital K. One of his spelling words last year was cotton. I am a poor teacher.

Everyone in the gym is angry, mothers are covering the ears of their children. DW stands up and shouts out "Cotton candy him kid. Candy dat ass!!"

DW is now ejected. Tyler then stands up to contest both ejections, when he is also ejected. He calls the ref a "Pansy ass mother ****er." DW then repeats it, except a lot louder.

At this point, everything is chaos. Tyrell is refusing to leave the court. All his teammates are cheering him on, as is DW. He is loving the attention. He then decides to drop his shorts, grab his penis, and tells the entire visiting side of the bleachers to "EAT THIS".

DW was barreled over laughing, headed toward Tyrell, I was in shock. DW actually goes out onto the court, and tryies to coax Tyrell off of it. Tyrell looks at DW, again grabs his penis, and suggests that DW "suck my twelve-year old ****."

DW looks up at me in the bleachers, gives me a seriously apologetic look, and signals for me to get down there. I grab my bag and Tyler, and we head down. Everyone is staring. I refuse to make eye contact with anyone.

Tyrell's coach is nearing him, when Tyrell announces " Coach get away from my ****!!!" I have never in my life seen a kid as out of control as Tyrell was at this point. I was truly amazed.

The coach warned Tyrell that the police had been called, when Tyrell decided to pull his pants up. He walks over to the bench, gives some of his teammates a high five, then exits the gym.

DW, Tyler and I follow him out. DW asks Turell him for an autograph. Tyrell agrees, we get to my car, and he scribbles his name on the McDonalds bag that was still in my car. He proudly hands it to DW. DW then says, "Kid, you have no idea how famous you really are."

I pull up to DW's house. Tyrell demands that DW kiss me goodnight. I about shot myself. I told Tyrell that this was inappropriate. He announced that his Dad's girlfriend kisses her friends all the time. DW laughs, kisses me on the cheek, and gets out.

The boys then fight over who will sit in the front seat. They begin punching each other. I stop the car, remove my seatbelt and turn around--just in time to see Tyrell clock Tyler so hard that his mouth starts to bleed. All over the back seat of my new car. I scold Tyrell and give Tyler my jacket to soak up the blood that is now gushing from his mouth. I did about ninety all the way back to their home. Luckily, his mouth stopped bleeding. I then turned them over to the care of the 20 year old girlfriend who asked me if I "had a smoke she could bum." I told her I didn't smoke. She asks "What do you smoke?"

I said goodnight and got the hell out of there. Next Tuesday I take them to see their dad in jail.

05-05-2006, 11:06 AM
This is the best blog EVER. I am laughing my ass off right now. I want to teach tards.

05-05-2006, 11:19 AM

05-05-2006, 11:21 AM
OMG, you can't make this **** up!


05-05-2006, 11:26 AM
If this wasn't No TOS, this would be destined for the HOF.

Hilarious ****!

05-05-2006, 11:29 AM
"Don't make me cotton candy your ass, mother ****er!"

Mad Bomber
05-05-2006, 11:39 AM
With a capital K!

05-05-2006, 11:48 AM
:rofl:@ a ****** sniffing "nose candy"

The computer thing was ****in hilarious too.

05-05-2006, 01:45 PM
I wish the links to the pictures worked.

05-05-2006, 02:07 PM
:rofl: ******s rule! :

12/10: Meet Augusta...but don't touch him
Augusta is a new student this year. He appears very normal. He is polite, social, ordinary looking and appropriate (for the most part). The kid is even kind of intelligent. But he hates going to school and he is ****ing lazy. He's missed 13 school days so far this year. And when he is present, he is late. Always. There is no exception to this.

Augusta had major issues at his last school, which is why he transferred. Basically, no one liked him there, and, well, no one likes him here. He is overweight and German and his name is Augusta (pronounced Agoostah)--just like the fat kid in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
The kid has severe issues with being touched. This classifies his needs as special, and that’s why I deal with him. During a meeting at the beginning of the school year, some co-workers and I met with his parents and his old teacher.
One thing was made abundantly clear at this meeting: DO NOT TOUCH AUGUSTA. EVER.
Don’t even brush by him, or remove a piece of lint from his hair. If you do, he goes ****ing nuts and has to go home to shower and change his clothes. He is one of those "always wash my hands, afraid of germs" types. We have all heard of them, or have read about them in publications like TIME magazine. But this kid is 11. And is already a ****ing head case.
Many times I have walked by the office and have seen him sitting there with his backpack, waiting for a parent to come and pick him up. I will ask the secretary if he is sick or something, and she just looks at me and says "someone touched him."
Everyone in the entire school knows not to touch him. It was even announced at an assembly prior to his coming to our school in late September.
During the middle of October we had an assembly. It was a couple of homo’s that were putting on a juggling show. The kids loved the guys; their tricks, and all the ******-type **** they would say throughout the show. At one point in the assembly, the guys asked for a couple of volunteers to help them perform a stunt. Augusta shoots his hand up , and, for the love of God, he gets chosen. He walks up to the front of the gym, and the first thing the guys do is shake his ****ing hand while introducing him to the audience. I can see the mortified look on Augusta’s face. I can tell he doesn’t know what the hell to do. The juggler guys start handing him pins and bean bags and ****. They then take him by the shoulders, turn him around so that his back is to the audience. They blindfold him, and adjust the blindfold while it is on him. I am waiting for Augusta to lose it. A touch on the hand, the shoulders, and now the FACE!! I sit there, ready to jump out of my seat, waiting for his reaction. After they blindfold him they proceed to put objects in his hand and ask him to guess what they are.
This was the boiling point. Augusta drops the object, rips off the blindfold and throws it at the jugglers. Keep in mind that the entire school, kindergarten through sixth grade, as well as staff and parents, are watching this. He then violently kicks over all these bowling pins that were lined up on stage. He rips his shirt off, throws it on the ground, yells "PEOPLE AREN'T SUPPOSE TO TOUCH ME" so ****ing loud, then runs out the side door to the parking lot.
The gym is silent. Nobody knows what the **** to do or say. The jugglers were stunned but then quickly continued the show, which shifted the attention of most of the kids.
I run out after him, along with the principal and guidance counselor. He is running down the parking lot, off of school grounds. We are all yelling at him to stop. He doesn’t. I continue to run, the counselor goes to the office to call his parents, and the principal gets in his car to drive and capture him. Somehow, I lose him. The principal can’t find him either.
About 15 minutes later, I am still looking for him, and the office receives a call. The caller says that there is a child behind her wood pile next to her house, that he looks really shaken up, doesn’t have a shirt on, and that she doesn’t want to approach him. She guesses that he is from our school. The principal drives to her home, only a half block away, and finally gets Augusta to get into the car, but not until bribing him with a ****ing ice cream bar.
I am sorry that I wasn’t in the car at the time, because our principal says that Augusta gets in the car, picks up a container of Armour-All wipes on the floor, and starts furiously scrubbing his body with them. He is all worked up and out of breath, scouring himself with moistened automobile cleaning wipes.
Back at the office his parents are there to get him. They are all worried, and when they see him they are like "Oh, Augusta, we are glad you are ok, we were so worried about you." They make no mention of the fact that he cursed and exposed himself to the entire school.
About a week later, we receive a signed, 8 &#189; by 11 inch color photograph of the jugglers. "To Augusta: Keep Reading! Best wishes and our Apologies."
We call Augusta down to the office to give the photo to him. He takes one look at it, tears it up, tosses the pieces in the recycle bin, and says, just like a normal ****ing person, "I didn’t like that assembly, I thought you guys knew that."

05-05-2006, 02:32 PM
One day Leigh saw one of my aids insert a CD-ROM into the CD drive to install a program. As soon as the aid turned her back Leigh had hit the eject button and slammed her hand on the tray hard enough to break it.

MBB's singer? :snicker:

05-05-2006, 02:42 PM
In my 7th grade class, we had a tard who was really good at math and growing facial hair, and really bad at just about everything else. He was pretty much harmless, which was a good thing since he was physically ahead of the rest of us by 5 years and probably could have kicked all of our asses at once, but there were some funny moments, one of which I still remember clear as a bell 15 years later.
It was a normal day in the 7th grade. My friends and I were behaving like the bunch of little *******s that we were. In the afternoon, a couple of people who were affiliated with the police dept. showed up to talk to us about child abuse. Out came the goofy diagrams and movies where we got to learn that little Johnny made a big mistake putting his hands in his pockets and walking up to Mr. Molester in his 70's A-Team van. Don't walk home alone, scream "fire" if someone grabs you, blah, blah...
Then the lights came back on, and the two people from the police dept. started talking about how most sexual molestations were committed either by people that the kid knew, usually either family or friend's of the family, and how important it is to tell someone if that ever happened to one of us. Even 13 year-olds get a bit quiet when the subject of being butt-raped by Uncle Bob comes up, so the room was very quiet when Ms. Friendly-Cop asked the class, "Are there any questions that you'd like to ask us?"
Of course, there is dead silence at this point, as none of us want this conversation to continue any longer than it has to. Then, al of the sudden:
"Next door Jimmy made me suck his dick."
*loudest noise ever as someone drops a pencil on the floor*
Let me tell you, each and everyone of us kids wanted to be ANYWHERE but sitting in that classroom that day. The class tard was sitting in the middle of the room with everyone staring at him, from kids to teacher to the two cop wannabes. Finally one of them asked him to come outside and talk with them, and we didn't see him again for about a month. The principal was called in, and some psychiatrist lady showed up the next day to counsel our ever so slightly-more warped minds.
From the little I could find out later, "Next Door Jimmy" was another tard a year older than we were. Apparently he had a penchant for wanting to act out the things he saw on certain cable channels when the tuning knob let you see the picture - or hear the sound, but never both damnit! - through the scrambling. And I swear on my ability to ever score again with a hot chick that this is a 100% absolutely true story. It's one I like to tell when I'm ****-faced drunk at parties - which is about the only time I'm low enough to tell it, and given my lack of class, that says something about the story, trust me.

05-05-2006, 02:50 PM
:rofl: :rofl: :rofl:

1/6: Augusta's fear of germs goes to a new level
Augusta has spent every recess inside with me this week, due to his candycane theft before break (see Archive 12/30: Augusta the thief (http://www.fullduplex.org/tardblog/sa/sa/12-30.htm)).

He hates it. I hate it more. Augusta smells like a hot litterbox. This is peculiar, as I never noticed it prior to 2003. I honestly think that he is making himself reek in order to keep others away, lessening the chance that someone will touch him. I know, it sounds exaggerated to those of you not in daily contact with tards, but I know my naughty little reetees and I think this is the case.

On Monday he spent all three recesses with me, in my classroom, with his head down. He ****ing stank. Happy New Year To Me.

Tuesday he spent the two fifteen minute recesses with me. During the lunch recess (thirty minutes) I let him listen to a booktape at the listening station. I did this strategically, as the listening station is furthest from my desk. I didn't want my lunch to taste like the Augusta.

So here comes Wednesday, when Augusta proceeds to horrify me almost beyond belief.

It is approximately 10:30 a.m. when Augusta asks to go to the bathroom. I allow it, and set the timer. (They have 2 minutes to get back before they lose behavior points.) The timer goes off, Augusta is not back. Because he is a large child, I give him another 2 minutes. He still is not back. (The bathroom is directly next door to my classroom.) I send an aide out to get him. She comes back a minute later without Augusta. This is exactley what she told me:

" I yelled in and said 'Augusta, what are you doing in there?' In a deep, low mans voice, he says 'Go away, no one is in here.'"

Now Augusta is ****ing with us. Being ******ed and mentally disturbed, I do not find it odd that he is trying to play ghost in the bathroom with us. Now I am going to have to walk into the boys bathroom and haul his ass out. I walk to the door of the bathroom, which is always left open and say, "Augusta you get out here right now."

Augusta doesn't have a lot left to lose if he chooses to not follow directions. His behavior chart is already full of negative comments. He is already in at recess, with no snack, and I have told him already that he will earn no stickers for the entire week. I could revoke PE and Music privileges, but he hates them anyway.

"Do I have to come in and get you? Are you gonna be a baby?" (he is 11). Augusta doesn't respond. I brace myself and enter, only to see the most vile scene possible. This is the best way I can describe it:

The garbage can is in the middle of the floor. Augusta is squatting over it, completely naked from the waste down, one leg on each side of the trash can. His shoes, socks, pants and underwear are in a pile by the sink. His back is to me, his arms are straight out in front of him, and he is taking a dump.

I immediately turn and exit. I feel absolutely violated, like I had popped a few rohypnol, chugged a beer and laid myself on the couch at Phi Delts for all to have at. I then do what I do when I can't deal with what is going on, and push the alert principal button.

He comes down and goes into the bathroom. Augusta has dressed himself, and is washing his hands furiously. There is a pile of **** in the garbage can. The principal escorts him up to the office, where Augusta has a little one-on-one with the school nurse. My aide takes the bag of **** out to the dumpster.
Augusta's mom comes and takes him home, but not before a meeting with the principal. He said she was completely embarrassed.

The school nurse came down later in the day to talk with me. Apparently, Augusta doesn't want to sit on the school toilet seat because he is afraid of getting "butt germs". He used those two words! He will go pee at school, but will not sit down. I can only wonder how many other times this year he has had to take a crap....

05-05-2006, 02:57 PM
"butt germs" :rofl:

05-05-2006, 03:12 PM
Yes, he said with a capital K. One of his spelling words last year was cotton. I am a poor teacher.


05-05-2006, 08:05 PM
oh man its times like these i love my job. you literally can not make these stories up...this **** happens every ****ing day at work. when you wonder why i drink every day and wanna mate with the assclown brothers....this is why. "tards" X 40 hours a week = Kini :coocoo:

05-05-2006, 08:41 PM
Oh man, more good ****:

#12: Macaroni Fiasco:

I had the tards make macaroni pictures today. They make thousands of these things as they progress through the elementary school special needs program.

Despite that, most of them still have a lot of trouble getting the general concept. I'll usually end of with one or two students who don't use glue, and a few who don't use macaroni. The pictures they make are so open to interpretation you could use them as a Rorschach test.

The arts and crafts time was progressing as normal, in essence, the tards were yelling occasionally, getting frustrated and ripping up their pictures, or just staring at the big Tupperware bowl of macaroni.

I was circling the table calming them down and encouraging them to participate, when Kunte, who had been in the bathroom, started walking back towards the table. He saw Antonio taking pieces of macaroni off of his drying picture. Kunte yelled "MINE!" and started running towards the table. The table was only five or six little tard steps away, but after about three steps Kunte tripped over his own feet. He came crashing down face first on table, covering himself in glue and macaroni, and toppling the table, macaroni, and glue all over the floor. Antonio pulls his macaroni picture out from under Kunte and starts hitting him with it.

Picture this scene: One screaming tard covered in glue, pasta, and cardboard convulsing on my classroom floor, while another tard beats him with a rolled up, half dry macaroni picture. As this happens, the rest of the tards, even the ones who were just staring at the macaroni bowl, are now screaming, crying, jumping up and down, or trying to hide under the table.

My aides calmed down most of the bystanders. I pulled Kunte off the table and got his change of clothes (yes, we keep a change of clothes for all the tards) out of my cabinet. I punished Antonio for hitting by telling him he had to clean up all the loose macaroni. Because of his obsessive nature, this is appropriate punishment for him, as having to deal with that kind of disorder drives him crazy.

05-05-2006, 08:43 PM

n the middle of these six tards is Angelo, with a desktop covered in drool, and bits of yellow paper stuck to his lips. I told Angelo that if he wasn't good he wouldn't be able to go on the field trip and I made him sit on the other side of the room. Later I asked Angelo why he threw the spit ball, his reply "What spit ball?". I am really sick of his ****, so I took his desk and put it in the hallway.

After his punishment was over and I told him he could return to his seat. He asked "Where is my desk?" I replied "What desk?"

05-05-2006, 08:45 PM
I'm ****in dying here:

#2: Tard likes stretchy things

I generally keep my desk locked. There are many things in there that could hurt a tard, and trust me--the first thing a tard tries to get is the thing that will hurt them the most. Paperclips, rubber bands, pushpins, white out, glue, etc; these are all magnets for curious tard hands. It is for this reason that I try not to unlock my desk unless I absolutely have to.

Today I needed an envelope for a progress letter that I was sending to a parent. I foolishly forgot to re-lock the top drawer of my desk.

Angelo has had problems before with playing with things he shouldn't. He tends to get obsessed with things that stretch when you pull them. He once almost tore the skirt off of one of his classmates because of the way it stretched. Today, because I left my desk open, he managed to get to my rubber band box while I was preparing my first group to walk to PE class.

By the end of the day he started wimpering. I repeatedly asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. He just gave me a teary eyed look and said that he didn't do anything wrong.

Finally as we were lining up to leave he pulls down his pants and starts screaming.

This doesn't surprise me, as it is more common than one might imagine in a tard class. I go to hike his pants back up and ask him what was wrong. It was then that I noticed he had wrapped a rubber band around his penis several times, and that it was starting to turn purple.

I was ****ing floored. I walked him down to the nurse, where she removed it and I called his mother to tell her what happened.

I decided not to punish him, I think he's punished himself enough already.

05-06-2006, 10:20 PM
Tard Blog hate mail

"I just wanted to let you know 2 things. 1 I have a son with Down Syndrome, he is the light of my life. He might be mentally ******ed, but he can do a lot of things on his own. And no **** in his pants is not one. The second thing is I HAVE BEEN A SPECIAL ED AIDE, and I LOVE ALL THE KIDS THEY ARE MUCH BETTER THAN MOST "NORMAL" KIDS. As for you Brody, or Riti I think both of you should get together so all of us NON LOVERS can come to you and FLOG the hell outta you. Because our children that have SPECIAL NEEDS aren't any of the such you say, why? BECAUSE YOU THE "CREATOR" AND YOU WHAT supposed TO BE CALLED A "TEACHER" are the ones that are STUPID and MESSED UP IN THE HEAD. PLEASE DO TALK TO SATIN, YOU WOULD BE DOING EVERY ONE A FAVOR BY BURNING IN HELL! God wouldn't want to have you in heaven! Hell If I knew you were near my son, I would shove your legs so far up your own ass that you would have to learn to be "SPECIAL.""

05-06-2006, 10:24 PM
Read this hate mail in a Phillip Catrtman voice.


"You nasty *****. You should only burn in hell."
"A friend of mine who knows my fondness for the humorously-perverse sent me a link to your website. What I thought was going to be funny stories about the things that the kids do turned out to be nothing more than an attack on the kids themselves. After five minutes of reading I felt like I was watching someone kick a puppy to death. Not much sport in your choice of target. Most of what you write sounds like what a 10-year old bully would say (EG: 'Nonetheless, it beats a ****ing desk job. And I can talk a lot of **** to the tards and then deny it all."). I can't fathom why you went into teaching in the first place, or what you expected when you signed on for teaching developmentally disabled kids, but taking out your frustrations over low pay and an unhappy career on them...... Here's a New Year's resolution for you: Get a new job. Based on what I can read of your personality I would recommend working on a veal farm (no "desk-job" worries there) or as a vivisectionist. Barring that, try picking on those idiots (and there are PLENTY) who do not have biological/neurochemical excuses for their behavior. I'm a little suspicious that this site may just be satirical (I have a little difficulty believing that 'Sped' is actually a woman or a teacher now that I think about it) and if so, it's still sophomoric."

05-06-2006, 10:27 PM
that **** pisses me off. i work with them and have an autistic cousin and i think its hilarious. i even sent my mom the website. dip****s

05-06-2006, 10:31 PM
#14: St. Paddy's Day:
The new kid named OpIv37 (http://www.billszone.com/fanzone/member.php?u=346), came in today wearing a ****ing black top hat and had a black plastic cauldron full of gold foiled chocolate coins. The cauldron hung from the front of his walker. He actually came to school as a leprechaun, although he never could verbalize that. He would just respond "yes" when asked by others if he was, indeed, a leprechaun. He gave goofy smiles, and kids would take a ****load of chocolate coins out of his bucket. They abused the "take one" privilege until the coins were all gone, at about 9:45 a.m.

We had a small St. Patrick's Day party in the afternoon. The new kids mother made each kid a shamrock cookie with green frosting. She also made green kool-aid, but it was pretty nasty. I think it might have been sugar-free or something.
The whole gesture was very nice of her. At the end of the party, when I probed the kids to thank her, amongst many "Thank You's," I hear OpIv37 (http://www.billszone.com/fanzone/member.php?u=346), mutter, "Thanks for the Green Water."

05-06-2006, 10:44 PM
here ya go dozer..

so i work with this 7 year old black girl Amy, very high functioning. so she goes off her meds for a few days and goes insanely silly. so i'm on shift with her in the classroom and she becomes noncompliant running into her cubby area singing "Under the sea" from the little mermaid at the top of her lungs. after 10 minutes of singing and hysterical laughing she strips naked. great i have 5 other students(all boys) in the room and have to block her cubby so they can't see her. so we end up stacking chairs and beanbags and jackets to block view, and i have to stand right in front of her with my back to her to ignore her. so she decides to beat me up...punching me in the back, kicking out my legs, spits on me, and grabs my hair to pull it very very hard and twirl in circles with it like a carnival ride. i ignore her completely although i'm biting my lips so hard they're bleeding. so she's mad i'm not giving her a reaction so she gets her clothes into a nice neat little pile on the floor, squats over them, and pees on them. niiiice. nothing like hearing that trickling water sounds behind you. then she laughs it up and starts marinating her pile with a round of spits. **** that i'm all done with this. i grab some kids blanket, wrap it around her like a towel and take her to the bathroom. now she's sitting buck naked on the toilet with me standing almost on top of her to block her. half an hour in there and she plays with the toilet water, flushes the toilet nonstop, and tears all the toilet paper out, laughing the whole time. and of course beat me and spit on me some more. the end of the hour the other teacher comes to relieve me. i'm covered in spit and toilet water, my entire back bruised. amy immediately gets up and gets dressed and is fully compliant again. ****ING *****. she's only 7 years old..wait till she gets her goddamned period! and both her parents are 6'3. ****ing autistic godzilla trampeling over boston

05-06-2006, 11:07 PM
oh man its times like these i love my job. you literally can not make these stories up...this **** happens every ****ing day at work. when you wonder why i drink every day and wanna mate with the assclown brothers....this is why. "tards" X 40 hours a week = Kini :coocoo:

BEST ****ING POST EVER....EVER....I'm rubbing one out to this :hump:

05-08-2006, 03:38 PM

Tards makes poop
<HR>I'm sitting in my final period class--study hall 'cause I'm a lazy SOB-- listening to the tard in my class babble on about nothing in particular and occasionally laugh that goofy tard laugh.
You have to understand: this is in rural Pennsylvania, a few miles outside of Gettysburg, so not only is the kid ******ed, but he's a redneck military lunatic. He has this camoflauge backpack that he carries with him and talks to all the time (its name, apparently, is "Commander"-- I can't make this **** up).
Anyway, he had just come from P.E. class, and he smelled worse than usual. I mean, he usually smelled like a tard that never bathed and had just taken P.E., but-- ****, today it was really bad. One of the *******s in the class (a senior) looks at him and asks why he smells so bad.
"Not me," he says.
"Not you? Then what smells so bad?"
At this, the tard proceeds to reach into his backpack and pull out a skinned squirrel. I'm not ****ting you. The thing smells like it's been in his backpack for a couple of days at this point. So he pulls this thing out of his tardpack and then--AND THEN--he starts to ****ing GNAW on the squirrel's head.
Christ, it was disgusting. By this point, girls have run screaming from the room, and at least one of the guys has puked. The "study hall supervisor" (also our P.E. instructor) comes back from the bathroom amid all the racket. He comes in and sees the tard chewing on something and decides to confront the tard about it (against the rules to have food, you know).
"Hey, whatcha got the--OH, ****." He immediately goes into deal-with-the-****ing-tard mode and soothingly coaxes the tard into removing the squirrel from his mouth.
The tard complies, then looks right in the supervisor's eyes and says, deadpan, "Commander doesn't like Lieutenant." I don't know what happened to him after that; he was transferred out of study hall and kept in the all-tard classes from then on

05-08-2006, 03:40 PM
Tards makes poop
<HR>I had a birthday party that my mom threw for me and she of course sent out my invitations for me to invite all my friends from the small community. She apparently though the Tard down the street roger was one of my friends or something because he got an invitation too.

Anyways it was early in the party and we were outback jumpin on a trampoline while my mom was busying herself with preparing things. A few people had already arrived when Rog (Half the time he'd only respond to Rog, only adults could call him Roger) showed up at the door with his present in hand. No one answered the door and he let himself in. We didn't even know that he was in the house when he apparently heard the call of nature. He wasn't familiar with our house or something and couldnt find a bathroom within sight of the front door(i know its hard with these inventions called hallways) and seated himself above a punchbowl that was on the table next to the door, entirely removed his pants, and began to take a nasty tard ****, right into the punch bowl.

Just as he was mid-turtlehead pokin out several other guests arrived, and walked in to find this greasy, rib-thin guy with the happiest look on his face makin a boom-boom in my Kool-aid. At the shock of being walked in on he grabbed his gift for the part and ran out the door, without his pants, and down the street back to his house. His mom made him apologize but we still had to clean it up.

05-08-2006, 03:43 PM
I'm at work rolling....

Hey Kini, do all the tards smell that bad?

05-08-2006, 03:58 PM
well autistic kids are extra gassy...and this one kid did put a couple of dead squirrels in his mouth from his neighborhood. yeah it happens

05-08-2006, 04:28 PM
That must be real fun when the weather gets warm :ill:

05-08-2006, 11:28 PM
Beware you Kanadiun Tards!

12/19: If you cross Miss Sped, you could get deported

One of my students had been acting overly silly and was talking out way too much. So, instead of attending the holiday party afternoon, this particular tard spent the time in the principals office--copying a ****ing dictionary page (http://tardblog.com/pics/dictionary.jpg). I can't believe this is still a valid punishment. I was amazed when I saw this. I made him copy 6 pages, but one should give you the jist.

I wrote a letter to his parents, explaining his poor behavior, and asking if they could perhaps help me re-enforce these punishments. Their response (http://tardblog.com/pics/zambia.jpg) blew my ****ing mind. I love that the father keeps referring to me as "Sir."

I wrote the parents back and assured them that their son was a good person and was generally a good student, he had simply been acting out that particular day, and suggested that perhaps a 6-month grounding, loss of TV and Christmas, and threats of deportation were a little extreme. He is still in my class, and now I am afraid to tell his parents anything.

05-09-2006, 02:09 AM
oh man its times like these i love my job. you literally can not make these stories up...this **** happens every ****ing day at work. when you wonder why i drink every day and wanna mate with the assclown brothers....this is why. "tards" X 40 hours a week = Kini :coocoo:
whatever it is that you get paid, it's not nearly enough. I dont know how you put up with that every day.

05-09-2006, 06:24 PM
whatever it is that you get paid, it's not nearly enough. I dont know how you put up with that every day.

She gets by knowing that I"m going to **** her one day. That would be enough for anybody.

05-09-2006, 06:40 PM
She probably wouldn't be able to feel you, Mr. 2 inch man!

05-09-2006, 06:45 PM
Dozerdog's true life Tard Blog-

Dozerdog meets SuperTard

So the wife and I see this 30-ish year old 'Tard walking around my hometown of Agawam every weekend. He kinda sticks out because he's always wearing a full-blown Superman costume. :superman:

This isn't some cheesey plastic halloween deal - it's a quality blue and red leotard with a full cape. Got the red boots and everything. It just looks funny on a 30 year old hispanic tard who weighs no more than 100 lbs.

Anyway- I'm buying some pasta for dinner at the supermarket- as I'm checking out at the express line and leaving- in comes SuperTard...and this time he's carrying an inflatable pool toy- a 5 foot long killer whale or Dolphin or something.

The kids in the store all went "WOOOAAHHH! COOL- It's Superman!!!!!"

All the Moms looked at him like some sort of recently released child molester and sped off with the kids in their carts.

The Employees all have seen him before and they just gave out their usual snickers.

My only reaction was "What's with the fish? Isn't that Aquaman's schtick?"

I go tell the wife what happens at the store and she can't beleieve it. She's trying to figure out how SuperTard got there- because the store is about 4-5 miles away from where we usually spot him fighting Tard villians in town. My reply was "He flew- stupid! He's SuperTard! Duh...they don't give Tards wearing superhero costumes driver's liscense- OK- Mabe a 'tarded Batman or something but that's it."

We then continued the rest of our dinner conversation talking about the 'tarded Clark Kent syndrome. I was wondering if he went back to his tarded circle of tarded freinds and wore glasses, concealing his 'tarded superhero identity.

My wife says I'm going to hell-

05-09-2006, 06:46 PM
She probably wouldn't be able to feel you, Mr. 2 inch man!

i hate when that happens! :ill:

05-09-2006, 06:48 PM
She probably wouldn't be able to feel you, Mr. 2 inch man!

At least my dick sticks out farther than your tits.

05-09-2006, 06:54 PM
Doubtful, baby carrot. But nice try.

Dozer....you ARE going to hell.:rofl:

05-09-2006, 06:56 PM
:rofl: dozer that's awesome!!! i used to watch a kid that wore a batman costume EVERY SINGLE DAY. ****ing weirdo. he wasn't diagnosed then but i'm sure he is now. i hated that kid and his mom knew it too

The last buffalo fan
05-09-2006, 07:02 PM
como una persona tan bella, puede tener tan feos sentimientos??


05-09-2006, 07:02 PM
OMG, that last one has to be the funniest one yet...People are looking at me cause I'm laughing so hard.

I lost it here.

go tell the wife what happens at the store and she can't beleieve it. She's trying to figure out how SuperTard got there- because the store is about 4-5 miles away from where we usually spot him fighting Tard villians in town. My reply was "He flew- stupid! He's SuperTard! Duh...they don't give Tards wearing superhero costumes driver's liscense- OK- Mabe a 'tarded Batman or something but that's it."

05-09-2006, 07:05 PM
como una persona tan bella, puede tener tan feos sentimientos??


oh my! i didn't expect that out of you

05-09-2006, 07:05 PM

HMS Tardtanic

Then the Tard tragedy happens

I'm driving into work this morning in a rental because my car was tore up in an accident in Worcester/Shrewsbury last week.

Now Kini, Bedard, and Mybills can all attest to this- New England is infested with these traffic circles called rotarys- they are 4-5 streets that all come together and instead of putting in traffic lights, someone got the idea of putting in a small NASCAR track in the middle of all this. They are traffic accidents waiting to hsappen-especially when *******s don't know the rules of the rotary.


We have a large rotary by my house, and I'm looking over my left shoulder for my "hole" in traffic to hit- basically you go from a complete stop to flooring it -kinda like launching yourself off an aircraft carrier. People like going around those things at 30-40 mph- almost fast enough to make the tires squeal.

Well- the entrance to this rotary practically requires you look sideways and backwards to merge in. Woudn't you know it- there was the town Tard van in front of me loaded with Tards. ....and...of course....he chickened out and stopped cold - just in time for me to hit him in the bumper.

Now the collision wasn't violent at all- under 5 mph. But it was enough to crack the van's plastic bumper. The tap must have felt like Flight 93 hitting the Earth for the tards. The whole van was rocking from exited tards.

They calmed down pretty quick until a town cop arrived- the lights got them all exited again.

It was a no-harm/no foul deal in the cop's eyes. But imagine my disappointment when the ******ed Superman failed to show. :(

05-09-2006, 07:10 PM
Yep, straight to hell with you.

10-21-2006, 08:46 AM
Bump for the tards thast couldn't find their dicks with both hands

10-21-2006, 08:53 AM
:ill: Why hasn't she updated it! Boooooooo

10-21-2006, 08:56 AM
Tard nearly kills old person

Last spring, we used to have senior citizens from the local retirement home volunteer at our school. Every Thursday morning the retirement home's shuttle bus would drop them all off. They stopped coming to volunteer because of this incident:

In case I haven't already made this clear: Tards get extremely attached to things, but it is very hard for them to express their emotional attachment appropriately. One Thursday morning, I am walking four of my 1st grade tards to the gym for "adapted P.E." One of them spots one of the grandmas getting off the bus. He freaks out, lets loose an ear-splitting scream, and charges her like a ****ing bull, knocking her to the ground, really, really hard.

I run over and pull him off of her. She is laying flat on her back on the pavement in front of the school, writhing in what is obviously excruciating pain. The office ultimately had to call an ambulance, and she was taken to the hospital with a broken collar bone and numerous broken vertebrae.

All from a tard trying to give her a hug.

10-21-2006, 09:00 AM
Even Kinigirly can be immature

I had quite an incident with one of my kiddos, "Tom" today. He has severe behavior problems, and is on major medication. He also constantly picks at things. Anything that can be picked at, he will pick.

Today he came to school and he had what appeared to be an adhesive like substance on multiple places on his body (face, hands, arms, chest). He could focus on nothing but the sticky **** all over him. I was getting so angry but nothing was fazing him. I was putting zeroes on his behavior chart, threatening to take away his snack, call his mom, etc. He just didn't give a **** about anything but the sticky stuff on his body. I kept asking him what was all over his body, and he kept responding to me, but I think in Russian or something. He has a severe speech impediment, you can barely understand the kid.

All I knew was that he was covered with this stuff, and smelled like Denny's or something. We were not getting anything accomplished, so when recess rolled around, I told him that because he wasted my time, I will waste his recess time. He had to finish his work during recess (his work consists of tracing letters, cutting out shapes, coloring pictures IN THE LINES, and putting a series of 3 pictures in the correct order--its not as if I was teaching him algebra or anything).

When he figured out that he wasn't going outside with the other kids, he absolutely ****ing lost it. He starts kicking anything he can, pushing over chairs, breaking crayons, spitting. I immediately hit the button on the wall to summon the principal.

Now he really freaks out, and proceeds to strip naked. Absolutely ****ing NAKED. He then plants his naked ass in the indoor classroom sandbox that has rice grains in it instead of sand, and is screaming out one word that I cannot, for the life of me decipher, and kicking rice all over the place. At this point, I refuse to be within 20 feet of him. Our principal walks in the room and asks "What is the problem?"

At this question, I can only wonder if the naked, screaming ****** in the rice box is a figment of my imagination.

Our principal puts on his principal voice, grabs Tom's arm, and pulls him out of the ricebox. He then asks Tom why he keeps yelling "syrup".

He demands Tom put his clothes on. He puts on his underwear and pants, and refuses to put on anything else. The principal grabs his shoes, socks, shirt, and starts walking out. Tom freaks out. "Give my shirt" and "Not for yours" is all he is yelling as he follows the principal up to the office.

About 3 minutes later, as I am straightening the displaced furniture, one of my autistic kids comes in to do math with me. He is obsessed with staples, and fixates on looking for staples in carpets. He actually gets rewarded when he goes one day without crawling around on the carpet looking for staples. Anyway, he comes in my room and sees the rice grains all over the place.

He freaks out.

He then spends the next 15 minutes of instructional time picking up rice--grain by grain--and putting then in his pockets. He gets all the rice picked up, also cuts the **** out of his hand digging a staple out of the carpet. I walk him up to the health room so he can clean up his scraped up hand.

Tom's mom is in the office, picking up Tom. She was pissed too because she had to leave work to come get him. I say something to her about Tom picking at sticky stuff on his body. She tells me he had pancakes for breakfast, and offers no other explanation. Welcome to the world of special ed.

Her and Tom start walking out to the parking lot, I walk back to my room, following behind them like 50 yards. Tom turns around and sees me (his mom is still facing forward) and I stick my tongue out at him. (I know, very immature, but geez I am 24, ok?) He belts out the loudest ****ing screech, and his mom whacked his ass so ****ing hard, picks him up, and carries him, kicking and screaming, to the car. She also is screaming at him that we do not yell at our teachers.
I was so pleased with myself for the tongue stick out. I love these kids, but sometimes they drive me nuts.
So, here I sit, Dave Letterman on the TV, TuckerMax.com on the computer, and a stack of papers full of scribbled names and backward fives and twos.

Thank God tomorrow is a half day. Drinks will begin promptly at noon.

10-21-2006, 09:32 AM
Probably the best one yet- :rofl:

A review of Kinigirly's Christmas gifts: The season of giving takes a whole new meaning when you are a special education teacher. Every year I get ridiculous gifts. I would rather get a simple hug around my legs accompanied by large quantities of drool, rather than what my kids bring me. For the most part I just thank the tards, take the gifts home, re-wrap them, and give them to other tards in my class. No one knows the difference, and everyone is happy. Here are some of the gifts I got this year:

--The stickers are from Brad, the kid who furiously tore apart his stickerbook while calling me an ******* and a greedy *****. Because of this specific outburst, all of the tards will be rewarded with these stickers for their stickerbooks. Except for Brad.

--A used book. The binding is worn and it even smells like mothballs. Great. The Frango breathmints are a nice touch. This is a puzzling gift, because I am the only one out of all the kids who actually brushes their teeth on a regular basis.

--Unpackaged cocoa mix and marshmallows! SOMEBODY ****ing touched this ****. Thanks, I'll pass on the Christmas Hepatitis C to all my friends. I'm sure they'll be very appreciative.

--An assortment of stupid ****:
1. I have always hated stretch mittens. Especially this pair--blue and green stripes?! I wouldn't give these to a freezing homeless person, and even if I did he'd probably throw them back in my face.
2. Stupid Cheap Christmas Ornaments. I don't have a ****ing tree, and these ornaments are gay anyway. If you want any of the pictured ornaments, they are currently in the dumpster behind my house.
3. More ****ing cocoa mix! I've never once drank cocoa in front of my tards, or ever claimed to like it, yet come Christmas time, I get it by the bushel. At least this time it is packaged. It will sit in the top drawer of my desk for years, until I use it as a birthday gift for one of my other tards.
4. Washable markers? Yes, thank you, I am not ******ed, I can draw inside the lines and on appropriate surfaces.
5. A book about the solar system. What am I going to do with this? Read it to the class? They won't understand it.

--This is a tard card. This is the front of the card, and this is the message on the inside. This card is funny for the following reasons:
1. It is a cat saying "Hi Hun."
2. The front says, "To: Miss Kini From: ???" The girl who gave this to me did so in person, and she also signed her ****ing name on the inside. So what is up with the little guessing game????
3. Numerous misspellings. Some are phonetically impossible. I blame myself, as I am obviously a poor teacher. Oh wait, nevermind, she's ******ed.

--Chocolate dipped pretzel sticks wrapped in Kleenex, in the cardboard box, with the Homer Simpson pencil holder that has "Carpe Diem: Seize the Donut" written on the front. I don't even know what to say about this.

--A dog dish. This I actually like. It is a hell of a paint job, especially for a tard. It was painted at one of those little places where you pick out something and paint it (note that I already put some of my **** in it.)

--This is classic. The Starbucks Christmas bear--from 2000--in a "Happy Birthday" bag. My birthday is in July. Maybe the tard's parents can't read either.

--Your run of the mill tard love letter.

--I got a Starbucks gift card from a girl whose mom has attempted suicide numerous times. The gift card was for 20 bucks. I was slightly excited about it, because this is finally a gift I can use, as opposed to the normal tard gifts.

I tried to use it the next day. The Starbucks cashier swiped it, and then asked me to wait while she got a manager. The card had never been activated! The mother had jacked it from Starbucks without considering the whole activation aspect.

It was so embarrassing. I didn't even try to explain the story to the manager because it is so ridiculous. Everyone there thought I stole it and tried to use it. I paid for the latte, but was angry and embarrassed about it. To The Mom: Merry ****ing Christmas to you, too.

--I did get one good thing---a Barnes and Noble gift card. And this one was not stolen! The mom is a nurse and normal. Once I opened it I knew exactly what it would be used for: My new coffee table book will be Tucker Max's Belligerence and Debauchery: The Tucker Max Stories.

10-21-2006, 10:09 AM
I'm copying this to the HoF- it's awesome