So yesterday didn’t seem like such a bad day for visiting Crissy and I’m glad you all went over to check her out at Arjewtino’s place. You’re so sweet to do that and Crissy hopes she didn’t sound snotty when she said she had trouble with her blog because of all the traffic coming to it. Crissy did not mean to sound snotty, she was just trying to explain why the Queefs couldn’t visit. If you read yesterday’s post you know Crissy is in no position to act snotty.
And if that wasn’t enough for you, here’s more Crissy humiliation for your reading pleasure.
It’s about Gym Class.
Gym class was the bane of Crissy’s existence since first grade when that dullard of a gym teacher, Mr. Kinniberg, tried to make her wear sneakers with her skirt and tights. What kind of an asshole wears sneakers with tights?
Right?
RIGHT?
And so began Crissy’s long history of sitting out during gym class.
You see the problem is Queefs that Crissy is not what you would call coordinated.
I know what you’re thinking: This can’t possibly be true.
You’ve seen Crissy’s Wonderful Dancing…
But it is true, and it made gym class utter torture except for those glorious six weeks in high school when they’d make us do Square Dancing.
Everyone sucked at that and it really leveled the playing field. Or the dance floor or whatever.
In 7th grade, Crissy was late for class and so ran across the gym floor to get to the locker room while everyone was already lined up for attendance, and Crissy slipped in her pink ballet flats and slid on her stomach head first into the locker room door. Legs akimbo, books everywhere.
In 8th grade Crissy and her friend Jennifer got detention for laughing when the gym teacher, his arms loaded with basketballs, fell through a swinging door and onto the gymnasium floor in a cacophony of bouncing balls. He made Jennifer and Crissy stand against the wall while he berated them in front of everyone.
During flag football, Crissy stood as far away from the action as possible and if the ball came anywhere near her, she’d run away from it. Crissy was always the last one picked for the team. In fact, nobody picked her. The teacher assigned her to a team and everyone on it would just be like “oh, man! Nuh-uh! Do we have to? Awcomeon!”
In 9th grade she got hit in the head with a field hockey stick, passed out on the field when she saw the blood run into her eye, and woke up with the gym teacher, the nurse, and her dad (did Crissy mention that her dad taught at her high school?) standing over her with worried looks on their faces. Crissy had to be taken to the hospital for stitches. They got the school nurse and a teacher’s aide to help Crissy change into her regular clothes to go to the hospital. You should have seen how lovely the blood looked all stuck in Crissy’s heavily sprayed 80’s hair. It was lovely.
But in light of all that, one of Crissy’s favorite gym class moments had to be when we were playing volleyball and the ball bounced straight off the side of Crissy’s head, then off her friend Stacy’s fist, and then back into Crissy’s tummy which knocked the wind out of her and landed Crissy flat on her ass.
And yes, it was co-ed volleyball.
The boys saw everything.
And the whole class just stood there snickering as Crissy got up and ran to the locker room and proceeded to cry it out old school with the snot running down her mouth and chin and the uncontrollable sobbing and all of that fancy stuff.
And Miss Teabag, the same-sex-oriented P.E. teacher, followed her into the bathroom and tried very hard to coax poor humiliated Crissy back out onto the field or the rink or the pit or whatever but Crissy wasn’t having it.
Much to Crissy’s surprise she was very understanding and left Crissy the fuck alone. One of the popular jock girls, Amy Eisenberg, even went up to Crissy after class and said “you know, not everybody is good at everything. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
And that meant the world to Crissy that she said that. But Crissy was still humiliated and vowed to miss every gym class from then on.
And she did a decent job of it and even tried this one out on ol’ Miss Teabag:
“I have a phobia involving anything that involves balls flying at my face.”
But she just smiled, clapped Crissy on the shoulder, and said “go get changed.”
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When I was in 4th or 5th grade, I had a PE teacher named Mr. Burger (of course, we all got in trouble when we called him Mr. Hamburger, which we thought was HI-larious). He was tall and stuff and loved basketball. I hated basketball day in PE because I am quite the short. He told me (the shortest girl in class) and the shortest boy in class that we wouldn’t amount to anything because we were so short. He made a big production about us using this shorter basketball goal and everything. What an asshat.
Being of the homosexual flavour of the Ben & Jerry’s variety of life, I have the terrible gym skills built into my genetics. I broke my arm curling once – curling being the oh so Canadian sport where all you really have to do is stand up right. Let’s go smoke behind the basketball courts.
I used to wear dresses on gym days in elementary school because it meant I could sit out and play Miss Mary Mack and other hand clapping games with the other girly girls.
Okay—now I feel guilty for my sarcastic, trying to be funny comment yesterday—maybe my funny isn’t funny to everyone? You AREN’T snotty!! (raging insecurity sets in)
I have a gym class story. You and I are kindred spirits regarding athletic activity.
I was an ‘awkward’ child. I wore Mrs. Beasley glasses (which I chose and thought were FABULOUS), and was sort of a crybaby, and looking back, sort of Princess-like even then!! Anyway, the gym teacher when I was in 3rd grade was a big tall man (remember, I was 8), and he used to squat all the time to talk to the kids….he’d often take the girls (now I realize that PERV may have been the name to use) and sit them on his knee as he squatted. He’d talk to them. He NEVER set me on his knee. I was devastated. If anyone reads my blog, you’ll KNOW I’m freakishly weird about wanting to fit in and be POPULAR and FUN…….but anyway…..one day, I just couldn’t BEAR the humiliation of gym class—-so I presented the PERV with a note from my “mom” stating that I couldn’t participate in gym class because of “Perfectly’s COFF”. Yes, Coff—again I was only EIGHT and didn’t know how the hell to spell—I mean….my mom must have been a terrible speller.
He gently took me onto his knee (while squatting) and told me that if I didn’t want to participate, I just needed to TELL him……..(yeah, right)..and I felt all included and special. You go, Perv.
Oh, in 1st and 2nd grade gym class, I’d go into the teacher’s office and snag the gum the teacher’s made people spit into their trash can. How gross is THAT?
Thanks for letting me actually blog in your blog…..you know there comes a time when a comment just ceases to be a comment and becomes it’s own entity. I do that alot.
I use to use the “I have my period and very bad cramps” excuse. It worked every time. Unfortunately I could only pull this out once a month.
i got sucker punched in the side of the head during a street hockey game once in gym class. almost knocked me out.
i’m very tall (6′4″) but i absolutely SUCK at basketball. in fact, i abhor most team sports. i do like sailing though, and you usually need a crew to do that on a bigger boat. but the rest of my “likes” are individual sports, like cycling, skiing, and masturbating.
it can TOO be a sport! it all depends on how you prepare for the big game.
Daisee- Oh you poor girl! What a jerk!
I think it’s a requirement when they graduate from P.E. teacher school. There’s an douchebag exam they have to pass.
Ben- Did you bring the smokes?
Jac- Me too! But they’d make us participate anyway.
Shelly- Mrs. Beasley glasses that you thought were FABULOUS. Ha, ha, ha, ha! It makes me want to hug you.
Marie- Oh I’ve used that one too but you’re right. It has limited applicability.
Neth- you take your “sport” very seriously. You even have your own equipment! I’ll start to worry when I see knee pads though.
I was one of the popular athletic girls. But I was not like Amy Eisenberg. I would have sought you out to make fun of you. Hell, I’m making fun of you right now, at my desk. Are your crying yet?
I mean, are “you” crying yet. I may have been a jock, but I obviously couldn’t (and still can’t) spell.
Senior year of highschool, my husband, then boyfriend, ran the mile in Dr. Martan boots. Hilarity ensued, and he eventually got sent to the principal’s office for saying fuck when he crossed the finish line.
Talk about evil gym teachers…dude just ran the mile in 5 lb. boots and now you send him to the office???
I swear I haven’t laughed in DAYS and this shit had me slapping my desk and crying I was laughing so hard. During a conference call.
Crissy! You and I are the same person! I swear. I totally swear! And to this day I say, “I am allergic to balls.” Which makes people laugh and for a long, long time I didn’t know WHY that made people laugh and now I know so I continue to say it. I’m uncoordinated and horrible like that and every single year when we did basketball? The ball would come smack down on the bridge of my nose and break my glasses in two. In fact, by 8th grade, my mom wrote me a note to get me out of basketball because they just couldn’t afford new glasses for me that year. I kid you not.
And here’s the thing, I’m really tall. So tall, that every single person I meet asks me if I played basketball when I was growing up, and then I get to say the magic words. “I’m allergic to balls.”
i too got ktfo’d (knocked the fuck out) by a hockey stick, but it was in 8th grade. i didn’t need stitches but i had the hugest goosegg known to man grow above my left eye. i probably should have gone to the hospital but we were poor & dumb.
oh & a note to Crissy’s Pimp – dude, i did NOT know masturbating qualified as a sport. i will have to let husband know he IS sports oriented after all…many thanks! is it part of the olympics? because if it is, i know he’s got one hell of chance.
I’m good at pretty much every sport there is, so is this where we part ways and never speak again?
Gym class is biased. I mean, shouldn’t they have various forms of exercise for those of us who are less coordinated?? I mean, I sucked at playing sports, but at least I liked it. How many kids are scarred by gym class still to this day…. LOTS! In 8th grade I was accidentally smacked in the face with a tennis racket so hard that the doctors ordered me to stay in bed for 10 days. I broke my nose and got 2 black eyes that I couldn’t even show off at school (since I was stuck in bed). Talk about no fun.
I’m good at every sport, except those that involve a horse.
so yeah, sorry this didnt work out.
Thank Jesus for square dancing. I rocked at doe-si-doeing! Other than that, I could neither make the basketball team nor the cheerleading squad. The male gym teacher kept trying to get me into his van. Good times.
I could repeat my humiliating gym class moment from yesterday’s comments, but I’ll spare everyone that sad story until I blog about myself again some day.
Instead I will say that during the square dancing unit the girls used to wear rings with the sharpest stones we could find and then swivel them so the stones faced our palms and we squeezed really hard when we held hands with the boys we didn’t like.
We were mature like that.
I’m not a petite flower and in 8th grade they tried to make us do gymnastics and the gym teacher who was ALLEGEDLY spotting me as she insisted I do this flippy thing over the top uneven parallel bar watched and then LAUGHED as I fell from the bar, flat on my back COMPLETELY MISSING THE FRIGGING MAT so my head hit the hardwood gym floor. Then (and this is from hearsay) lost her mutherfreakin’ mind when I blacked out and her repeated kicking me with her shoe wouldn’t make me stop “faking”.
My parents would NOT come get me from the nurse’s office and I remember coming to in the nurses office as she was on the phone, probably with my stepdad and shrieking “I’m documenting this and you will LOSE the lawsuit when she ends up paralyzed or brain damaged because you wouldn’t get her medical care!!”
After that I refused to participate in gymnastics and told the gym teacher if she failed me it meant I’d have to take the class over again. She somehow grasped that logic and passed me.
I somehow convinced my mom to get my doctor to write me a note in the sixth grade saying I was allergic to the grass on the field and therefore couldn’t run laps.
It was pretty genius. Except I was kind of fat.
What did you play, then during recess? You must have done SOMETHING. Four-square? Hopscotch?
I guess this means you won’t be running an 8K anytime soon?
queens do not run.
“I have a phobia involving anything that involves balls flying at my face.”
thats not what Mister told me
lol
I have a phobia of balls flying at my face too! Woohoo for hating sports! They’re for losers.
I have the same phobia!
Good thing you don’t have to be good at everything to be the QOFE.
But Gym doesn’t matter because you are the Queen and Hottest Mommy Blogger! Congratulations Crissy!
You are officially THE QUEEN!!! Your loyal subjects/Queefs bow to you! Middle school is gone and we love ya!!
Nothing will ever top fucking swimming class.
The slimy floor the smell of chlorine barely over powering the stench of urine and body odor.
I was actually tossed out the first day because I refused to walk barefoot on the floor and use community snorkels that sat it a bucket of bleach. I told him no he pointed with his nub finger and threatened to put me in.
I turned back faked the nub pointed at him and told him to eat me I would rather gnaw my fingers off then go into that sperm and piss filled pool.
So ended my high school swimming experience I got to watch everyone else from the bleachers.
Waking up with a gym teacher standing over you is always a scary thing. On so many levels.
Thanks for the flashbacks! *shudder*