Functionally ReTodded

Tuesday morning I got a text message from Thing One’s kindergarten teacher from last year.  It said simply:

"We’re going on the dairy field trip today.  Wish you were going with us."

So I sat back and started thinking about that fateful trip April 7th of last year, and I decided that I would give you a bonus post today and include that story at no extra charge.

I give you "The Field Trip ."

As you may or may not know, I took last Wednesday off to go along with 1doh on a field trip to a semi-local operational dairy farm. Seemed like a lot of fun with good kid equity to be earned, and going to an actual farm is far from the worst thing in the world for me.

The day started early for me as you can imagine. One dot oh was emitting what seemed to be a humming or buzzing sound, which I completely expected. She also knew that she left for school at 8:20 and that I was to be there 30 minutes later. I spent from 6am to 8am hearing two things from 1doh:

1) The bus rules say no electronics on the bus and three to a seat.

2) How long is 30 minutes?

Good times.

I walked hustled 1doh to the bus and headed home to pack my multimedia travel kit. I had visions of isolationist grandeur that included bringing not one but two books, my iPod, two sets of earphones, my point and shoot digicam, my Nikon D50 and my sony digital HD recorder. I mean seriously. They have teachers and parapros. What the hell did they need me for? I was hoping I’d get to be the "guy that knows all about the farm" guy.

Sadly, I was wrong.

I got to school and I was full of piss and vinegar and rarin’ to go. Actually, I wasn’t full of piss. I knew we had a long ride ahead of us, so I went at home.

As is always the case, 1doh ran to hug me when I showed up, and I nearly expected the same from her teacher and the parapro. They were THRILLED to have another adult on the trip, and I realized that I might have some responsibilities that went beyond "Hey! Look at the teats on THAT one!"

The buses were scheduled to leave at 9am, so I was a little shocked that, at 9:20, they still weren’t there. The farm is about 50 miles by highway or 30 by surface streets (as if anyone would be fuck-tarded enough to take surface streets).

The buses finally arrived and we got loaded up and were ready to ride about 9:30ish. I thought this trip was 1doh’s class. I had no idea it was 150 kindergarteners and four buses. Yikes.

And these weren’t full sized buses. They were some morphed (non-retard) buses that had seat backs about four inches from the front of the seat behind it. That mean that anyone over four foot seven and eighty pounds had to do their best "fat guy at the movies" impression and sit with their legs at about 160 degrees open or with the legs in the aisle. VERY comfortable for a 39 year old fella with big bones like me.

(editor’s note: 1doh’s teacher is a mid-twenties skinny ass and even she couldn’t sit right, so I didn’t feel bad. Or as bad anyway).

We were ready to leave and I pulled out the old point and shoot (the one made by HP, not the one in my pants) and took a picture of the load of kids on the bus. That was when Cruella DeVille stood up from the driver’s seat, spun around like Linda Blair’s head and screamed "NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY!! THAT LIGHT GOES RIGHT IN MY EYES AND I COULD HAVE A SEIZURE OR WRECK!"

Ummm…okay. But we still haven’t moved. I’ll keep that in mind though and turn off the flash for future pictures.

I shut off the flash and took a few pictures as the buses were fired and started to move.

We got about a mile before we got to the railroad tracks and saw what we were in for. When we got near the tracks, the driver SCREAMED "HEY!!! I NEED TOTAL SILENCE!! IF I DON’T GET THAT, WE COULD GET HIT BY AND TRAIN A KILLED!!"

Mind you, this was a bus full of five year olds. Their biggest concern was not pissing their pants.

We got silent, I made a mental note, and we went on our way.

So I notice that we are not headed towards the highway, which would seem prudent given that the farm is 50 MILES AWAY!

But our driver, mapquest directions in hand, went against conventional wisdom and decided to take one of the busiest surface streets north of Atlanta. What that means is that the only adult that was surprised by the traffic we hit (which was bumper to bumper) was Ms. DeVille.

We turned off of a semi-main road and the driver pulled over to the side. "That’s odd," I thought to myself.

One of the mothers asked why, and the driver told us that the buses had to stay together and in sight of one another.

So, to minimize this being a problem, we skipped the highway and took traffic light-laden surface streets? Seriously. That’s fucking retarded. When was the last time you saw FOUR SCHOOL BUSES get thru a light cycle? ANYWHERE?

Along the way the driver used her magical horizontal mirror to admonish five year olds with pearls of wisdom like this one (and I literally confirmed wording with other parents so as not to exaggerate):

"YOU! IN SEAT FIVE!! PUT YOUR ARM BACK ON YOUR SIDE OF THE BUS!! LAST WEEK, A GIRL DID THAT AS THE DRIVER SLAMMED ON THE BRAKES AND SHE FLEW FORWARD AND RIPPED HER FACE OPEN ON THE KEY, BREAKING OFF THE KEY AND SHE GOT SIXTEEN STITCHES IN HER FACE!"

I turned and looked at 1doh’s teacher and said "is that level of detail appropriate or necessary for a bus full of five year olds?"

Actually, I said "What the fuck was THAT for? They’re five?"

(editor’s note: I actually mouthed the F-word, so I was still clear on the "how soon will FRT swear on this trip?" bet).

Our caravan of buses and their retarded drivers continued on, until we hit the bumper to bumper traffic that even the kids knew we would hit but that caught our county-provided drivers by surprise.

I will fast forward thru the rest of the ride, only pausing to add that on four or five different occasions, Cruella screamed while looking into her magical mirror and told some gruesome story of carnage related to a child that wasn’t seated and facing forward while reading the bible and knitting sweaters for poor kids in Africa.

She also had to pull over a dozen times to wait for the other buses and to consult the trusty mapquest printout that she brought to help her find her way. It turns out, only our driver had the directions to the dairy. That’s right. Not one other brilliant county employee thought to print out or write down the directions for themselves. (Grrrrrrrr).

So, we finally arrive at the dairy at 11am. That’s right. This freaking moron took just under 90 minutes to go 31 miles. That’s twenty miles an hour. ARE YOU KIDDING?

The conversation that was occurring in hushed tones between myself, another parent and some staff (who shall remained nameless), was in hushed tones, but the murmurs attracted the evil eye of the antichrist driver. This was NOT going to get better.

We got off the bus and found ourselves herding 150 kids thru a sort of field bathroom area. They were outbuildings and there were six unisex restrooms and about 12 buses full of kids in line. There was no way we were getting thru this without at least one spaz wetting his pants.

Shockingly, a teacher from another school who had 20 or so kids under her watch walked up to the one child of hers that was in line (in front of 1doh and I who were third in line) and basically created an offshoot line where she let her other 19 kids (and herself) jump in front of us and the rest of the folks in our line. Not very nice considering 1doh was doing the peepee dance by then.

Oh, and when the teacher walked out after cutting off the line she looked at me and said "You may need to plunge that. It’s not flushing too well."

She had no idea that I was tempted to plunge it with her dumb ass.

Thankfully, we got thru the bathroom nonsense with no issues, and we strolled across the road and hopped on one of four hay-covered wagons that seated about 75 each and were the rotation for our tour of the dairy.

The kids were giddy and I was actually excited. I knew I was the only one on our tour who’d probably ever dealt with cattle up close and I very much enjoy farm settings, so this was to be fun for me as well.

We rode thru an area where the "guide" told us about cows we could see laying down, the molasses silo they had for mixing with the feed, and the empty silos on the property which were no longer in use. She did not address the broken down cars, rusted out washers and dryers and various other white trash accouterments that took away some of the joy I was hoping to feel from my dairy tour experience.

We then headed to the dry pasture (that’s where the cows that are not currently being milked, are waiting to have calves, etc. stay) and saw a brief border collie herding demonstration. The best part of this was that the trailer had feed buckets around the outside, so about 30 cows surrounded the wagon and the kids were a little freaked out being that close to animals that they had no idea were actually so large.

After the demo it was off to the baby calf area (which is my personal favorite). Baby animals are awesome and cute and baby cows are some of the cutest in the world. They had calves ranging from 8 days old to six weeks old, and they were amazing. I filmed for a few minutes while the guide bottle fed one of the calves, but mostly I sat next to a beautiful eight day old Holstein calf that not only let me pet her but she nuzzled up to the fence so I could pet more of her.

(In case you were wondering, the cow was too tall to accept my penis lovingly into its mouth when I was kneeling and it was too short to do so when I was standing. I bet if I’d had one of those kickass milking stools, I’d have said this was the best field trip EVER! Oh, and it wouldn’t let me fuck it either. Go figure).

From there it was off to the milking demonstration. In the olden days (when I was younger), you could go anywhere around the milking operation. You got a true sense of the size of the operation when you’d see hundreds of cows lined up and attached to the milking machines. And there was always the added bonus of seeing the person that was walking behind the cows and not paying attention getting pissed or shit on in the way that only cows can).

Here, we got an old dude named Gus or Vern or Cletus who gave the old timey milking demonstration, showed us a riveting demo of how the udder gets cleaned by "an upside down shower," and then he showed how the milking machines worked.

He then asked for adult volunteers to hold several of the milking devices so the kids could come forward and stick their thumbs in to feel how it worked.

By this point, the moms and teachers on this trip had an idea of who I really was, and several immediately reiterated to me that I was to put ONLY my thumbs into the device and nothing more. It took all of the restraint I could must to not put my thumb out thru my zipper and then walk up to 1doh’s teacher (who was holding one of the milking heads) and stick my thumb into it.

However, I’m an adult and the father of a child in the crowd, and I didn’t think that leaving the tour in a cop car as a registered sex offender would do me much good, so I refrained. (Note to self. Go on dairy tour alone, or at least without your own kid next time).

After that it was off to the milk processing area where some woman named Beulla or Eunice or some such thing showed us how the assembly line worked. Of course she used water instead of milk and really didn’t turn any of the machine on, and once she started gumming her way thru a description of their products, one and two percent milk and the farm’s daily output, the kids were ready to go and get on with eating their lunch and getting their free pint of chocolate milk.

Back across the road and thru another turnstile type bathroom area and it was off to the picnic area where about 600 kids were eating lunch either sitting on the ground or while running around like nuts.

It was 12:30p. And that’s when our asshole driver walked over to my daughter’s teacher and said "Why aren’t you all ready to go? We were supposed to leave at 12:30pm. Three of these buses have to get back for their afternoon high school runs."

The teacher explained that it was not the kids’ fault that the buses were 30 minutes late, drove slower than an old lady on her Rascal scooter, and that half of our group was still on the tour. I of course was saying these things from about 50 feet away in a voice that made sure she heard me.

The driver huffed and walked away, but moments later a woman holding a cell phone came over and told 1doh’s teacher that there was a call for her. The "call for her" was her principal. It seems the driver called dispatch who called the principal who called to tell the teacher to pack it up and leave. Great. The bitch was a tattletale as well.

The teacher was in no real position to argue and she didn’t want to get in trouble, so we started rounding up kids, cleaning up and headed to the bus. The part of our group that just got there packed their lunches up and headed for their buses as well.

We got on the bus and were ready to go. And we sat. And sat. For fifteen minutes. Now I am getting very angry. I ask why if we’re in such a hurry that we’re all sitting in a stifling hot bus not going anywhere. She ignored my question.

And here is where things took a turn for the worse (and the ridiculous).

The driver asked one of the room moms if she could read the mapquest directions backwards for her.

That’s right. Not only was our driver the only one with the directions, she only brought directions TO the dairy. No one thought to printout return directions!!!!

GAAAHHHHHH!!

I think it was at or around this point that 1doh’s teacher started texting GBD with the following words:

"I think he’s gonna kill the bus driver."

We pulled to the end of the driveway WITHIN THE DAIRY and the driver stopped and turned to the room mom and just stared.

Seriously. We are preparing to turn on the road that we just left, and the driver’s looking at the room mom to tell her which way to go. OMFG!!!!

I advise her to turn right and she immediately turns left. Every child on the bus knew from which direction we came, but the DRIVER didn’t know. She then took another wrong turn and then another, and then I remembered that I had Google Maps on my blackberry.

At the next intersection, the driver started to panic and lash out, shouting "WHICH WAY NOW?"

I replied, "If you can stop for a second so my map can catch up, I will tell you."

Of course, she huffed in reply. I guess she hadn’t yet finished reading her copy of "How To Win Friends and Influence People."

My map came up and, since I had asked it for directions from the dairy’s physical address to the school’s address, I was fairly certain of the correct route back. The driver, however, wasn’t so convinced. Apparently she wasn’t ready to rely on some newfangledy eeelectronick gismo to do her navigatin’ for her.

She then asked / said "So do I go left?"

I replied "No. Go right."

She replied (quite wittily I might add), "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I answered. "Go Right."

"Not left?" she questioned.

"NO!" (Holding my Blackberry in the air like Moses with his tablets) "GO RIGHT! GO RIGHT AND DRIVE 18 MILES UNTIL WE HIT (insert street name here), THEN GO RIGHT AGAIN AND WE’LL BE ABOUT 3 MILES FROM THE SCHOOL."

She turned right in silence.

The driver didn’t speak again except to berate kids for talking, laying down in their seats, etc. They were told of the horrid maiming of kids that were chewing gum when a missile hit the bus because it was attracted to the sucrose in their gum and blew their heads clean off. Or something like that. I was so busy cursing under my breath that I couldn’t really hear her.

One funny from the ride. The room mom sitting in the seat in front of me was new to Georgia and as such, she hadn’t been exposed to some of our older humor. The town that we had to drive thru on the trip back was Cumming, GA . So I said to her that we were in Cumming. She said really? That’s the name of the town? And then I asked "So you’ve never been to Cumming?"

She replied "No. Where’s Cumming?"

I answered "It’s about ten minutes from breathing hard."

All of the longtime residence gave the courteous chuckle they always give when a new person gets the Cumming joke. Good times.

Anyway, back to the grim reality of the bus ride. My directions proved to be accurate. Once thru Cumming (and crying myself to sleep like I usually do), the driver was aware of and familiar with her surroundings and immediately returned to being a cunt. One little girl was making faces on the window and the driver said "HEY!!! Don’t put your mouth on my windows!! I’ll make you clean every window on this bus if you do that again!!"

We are now about five miles from school and the teacher is furiously texting my wife (laughing the entire time) and my wife is furiously texting me with helpful tips like this:

"The drivers have to clean their own buses, no matter what the mess is. Maybe you could work up a case of the squirts or shove your finger down your throat and puke everywhere. At least one other person would puke for sure. Then she’d be even later than she is already.

Oh, and don’t cuss. And don’t embarrass 1doh."

We crossed the railroad tracks that are a mile from the school. She drove about half a mile and then pulled over to the side of the road.

I said "Hey, why are you stopping? We’re half a mile from the school and you’re late. Shouldn’t we just go on and finish this?"

She replied "I cannot leave the other buses. I have to wait for them."

Me: "But they can see the school from here? What kind of nonsense is THAT?"

Her: "I am not allowed to leave the other buses."

Me: "Oh right. I remember Maverick telling Goose that in ‘Top Gun.’ You never leave your wingman."

Her looking toward me in her mirror: "Hey!!! THERE IS NO EATING OR DRINKING ON THIS BUS!"

I’m not eating or drinking, but she’s looking toward me. That’s when I look down to my right and see 1doh with my empty water bottle in her mouth.

That’s it. I’ve fucking had it now.

I say "Look. She’s not eating or drinking. It’s an empty bottle. I’m her father and I’ll take responsibility for it."

Her: "But if I slammed on the brakes, it could go thru her mouth and her neck!"

Me: BUT YOU’RE PULLED OVER ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD! YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!! JUST SIT THERE AND BE QUIET!!!"

Silence.

And I don’t mean silence from her. I mean silence like somebody just died silence. The only sounds on the bus are the teacher frantically texting GBD and my blackberry buzzing because GBD is texting me as she fears she might be too late.

The driver is using that fucking overhead mirror to keep glaring at me and muttering to herself. I say "You can stop rolling your eyes at me too. Just look out the window, drive the bus and leave us all alone."

Thankfully we returned to the school and since no cops were waiting for me, I assumed everything was fine. When the time came to get off the bus, I advised the moms, the teachers, the parapro’s and the kids to go ahead. I needed to talk to the driver.

When I got halfway to the front of the bus she said (all nice and syrupy), "So, were you the group photographer today?"

Ignoring her, I replied "This was pathetic. You are a complete embarrassment. You have no right to talk to anyone’s children like that. There is no excuse for using graphic violence and gore to scare the kids into behaving on a bus. Which brings me to the fact that 150 five year olds just spent over THREE HOURS on a bus, and they were great. No one peed their pants, no one acted out or misbehaved, and frankly I was proud of all of them. But all you can do is scream at them.

And another thing. What kind of moron only brings one copy of directions on a multi-bus trip and NO RETURN DIRECTIONS?!?! If it weren’t for me and my blackberry, you’d be driving around Tennessee about now. These buses weren’t free. And the fact that you spent all day acting like you were doing us a favor driving us was crap. I will be reporting you to the county and the school. Your demeanor and behavior towards the children was indefensible and your lack of professionalism in the driving part of your job is inexcusable.

Then I walked off the bus and thru the throng of kids and moms and I felt like Sally Fields in "Norma Rae." These parents were all but applauding me.

I went inside and comforted my child, who was on the verge of tears because the bus driver yelled at her.

I got the contact info for the country transportation department on my way out of the school, and I headed home.

When I walked into the kitchen I stopped and hung my head. I had let 1doh hold my hat on the bus and had forgotten to grab it. And it wasn’t just any hat. It was my eight year old fitted Auburn hat. It was my Goldenboy. And now I’m certain that this bitch has taken a shit in it, so I really don’t want it back anyway.

And now one more observation. This farm / dairy was a mess. Once you got off the main drive, it was like a trailer park vomited. Trash, scrap metal, cars, old equipment, appliances and other like stuff littered the place. I told my dad this during the drive on Sunday, and we noodled thru the details and decided that my displeasure was valid, and I want to walk you through that now.

This place has 80 milking cows. They said each cow gets milked twice a day and gives 8 gallons a day. They later said they produced 800 gallons of milk a day, even though their own stats say about 640, which with waste and spillage and what not probably means 600 gallons a day, but I will use their 800 gallon figure for this exercise.

This is specialty milk. They don’t make enough for whole grocery chains where regular milk is around $2.50 per gallon. So lets say that they sell all 800 gallons every day for three bucks a gallon (and the store sells it for four, which is what they told us). That means that prior to operational expenses, they make $2,400 per day. There were 8 people working the tours who had to make minimum wage, meaning 64 work hours time six bucks an hour is 384 dollars a day in wages alone, but let’s say they actually clear $2,000 a day.

Our tour contained 150 kids at six dollars per kid. That’s 900 bucks clear from our tour alone. There were several other tours there just while we were there, but if you said that only four tours a day the size of ours came thru, that’s 600 kids a day at six bucks a kid or $3,600 per day. So basically the tours keep the place running and not the dairy.

So I think it’s okay to expect that a place like the Cagle Dairy that’s more tourist attraction than working farm oughta put a little elbow grease and some man hours into cleaning up the place so it doesn’t look like one of the tornado scenes from the movie "Twister."

Good day kiddos.  I’m here today to chat about some stories I’ve found in the news this week.

The first one comes from Akron, Ohio .

Now, I’ve been to a strip club.  (GASP!!)  And I know full well that the talent is broken down into three different groups:

1)  The early to mid 20’s gals (that were molested as children by dad / step dad / uncle) who still delude themselves into believing they’re only stripping while they go to night school to get a degree so they can become a dental technician or a court stenographer or something.

2)  The early to mid 30’s gals (that were molested as children by dad / step dad / uncle) overrun by plastic surgery that tell you they’re 27 and they’ve lost the bounce in their step since they now know they’re basically accounting clerks who have shaved their pubes off.

3)  The girls that are 17-18-19 year old girl (that were molested as children by dad / step dad / uncle) who go straight from receiving their GED at the alternative high school to awkwardly taking their clothes off on stage and basically standing around not looking sexy.

We’ve all seen them.

But apparently, at least in Akron, there’s a fourth group.

How in the name of Roman Polanski can a guy be sitting at a bar, see a fourteen year old take the stage and not think there’s something wrong?  Do the retainer and the Hanna Montana purse she’s carrying not tip you off that she’s a tad young?  Or that her mom’s waiting outside in the carpool lane?

For the record, the bar owners should be shipped off for life to some tiny island leper colony.

Next up we have one that simply reinforces why my kids aren’t going away alone for spring break in high school .

I know a lot of kids (and many parents) think that spring break in Florida or some other beach destination is a rite of passage, hell, that it’s even their God given right.  And that mindset drives me crazy.

I don’t encase my kids in bubble wrap when they leave the house, but I also don’t think it’s very responsible to blindfold a teenager and drop him or her off in the middle of the highway.

It’s not whether or not your kid is good or not good.  Besides the myriad influences that can and will affect the choices kids make, there is also bad luck, accidents, etc.

Kids decide it’s fun to drink 18 hours a day, climb from balcony to balcony, go back to some "stranger’s" hotel room for a drink or maybe just go for a walk on the beach alone, they get in the car with strangers, and their friends convince them that if everyone does the same stupid thing (like get a tattoo of the outline of the state of Georgia), then it’s not stupid.

Call me old fashioned, but if my kids are going to the beach for spring break, you can bet they’ll have old man FRT in tow.  And they won’t have televisions or computers in their rooms either.  (But that’s another story for another day).

And finally, there’s this gem .

It seems that some somebody in the Obama administration wanted a photo op of Air Force One being escorted by fighter jets at low altitude over New York City.  Like at a thousand feet.

What?  Citizens were concerned / scared / frightened / panicked at the site of a jumbo jet flying below the height of the now destroyed World Trade Center buildings?  Really?

YES REALLY YOU DUMB FUCKER!

Director of the White House military office, Louis Caldera, who ordered the flyover, ought to be arrested immediately by Homeland Security, tried, convicted, and jailed for terrorism or making terroristic threats.  How in the name of Osama Bin Laden did this plan get past the "two guys blind drunk in the back of a limo throwing out stupid ideas to each other" stage?

And this guy is the Director of the White House Military office?

But my favorite part of the article is this:

Besides calling it a mistake, Obama said Tuesday, "It was something we found out about along with all of you. And it will not happen again."

Somebody obviously took their master of understatement pill today.

Over the last few weeks, I have endured a number of things that made me swear.

Further, things have happened to friends of mine and family as well that has made me swear sympathetically AND empathetically.

In light of me working blue recently in my personal life, I’ve decided to give you examples of my favorite cuss words, swearing combinations, etc. And as a bonus, I’ll give you the magical sentence I uttered on the campus of Wake Furest University many years ago that made an entire room of my peers take pause.

For the record, these are in no particular order as how much I like them depends upon the circumstances.

1) Motherfucker - My most frequently used obscenity. It’s really the gold standard if you ask me. I mean, there are many variations that include the word "fuck," but for my money, this one’s really an all-purpose winner.

2) Jesus Tits - This one goes way back to around 1986 and I’m not sure who owns it, but it’s really useful. I find it especially useful when I’m startled or if I get hurt (stub my toe, slam my finger in something, burn myself, have a kid inadvertently knock me in the twins).

3) God Dammit - Probably my earliest and most frequently used obscenity if you factor in how often I use it under my breath. Anytime you are in line behind someone with 37 items in the 15 or less lane, this is my go to swear, complimented nicely by the HUGE exhale.

4) Pig Fucker - I know this contains the most versatile cuss word there is, but Pig Fucker is useful and very fun to say.

5) Fucking Ass - This is generally reserved for traffic. But make no mistake, it’s useful.

6) Douche Nozzle - Not offficially a cuss word, but it’s fun to say and use.

7) Cock Gobbler - reserved for the fellas at work, especially when there is ball busting occurring.

But my favorite is not really a cuss word or phrase, but it’s descriptiveness is astonishing if I do say myself.

One day during one of my many visits to Wake Forest in the early 90’s, there were a number of us sitting around in Hoss and Timmy’s dorm room. I am pretty sure someone said something to the affect of "Hey…I’d totally have sex with that girl."

Without skipping a beat I looked up at the guys and said "I’d rather lick the vomit off a lolipop turd."

You’re welcome.

FRT