I'm a total loser because:



Loser of the Week
September 23, 2010

I recently heard about this site from The John Blog and Caprice Crane on Tumblr and figured I'd share a few of my least favorite childhood memories here. You know, put 'em to good use. When life hands you lemons, etc, etc.

Yeah, so, they say that the only kids that get enough attention in class are the good students and the bad students. When I was a kid, and I'm sure this is still true, the good students sat in the front so the teacher could see how very good they were performing, and the bad students sat in the back so the teacher couldn't see how very bad they were behaving. I was the quiet, apathetic kid who sat in the center. Because I was so quiet and apathetic, I never raised my hand to answer any question the teachers might ask. That must be why my third grade teacher was so surprised and immediately called on me when I raised my hand after she had asked one of her questions, whatever it was; I wasn't really paying attention.

"Can I go pee?"

She didn't think my accidentally perfect comedic timing was as impressive as the other kids, and I'm pretty sure it was out of spite that she told me to hold it.

Here's the thing: I have always had a hard time holding it in, and I really, really had to pee. A lot. I like to tell people that it was out of spite that, after an hour or so, I refused to hold it any longer.

It started small. I just wanted to pee a little. Just a little. Just enough to alleviate some of the pressure, but not enough that any of the other kids would suspect anything. Yeah, that's how it started. I can't explain it, but there was something very liberating about peeing my pants at my desk in the center of class. So I kept going. And going and going until the tank was empty and there was a huge puddle surrounding my desk.

Bless their hearts, none of the other kids even said anything. I seriously doubt none of them noticed.

I sat there, soaked in my own urine, until class was coming to an end. The teacher was walking around to make sure we all picked up any trash around our desks. She eventually reached the center of class and just stood there, staring at the puddle before grabbing me by the arm and leading me outside for questioning.

"Why didn't you tell me you had to go?"

I'm going to end the story here, but before you call me a loser I want you to really think about this. Am I really a loser?

Or am I a hero, a punk rock rebel who soaked himself in freedom juice?

Anyway, gotta go. Wrestling's on.

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