The Sugar-Crystal Skull

, , , , , , , | Learning | April 3, 2019

(I am in a culinary arts class that takes place in a small kitchen area. Students from a creative writing class recently used the space for a project that involved making calaveras, tiny human skulls made entirely out of granulated sugar and butter. They left behind a small mess for us to clean, including most of a malformed skull.)

Classmate: *pointing at mangled skull* “What should we do with this?”

Teacher: “Eh, that one’s a reject. You can just toss it.”

Classmate: “Can I have it?”

Teacher: “Sure.”

(That guy proceeded to eat the entire skull over the course of our class. Almost a cup of pure sugar and no flavorings.)

Life Is Like A Block Of Chocolate; Starts Sweet And Then It’s S***

, , , , , | Learning | April 1, 2019

(I am in a culinary arts class. Our teacher is a charismatic, middle-aged man who is constantly joking and having fun with his students. We somehow get on the topic of chocolate and he shares this story.)

Teacher: “I wish I could show guys the difference between American and European chocolate. Theirs is less sweet and a little bitter. I used to have a giant bar of Belgian chocolate that I would share with students, but it got stolen.”

Student: “Someone stole a chocolate bar?”

Teacher: “Yup! I had a buddy in the Navy who owed me some money, so I said, ‘Just get me some chocolate next time you’re docked in Europe,’ and he got me, like, a twenty-pound bar from Belgium. Every year I would share a piece with my students and let them experience it. Then, one day I walked into the school and someone had drawn all over the walls and floor in brown streaks. At first, I thought, ‘Did someone s*** on the walls?’ Then recognized the smell. Some little b******s broke into my classroom, stole the bar — of which I still had about fifteen pounds — realized they couldn’t eat all of it, and then used the rest to graffiti the school!”

Bee Vigilant

, , , , , | Friendly | March 29, 2019

(It is early in my first semester of college. I am young and not yet used to the more relaxed atmosphere of most college classes, or the concept of seeing older students as my equals. I am in an English Lit class where I am too shy to speak to most people, sitting next to a guy who is at least half a decade older than me. One day he walks in and sits down and I notice what looks like an actual bee sitting on his head. It looks incredibly real so I don’t think it’s fake, but it doesn’t move or twitch in the slightest while I look at it. The guy also likes to wear a number of different baubles and patches and such, so I wouldn’t put it outside the realm of possibility for him to stick a realistic-looking insect in his hair. I spend the entire hour-and-a-half class sneaking glances at the bee to see if it moves, which it never does. As class is almost over, my curiosity drives me enough to actually ask him:)

Me: *pointing at my own head* “Um, are you aware you have a bee in your hair?”

Guy: *laughs* “Haha, what?”

(He wipes his hand over his head to knock the bee to the floor, where it suddenly begins flailing and trying to stand. The guy curses and stomps on it, then looks at me.)

Guy: “How long was that thing on me?!”

Me: “I’m guessing since the last time you were outside.”

Not A Labyrinthine Amount Of Options

, , , , , , , | Learning | March 24, 2019

(My freshman class is reading “The Odyssey.” I have long been a fan of Greek mythology, so whenever the teacher asks, “Does anyone know what [something] refers to?” I am often the first person to raise my hand and answer.)

Teacher: “Does anyone know what the Labyrinth was?”

Me: *raises hand*

Teacher: “[My Name], how about we give the other students a chance to answer?”

Me: *drops hand*

Teacher: “Well? Does anyone know what the Labyrinth refers to?”

(There is an awkward minute of silence as no one else raises their hand.)

Me: *tentatively raises hand*

Teacher: *sighs heavily and puts his face in his hands* “Go ahead, [My Name].”

Keeping Your Sister On Her Toes

, , , , , , | Healthy | March 15, 2019

(My older sister currently works at as an ER nurse. I am woken up one Saturday morning by my cell phone ringing.)

Me: “Hello?”

Sister: “I need you to come downstairs, right now.”

(I get up and walk down to the living room to find her and my parents all watching me descend.)

Me: “What’s going on?”

Sister: “I slipped on the stairs and broke my toe.”

Me: “You need someone to drive you to the hospital?”

Sister: “NO! My coworkers and I always joke about someone coming to the ER because they stubbed their toe. I am not going to the hospital because I hurt my toe.”

Me: “So, what do you need from me?”

Sister: “I need you to reset the bone. Mom is too squeamish and Dad is too gentle. You just need to pull on it quick, like taking off a bandage.”

Me: *shrugs* “Okay.” *walks over and yanks on the crooked toe*

Sister: *gasp of pain followed by a relieved sigh* “Thank you.”

(During her next shift at work, someone commented on her slight limp. She admitted to the accident and the doctor on hand insisted on x-raying her foot. The bone in the toe was indeed broken, but perfectly realigned.)

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