In life, there are many questions that will always remain a mystery. Questions like, if a tree falls in the forest and there is no one around, does it make a sound or who in the hell thought it would be a great idea to put Mariah Carey in another movie? But the most puzzling question I wonder about is, why do we still have science fair projects in grade school?
It was science fair season at Gallenger Middle School and my cousin Katrina called me up and asked if I could help her put together an award winning science project. I still don't know why she asked me, since science has never been my strong point. I remember my seventh grade chemistry teacher, Mrs. Cannon, would always have me observe the science experiments we did in class instead of participate, because I broke too many mercury thermometers and used too much sand on the chemicals I accidently spilled. So I was kinda honored that my cousin thought of me, when she was planning her science fair project. Me. Mr. Science Guy. Who'da thunk? Of course now, I wish I hadn't been so eager to help.
As it turns out, my little 6th grade cousin is a perfectionist freak to the tenth power of nerdom. And her science project had to reflect just that. Katrina's teacher had handed out an example of how a science board should look like and Katrina was determined to make an exact replica. She had to. It's what the teacher wanted. It's what she expected. If you didn't do it her way, you'd end up like Jennifer Bincini.
Jennifer Bincini was a past Gallenger student who tried to add her own sense of style and flair to her science fair project and according to urban science fair lore, got an F for putting her procedure on the right side of her board, rather then on the left. I assured Katrina that nothing of the sort was possible, since you couldn't get points knocked off for creativity, but she wouldn't hear of it. She couldn't hear of it, because in the back of her mind, all she could hear was her teacher telling her to do it exactly as shown in the example handout. Or else. What the "or else..." was, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that it brought tears upon tears of fear to my cousin's face.
I wondered just what kind of facist was this woman that needed to have perfect science projects. Was she some kind of Nobel prize winner that expected her students to produce mind blowing presentations out of rubber cement and construction paper?
Either way, since I had already told katrina I would help her, I knew I would have to deal with the psychotic episodes that would surely follow. And they did. When I accidently glued her list of materials on the less "vibrant" side of the pink construction paper, she went crazy. When I arranged the title in a fun and curvy way, she had a ballistic outburst. In truth, I probably should have had her committed against her will. If she was acting like this at age 12, imagine at age 30. I would be saving her from a life of un-needed stress. But then again, it would have made the next family reunion a little awkward.
It took six diapers, five vicodin, four crying outbursts, three poster boards and two whole weeks but we finally got that project done. It was the most strenuous project I had ever participated in, that I had actual tears of joy when my cousin finally left my house.
I needed a break. I needed to escape to a place where I could be at peace and collect what was left of my sanity. My salvation came when my good friend Madelaine called me a few days later.
Madelaine had planned to spend her entire spring break visiting the beautifully, historic country of Spain. It was a total dream come true.The only trouble was, her passport had not come in. Somewhere down the processing line, someone forgot to enter her information in the computer, which meant her passport would not be ready on time, as promised. Madelaine flipped. But unlike Katrina, she had good reason to. Her only chance of getting to the country, besides selling herself on the black market for white slavery, was to go to L.A. and plead her case at the Regional Passport Agency. Only then would she know if she would be visiting Spain. And the person she asked to accompany on this impromptu trip to L.A.? Me.
So what I guess I'm trying to say is...if you're between the ages of awesome and old fart, will be in the L.A. area between now and Tuesday, and know of a really great restaurant, look me up! You have my email...
It was science fair season at Gallenger Middle School and my cousin Katrina called me up and asked if I could help her put together an award winning science project. I still don't know why she asked me, since science has never been my strong point. I remember my seventh grade chemistry teacher, Mrs. Cannon, would always have me observe the science experiments we did in class instead of participate, because I broke too many mercury thermometers and used too much sand on the chemicals I accidently spilled. So I was kinda honored that my cousin thought of me, when she was planning her science fair project. Me. Mr. Science Guy. Who'da thunk? Of course now, I wish I hadn't been so eager to help.
As it turns out, my little 6th grade cousin is a perfectionist freak to the tenth power of nerdom. And her science project had to reflect just that. Katrina's teacher had handed out an example of how a science board should look like and Katrina was determined to make an exact replica. She had to. It's what the teacher wanted. It's what she expected. If you didn't do it her way, you'd end up like Jennifer Bincini.
Jennifer Bincini was a past Gallenger student who tried to add her own sense of style and flair to her science fair project and according to urban science fair lore, got an F for putting her procedure on the right side of her board, rather then on the left. I assured Katrina that nothing of the sort was possible, since you couldn't get points knocked off for creativity, but she wouldn't hear of it. She couldn't hear of it, because in the back of her mind, all she could hear was her teacher telling her to do it exactly as shown in the example handout. Or else. What the "or else..." was, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that it brought tears upon tears of fear to my cousin's face.
I wondered just what kind of facist was this woman that needed to have perfect science projects. Was she some kind of Nobel prize winner that expected her students to produce mind blowing presentations out of rubber cement and construction paper?
Either way, since I had already told katrina I would help her, I knew I would have to deal with the psychotic episodes that would surely follow. And they did. When I accidently glued her list of materials on the less "vibrant" side of the pink construction paper, she went crazy. When I arranged the title in a fun and curvy way, she had a ballistic outburst. In truth, I probably should have had her committed against her will. If she was acting like this at age 12, imagine at age 30. I would be saving her from a life of un-needed stress. But then again, it would have made the next family reunion a little awkward.
It took six diapers, five vicodin, four crying outbursts, three poster boards and two whole weeks but we finally got that project done. It was the most strenuous project I had ever participated in, that I had actual tears of joy when my cousin finally left my house.
I needed a break. I needed to escape to a place where I could be at peace and collect what was left of my sanity. My salvation came when my good friend Madelaine called me a few days later.
Madelaine had planned to spend her entire spring break visiting the beautifully, historic country of Spain. It was a total dream come true.The only trouble was, her passport had not come in. Somewhere down the processing line, someone forgot to enter her information in the computer, which meant her passport would not be ready on time, as promised. Madelaine flipped. But unlike Katrina, she had good reason to. Her only chance of getting to the country, besides selling herself on the black market for white slavery, was to go to L.A. and plead her case at the Regional Passport Agency. Only then would she know if she would be visiting Spain. And the person she asked to accompany on this impromptu trip to L.A.? Me.
So what I guess I'm trying to say is...if you're between the ages of awesome and old fart, will be in the L.A. area between now and Tuesday, and know of a really great restaurant, look me up! You have my email...
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