Many people hated their time in high school, but I had no problem with it. I didn't struggle in the grade department or the friend department... my teachers liked me... things were spiffy. There was one thing, though... one thing that I still dream about regularly. That thing, my friends, was GYM CLASS.
I prefer to operate on a more cerebral plane of existence and having to flail around with all manner of sports equipment while an obtuse, whistle-wielding, ex-high school football player addresses me only by my last name was NOT my idea of a good time. (In all fairness, my three syllable maiden name did give him some elocution practice.)
I tell people that my favorite thing about being an adult is that I don't have to take gym anymore. I'm not kidding about that. I honestly still dream about it and last night was no exception. This is a quickie, sort of cathartic drawing I did to express my utter loathing of Phys. Ed.
Since this is my blog and I can use it as a platform to rant, I'll share this story with you. When I was a freshman in high school I was injured in gym one day. It was very early in the semester and I was playing ping pong with some friends. The ball got away from me and during the process of chasing after it, I fell and my left kneecap shifted all the way over to the side of my leg. I had to be taken by squad to the ER and my knee was finally shifted back into place three hours later. As a result, I was excused from gym class for the rest of the semester. I had to spend the class period in the library writing 300 words per day on something sports related. I did exactly that and every day hobbled down on my crutches to my neanderthal gym teacher to hand them in. The end of the semester came as did our report cards and I got a C... a C!
Let that be a lesson to you kids... Don't dislocate your kneecap because it'll just drag down your GPA.