The Reasonably Prudent Law Student

Guys. My mother is too nice. I’ve already known this for quite some time, but she just smacked me in the face with it, and it’s getting ridiculous. It’s getting WAY ridiculous, you guys. Observe.

So this conversation took place a couple minutes ago at the dining room table. This is where Mama Hoomster and I get down to our srs bzns. She does her grading and I do my law skool homework. Today we were sitting here with our tea and coffee, respectively, and she was talking about some of her friends that work at her Shithole School.

These friends are secretaries at the Shithole, and when Mama Hoomster was principal last year (before she realized that the Board members were complete crackwhores – my opinion, my words, not hers – and she needed to get on out of there) she would always get the secretaries flowers on the first day, parent-teacher conference days, open house days, etc. The secretaries loved it. This year, my mother’s back to being an AP Econ and algebra teacher because Commander Cuckoo Bananas is in charge (the new principal; let’s call her General Disarray), and she hasn’t gotten the secretaries any flowers.

And for the record, most of the teachers, the ones that actually have two brain cells to rub together in their heads, hate General Disarray. She’s a complete idiot, in their opinions and mine, and based on her track record at the Shithole. General Disarray has repeatedly made false accusations about Mama Hoomster and spread all kinds of shit about her, and even made a couple of veiled threats. And she’s basically taken six months to almost completely destroy the school from a social, academic, and Islamic standpoint (this is a private Islamic school, in case you didn’t know).

Because this is a stupid, stupid woman, you guys. Not nearly as stupid as most of the Board members, in my opinion, but still. No one’s being invited to any Mensa meetings in the near future, let’s just put it that way.

That’s all the background you need to understand why this conversation gave Eustace a neighbor on his street, Stomach Lining Boulevard. Eustace, devotees will remember, is what I call my ulcer.

Mama Hoomster: And so [redacted] was saying that I needed to buy the secretaries flowers and candy again like I used to do all the time last year.

Hoomster: Why?

Mama Hoomster: Because they miss it.

Hoomster: Ah.

Mama Hoomster: I haven’t done it so far this year because if I get it for them, I have to get it for the Principal, too.

Hoomster: Um…I’m sorry, I think I was having an aneurysm and misheard you. Repeat that?

Mama Hoomster: If I get the secretaries flowers and candy, I have to get them for the Principal, too, otherwise it’s just really mean of me, and I don’t want to be mean to her.

Hoomster: …

Mama Hoomster: O:-) [That's a halo over her head, in case you're wondering.]

Hoomster: … [well, it's hard to explain what I was saying/thinking, so here's a visual representation]

I really hate these people so much, you guys. I try my best to leave whenever conversation turns their way, because I don’t want to get worked up by tales of their rampant idiocy, but even avoidance doesn’t always work.

God, I hate these people.

(The thoughts expressed in this post are my opinion. Except the parts that can be backed up with actual documents. Documents that have been submitted to the Shithole Grievance Committee. Which is an exercise in futility, since there are a shit-ton of conflicts of interest, and the majority of the Board members aren’t going to follow the Grievance Committee’s recommendations because they’re impotent old men that would rather fall on a sword than admit they made a single mistake, which is surprisingly typical of Desi men of that generation which is why I despise them, and because they’re shit-heads. Again, my opinion. All my opinion.)