Lets see who's the first to complain...

Lets just start off with the usual crap about how I am completely supportive of the fact that gay people are indeed people yadda yadda yadda, but I think we can all understand that no matter how much of people they are, they can still make awkward situations even more so...

So here we have Anatomy/Physiology class, honors. Great. Period 6 is a class wherein none of my really close friends are, so I sit with some kinda cool people from the school play. My neighbor happens to be queer as a three dollar bill. Fantastic.

The subject of the day?

The male reproductive system. Balls.

You know, after going through the educational system for all these years, I've learned to cope with the fact that my teacher is talking about orgasms. I even managed to pay attention for the vast majority of the lesson on semen.
The one freaking element I was not ready for is my lab partner closely examining a male reproductive system model.

I've noticed it's experiences like this class that make me feel a lot better about the rest of my life.

You want an example? OK!

Our illustrious teacher fancies herself to be quite the athlete. Sure.
She walked a marathon over the weekend, and you know, that is great for people recovering from diseases, or losing weight but when you are a average civilian, no physical problems, shut the heck up.
My favorite part was listening to how "walking 13.1 miles is harder than running it because you are on your feet longer."
Are you freaking serious?

Here is where I go on my rant about how back in my day in New Mexico we walked 13 miles with 60 pounds on our back in the mountains of freaking New Mexico. And ya know what? I think that was easier than a running race would have been of the same duration!

And that my friend, or enemy, or whoever the heck is reading this... Is anyone reading this? Is there anyone else in this God-forsaken universe? Well I think that is a rant for another time...
That is the problem with fucking hippies. Get over yourself and realize theirs better things to freaking do than whine about how hard your life is. It happens. Forrest Gump knew that, so how about you learn from the bonehead who has an IQ of parrot.