I hate Track and field.
It happens every year, when we are forced to:
1) Move our feet in odd patterns to see who can jump the furthest in 3 steps.
2) Take a running start to see who can jump the furthest into a large depression filled with sand.
3) Throw heavy three 5 pound balls in strange motions to see who can chuck it the farthest.
4) Run races in order to be successful in gym class.
Don't ask me how this makes you successful. I mean, sometimes it's better to just agree with teachers or else they might spill hot coffee on you or breathe their coffee breath on you. Sometimes, they even force you to dress up as the opposite gender for some musical.
Now, field I don't mind so much. In fact, I always win shot-put, which, for those uneducated souls, is throwing a small 5 pound ball in an odd formation. Somehow, I manage to do this without injuring anybody in inappropriate places, or even appropriate ones for that matter. Well, WITH the shot-put. That doesn't mean I didn't injure anybody while I was waiting to throw the small structure, because I probably did. I do that often. Once, when I was stacking chairs, I managed to stack my leg in-between 2 stacks, and then fell backwards onto Belinda which caused her a serious head injury. Wow, that explains so much about her weird personality and possibly her strange obsession with crab dip. Who knows, maybe she was a crab dip closet fan forever and the nasty spill just brought out the seafood lover in her.
Well, now that you know not to stack your legs in-between chairs or it could result in crab-dip obsessions, I will now continue with the original lesson dealing with track and field.
So the day of track and field this year, I was walking out of the school doors to approach the sand pit in which we jump. I think we jump in the sand pit so nobody falls and breaks themselves. However, I don't see the logic behind this because the sand is so hard not even a 500 pound elephant could make a dent in it. After we rake the pit, it's seriously like a sprinkle of flour on top of a bullet proof glass sheet. Like, the top is soft and it looks all inviting, but then you smack down on your butt and the next thing you know you're being rushed to the hospital because you may never be able to digest food the same way again.
Now, the pit doesn't HAVE to be this way, I mean, if they find a really supreme raker then it can be somewhat soft and luscious. I think everyone knew that deep down I had intense raking skills, so it was no shocker to the class when my teachers said the words that changed the lives of many . . .
"Joanne, come rake for the boys,"
*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH*
Do you know what this meant, Whyville? Those words meant I wouldn't have to jump pointlessly! I got to rake. And also this meant I got to hang out with Chaaad because he is in fact a boy in the boy division! If you didn't register this then I am worried because you many boys do you know in the girls division? Ya. That's what I thought.
So as I sprinted over to the sand pit, I was just so enthralled. And enthralled I stayed, as I plunged my rake into the depths of the pit in a desperate effort not to kill the jumping males.
That's when it happened.
It was Chaaad's turn to jump, and of course I made the pit extra luscious just so he could grasp the thought of my incredible raking skills and probably love me because I hear that raking is like, a major turn on and stuff. So I raked and raked and raked until Chaaad started running . . .
And he ran
And ran
And ran
And ran
And ran
And JUMPED!
And he jumped far; let me tell you, he jumped like a kangaroo being chased over a river by a fleet of rabid dogs. Except he's not a kangaroo and there were no rabid dogs present, unless you count the random kid in grade 7 that resembles a rat.
That's when it happened.
As I was turning to rake the pit again after Chaaad's triumphant . . . triumph, I suddenly felt a BUMP and then heard a large:
"Oh my gosh, what did you just to do me, OH MY GOSH, OH GOSH OOOOOOOW!"
Turns out when I went to turn, I accidentally whacked my friend Doris, who is a man, in an uncomfortable male position. Let's just say his package got wrapped.
"Why did you do that you jerk!" His face was bright red and he was lying on the ground in pain. All I could do was continue raking the pit while Doris the man writhed on the ground.
So guys, the lesson this week is an incredibly important one, or you could end up causing infertility to your friends of the male gender with female names.
DON'T GET DISTRACTED BY BOYS EVER.
There are a lot of things that could come out of this, for instance if you're at a restaurant and you get distracted by the boy behind your friend, you could end up spilling hot soup on your friend's lap, again, possibly causing intense pain and uncomfortable apologies. ESPECIALLY, do not get distracted by boys when you have a rake in hand, or you could 'wrap someone's package with a lot of tape'.
I hate track and field.
And I'm sure as soon as Doris regains sensation in his groin, he will be able to express how much he hates it too.
