I am just going to sit around all day typing out things that happened to me when I was a kid that should be life lessons for us all. Like the time in third grade my class was standing in line and I burped so loud you would have thought someone was filming the next John Belushi movie in my mouth. Or that the school had implemented a foghorn as the "lunch is over, suckers" bell.
My teacher was, of course, horrified, and she immediately put Stanley in the corner for burping so rudely like that. When Stanley (rightfully) protested that he didn't do it, he was given more time in the third grade pokey for lying. But he wasn't lying. Stanley had just been unfortunate enough to be standing behind me in line.
Stanley was one of those unfortunate kids who always had unfortunate things going on around him, like extra tiny Jason Whathisname standing up in the middle of the rainy day Cricket in Times Square assembly yelling, "HE SAID MY MAMA LOOKS LIKE A CHIHUAHUA!" Wherein everyone responded with guffaws of laughter because Mrs. Whatsherface, the teacher's aide (and also his mom), actually DID look like a chihuahua, except with less of a neck and wider.
So Stanley got in trouble for that, too, but again unnecessarily, because if you knew Stanley you knew he had not one bit of humor in him and so he was probably just stating a fact and Jason got all bent out of shape because he was the third grade drama queen.
You could tell that Stanley tried, though. He tried to think out of the elementary box. He really did. Even when we were young and enjoyed half day Kindergarten together, he was always doing something that shouldn't have gotten him in trouble but did. Like the time we were doing some kind of practice-following-instructions thing and the teacher asked us all to color the circle with the green crayon. Stanley pulled out a very yellow crayon and went to town. "I said, 'green', Stanley" the teacher warned gently, wherein Stanley went ballistic and hysterical, shouting that the crayon WAS green. It was just YELLOW-green, which was a green type thing.
So what is the lesson in all of this? What did I learn by going to school with Stanley from Kindergarten until maybe middle school but I don't really remember because everything after sixth grade becomes fuzzy with despair and hormones?
It is simply this: Don't stand in line behind me after lunch, always wink or gently punch someone in the arm when you call their mom a dog, and never think that yellow-green is the same as green-green or you will get your ass CALLED OUT in front of the whole damn class (or, if you are a grown-up, a PA at your pediatrician's office will prescribe the wrong type of antibiotics for your snotty kid).
I wonder whatever happened to Stanley? My bet is that he has a nice desk somewhere with a very red stapler.
And that he doesn't think Tina Fey is funny AT ALL.