Sue

Sue

My friend Sue would bail me out of jail at midnight on Christmas Eve if I called her and I would do the same for her.  No one would ever find out about the incident unless I told them because that is the type of friendship Sue and I have. We keep our secrets secret and no one could drag them out of us even with a vat of Ben and Jerry's.

 Sue and I used to have a blast working together because we have the same twisted sense of humor and the same balanced hormones that young teachers lack.  We also have the gift of extreme self-confidence…in other words, we don’t give a flying crap what anyone thinks because we are absolutely secure in our intelligence and sense of self worth. We are lucky to have wonderful families and husbands we adore.  We also both have daughters who are also our best friends, so school drama is a minor glitch in an otherwise pretty cool life.  Women who work together and have too much estrogen get mad about the dumbest things on earth.  I used to go home and tell my husband, who works in the construction industry, the silly petty conflicts between co-workers at my school and he would laugh until I told him they were true. “So and so wouldn’t talk to me today because she was mad that I accused her of being late bringing her kids to my classroom and she has decided that I no longer exist, etc….really?”  It took me, no lie, a month to realize that a certain mentally warped person wasn’t speaking to me.  It was hilarious.  Someone asked me if  "Cindy" was still mad at me and I was clueless!  It’s not that I am oblivious, I just don’t care about that crap! I enjoyed the silence.  Can you picture a guy on a construction site complaining because a co-worker hurt his feelings?  “Uhhh, Boss, Billy Bob said he didn’t like my new work boots because I don’t have steel toes, and frankly I don’t think he considered my feelings…”  Hell no it would never happened.  Guys just don’t work or think like that.  Correction, guys with testosterone don’t act like that.  #1. They do not comment on each other’s wardrobe choices. #2. If they happened to lose their minds and do it guy number two would tell guy number one to go screw himself and they would be friends going out for a beer a few hours later. Case closed.  Women hold grudges, men forget.  My husband frequently calls me a gravedigger when I bring up past indiscressions. The problem is he thinks that if he did it yesterday it is waaay in the past and it’s over.  Silly, silly man. 

However, something happens to a man who works around a lot of women for an extended period of time.  First, they start to gossip.  Then they start to “get their feelings” (AKA Egos) bruised and then they grow a vagina and all hell breaks loose.  They start PMS-ing, they start to whine.  I’m sorry male teachers, you are the worst.  Yeah, I said it.

Sue and I refused to play the “I’m mad at you” game at work and it drove the gossipy biddies nuts.  We played pranks on everyone, but I can only mention the ones on which the statute of limitations have run out….

We had fun…our kind of fun….

We would regularly rearrange the items on our anal retentive principal’s desk when he was out playing golf,,,,oops, I meant at a meeting.  We also gave him the items on his desk back to him in a gift bag on Boss’s day even though the other teachers gave him major “suck-up” gifts.  He didn’t think that was funny, but we did. We threw some candy in there too,…candy from the office stash.  He was out for back surgery and we threw trash in his room and took photos of it and of Sue eating a messy sub sandwich at his desk while three friends of ours were sitting on the desk with their shoes off.  We also took photos of one of us entering his private bathroom with a newspaper.  Why weren’t we fired?  I have no idea!  He also had a real problem with folks wearing flip-flops.  We live in a casual beach town. He is from Pennsylvania.  Flip-flops are a wardrobe staple around here.  He hated them.  I loved them…need I continue?  I decorated my door with them. I used them as my stationary logo. I covered a pair of tiny yellow rubber ones with glitter and beads and gave them to him for his birthday.  He insisted on calling them “shower shoes” Whah? Is that some Pennsyl-tuckie term?  We call them flip-flops down here at the beach and they are the best shoes ever invented and I wear them ‘till the snow falls.  Stilettos are for sittin’, boots are for walkin’ and flip-flops are for livin’. They will never go out of style in my ‘hood and they never should. Screw you Jimmy Choo.  You don’t have to fit your foot into those torture devices that you design and have conned millions into buying with an extrememly overpriced tag! I luv me some flip-flops! I especially love cheap flip flops. Ain’t beach life grand?

I’m an anti establishment trouble maker, which is why Sue and I are friends.  We unplugged the vacuum cleaner on Jackie our custodian for months before she found out it was us.  She would walk around the corner and yell, “What is wrong with this thing?” We loved Jackie.  A kinder person you will never meet.  Thank god she loved us too because when our hallway was crowded with discarded computer desks we blocked the door shut on her office and then had our principal call her down to the main office on the intercom and on her walkie and to say it was an emergency.  Flip-flops aside he was a pretty good sport. She had been in her bathroom (we didn’t know…okay, we did) and she was banging and yelling to get out.  She immediately knew it was us and screamed our names.  We finally let her out and she didn’t talk to us all day. She was furious!  I guess we went a touch too far.  Jackie finally forgave us because we showered her with “I’m sorry” notes and candy that we stole….oops, borrowed from the office stash. We were going to give her all the stuff from the principal’s desk, but that joke was getting old.

We were planning a social event and one of us expressed our love for the small cakes called petifores, but in our sugar filled haze one of us accidentally called them pedophiles. From then on when we have to attend an event we always volunteer to bring a dozen pedophiles, because “we love us some pedophiles.” No one seems to think it is as funny as Sue and I do, which makes it even funnier to us.  Some folks are soooo uptight! Pedophiles are yummy.

My other good friend was the guidance counselor, Lynne.  Lynnie often used puppets to reinforce her lessons.  She arrived at work many times to find her puppets in compromising positions, smoking paper cigarettes and having “relations” with other puppets as well as her computer mouse.  That mouse was a whore. Somebody at that school had a sick mind.  I have no idea who broke into her room at night and did that.  It was disgusting…hahahaaa

 We also kept raising the adjustable stool height little by little on a certain employee who was a retired naval officer with a Napoleon complex who “transitioned” into being a school counselor. Think about it….retired officer who likes to be in charge…has a little man complex….inappropriate feelings that he expresses openly for a married colleague. He happened to be married to a woman who had his little jewels in her iron fist.  What a great guy to provide guidance to our youth! We sure can pick ‘em!  We hoped he thought he was shrinking.  We stopped short of raising the pictures on his wall because that would have required spackle and that was just too much work. It was awesome!  He lusted after a certain married albino bunny who taught kindergarten.  Yes, I said bunny.  She weighed in at 89lbs and was always shivering and rubbing her paws…I mean hands together to warm up.  She complained that Little Napolean was stalking her but she secretly loved it.  We took full advantage of the situation, but the statutes haven’t run out on those “incidents” so that is all I will say.  Use your imagination….there ya go, uh-huh.   We heard she left her hubbie and got married.  No, not to Napolean, but guess who knew every detail of the courting, marriage, and move?  Yep, you guessed it!

The final year we worked together we found a pair of beaver tails in the old box of play costumes, pinned them on and wore them to the office and told the staff we were going home because we just didn’t give a “dam”…get it?  I guess you had to be there.  The point is that everyone needs a friend like Sue.  Someone you can call and share, vent, empathize, and just plain bitch with! Someone you can trust no matter what.  As my daughter says, everyone needs a “trash talkin’” friend . Someone to pluck out your chin hairs if you end up on life support. Oprah has Gail. I have Sue.  I hope you have someone.