Today (6/1/2006) One of my favorites in the "good people" catagory (which is why I will be calling her Peggy instead of her real name) walks up to Ken's table at the golf outing and with a nice buzz on, asks him, "what does yuh-neee-un mean?" And Ken asks, "what?" As everyone else watches, she repeats, "yuh-nee-un?...on your shirt." Then she points to the giant word on his shirt and pronounces each syllable carefully while pointing to the letters, "yuh" (u) "nee" (ni) "un" (on). He responds dryly with the seven other educators at the table, "it's UNION, Peg." She says "Ohhh, oh my...please don't tell anyone!"
Earlier, on the golf course, Ken was whipping waterballoons at Gary, Larry, and Deb all day. He jumped out of the cart while Rachel was driving and ran along side it while the ten pounds of keys and wallet and golf balls and other crap in the side pockets of his shorts swished back and forth opposite his stride -- fucking hysterical! I almost peed my capris! We left secret messages and accusations for Deb and George (who were behind us) inside the holes: a purple triangle, "Deb's not wearing her big girl panties," "George eats grass," and of course, pretzels. All of this sillliness might have been influenced a little by the special lemonade I brought in two giant pitchers that took up the spot on the cart of the clubs I do not own. The great irony, Bob taught me that it is proper golf ettiquette not to step on the terf too near the holes. Maybe I need a few other lessons.*Thank you universe, for putting a golf course willing to put up with Teachers Gone Wild year after year so near our school. There is great joy in the release that happens there each June.
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