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Am I a Clown? Here to Amuse You?

Sometimes when I blog, I feel as though I am putting my stuff out into the universe and the universe hears me…..

and laughs.

After posting last week about how the PTO at my children’s school can go shit in a hat, I was happy to be able to put the chapter of my life behind me where I help with school activities.

Monday morning I looked at my phone and realized that my new resolve to not help others would have to begin on Tuesday.  I had volunteered to help in Sam’s art class.  Helping in the classroom was definitely different than helping the PTO – but still…

Also – many times I have shown up to help teacher’s that supposedly need help desperately, and they actually don’t need help at all.  After I cut short my time to run errands or do something that I need to so that I can scramble to get to the school, I often find myself standing in the classroom with nothing to do.

I will help kids cut something out or erase something or various other art-related tasks that in the 1980’s we would have completed on our own.  In those days “mothers helping in the classroom” was not invented yet.  Not only did our moms not come to our classroom to help the professional people who were getting paid to teach their children, even when we got home they didn’t help us.

We actually did our work in school and out of school … OURSELVES!

Here, children in the 1980's complete their homework surrounded by TAB and second-hand smoke and zero parental involvement.

Here, children in the 1980’s complete their homework surrounded by TAB and second-hand smoke and zero parental involvement.

I digress.

Monday as I was helping a little boy draw a fish, the little girl next to him said to me in a hushed tone of voice,

“Do you know? I actually don’t think that the Boston Tea Party was a tea party?” she looked up from cutting her fish waiting for my reaction.

“Oh really?” I played along.

“It wasn’t a party…it was a war!” she whispered with wide eyes.

“A wart?!” another little boy interjected.

She continued cutting her fish and looked up calmly.

“Well I do have a wart on the bottom of my foot….it used to be white, but now it’s brown.” she said seriously and quickly changing the topic.

All the kids at the table squealed with laughter and even I chuckled a bit.  I reflected on my vow to never help again and thought it wasn’t sooo bad helping at the art class.

When I got home I was met with an email from a very nice mother that just happened to be a member of the PTO requesting my help at the upcoming school fair.

Because she is a very nice woman and she peppered me with lies such as “I know you work well with children,” I suddenly found myself clicking the link that would allow me to volunteer for this fucking nightmare.

I figured even though I cannot face paint and I don’t enjoy spending time with strange children, it would only be 30 minutes…how bad could it be.

This email is to remind you that you are signed up for the following slot on Fun Fair 2015″:

Wed, 05/20/2015 5:30PM – 6:30PM EDT 

— Face Painting Station

To view the SignUpGenius form, go to:

“Fuck!” I shrieked to Mr. Gaga when this confirmation email popped up.  “This dumb “Sign-up Genius” tricked me into being the school clown for one hour!”

Mr. Gaga laughed with the universe at my demise.

“So now I blog about how I hate helping the PTO and the next thing I know I am a full blown clown.” I sighed.

I had to accept my fate so I prepared mentally to entertain the children.

"What have I done to deserve this?" I asked Mr. Gaga one more time before I left for the fair.

“What have I done to deserve this?” I asked Mr. Gaga one more time before I left for the fair.

When Sam, Michael and I arrived at the fair- I headed to the face painting table assuming I would be met with brushes and easy picture ideas to choose from.

Instead I found this:


I was totally screwed.  I ripped open the package as an angry and bratty mob of children headed my way.

Sam and Michael, sensing a pending disaster, ran for their lives off to the dunk tank, leaving me in the dust.

“I’ll take that.” the first child said bossily pointing to the witch face on the package.

“Yeah  – no…I can’t do that.”

While she pondered what to get a little boy sat in the chair next to me.  “Can I please have a lizard?” he asked sweetly.

“Um…no,” I said with exasperation, “How about a rock? Just like a very small pebble?” I tried to convince him.

He stared back at me blankly.

“A lightning bolt?” I pleaded.  He agreed and I clumsily drew a jagged line down his cheek.

“Ok – I’ll take this,” the bossy girl was back and this time she was pointing to the vampire picture on the box.

“Fine…sit down.” I conceded and did my best to create bloody fangs on her face.

“Okay can you take my picture so I can see it?” she demanded when I finished.

I obeyed.

She stared at the picture serenely and ran away.

Next up, “Can I have a panda?”  a little girl said patiently waiting while I googled “How to draw a panda face.”

The torture never ended.

“I’ll take Batman…” “I’ll have a NY Giants Football”…..”I’ll have dog.”

The vampire girl then returned when I was about half-way through my shift.

“Did you get any better yet??” she demanded.

“Um…no why?” I answered.

“Well I want you to do it again – but better this time….I figured by now you would be better at this.”

“Well I haven’t attended a cinematic makeup school since you left….so no.” I answered shortly, while the line grew behind her. Still she made me give her a “touch-up.”

This is as good as it gets kid...hit the road and don't come back.

This is as good as it gets kid…hit the road and don’t come back.

Next up a mother wandered over with her son.  She gently nudged him into the chair.

“Go ahead Cayden tell her what you would like.” she said in a sing-song voice.

The boy stared at me silently.

“See the pin he’s wearing?” she said proudly.  I looked at his shirt and I saw that he was wearing a huge circle pinned to his shirt – it was clearly a laminated picture that he had drawn.

“That’s a cat that Cayden drew in art!” the mom said excitedly, “And he would like that exact picture on his cheek!”

What the hell?

Are you fucking kidding me?

I scribbled and smudged on his cheek, sweating bullets while the mother peered over my shoulder beaming with pride.

When I finished there was a huge black blob with ears and a tail on this kid’s cheek and I quickly sent him on his way.

“What time is it?” I asked one of the mothers, as the cat-pin mom had sent me over the edge.

“Oh, it’s 6:30.” a mother answered casually while she waited for me to get started on her child’s face.

“Oh – I have to leave – sorry.”

fizbo running

Sometimes it takes me a few tries before I learn….

The universe has spoken.

And I got the message loud and clear.




One response »

  1. SignUp Genius is SATAN!!! I’ve been locked in more times than I can say by that evil website. The most recent was Teacher’s Week luncheon, but that was okay, because I got to sample the baked goods. The worst was when the Ohio History Center brought their traveling lab and had seven stations set up in the gym. It was inventors/innovators week, and my station was a large map of Ohio covered with velcro spots where 8 kids every 7 minutes were supposed to place names of cities/towns and famous inventors that they had to match to their inventions, all the while I was supposed to interact intelligently with pertinent facts and questions. Jesus God! They were a bunch of little maniacs, and it was a bloody freakin’ mess. After the first two groups, I quickly learned to enlist the little buggers to remove all the stickers and place them back on the table. All I can say is, it’s a good thing I’m not a teacher. I’d kill them all. I’m too old for this shit.


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