Well, my career as a troublemaking asshole didn’t really get started till high school, so I decided to make up for lost time by being as much of a sarcastic, condescending, bastard in nearly all my classes nearly from the very first day of freshman year.
My biggest official encounters with hostile authority took place at the end of eighth grade and the beginning of my senior year. In eighth grade I had my locker searched for drugs, as one of the drug-dogs had picked it out in one of the random searches they did every month or so, so I ended up waiting outside the assistant principal’s office for most of the afternoon, with nothing to do until the school’s resident police officer frisked me for whatever it was they thought I must have still been packing after the tremendous wait. (Jeezus, that’s a big sentence!) They found nothing on me and nothing in my locker. This was especially funny as the school’s drugs-and-sex issue counselor worked for my dad, who had designed and instituted the drug education curriculum at the school. I was also, a few months later as I was walking home from school, detained by police for no less than a full hour in a humid, smelly, police car, in sight and walking distance of the police station near the school. The officer told me that my parents had reported me as a run-away, to which I replied, asking whether this had been before or after they’d dropped me off at school that very morning. Needless to say, he didn’t take kindly to my sarcasm, but I had thick metal bars between me and the driver’s seat and knew I was totally innocent, so fuck him. After the point where I swore I was going to die in that car, another officer arrived ‘on the scene’, this one on foot. He took one look at me, a look at the picture he’d been given to identify the kid they were looking for, and gave the other officer a funny look, and said, "Who’s that? That’s not him. He doesn’t even look like this one." Hurray for your tax dollars!
One of my latest forays into youthful rebellion was the day I came to school in drag, in accordance with the alternative (read: better and more fun) spirit week I’d devised to counter the Pep Club’s lame-ass Homecoming Spirit Week. I went the full nine yards with pig-tailed, blue gel-streaked, hair, thick gray eye-liner, ‘Fuck-me’ pink lipstick, an ankle-length skirt (which replaced the prom dress I’d planned on wearing if I hadn’t broken the damn zipper again!), and to top it all off, a sock-stuffed 36DD bra I’d found the previous summer (and thouroughly cleaned). Needless to say, I turned a few heads and drew some interesting comments, some expected (fag, goddamn homos, etc.), some not (dude, it’s a good look for you, seriously.), and all was going well, as it had when I’d pulled the same stunt the year before with a different outfit and no administrative action. Then the bell rang for first hour. That’s when the problems started. The slight headache I’d been repressing to that point suddenly grew to a more than uncomfortable level of pain, so my English teacher (God love her) sent me to the nurse. The nurse didn’t appear to be in the office at the moment, so I went to the main office instead. That’s when, after sitting for twenty minutes of excrutiating cranial torment, I found myself called into my dean’s office. He didn’t like my outfit apparently, but who was he, he of the bland collared shirt and stupid K-Mart tie, to judge me? I told him I was sorry our tastes weren’t mutual and that I hoped he would try to be more open-minded in the future, but he told me that my fashion-sense was potentially offensive and demeaning to women, which I still fail to comprehend the logic of, and thought that calling my mother to bring me something more ‘appropriate’ (his word, not mine.) to wear was a better idea.
I was faced with a ten-day suspension if I refused to change (clothes) to fit their square mold. If I hadn’t been involved in a play at the time (yep, the faggitude continues!), I would have totally given them the finger and taken a well-deserved rest from their bullshit, but such was not my decision as I lay there in the darkness of the room where they send you if you need to lie down in the nurse’s office, a blessed icepack on my throbbing forehead, where I finally got to, lying broken, but not defeated, another victim of the status quo of high school politics.
So those are my stories of a hazardous youth, enjoy.

Chestnuts roasted by Princess Wuffles @ 01/27/2004 11:33 PM

---

btw my website is down atm so don’t fucking bother telling me ;P

Chestnuts roasted by Cyanyde @ 01/28/2004 4:00 AM

---

In Public school I nailed the vice principal in the face with a snowball and got a 3 day suspension. 2 days after I got back, I hit janitor in the head with a snowball that I had spiced up with a small rock in the center. I got a 3 day vacation and the strap on the hands for that one. Last day of grade 8, I threw another kid’s book bag out the window of our 3 floor school and the principal drove me home in the middle of class. Not too bad for a grade-schooler in the mid-80′s.

Chestnuts roasted by Uplands Shawn @ 01/28/2004 1:39 PM

---

Hmm.. I was a bit of a trouble maker when I was in school. I got into trouble for just about everything, fighting, talking back to teachers, smoking, hacked into a computer my senior year which totally jeopordized me from graduating. The problem with me is, once i get into trouble, I tend to get into even more trouble. I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut, and it lands me in a deeper hole. I’m not content with just getting one referal, I have to get three and go the suspension route. When I hacked into the computer, I re-wrote alot of the menus names, and program names in the tech lab/computer graphics class to Megadeth album names and song titles. My freakin lab partner is the one that ratted me out, just goes to show you that two people can keep a secret if one of em is dead. Landed me 30 days in what they called In House Crisis, would’ve gotten expelled but for some reason some of my other teachers came to my defense. I had to have a hearing and everything at the school, you’d think I was in some kind of military court martial hearing or something from the way it panned out. That was the biggest mess I ever got myself into in school. Everything I did before that was small play, they took me hacking into their computer pretty seriously. And it wasn’t even a hacking job, all I did was guess the freakin password into the computer to grant me access into the administrator control options. The password was the most obvious thing, it was the initials of our high school. I was no stranger to suspensions and in houses however, I even had to go to Saturday school once because of a fight. I’m glad I graduated school when I did (1996), because of the ways things are now I would’ve been sending alarm bells to the freakin ATF or something. But if I had to do it all over again, I have a feeling I’d do the same things over… wouldn’t change a thing. As bad as I was in high school, I still went to college and graduated.

Chestnuts roasted by Guitarmageddon @ 02/02/2004 3:32 AM

---

Well one time in school this girl’s ex boyfriend told me to tell the girl that he says "if her left leg is christmas and her right leg is thanksgiving can he meet her inbetween the holidays" I figure Ill do this favor for the guy since he said he was saying it. So I tell her and say he told me to tell ya that. She starts crying. Soon enoug hthey get back together or whatever so after shes made a big deal out of it she says it was all me. So I had to repeat the 7th grade after doing so well and only 2 more weeks left. So I had to study my ass off and apologize a trillion times before they agreed to give me a final shot. But when one of her friends gave me a hard time I called her a "fat cow" in which lead to another trip, thus placing my place in 7th grade for another year. So I had to spend another year in 7th grade, get written about for sexual harrasment in the papers, and get plenty of respect from people who hated that stuck up bitch. It was all worth it though. Luckily for me the new 7th graders didn’t know who I was so I was considered "a new kid" and got to hook up with plenty of younger ladies. Not to mention I was in 7th grade so there wasn’t much to achieve.

Chestnuts roasted by Adam @ 02/13/2004 1:43 AM

---