There's this poster in Mrs. Singer's room of a guy in a race car suit covered in advertisments for Tide bleach. He's leaning very matter-of-factly on a racecar painted in like advertisments.

This is amidst a sea of motivational messages, grammar correctional, and "Hang in there, baby!" office humor posters.

He doesn't fit into any of the above categories. He's certainly not correcting grammar or being motivational in any sort of way; and I don't know what kind of office you would have to work in to find that humerous. Maybe a rival detergent company like Downy... though I'm pretty sure he'd have to have a fake moustache or some other kind of defamating remark drawn on in order for them to think it's funny.

The racing Tide man. Why is he there? He doesn't belong there, on the wall of a cheap high school portable. He belongs out on the open road -- top down, wind blowing through his rapidly thinning hair, with a box of Tide bleach riding shotgun.

Something had to be done.

So something was done.

Opportunity struck, and Mrs. Singer left the room to tend to her sick kids. (Who are strangely always sick.)

This was the perfect opportunity to rip a corner of the poster off the wall, but then I chickened out. I couldn't take the heat. So brave young Sean did it for me, and neatly shoved it in my bookbag.

But what, pretell, would fill the gaping space in the wall?

This would.

What does it mean? Where did it come from? I'm really not sure. But we all think it's pretty funny.

Sean stapled it to the space in the wall where the Tide man had once been.

This, by the way, is supposed to make more sense than what was originally there.

And what to be done with our lone cowboy?

He now resides in the boy's bathroom, thanks to Lindsay and me.

Lindsay's reasoning for the placement is that, she says, "it will motivate the boys to pee like a racecar."

We do stuff like this. We're just some crazy kids.

<< >>