Personal Lolcows - Lolcows in your personal life.

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I get the sense that some autistics ( at least those with aspergers) who lived in the 1950s or the middle ages or whatever, just adapted more, and made less selfish assholepies of themselves, than some spergs today, from fat manchildren on the net, to bratty kids on the playground/supermarket whose parents don't feel like doing their job.
I have a younger cousin who has aspergers. He needed some help, but is a pretty chill kid( really smart!), and adds a lot to family gatherings, so I know not all are like Chris chan!
 
Autism is a spectrum disorder that affects each person differently. I was diagnosed with the Ass Burger's in middle school and it was very obvious back then that I had it. I've since been told by more than one psychologist that I no longer fit the diagnostic criteria (I'm 22 now). It took a lot of effort and painful experiences to get to that point, but most of it was realizing that the world would not cater to me nor give me any special consideration or treatment other than government funded programs (which helped me immensely in not becoming a Chris clone).

The kids with classic autism (i.e. low IQ, weird sensory issues, complete inability to understand social situations) are more or less doomed. Even if they hit the savant jackpot, their disabilities keep them from ever being able to accomplish anything with it. They simply cannot adapt or even comprehend their situation.

The low-mids are the kids who can function a bit better than the classics, in that they can communicate and understand what normal people are saying, but still cannot interact on the same level as NTs or people higher on the spectrum. Most of them need assistance to get by and often end up as (actual and not figurative) adult children because they lack the developmental capacity to function independently.

The HFA's (IQ >70) aka Sonic fans are a crapshoot and at this point it depends on how effectively the disability is addressed. These are people similar to Chris who have bizarre mental wiring (e.g. Chris seems to have an inability to recognize faces) that requires expert and tactful treatment to help the individual make the most out their position. These people can often lead relatively normal lives with enough guidance and have enough agency to be held accountable for their actions. At this point, they can apply their special interests more constructively. Their obsessiveness can be directed into great things through enough encouragement and counseling. However, these people often fall into manchild traps when they aren't taught specific life skills properly. The extent of their social impairments varies, with some being able to get along with their NT peers and some not.

While some people argue that Asperger's is the same as HFA, Asperger's tends to manifest differently. People with Asperger's tend to have much better language and verbal intelligence that those with HFA. Conversely, HFAs perform better with spatial thinking and are known to have to have a much wider range of interests than Aspies. Aspies are the ones who are often labeled as "eccentric" or exhibit stereotypical nerdy behavior. Aspies are usually able to adapt to their situation much better than other people on the spectrum and can develop normal social skills if given enough time and guidance. These are the folks who are most likely to end up being recognized for their accomplishments, even though people lower on the spectrum often have incredible talents (one kid I worked with could play literally any song on the piano after hearing it once and had no sort of formal musical training). It's just that the Aspies are less marginalized for their awkwardness.

The unfortunate thing is that autistic people get targeted on a level comparable with LGBT people. In fact, where I grew up the kids with Asperger's were even lower in the pecking order. People would try to fucking murder folks with ASD (myself included) just because they acted differently. One of my aspie friends once had two football players hold him down while a group of a few dozen people lined up and took turns kicking him and telling him how annoying he was. In high school, a bunch of gang members attacked one of the lower functioning kids I would work with (who was especially sensitive to noise and would freak out in response to clanging). They stuffed him into a metal trash can and started banging on it with lead pipes. It's shit like this that fucks up people with ASD even further, and often leaves them scarred to the point where they have too much anxiety to work past whatever problems they were saddled with.

ASD is a very broad spectrum, and a good number of people on it have indeed accomplished great things that are worthy of being recognized. What people fail to understand is that it these people also worked very hard and dedicated themselves to pursuing lofty goals. To say that X or Y wasn't on the spectrum because they were actually able to overcome their issues trivializes the struggles and frustrations many of them had to go through. You also can't tell kids with ASD that success and admiration is going to come to them purely because of their disability because it diminishes the value of hard work and perseverance that are necessary to achieve those sorts of things.

TL;DR: Nobody with the autism is the same and their futures are heavily dependent on environment and treatment, so you can't make conjectures purely based on whether they do or do not have it.
 
I have had requests for more Batty stories. I will do this while I still have material to work with as me and the Mister are FINALLY moving out in a few days, and holy shit has she been difficult in the run up to this.

It's been like living with Carrie.

For those unfamiliar with Batty-Ding-Dongs, refer to posts hiar - http://cwckiforums.com/threads/personal-lolcows.463/page-23#post-37133 and hiar - http://cwckiforums.com/threads/personal-lolcows.463/page-42#post-208964.

Recently, and not-so-lolcowy, I had a full blown mental breakdown. Batty's crazy behaviour I feel had a big hand in that, so me and the Mister decided to take the plunge, finances be damned, and move the fuck out. Eventually we found a new place about a month ago and went for it. We move in three days now.

We managed to keep this from Batty for as long as possible as we knew that she'd go apeshit and make things harder for us. We just about managed to keep things hushed until about two weeks ago when the agency put a massive 'for sale' sign outside the house while she was at work, and then went her a text that we had a house viewing for the next day (the house was fetid, I'll get to that). When she came home all hellfire must have broken loose, but I will never know as I was at the pub getting shitfaced to celebrate the eventual overthrowing of the Batty empire. Flirtinis all round!

Now, in the run up to this revelation the house had gone to hell, literally. We had given up cleaning up any mess that was not our own due to Batty being a filthy drunken clusterfuck and generating a stupid amount of mess. Seriously though, filthy. The kitchen was full of pots and pans covered in burnt on muck, crying out to be soaked and cleaned. The sink was full of dirt and gravel from where she'd drunkenly attempted to water her long-suffering pot plant collection. The kitchen floor was covered in soil, rotting pancetta, wet tea towels and broken glass from where she constantly drops wine glasses. An average venture into the lounge usually results in a delightful vision of either evidence of recent Batty activity (empty bottles everywhere, faint stink of farts and mixed booze, takeaway packets, sticky patches on the sofa, TV turned up to stupidly high volume for her deaf-granny Batty ears) or actual Batty activity (the same as the above, but along with full bottles, part finished bottles, JEIIIIIM, and the no longer faint stink of farts).

And oh, does Batty fart. It's like living with an overweight alcoholic goat with a bad case of the guffs and a penchant for curry. She lives in knitwear and the pongyness of her overactive bum has been absorbed into the wool, resulting in a boozy guff cloud that follows her around. Best bit is that she's too deaf to notice the train-like blaring noise, and has no sense of smell. Seriously, she can't smell anything bad. Story time!

Batty broke the kitchen drain, horribly. Seeing as she's as smart as a bump on a log, she stuffs all kinds of crap down the kitchen sink; food, dirt, oil, fat, food, puke, food, food. Food. The drain cover happens to be outside the kitchen window in a little alcove where we keep garden tools and push bikes, and by thunder did that thing start to hum. At first it wasn't that noticeable, but soon enough, whenever I cam home from work the first thing that would hit me in the face was the absolutely rank stench of rotting food, coagulated fat, drain skank and Batty farts. Everyone in the house despaired at this except Batty herself, who did not see a problem at all and couldn't smell a thing. She refused to let us call the agency as it's HER HOUSE and SHE HAS TO DO ALL THE IMPORTANT FINGS. She talks to us like we're both dumb little kids who don't know how to talk to adults, so most of the time we just let her get on with it for ease. Eventually she decided to call in some help.

Now, gentle viewers, what would you do if you had a blocked drain? Call a repair man, right? Call the agency and ask for the maintenance man, yes? Right.

Now what does Batty do?

She calls in her retard father. Oh bollocks.

Batty-Bang-Bang's family are just as Batty as she is, to the letter. They are all loud, stupid and smelly with the exception of her younger sister who actually seems like a normal human being. We'll call her father Old Pa Batty. Old Pa Batty thinks himself a handyman of sorts, although he's just a clump with a toolkit and no idea how to use it. So Old Pa Batty drives an hour over to the house to save the day, in all the run-up Batty running around pretending to clean the house for HRH, bleating about how grateful we should be for her wonderful father to grace us with his amazing presence mwah mwah mwah. We, unamused, go ahead and start making dinner.

Old Pa Battybums arrives early, which would have been fine if it wasn't for what happened next. Remember we're cooking a meal. Old Pa Battybollocks barges into the kitchen with her bumblefuck loinfruit, and proceeds to pull up all the crap in the drain, window open, muck and rotten food EVERYWHERE. The smell was ungodly. We just look at them and be all like,

"What the fuck, we're cooking here! Could you now have waited ten minutes?!"

Only to be greeted with Tweedle Derp and Tweedle Durr looking blankly in our direction, having no clue what we're so upset about. Batty clocks and spits at us venomously,

"My dad's reeeeeeeeeeeally busy and he has to do this right NOW so shut up meeeeeeeeuuuuuugh."

In the end I threw down my spatula, got the rage and had a fag. If I hadn't removed myself I would have smacked the stupid cunt. When we came back there was a new smell, like the blue liquid they pump into portaloos or the harsh cleaning chemicals they use in public toilets. We see Old Pa Batty emptying a whole bottle of whatever-the-fuck down the drain (and all over the floor as the drain was definitely not unblocked). Then this exchange followed,

"Batty, what the hell is that stuff?"

"It's envirnmintelly friendly."

"But what is it?"

"It's like fairy liquid, it's good for the envirmint."

"Yeah, ok, but what is it exactly?"

"It wun't set off your asmah!"

"But what is it?"

"It's ok to use, my dad's a prusfesnil!"

"But what IS it?"

"It's disinfectent like stuff."

"But what IS it? Wait, what?"

Apparently when you get your idiot father to badly unblock a drain, not only are you not allowed to disclose what kind of crazy chemical you're using, but also using disinfectant is standard. For UNBLOCKING a DRAIN. Needless to say after this rather stinky incident, the drain was still blocked and smelled ten times worse. We ended up putting our foot down and calling the agency to send a real repair man, which sent Batty through the roof. She had a full blown tantrum, tried to blame us for the drain being blocked still, threw stuff around the kitchen, bitched to JEIIIIM about us, saying how horrible and mean and nasty we were for wanting a job done properly and calling a legit repairman.

The dude came, fixed the drain, and we've had nary an issue since. No smell, no nothing. Happy days. Well, aside from the fact that Batty took a day off work so that she'd be home for the coming of the repairman, and spent all the time ranting to the poor guy about how her father did a stellar job, and that there was obviously not a problem apart from us EVIL housemates fucking everything up for her. Right in front of the Mister, who was busy making the poor guy a cuppa to ease the pain. The guy did his best to ignore Batty and got the job done, hoovering up the tea and getting the foxtrot oscar before she got her knickers out.

Kinda derailed there, sorry. I haven't even gotten to the bathroom yet, oh hell the BATHROOM. The horror.

I went into the bathroom after Batty had one of her famous daily sex baths, gagging for a piss. Seconds later I was out again like a Batty out of helly, grabbed the Mister and showed him what was in there. We stood there for a while, silently sharing in our sadface.

There was blood EVERYWHERE. Big clots of it all over the bottom of the bath, splatters on the floor, up the walls (!!!!), all over the toilet seat, and the toilet water itself was bright red. To add extra horror points, in our sad little bathroom bin (that little fucker has seen some shit) was a heavily used sanitary towel crudely stuffed into an empty bog roll tube. The smell was unholy. I have no shame admitting that that day I took a waz in a bucket.

The bathroom stayed that way for a few days as she never cleaned it and the hell was I going to. Eventually Battyshitty-Insaney caved and cleaned up all the blood...but left the sanitary towels. In fact, they multiplied. They stank like hell. Guess how long she left those little swiss-rolls-from-hell there for?

Two bastarding weeks.

She only cleaned up those when she got the news for the viewing. I really wish I'd have been able to see her face when she got the message, but I was far too busy being off my tits on good cider and chain smoking my favourite fags with my favourite people, revelling in the fact that there is finally going to be an end to living with Batty. Liberation.

I have more stories from the sticky archives of Batty the Bitchcunt, but I think that this is enough for one sitting.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to Leo swagger away and do some packing. The next story I write will be the smuggest thing I have ever written, probably, as it will be in a different house, miles away from her, cider in hand, with the biggest fucking grin on my face since the Cheshire Cat took a hit of MDMA.
 
I remember going to a college basketball game earlier this year and seeing a "homeless" man with a sign when we were at a light. It became sketchy when he started texting in public. He sure wasn't out to scam anyone (insert sarcasm).
 
I'll make this short.

There is a neighbor who lives less than a block away from my residence.
I am his 'friend', who assists him when he needs someone to pester, needs a reason to waste money on food, and cries for bullshit reasons.

He also twerks on doors. 'Nuff said.
 
This guy.
He pops up on Gaia Online every now and again, posting the exct same thing, spamming the role playing forum with up to 12 identical threads at a time. Judging by his name changes, I'm guessing he's been banned, but keeps coming back.
http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b86/destruction_pancake/WG0_zpsf968439f.png

On day, I decided to go deeper into the rabbit hole, and see exctly what I was dealing with. What follows is a tale of awkwardness, illiteracy, obvious autism and hints of loveshy-ness.
Screen caps following soon...
 
TheRedRanger said:
This guy.
He pops up on Gaia Online every now and again, posting the exct same thing, spamming the role playing forum with up to 12 identical threads at a time. Judging by his name changes, I'm guessing he's been banned, but keeps coming back.
http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b86/destruction_pancake/WG0_zpsf968439f.png

On day, I decided to go deeper into the rabbit hole, and see exctly what I was dealing with. What follows is a tale of awkwardness, illiteracy, obvious autism and hints of loveshy-ness.
Screen caps following soon...
Click to expand...

What is Lazy-Literate?
 
Surtur said:
What is Lazy-Literate?
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Going out on a limb here but my guess is that your writing is comprehensible and perfectly able to stand on its own, but you're not going to bother putting any effort into it. So you can't criticize the little they do write because they didn't try in the first place so why're u compliaing bout quality control?
 
I have a bit of a lolcow story from my school days

His name was Michael, and he was the school's punching bag. For one reason or another, his entire existence seemed to be built upon things to be teased for. He was a scrawny kid with tan skin and huge glasses and would always wear Disney related sweaters, big dowdy ones you would expect out of like a poor spinster aunt. His favorite a Winnie the Pooh one, he wore this sweatshirt for years and probably still does.

Now, fact and fiction surrounded this kid like you wouldn't believe. Popular opinion was that he wore pull-ups (fact) because whenever you'd walk into the bathroom there'd be Michael with his pants and diaper at his ankles. This caused a veritable shitstorm in the school.

Anyways, Michael seemed to be oblivious to any social repercussions that could come his way. He didn't care about being teased, no, he actually sort of loved it. Any attempts to make a crack at him, he'd usually do something so fucking bizarre as to render anything said moot. An example;

At lunch we all ate at these long family style plank tables. Not Michael. He had his own teacher approved corner where he could sit chewing on pencil erasers instead of actually eating lunch. This kid named Seymour goes up to him and starts riffing on the whole diaper thing. From across lunchroom was a yell, not stern but more matter of fact; 'IT FEELS GOOD ON MY PENIS!'.

We all shat brix because we had just learned that he wasn't actually incontinent but it was a fetishism even though we didn't know the word for it. Michael gets thrown out for two weeks and for a few years after that, was under almost constant supervision.

Michael came back with a vengeance in high school. Good behaviour found him newfound freedom, it had seemed, and he was once again the target of endless, pointless bullying. Now since it was high school, every insult had to be with him being gay. There was a guy very alike Tyce Andrews for anyone following the Jace events, he'd call everything gay and he himself was in fact pretty gay. Anywho, this guy who will be referred to as James, just fucked with Michael every day. Gay this, gay that, look at this fag's sweatshirt. Anyways James was sitting at his cliques table in lunch and Michael comes up slick as catshit and swipes this guy's CD player and hides it over the fold of his sweatshirt. Buried it deep. James, bereft of his Walkman and his precious Emimen jams, immediately corners Michael. He has him against the wall, is rooting through his sweatshirt, and then you hear him yell 'WHAT THE FUCK DUDE'. You see, as I hear it, Michael had actually been using his sweatshirts to hide the fact that he constantly went around with his penis tucked above his waistband of the sweatpants he always wore like a lucky charm.

That was the day Michael the eraser munching weirdo pulled one over on someone.
 
A-Stump said:
I have a bit of a lolcow story from my school days

His name was Michael, and he was the school's punching bag. For one reason or another, his entire existence seemed to be built upon things to be teased for. He was a scrawny kid with tan skin and huge glasses and would always wear Disney related sweaters, big dowdy ones you would expect out of like a poor spinster aunt. His favorite a Winnie the Pooh one, he wore this sweatshirt for years and probably still does.

Now, fact and fiction surrounded this kid like you wouldn't believe. Popular opinion was that he wore pull-ups (fact) because whenever you'd walk into the bathroom there'd be Michael with his pants and diaper at his ankles. This caused a veritable shitstorm in the school.

Anyways, Michael seemed to be oblivious to any social repercussions that could come his way. He didn't care about being teased, no, he actually sort of loved it. Any attempts to make a crack at him, he'd usually do something so fucking bizarre as to render anything said moot. An example;

At lunch we all ate at these long family style plank tables. Not Michael. He had his own teacher approved corner where he could sit chewing on pencil erasers instead of actually eating lunch. This kid named Seymour goes up to him and starts riffing on the whole diaper thing. From across lunchroom was a yell, not stern but more matter of fact; 'IT FEELS GOOD ON MY PENIS!'.

We all shat brix because we had just learned that he wasn't actually incontinent but it was a fetishism even though we didn't know the word for it. Michael gets thrown out for two weeks and for a few years after that, was under almost constant supervision.

Michael came back with a vengeance in high school. Good behaviour found him newfound freedom, it had seemed, and he was once again the target of endless, pointless bullying. Now since it was high school, every insult had to be with him being gay. There was a guy very alike Tyce Andrews for anyone following the Jace events, he'd call everything gay and he himself was in fact pretty gay. Anywho, this guy who will be referred to as James, just fucked with Michael every day. Gay this, gay that, look at this fag's sweatshirt. Anyways James was sitting at his cliques table in lunch and Michael comes up slick as catshit and swipes this guy's CD player and hides it over the fold of his sweatshirt. Buried it deep. James, bereft of his Walkman and his precious Emimen jams, immediately corners Michael. He has him against the wall, is rooting through his sweatshirt, and then you hear him yell 'WHAT THE FUCK DUDE'. You see, as I hear it, Michael had actually been using his sweatshirts to hide the fact that he constantly went around with his penis tucked above his waistband of the sweatpants he always wore like a lucky charm.

That was the day Michael the eraser munching weirdo pulled one over on someone.
Click to expand...

Honestly, James sounds like a real lolcow in his own right.
 
A-Stump said:
I have a bit of a lolcow story from my school days

His name was Michael, and he was the school's punching bag. For one reason or another, his entire existence seemed to be built upon things to be teased for. He was a scrawny kid with tan skin and huge glasses and would always wear Disney related sweaters, big dowdy ones you would expect out of like a poor spinster aunt. His favorite a Winnie the Pooh one, he wore this sweatshirt for years and probably still does.

Now, fact and fiction surrounded this kid like you wouldn't believe. Popular opinion was that he wore pull-ups (fact) because whenever you'd walk into the bathroom there'd be Michael with his pants and diaper at his ankles. This caused a veritable shitstorm in the school.

Anyways, Michael seemed to be oblivious to any social repercussions that could come his way. He didn't care about being teased, no, he actually sort of loved it. Any attempts to make a crack at him, he'd usually do something so fucking bizarre as to render anything said moot. An example;

At lunch we all ate at these long family style plank tables. Not Michael. He had his own teacher approved corner where he could sit chewing on pencil erasers instead of actually eating lunch. This kid named Seymour goes up to him and starts riffing on the whole diaper thing. From across lunchroom was a yell, not stern but more matter of fact; 'IT FEELS GOOD ON MY PENIS!'.

We all shat brix because we had just learned that he wasn't actually incontinent but it was a fetishism even though we didn't know the word for it. Michael gets thrown out for two weeks and for a few years after that, was under almost constant supervision.

Michael came back with a vengeance in high school. Good behaviour found him newfound freedom, it had seemed, and he was once again the target of endless, pointless bullying. Now since it was high school, every insult had to be with him being gay. There was a guy very alike Tyce Andrews for anyone following the Jace events, he'd call everything gay and he himself was in fact pretty gay. Anywho, this guy who will be referred to as James, just fucked with Michael every day. Gay this, gay that, look at this fag's sweatshirt. Anyways James was sitting at his cliques table in lunch and Michael comes up slick as catshit and swipes this guy's CD player and hides it over the fold of his sweatshirt. Buried it deep. James, bereft of his Walkman and his precious Emimen jams, immediately corners Michael. He has him against the wall, is rooting through his sweatshirt, and then you hear him yell 'WHAT THE FUCK DUDE'. You see, as I hear it, Michael had actually been using his sweatshirts to hide the fact that he constantly went around with his penis tucked above his waistband of the sweatpants he always wore like a lucky charm.

That was the day Michael the eraser munching weirdo pulled one over on someone.
Click to expand...

Ah, the classic "Stole-your-stuff-and-made-you-look-at-my-weiner" trick. Always works.
 
Surtur said:
Honestly, James sounds like a real lolcow in his own right.
Click to expand...

Well, he was actually the norm in terms of the average male at my school. James is actually dead though, he was drunk and high and went out one day to commit suicide by a police officer. In terms for a guy who got stabbed at a funeral (along with his father) it was a fitting end to a shitty career of being a stupid asshole.

Sorry for the double post but here is an actual video of Ricky 'James' Diamond's last retarded moments on Earth. May he always be remembered for the time he touched a guy's wiener.

 
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I referenced three of my own lolcows in previous posts, so I'll elaborate on them out of boredom now:

I had the displeasure living in the same neighborhood as some characters not horrifically dissimilar from the Chandlers.

They drove loud, old, ugly cars and were assholes to everyone. As with the Chandler family, the son was an autistic punk and his monthly tugboat was quite important to their finances. Despite the precariousness of their finances, these hoosiers spent hundreds on beer and cigarettes. After they lit up one of their plywood bonfires in their backyard, they'd howl on all night about how bad their finances are and how much they hate (insert non-White races here) over games of Yahtzee.
Click to expand...

This group of white trash was comparable in many ways to the Chandler family. They were hateful, anti-social and just plain trashy. Every person in their household was fucked up pretty badly, enough to where I can say with full confidence that they can't be changed and won't change.

  • The man of the house (though he didn't wear the pants) was a drunkard loser who had been tossed out of the Marines and pretending to be a Vietnam veteran to elicit sympathy and pity from others. He would constantly talk about how he was dying, and the fun part was is he outlived his purported estimates by more than six years now (obviously just another sympathy ploy). When he wasn't driving his large POS truck to compensate for his size issues, he was riding around on his little scooter with Marines paraphernalia draped all over it. (It was found out later that he'd scammed this off of the VA, ostensibly because he could not walk far.) In all the time I was in that neighborhood while he lived there, he worked not one day at any job nor did he ever make any efforts to get one. Like Chris, however, that didn't stop this guy from whining about how little money he had and how unfair everything in life has been for him. He did have some rather funny little customs to him, such as putting cheap ass, horrific smelling Chinese cigarettes in a Marlboro box to look better than he was. White trash will be :stupid: I suppose...
  • The son (or foster child, it was unclear) of the house was a fat and lazy but violent 20 year old autistic manchild who did not go to high school (if he had had any education at all is unclear). There was a joke in the neighborhood that "Jesus will return before we see [this lolcow] again" because he was seen perhaps ten or fifteen minutes outside a week, at most. This kid was very analogous to Chris, as neither is very social, amicable, smart or right upstairs nor did either one seek a job. Well, actually, he did try to join the USMC "to kill people," but they flatly rejected him (though some others helped the Marines make that decision ;)) and now he hates the Marine Corps. When the monthly tugboat for this guy was cut off, the whole family threw a conniption fit. They were not angry because they were heavily invested in autism treatments for the young man and the money they had relied on that for was disappearing; rather, they were mad because their budget for beer and cheap cigarettes was being reduced--you goddamned, greedy taxpayers! Unless it was that time of the week to deal with the trash cans or tard rage in public, he was never seen too much.
  • The woman of the house was a fugly, psychopathic bitch who I wouldn't tarnish my Aerostar's bumper for. On a daily basis, she would scream into her phone (no one was ever sure if there was actually a caller on the other end) about how much she hated her coworkers, non-Whites and her neighbors. On one occasion, she loudly and proudly admitted to being a "bigot." These rants would last for hours (the record was seventeen) and could usually be heard a block away. Her mental instability was such that the need for police was often a very real thought in the minds of the neighborhood.
Each of these three hoosiers was, like Chris, a danger when at the wheel of an automobile and each racked up no fewer than three hit-and-run incidents, as well as some DUIs. When they weren't plowing into fences or others' cars, they were in their backyard, burning plywood in a large bonfire they'd set up nightly. The smell was horrific and the smoke toxic, but they didn't care at all. They burned furniture they'd found while cruising around the neighborhood and even their own closet doors. (Of course they waited for the son to spray his wannabe, fake ass "gangsta" graffiti all over everything before chucking it into the pyre. The wood wasn't toxic enough before...;)*sigh*)

When these people came to that neighborhood, nobody had done anything to them, yet they in turn did all of the above and more to the neighborhood in kind. There were young children in that neighborhood, and I weep for them. They did nothing to deserve these people, and neither did anyone else. :'(
 
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TopperHay said:
This is the same guy I'm talking about so I thought I'd carry on from here...

This guy also has a pie-in-the-face fetish. Now that would be weird in itself but the thing is, he won't admit it's his fetish. Almost every single drawing he's ever done includes someone with a pie in their face and the way he describes these drawings is borderline sexual but he gets really angry if you even allude to the fact that some people consider it their fetish. He also tries to insert pies into every conversation he has and when you tell him to reel it in a bit, he gets all moody and defensive and complains about the fact he can't talk about his favourite subject anymore. I think if he just came out of his transparent closet, he'd be a lot happier.
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Another thing to add on to this guy is that he has this weird obsession with pizza and where it comes from. He goes on these weird rants that New York family-owned pizzerias are the ONLY places to get pizza from and all shop-bought pizzas are inferior and full of nasty chemicals and preservatives and how he'll never eat them, ever. Funnily enough, he buys store-bought pizza crusts and store-bought sauce because he's too lazy to make his own pizza from scratch, which isn't really that difficult. And the brand of pizza crust he buys is full of chemicals. The hypocrisy makes me laugh every time.
 
A personal lolcow of mine would have to be this one teacher who I knew in high school. She was a bitter old bat who supervised a study hall period for students with IEPs known as "Tutorial". She ran the class like a Gestapo camp and wasn't afraid to remind everyone she was in charge. There was one time when she even say she'd crucify a student who was acting up in class in front of the school for everyone to see! So I was recommended for a college prep Algerbra for my freshman year by my eighth grade math teacher. So it's the third day of the school year and I'm working on an assignment for that class and she just walks up to me and tells me that I'm in over my head. So when my mom came to pick me up, she asked me why I got frustrated in class. I hadn't been frustrated that day, so I asked her what she was talking about and told her what the one teacher had said. That was when we both found out that the CP Algerbra teacher and this Tutorial teacher conspired behind my back to get me kicked out of the class and booted down to the basic classes...just because I had an IEP. Not because I was struggling, because I had an IEP. They got in some pretty big trouble, and the man in charge of special education in my school district told my mom that the tutorial teacher thought that she had more power than she actually did. Speaking of power...

So during my sophomore year, there was a big stink being raised because a levy for our district didn't get passed. My mom as well as some other parents were dissatisfied with the way the superintendent had been handling issues regarding the student body and wouldn't let him get more money for doing a shitty job. So then there were serious budget cuts, many bordering on ridiculous. Yet they pay this one teacher to act as an "Energy monitor" placing "energy star" or "energy hog" notes on classrooms...but she was the biggest energy hog of all. Oh and the headlines even called her a "Power Ranger". Yeah, because I'll feel real protected when an old bat steps up to defend our town from electricity hungry aliens that decide to pay a rural bumfuck town a visit for whatever reason. Unsurprisingly, other teachers from other school districts got wind of this and either laughed or talked about how ridiculous what our superintendent and this teacher were doing in our district! So after getting kicked down to basic classes, I gained a new ally in the form of a school psychologist who took over writing my IEPs and they stopped determining the course of my education and I worked my way back up to the regular classes.

The more I get down to it, high school was practically an open pasture for lolcows. Many of mine were teachers who said that I wouldn't go to college behind my back to my parents. Yet I've made the dean's list twice, graduated with high honors, made the honors society in high school...yeah look who's laughing now :evil:

There are some anecdotes from high school that I feel are worthy of this thread, but others like the one Algerbra teacher didn't have enough contact with me to warrant an entry...
 
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Anonimo said:
A personal lolcow of mine would have to be this one teacher who I knew in high school. She was a bitter old bat who supervised a study hall period for students with IEPs known as "Tutorial". She ran the class like a Gestapo camp and wasn't afraid to remind everyone she was in charge. There was one time when she even say she'd crucify a student who was acting up in class! So I was recommended for a college prep Algerbra for my freshman year by my eighth grade math teacher. So it's the third day of the school year and I'm working on an assignment for that class and she just walks up to me and tells me that I'm in over my head. So when my mom came to pick me up, she asked me why I got frustrated in class. I hadn't been frustrated that day, so I asked her what she was talking about and told her what the one teacher had said. That was when we both found out that the CP Algerbra teacher and this Tutorial teacher conspired behind my back to get me kicked out of the class and booted down to the basic classes...just because I had an IEP. They got in some pretty big trouble, and the man in charge of special education in my school district told my mom that the tutorial teacher thought that she had more power than she actually did. Speaking of power...

So during my sophomore year, there was a big stink being raised because a levy for our district didn't get passed. My mom as well as some other parents were dissatisfied with the way the superintendent had been handling issues regarding the student body and wouldn't let him get more money for doing a shitty job. So then there were serious budget cuts, many bordering on ridiculous. Yet they pay this one teacher to act as an "Energy monitor" placing "energy star" or "energy hog" notes on classrooms...but she was the biggest energy hog of all. Oh and the headlines even called her a "Power Ranger. Yeah, I'll feel real protected when an old bat steps up to defend our town from electricity hungry aliens that decide to pay a rural bumfuck town a visit for whatever reason. Unsurprisingly, other teachers from other school districts got wind of this and either laughed or talked about how ridiculous what our superintendent and this teacher were doing in our district! So after getting kicked down to basic classes, I gained a new ally in the form of a school psychologist who took over writing my IEPs and they stopped determining the course of my education and I worked my way back up to the regular classes.

The more I get down to it, high school was practically an open pasture for lolcows. Many of mine were teachers who said that I wouldn't go to college behind my back to my parents. Yet I've made the dean's list twice, graduated with high honors, made the honors society in high school...yeah look who's laughing now :evil:

There are some anecdotes from high school that I feel are worthy of this thread, but others like the one Algerbra teacher didn't have enough contact with me to warrant an entry...
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I had a similar experience in eighth grade myself. Because of my placement in an advanced program, only one math teacher was available for me. As a result, I was assigned to this teacher and given zero alternatives; the class I was taking was Algebra 1.

Unfortunately, it became immediately obvious to me within the first few weeks that the teacher was an utter failure. She was a snide, fat biddy who prided herself on directing students (who had never seen the content she was supposed to teach) to teach one another. Some students survived the class (with the help of older siblings, friends in the lower academic programs, etc.) but I was not so lucky. By the first report card, I was down to a C and constantly taking heavy losses on tests. I asked for help but was told that "didn't want to learn or succeed," and that for that reason, "[I was] not entitled to help."

After six weeks of bullshit, I tired of the charade and I flatly questioned her abilities and challenged her to demonstrate that she knew what she was taking about (she sat on her ass every day, for the entire period on her laptop while students' time passed and grades fell). Needless to say, that went well and I found myself failing the class before the tenth week. Shortly thereafter, I found I could have the same answer marked and procedure as others and still be given no credit. Throughout the year, the teacher was frequently absent (roughly a third or fourth of the year). I found out later she was actually traveling to accept awards for her great teaching. (Her website also featured a statement that was particularly funny since it's bunk she just put up as a good cover story and not anything remotely similar to what she actually did).

The rest of the year passed with fairly open hostility since she refused to teach or be fair with grading, but there were some moments in the year that showed she wasn't in touch with reality. For any Three Stooges fans on the CWCki Forums, I hope you don't remember Moe Howard taking any abuse whatsoever, because he totally never took a single hit. Not one, ever! She actually said that. :\

By the time I left the eighth grade, I was no further along in math than I had been a year earlier, which led me to behind others--and remember, this was after I had been in an advanced program. Ultimately, this teacher cost me a fair amount of time and money since I had to eventually retake the same math class the next year and then later classes on my own dime since I had been delayed for a year.

A lolcow? I think so--she certainly helped prove teachers may not know anything...
 
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