Another Reason to hate Comcast


Okay, I hated the “Zack, Zack, he’s a Lego Maniac” commercials back in the ’80s… even though I loved Legos.

The bums at Comcast already get enough money from me for their crappy cable and internet service. No, I don’t want to sign up for a shitty telephone plan to boot.

At least the Lego campaign knew how to spell my name. This is just insulting.


Embarrassing Stories about Paul Yerrick, Part 2

Okay, here’s the follow-up to yesterday’s post:

9th Grade: Paul Yerrick, the music man, becomes the first student to ever get kicked out of the Holt Junior High Band after repeatedly distrupting class.

12th Grade: For the first two or three weeks of the year, Paul came to school with a mullet. It kind of looked like this.

12th Grade: First day of calculus in Mr. Schnepp’s class over in Sycamore (the elemenatary school right next to HHS). Paul was asked to use a video camera to record Mr. Schnepp riding a stationary bike. The point was to prove that we could use math to calculate how many rotations his feet made without having to go back to the video as a reference. A few days later, Paul told us that he had zoomed in on Mr. Schnepp’s crotch while he was recording, so we couldn’t have seen his legs and counted the rotations even if we wanted to.

12th Grade: Changing out of our band uniforms in the auditorium after a football game, Paul flashed Aaron Porter and said: “Hey Porter, why you _____ a _____?” Seconds later, Pauls dad burst through the door and screamed at him to hurry up and get out in the hall. Paul freaked out, hurried to finish changing, and rushed out of the room. Of course, it turned out that his dad hadn’t actually seen anything.

12th Grade: For several weeks during band class, Paul had been painting large boards with a scenic backdrop for the flag corps to use during their shows. One day Paul got really pissed off about something, so he picked up the round thing he had dumped paint on for his project, and threw it like a frisbee. Paint went flying everywhere, all over the props for the spring musical. A day later, the play director chewed out Mr. Perry (our band teacher) for letting his students destroy her props. Perry actually defended us (Paul, Nate and I), and denied that we had even been in the auditorium that day. Paul got off the hook, and continued with his project.

12th Grade: A few weeks after the paint incident, the musical crew had managed to construct several backdrops for the show, and one of them was set up on the stage where Paul had been working on his project for the flag corps. The details are fuzzy in my mind, but I remember that Paul accidentally did something during band (when we were screwing around in the auditorium) that ripped a huge hole in the set piece. So, to cover his tracks, we decided to put a ladder on the floor next to the set piece so it would look like the ladder had fallen over on its own and ripped the hole. Of course, nothing ever happened, and Paul never got in trouble for it.

12th Grade: Mr. Schnepp’s calculus class. John Lukavsky got up one day to sharpen his pencil while everyone was busy doing work. Paul said something to the effect of: “John, those are some crazy shoes.” John responded by saying, “Yeah, I think your dad made ‘em.” Mr. Schnepp looked up from whatever he was doing at his desk and said, “John, I don’t know what your relationship is with Paul, but I can see how that would be offensive.”

Ah, memories. Congrats, Paul!

Embarrassing Stories about Paul Yerrick, Part 1

One of my best friends from high school, Mr. Paul Yerrick, is getting hitched on Saturday. So, to help spread the joy, I thought I would share some of my most embarrassing stories about Paul. Here’s Vol. 1.

A fair number of these may not make sense to you… but that’s probably for the best.

11th Grade: Mr. Foy’s chemistry class. Paul walks up to Miss Brown, the student teacher (who looks like this), wraps his arms around her, and starts making humping motions. She tells him that’s innappropriate, so Paul takes his seat.

11th Grade: Mr. Foy writes the word “Propanol” on the chalk board. Paul reads it out loud so everyone can hear him: “Prop-anal.” Mr. Foy points towards the door: “Paul, out in the hall.”

11th Grade: Eastern High School for a tennis match. Paul and I were playing against the worst doubles pair on the worst team in the league. Our opponents were both disabled (one mentally, one physically). Paul and I took several breaks in-between sets in an effort to convince ourselves that we needed to quit messing around and just win the match. We wound up losing in straight sets. We were the only doubles pair on our team to lose that day.

11th Grade: Paul and Brent Viele, disgussing Brent’s girlfriend at the time (keep in mind, these guys hated each other). Paul: “Brent, how exactly do you _____ _____ Jeri Adams?”

Round 2 tomorrow!