Remember in junior high when your science teacher made you tack open the stomach of a frog so you could poke and prod at insides with a rusty scalpel? (Who trusts a bunch of kids with raging hormones in the midst of puberty with a weapon anyway? Doesn’t seem very smart.) Most people didn’t mind, but I was one of the kids who stood in the corner clutching my Lisa Frank pencil box instead, because… animal rights, hello? I wouldn’t touch that frog with a ten-foot-pole. My parents were so proud of me taking such a strong stance for my beliefs even though they thought I was overreacting. They took me out to dinner and bought a cake with pink lettering boldly stating “we’re so proud of you.” Guys, I really didn’t give a flying fuck about that frog. I just thought it was disgusting. Thanks for the cake though, mom.
Later the same year another teacher had their class dissect a fish. My friends regaled me with tales of how crunchy the eyeballs were when stabbed and how the female fish had eggs spill out when cut open. I was appalled. Disgusted. But nothing was more mortifying than when they told me that one of the boys in their class kept a bag of fish guts to put into someone’s food at lunch. Poor Evan… he never had a chance when he bit into that sandwich. I guess that’s what he gets for picking friends that were certifiable pricks.
Choose your friends wisely. Don’t stick yourself with people who will think it’s funny to stash rotting guts into your egg salad or blow snot into your diet Coke. Life is too short to be friends with assholes.
Also – kids are assholes.