Hello everyone!
If you've been paying attention to my emails you'll have realized by now that, just like a spoiled college kid calling his parents after spending all his book money on a beer pong table, I only reach out when I need money. Fortunately this time it isn't too much.
If you've been paying attention to my emails you'll have realized by now that, just like a spoiled college kid calling his parents after spending all his book money on a beer pong table, I only reach out when I need money. Fortunately this time it isn't too much.
Our teachers would like to attend our school's annual fundraising the dinner, The Gala, and we are going to try and flip the bill for their tickets using our classroom fund. I have been assured that all proceeds will go to our school, but if anyone sees our principle roll up in a new Tesla after The Gala I promise to stage a formal inquiry. Please contribute if you can. Continue reading for a first hand account of my experience at last year's The Gala!
My wife and I attended The Gala for the first time last year and it was quite the ordeal. Allow me to begin at the beginning.
Early in the day I saw a bouquet of flowers for sale at the local supermarket. My daughter shares her name with this particular flower, so I thought it would be a sweet gift. Fast forward to the night of The Gala. Our babysitter arrived and noticed that our cat had been helping himself to the bouquet, nibbling little pieces off at his leisure. We didn’t think anything of it because, to be honest our cat is kind of an a-hole and does whatever he can to destroy our home on the regular. Our babysitter, however, seemed very concerned and informed us that, “gato comiendo estas floras no es bueno” which was weird because she is a white girl with no Hispanic heritage or discernible accent.* Nevertheless, I ran it through a translator app and found that she was trying to tell us that “cat + eating these flowers = bad.” This is true whether you use the old-school math we learned in the ‘90s, or the “solve it using 127 different methods that your parents have never heard of” way our wonderful team of teachers are currently instructing our young’uns to employ.
*Okay fine, I admit the Spanish part didn’t happen, but that’s how I remember it in my head.
Once we heard the news, I went straight to the World Wide Web™ to find out what to do. Well, you know how when you have a cramp and the internet is like “it could be that you need to stretch, or it could be that you need to amputate your leg” and you just sit there doom-scrolling, regretting that you even looked up the information? This was not that thing. For the first time in human history the entire internet came together to offer one unanimous opinion, and that opinion was that our cat was about to kick the bucket.
My wife and I were very concerned and rushed to the nearest pet hospital. The theme of last year’s The Gala (yes, I am calling it "The Gala" every time because I get paid by the word) was "Roaring '20s," so I was sporting suspenders and a pageboy hat, while my wife had on a flapper dress complete with feathers sticking up out of her tiara. Honestly how did people own cats in the ‘20s? Women were literally dressed as walking cat toys!
We eventually arrived to The Gala, late and stressed out. During the party I received no less than six phone calls updating me on our cat’s status. As a result, I spent most of my time standing on a dark golf course dodging sprinklers while authorizing more and more treatments for our cat. Prices soared, with the bill eventually totaling close to $1,500 American dollars. Now many of you might be thinking, “why would anyone spend that much on a cat so dumb that he eats poison for fun?” To that I would say, “fair point.” I even touched on this while on the phone with the vet. When she (that’s right SHE—if you were assuming that the doctor was male the whole time you need to take a good hard look at yourself), informed me how much it was going to cost I replied that we paid $100 to adopt the cat and then asked, “so you’re telling me that it’s going to cost 15 entire new cats to fix this one used cat?” She was not amused.
Ultimately I ponied up the scratch (haha, animal expressions!) because I couldn’t let our cat die from eating a flower that shares its name with my daughter. That kind of trauma was considered A-OK for ‘80s parents, but in today’s woke culture it would be highkey weak no cap fam okurrr? Plus, I’d undoubtably end up having to pay more than $1,500 in therapy bills for my daughter to lie on a couch talking about how her dad is a callous cat-hating cheapskate. So, long story long I broke down and paid for the cat to live and eat poison another day.
The moral of the story is that you should come to The Gala because you will almost definitely have a better time than I did last year. Hope to see you there!
Sincerely,
Ryan, member of Team McGregillyims and owner of a $1,600 cat
My wife and I attended The Gala for the first time last year and it was quite the ordeal. Allow me to begin at the beginning.
Early in the day I saw a bouquet of flowers for sale at the local supermarket. My daughter shares her name with this particular flower, so I thought it would be a sweet gift. Fast forward to the night of The Gala. Our babysitter arrived and noticed that our cat had been helping himself to the bouquet, nibbling little pieces off at his leisure. We didn’t think anything of it because, to be honest our cat is kind of an a-hole and does whatever he can to destroy our home on the regular. Our babysitter, however, seemed very concerned and informed us that, “gato comiendo estas floras no es bueno” which was weird because she is a white girl with no Hispanic heritage or discernible accent.* Nevertheless, I ran it through a translator app and found that she was trying to tell us that “cat + eating these flowers = bad.” This is true whether you use the old-school math we learned in the ‘90s, or the “solve it using 127 different methods that your parents have never heard of” way our wonderful team of teachers are currently instructing our young’uns to employ.
*Okay fine, I admit the Spanish part didn’t happen, but that’s how I remember it in my head.
Once we heard the news, I went straight to the World Wide Web™ to find out what to do. Well, you know how when you have a cramp and the internet is like “it could be that you need to stretch, or it could be that you need to amputate your leg” and you just sit there doom-scrolling, regretting that you even looked up the information? This was not that thing. For the first time in human history the entire internet came together to offer one unanimous opinion, and that opinion was that our cat was about to kick the bucket.
My wife and I were very concerned and rushed to the nearest pet hospital. The theme of last year’s The Gala (yes, I am calling it "The Gala" every time because I get paid by the word) was "Roaring '20s," so I was sporting suspenders and a pageboy hat, while my wife had on a flapper dress complete with feathers sticking up out of her tiara. Honestly how did people own cats in the ‘20s? Women were literally dressed as walking cat toys!
We eventually arrived to The Gala, late and stressed out. During the party I received no less than six phone calls updating me on our cat’s status. As a result, I spent most of my time standing on a dark golf course dodging sprinklers while authorizing more and more treatments for our cat. Prices soared, with the bill eventually totaling close to $1,500 American dollars. Now many of you might be thinking, “why would anyone spend that much on a cat so dumb that he eats poison for fun?” To that I would say, “fair point.” I even touched on this while on the phone with the vet. When she (that’s right SHE—if you were assuming that the doctor was male the whole time you need to take a good hard look at yourself), informed me how much it was going to cost I replied that we paid $100 to adopt the cat and then asked, “so you’re telling me that it’s going to cost 15 entire new cats to fix this one used cat?” She was not amused.
Ultimately I ponied up the scratch (haha, animal expressions!) because I couldn’t let our cat die from eating a flower that shares its name with my daughter. That kind of trauma was considered A-OK for ‘80s parents, but in today’s woke culture it would be highkey weak no cap fam okurrr? Plus, I’d undoubtably end up having to pay more than $1,500 in therapy bills for my daughter to lie on a couch talking about how her dad is a callous cat-hating cheapskate. So, long story long I broke down and paid for the cat to live and eat poison another day.
The moral of the story is that you should come to The Gala because you will almost definitely have a better time than I did last year. Hope to see you there!
Sincerely,
Ryan, member of Team McGregillyims and owner of a $1,600 cat
P.S. What's a book's favorite color? Tune in next time for the answer!
No comments:
Post a Comment