My Sixth Grade Google Horror Story.

So, as many of you know, on the eighth day (after He created unicorns and Nutella) God created the most wonderful tool man has ever possessed. Google. 

Google is the number one source for all of the worlds most pressing questions. 

-a brief example of some of the worlds most pressing questions:

"What is twerking?"
"What does it mean when you're scared of Chinese people?"
"Why is my goldfish turning black?"
"How to raise your IQ by eating gifted children."
and finally, (my personal favorite)
"What's a good Amish dating website?"

Obviously, Google has the answers for everything. Which is why I didn't hesitate for a second when I was presented with this situation in the sixth grade: 

As I sat tall in Mrs. McMeanLady’s Science class (names have been changed for privacy reasons), I overheard a conversation between the three popular gals-- lets just call them "the Amanda’s" to save time.  Now, the Amanda’s sole purpose in life had three parts. One, scrunched hair. Two, Myspace. Three, to make Laurie Seifert's life a living hell.  So, naturally, I was put at a table with all three of these girls according to Mrs. McMeanLady’s seating chart.  One day as I tried and tried again to wrap my mind around the Water Cycle, in my full Old Navy overall get-up and Corey Matthews curls, I overheard the Amanda’s conversation.  This conversation however, was unlike any I had heard before.  It wasn’t the usual dialogue concerning a broken choker necklace or Danny Michaelson’s new pair of Nikes. No. This one was different. They were talking about Mrs. McMeanLady, and they used a word I had never heard before. Cellulite. 

Cellulite. I said it over and over again in my head trying to figure out what it could be.  After pondering for a while and coming up with nothing, I made the brave decision to write it down on the inside corner of my polar bear folder.  After all, I couldn’t write it on my hand, It could’ve been the equivalent of the 'F' word for all I knew.  

The last bell rang and I grabbed my backpack and headed out to my Moms mini-van as fast as I could. It had been hours since I heard this word and with each second it grew more and more mysterious.  As my Mom unlocked the front door to my house I ran in, threw my backpack on the ground, got in trouble, picked my backpack back up and took it to my room, THEN headed straight for the computer.  I was going to ask the ultimate source, Google.  I wasn’t exactly sure how to spell it so I went with something along the lines of “sellyulight”.  I knew it didn’t matter because I had faith that Google would know exactly what I meant-- and it did.  “Did you mean “What is Cellulite?”.  Why yes, Google, I did!  The great news is, Google is a genius. The bad news is that given the choice, I chose the Google Image search. 

You could imagine my surprise when the first pictures started to load and my mind was spinning with visions of old lady butts that looked like cottage cheese.  I immidiately shut off the computer screen and covered my eyes (like that was gonna get rid of the visual burned into my brain). I knew that if either of my parents saw me looking at butts they would definitely take away my Sega Dreamcast, and that was just unacceptable.  There was only one thing I could do, go up to my room, blast Spice World and try to forget. 

The next day in science class, I asked Mrs. McMeanLady if she could move my seat because the Amanda’s were distracing me.  She said no. (thats how she earned the name Mrs. McMeanLady) And from that day forward I tried and tried to tune out the conversations going on at my table full of Amanda’s. I got pretty good at it actually, and at the end of the year one of them even wrote in my yearbook “H.A.G.S. Church Gurl”... Well, it could’ve been worse. 

Moral of the story: 
tell your kids about searching things on Google--and warn them about sellyulight. 

xo
laurie