Mom, can you help me with my math homework? I'm a little stuck. Mom? Mom? MOM!
Huh? Sorry, I was just pretending I wasn't here so you'd ask someone else to help you.
You're the only one home besides the cats right now.
Yes, and they're both better at long division than I am, so why don't you just wait until they're out of the litter box and run it past them?
Mom, I really need you to help me with this, OK? It's due tomorrow.
Fine. What's the problem you're stuck on?
Write an expression for q multiplied by 215.
Holy sh*t on a taco.
That's an expression for q. Write it down.
But that's not the kind of express... why can't you just help me?
Because the last math class I took was in 1984 and I only passed it because I washed and dried my teacher's car once a week. Listen, public school used to be a lot more flexible than it is now. Back then you could take a few shop classes, smoke a doobie in the girls' room and still be the class valedictorian. Now, it's all this fancy pants studying every night.
What's a doob...
The point is, your mother can't make change for a dollar and she still graduated with two scholarships.
Well, could you just look at this question in my book and see if it makes sense, please?
OK, OK. (long pause) The answer is "purple."
THE ANSWER IS NOT PURPLE, MOM. THERE IS NO PURPLE IN 7TH GRADE MATH.
Sam, I'm sorry! I just don't know how to help you with math. I've been telling you that ever since Kindergarten when your teacher made fun of me for thinking there was a number called "eleventeen." Remember that? Some of those kids still call me "The Math Moron" when I see them, too. Little jerks. Like they can name all of the states in alphabetical order?
You can do that?
Yes, but only if you change the word "states" to "stores I like at the mall."
Mom, enough, OK? I need to finish this homework right now.
Fine, fine, fine. I hear the high schooler down the street is a great tutor, so let's call him. I don't care how much he charges, either.
Good, because some kid on the bus says that he's $25 an hour.
Holy sh*t on a taco. What's that in eleventeens?