Pop Culture Musings: When Did They Jump the Shark?

You guys know what Jump the Shark means, right? When a previously somewhat cool series becomes ridiculous (as in the Fonz literally jumping the shark on Happy Days). Well, in my opinion, anything--even things that, gasp, aren't TV--can jump the shark.

Celebrity Deaths

It used to be that when a celebrity died, it meant something. Lots of CNN coverage and weeping and the re-airing of their E! True Hollywood Story. But celebrity death is getting old. Why? Because as Andy Warhol once said, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes. Every time someone dies, there will be tweets about how how Swayze's dirty dancing perked them up one time when they were suicidal or how Rue Machalahan taught them to own being a cougar in a time back when Kim Cattrall was still C-Movie Monster Bait.

When did it jump the shark? Billy Mays dying and me reading a blog-post about how it made one TV viewer break down because it reminded him of watching it with his cancer ridden father, a former dry-cleaner.

Crazy Couture

Hurting yourself to look stylish--not a new concept. Hans Christian Anderson popularized it in The Little Mermaid (what, you thought having legs means only giving up a cute seashell push up bra and getting to comb your hair with a fork?). The Chinese fashioned a whole fetish around it. I myself have refused to give up more than a few blister inducing fashion-strosities in the name of, "But they're cuuuuute!" But when does wearing fashionable shoes jump the shark? Alexander McQueen, baby.



That's it. We're done. Any surprise Crocs and Vibram Five-Fingers have become acceptable sartorial choices? When looking good means looking that ridiculous, you might as well be comfortable looking ugly, amirite?

Japan

Japan brought us so many cool but weird things that we never thought we needed. Pocket monsters. An adorable hydrocephalus kitten. And some of the most bizarre candy known to man. Of course, the Japanese are also known for their strange sexuality. Over there, getting rubbed up against on the subway is kind of like a first date kiss. So I expect the strange. When did it get too weird to be cute or endearing? Debatable. Somewhere between vending machines that sell used schoolgirl underwear or the pro rape video games. Keep on keeping on, Japan!



Disgusting snacky cakes

Twinkies, Devil Dogs, Ho-Ho's, Mrs. Freshly's. You name it, I've tried it. I'm a real coin-osseur. When did it all go too far? Oreo Cakesters. Nabisco, you weren't even trying anymore.

Nail Polish Names

They all have weird names, I know. What makes one shade of light pink nail polish a slutty Sugar Daddy, while another slightly lighter shade is the dainty Mademoiselle? (And who at Essie decided that any woman wanted a shade called Potato Field?) Based on the contrasting hues of True Love and Happy Ever After with the fiery Thigh High, I'm going to assume that the happily married woman wears a demure pink while the whore wears red. (What do the high class hooker or the cheating trophy wife wear? Steppin' Out, the slightly darker shade of pink, one would assume.)

When do shades of polish get so weird it's not even cool anymore? When they decide to call a shade of white Jizz. Hey, apparently some members of the fairer sex find Picket Fence and Tennis Corset constrainingly suburban. Or they need an excuse to giggle at the next guy at the bar with, "Guess what color my nail polish is--JIZZ."

Beautifying ourselves

I get wanting to improve every little detail. I've experimented with lip plumpers, eyelash serum, and hair removal kits galore. But sometimes it goes too far. No, I'm not talking about collagen or boobie implants. It jumps the shark when people decide their vulvas need makeup.

Horror Movies

Torture porn has been "in" for a while. I didn't mind watching Saw (I've had my tetanus shots). I can live in a world with Hostel and even one where Living Dead Girl exists. (You gotta give the MSTK 3000 crew something to snark.) But I draw the line at Human Centipede, a movie where people are sewn together, attaching their mouths and ass. Seriously, did they give South Park's Dr. Mephisto and Kevin a movie deal?

Celebrity break ups

I like to think that I'm prepared for split ups and affairs. (A childhood of being read a history of the six wives of Henry VIII before the Tudors made it cool will do that to you.) I can deal with Bill C., Tiger, Johnny Edwards, and even Sandra Bullock's cheatin', anti-Semitic main squeeze. I was cool with Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins splitting, though a little traumatized, after having grown up on Witches of Eastwick and Shawshank Redemption.

When did celeb break ups jump the shark? Last week, when the ultimate boring, staid, down to earth couple of all time broke it off: Al and Tipper. How could these guys break up? Their hobbies are making comments on the weather and rolling their eyes about "kids these days" and their loud, aggressive music. I do like to think that it was an affair that split them up. An affair that involves ManBearPig!

Sharks

When did sharks jump the shark? Well, what do we like about sharks? They're creepy looking killing machines of the deep. Are they weird? Some of them are, sure. Who can forget learning about Hammerhead Sharks in elementary school? But do they ever get *too* creepy? Yes. Witness the Goblin Shark. It's sort of the special kid of the shark world.

God or the great Charles Darwin in the sky or Intelligent Design was having an off moment when he/she/it made the Goblin Shark.

BSC #42: Jessi and the Dance School Phantom

In case anyone has had trouble reading this post, sorry, there have been some issues with it. At any rate, here it is now.



To recap this book, I decided I needed a little help from the BSC's token minority. So take it away, Jessi!

Jessi: "I guess you guys noticed right away that something was a little off when you saw me narrating, and not Sadako. I've got cocoa colored skin and a broad flat nose, not pale skin and a non existent anime nose. But I'm used to being a little different, since--"

Sadako: "You said you had a mystery to tell us about? The Dance School Phantom?"

Jessi: "It all started when I was in dance class auditioning for Sleeping Beauty. All the girls in my class wanted the lead, the role of Princess Aurora. There was Katie Beth who was the youngest before I showed up, and the baby of the group. She's always resented me for being younger and more talented. There's Carrie Steinfeld who's always wanted a lead but never got one. And she's kind of old to never have danced a lead. Finally, there's Hilary Morgan whose mom is the stage mom of all time. She's so pushy."

Sadako: "Hm, does Mrs. Perkins secretly have a teenage daughter? Anyway. By Scooby Doo logic, it's Hilary. Yup, it's always the third suspect. Can we all go to Claudia's house for some Milky Ways?"

Jessi: "After my audition, I watched another girl, Mary Bramstedt, auditioning. She's an okay dancer but has no passion. She's stiff, like a robot. There's no mistaking me for a robot, though. Not with my passion. There aren't too many black robots, anyway."

Sadako: "You're blanking out the Urkel-bot episode of Family Matters, too, aren't you?"

Jessi: "I'm black, you know? In the world of dance, there still aren't that many girls with skin like ebony--"

Sadako: "So, um, did you get a good part?"

Jessi: "I got the lead--Princess Aurora. This is the third lead ever for me, too."

Sadako: "Congrats. That must have been some steep competition."

Jessi: "Not really. I have something the other girls don't have."

Sadako: "A built in ego protector that comes of attributing all your failures to the prejudice of those around you?"

Jessi: "A je ne sais quoi! Plus, the other girls just aren't as talented. Like, Carrie Steinfeld--she's definitely over the hill. She's fifteen and never had the leading role in a dance performance. And that Mary who's technically great but doesn't have my...je ne sais quoi. Anyway, the other girls were all trash talking each other after the announcements. Other girls are so catty, don't you think?"

Sadako: "Well, all but you."

Jessi: "Maybe it's because I'm more open minded considering all the prejudice I've encountered."

Sadako: "So what happened next?"

Jessi: "A lot of weird stuff. My toe shoes and my dance clothes were stolen. And there were strange notes left in my locker. Stuff like Beware."

Sadako: "So did you tell Madame Noelle?"

Jessi: "No way she'd believe me."

Sadako: "Even with the fact that she knows you pretty well and you have notes to prove all this. Well, one has to advance the plot somehow. Carry on."

Jessi: "Then one day Carrie told me we were supposed to be doing jetes when we were meant to be doing glissades, and when I went to perform, I slipped and hurt my ankle. Katie Beth got to dance my part in auditions--it was awful."

Sadako: "That's really sad."

Jessi: "I looked up at the picture of Mikhail Baryshnikov on the wall, like I always do when I feel sad. I always like to look at Mischa, as I call him, and draw inspiration. It's like he's saying, Hey, Jessi. Don't worry. It's not so bad!"



Mikhail: "Why I am in a fictional Scholastic Books' fictional wannabe ballet dancer's fantasy? My agent could not get me Harper's?"

Jessi: "Finally, I had to do what I had to do. I decided that I was going to ask for help."

Sadako: "Mme Noelle? Aunt Cecilia? Morbidda Destiny?"

Jessi: "The Babysitters Club! I had them sneak into one of the rehearsals in the auditorium. They observed and reported."

Sadako: "So did they solve the mystery?"

Jessi: "They came up with three suspects. Hilary, Katie Beth, and Carrie who were all eying me jealously."

Claudia: "My back up career in case becoming a starving artist doesn't work out is makeup artist/back alley botox technician, so I have to know all about facial expressions."

Mallory: "What about Lisa Jones? No one can be that sweet and nice."

Jessi: "Lisa's really that nice--she even called to make sure I was okay when I was at home with my hurt ankle."

Kristy: "Are you sure? Maybe she was scoping out the competition."

Jessi: "I really think we should rule her out."

Ghostwriter Ellen Miles: "And I agree. I popped in to reassure the girls that Lisa was nice. I told them, Being nice makes you happy, and happy girls can't be dance school phantoms! They just can't! And besides, writing more than three suspects would have been hard work, especially since back when I wrote that book I was facing a lawsuit from the publishers of Shiloh about my book Patches--a novel about an abused beagle."

Jessi: "We all told Claudia what a great detective she was."

Stacey: "Claud, You're a regular Nancy Drew!"

Claudia: "Oh yeah, well if I'm Nancy, who's Bess?"

Mallory: "How come detectives always have a plump friend? It's true in the Hardy Boys and the Three Investigators."

Claudia: "Guess you're going to have to put on some weight, Stace!"

Jessi: "We all cracked up at that."

Sadako: "Fat people really are a gas."

Jessi: "Next week, Carrie didn't show up to dance class a couple days because she was sick and I still got a note. I knew it wasn't her."

Sadako: "Okay, two suspects left."

Jessi: "Then another day in dance class, a scenery flat almost came down on me. Katie Beth pushed me out of the way. She didn't want me to die a horrible death or become a comatose vegetable, so I knew she couldn't have been the Dance School Phantom."

Sadako: "She could have still been the Phantom. Just because she didn't want you to die, doesn't mean--"

Ellen: "No, Jessi's right. Bad people try to have you killed. Good people save you. Good people can't be the Phantom."

Sadako: "Couldn't a person be bad but not all bad? Like, you know...shades of gray?"

Ellen: "Gray would be a nice name for the next puppy in my Puppy Place book. He's a spunky abandoned Weimarener puppy."

Jessi: "Dawn and Claudia helped, too. Dawn noted that the lettering on the notes was most unusual, and Claudia said it was calligraphy."

Mary Anne: "Calligraphy? What's that?"

Claudia: "Oh, Mimi didn't tell you about that over special tea, my Mary Anne? It's a special way of writing letters to make them pretty."

Sadako: "So you decided to confront Hilary. How?"

Jessi: "By having her draw a sign and then comparing the handwriting to that on the evil notes."

Sadako: "Okay. So let me guess what happens. Hilary confesses and apologizes, and Jessi decides she's been punished enough? And then Hillary says it was all her mother's fault for pushing her and that she never had a childhood and now she's going to quit dance and they go out for frosty chocolate milkshakes?"

Ellen: "Almost, but Suzanne Weyn pointed out that chocolate milkshake is bad for ballet dancers."

Sadako: "And do the kids put on some kind of performance or competition? You know, the way they do in every Ellen Miles book?"

Jessi: "There's a pet contest in Stoneybrook but the kids get really competitive and argue about who will win. We're afraid of hurt feelings until I come up with a solution. Everyone gets a prize. Misty, my sister Becca's hamster, got best all around pet. Myrtle the Turtle got best colorful reptile. Carrot the Schnauzer got best talented Germanic breed. Even Matt and Haley who don't have a pet got best handlers for holding the dog leashes before the show."

Sadako: "Great. Did Mary Anne and Dawn's barn get awarded Nicest Location?"

Ellen: "No--we were afraid the other BSC related venues might feel bad. After all in my book, everyone's a winner!"

Sadako: "Glad to have you with us, Jessi. Join us next time. Claudia Kishi will be channeling her inner Carrie Bradshaw."

Movies in a Minute: Scream

Disembodied Voice: "What's your favorite scaaaaary movie?"

Casey: "Teehee. Oh...I don't know...Halloween? How you doin'?"

DV: "Okay, answer this question right and I might not gut you like a fish. Who was the killer in Friday the 13th?"

Casey: "Jason!"

DV: "Trick question! It was Mother Voorhes! Die, bitch."

Sadako: "No, trick question, it was director Sean Cunningham and the victim was the horror genre."

Billy: *climbing in through window*

Sadako: "Those of you playing ID the plot points that got used in Dawson's Creek, mark down window climbing. Ten to one says the girl in this scene has an ambiguously sexed name a la Joey Potter."

Billy: "Sidney, want to have sex?"

Kevin Williamson: "Make it more film-reference-y!"

Billy: "Er, our relationship is so edited for TV."

Sidney: "I'm just not ready for sex."

Kevin Williamson: "No! The audience doesn't get it yet!"

Sidney: "Let's keep things PG-13."

Kevin Williamson: "More!"

Billy: "Did I mention my last name is Loomis as in Halloween AND Psycho?"

Sidney: "Shit. I can't believe Casey died. That reminds me of my murdered mother."

Sadako: "Brunette, dead mom, non-cavalier attitude about sex? Joey Potter, is that you?"

Sidney: "Hello?"

Disembodied Voice: "What's your favorite scary movie?"

Sidney: "Billy?! You're the killer?"

Tatum: "It's okay, Sidney. They're gonna catch the killer, right, Deputy Dewey?"

Dewey: "Tatum, Mama said that when I wear this uniform, you treat me like a man of the law!"

Sadako: "Younger sibling busting the balls of older sib in law enforcement. Is that the outline of Pacey Witter and Deputy Dougie I see before me?"

Billy: "No, it actually wasn't me. Come on, Sidney. Don't you think you're making such a big thing out of putting off sex? I know you're upset about your mom, but it's been a whole month since they put her butchered body into her Y-shaped coffin. Why aren't you warm for my form?"

Gale: "Serious journalist here."

Dewey: "Hi."

Gale: "Ooh, my shot at getting a longer name in the credits of my sitcom. That'll show Jen."

Friends producer: "Thanks, David. Really."

Randy: "Everyone's a suspect you know. I bet Billy faked not being the killer so we'd stop suspecting but it's really him! Or maybe it's her unseen father. Or--um, I'm starting to fade. Someone hand me my meta-amphetamines."

Kevin Williamson: "Hey Tatum? Put on this bra with built in nipples so the audience won't feel too bad when you die. Now off to the garage with you."

Tatum: "Why do I have to die now? It's my revealing clothes and large breasts, right?"

Randy: "Yes. I mean, look at Jamie Lee Curtis. She never showed her tits in Halloween, morons. She was the virgin. Only virgins survive in horror movies."

Sidney: "Hmm. You know what, Billy? Let's go all the way."

Kevin Williamson: "Neve. Read the line as it was written."

Sidney: "I mean, I don't want my life to be a PG-13 movie anymore. Let's make it a Traci Lords double penetration gang bang. God, Kevin, where do you come up with this stuff?"

Kevin Williamson: "Creativity takes you down some pretty dark alleys."

Sidney: "So, Billy, were you really the killer? I was kind of wondering before but I figured it wouldn't make for great foreplay."

Billy: "What do I have to do to prove I'm not the killer--Ouch."

Sidney: "Shit! Ghostface just killed Billy! I don't know who the killer is anymore! Everyone just get out!"

Billy: *bang*

Sidney: "Billy?! You're alive! And you shot Randy!"

Billy: "We all go a little mad sometimes. Anthony Perkins, Psycho. And this blood is actually corn syrup, as in Carrie. And my vulnerable but sexy expression? Johnny Depp in Cry-Baby."

Stu: "I was in on it, Sid. We killed your mom, too. Prepare to die, Sidney."

Sidney: "In your dreams."

Kevin Williamson: "Could you add, or should I say, Wes Craven's New Nightmare?"

Randy: "Look, it's the final scene of the movie where it just goes on and on again and you wish it would end."

Sadako: "Look, it's the typical movie loving Kevin Williamson protagonist. Where's his virginal brown haired tomboyish love interest?"

Kevin Williamson: "On the cutting room floor with the blonde New York transplant subplot."

John Fogerty: "Kev, you take self plagiarizing to a whole new level, and coming from me, that means something."

Randy: "Hey Sidney? Want to hit up a PTSD Survivors Meeting and then watch me MSTK a Meg Ryan movie?"

Sidney: "Wipe the Jamie Lee Curtis induced spooje off your pants and we're on."

Randy: "Don't try to change me, baby."

BSC: The Summer Before

Here it is. Sadako's retelling of the BSC prequel. Enjoy, kiddies!

Kristy

That summer. The summer before the life changing formation of the Babysitters Club. When all of us--Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey and I--felt like we were alone. Teetering towards teenagerhood. Clinging to the remnants of childhood. Staring into a river of sturm und drang, with Barbies on one shore and tampons bras womanly apparel on the next. What a time we had.

Mom was dating my future stepfather, Watson, that summer. And I resented that he was such a great father to his real daughter, Karen, who'd probably be put away in an insane asylum when Phyllis Reynolds Naylor finally got around to bringing that Mrs. Tuggle related plagiarism suit against Ann M. Why was Watson such a great parent to Karen when my father couldn't even be a mediocre father to a great kid like me?

I wanted to do something to bring my dad's presence back into my life. Something that showed him that I wanted him in my life but wouldn't disrupt continuity like a visit or a phone call. Just something that would still give me a reason to feel angst that was appropriate for someone of my age.

So I wrote him a letter. I was going to put in something to remind him of my coming birthday, like Can you believe your daughter is almost 12? but then Ann realized that that was old lady-esque passive aggression more characteristic of Mary Anne than of me.

Dad never wrote back and I got a return to sender on the envelope. And no present on my birthday either. I suppose men do have to be gently prodded into remembering these things after all.

Mary Anne

I remember that summer. The summer I used to sneak up to the attic to find a little bit of who I was--memories of my mother. I had to do it carefully, as I knew it would anger my father and obsessive ghostwriter Ellen Miles who thought I didn't go up there to find out about my past till BSC Mystery #5.

That was the summer that my father loosened the cord--just a little bit. He let me start babysitting. But the catch was that I could only babysit with another girl supervising, with my dad on speaker phone no matter where he was, and with the fire department on call.

If only there were a way to make him see I was mature! But not so mature that he'd loosen all the rules before my epic time babysitting for a feverish Jenny Prezzioso. (One has to save something for the reader.) When I finally babysat with Claudia for Jamie Newton and nothing happened, Dad realized I was (sort of kind of but not really) growing up. "Mary Anne," he told me, "you can babysit by yourself. But only under certain situations, before dark, and with the Life Alert button I bought you last Christmas."

That was also the summer Kristy was missing her dad. She was hoping he'd do something for her birthday and he didn't, so I decided that in addition to making her a present, I'd try to fill the void in her life with a parade--featuring some of our sitting charges. I even asked Claudia to help, but she was dating an older boy and had no time for Kristy or me.

"No thanks," Claudia said. "I've got to sit at home and wait for Frankie to come by. He might snicker at my art or look sophisticated and call me kid."

I looked at her. I was losing my temper, I knew. I didn't lose my temper all that often but when I did--watch out. Months, even years, of bottled up passive aggression. I balled my hands into fists and almost said, "Enlighten me, Claudia. Why do you spend all your time waiting for a future professional Thailand tourist?" But I didn't, when I saw how sad she seemed. I settled on a slight sneer instead. It would serve me in good stead in the future, like when Logan would refuse to put on the Rum Tum Tugger suit I made for him at the BSC Pet Contest.

The parade went well, and Kristy was happy. And I knew that rearranging my entire summer to make sure she didn't snap at me in irritation had been worth it. Sometimes I was so shy around boys back then. I was used to trying to please Kristy, though. If only I could replicate our friendship with a guy--wouldn't that be wonderful?

Claudia

That summer, I had my first boy-girl party. It was my twelfth birthday, and I decided to make it a big one, since I knew I wasn't going to get another birthday party for many, many cycles. It was a pool party and I accessorized my hair, jewelry, swimsuit that would show off my chest type area, as well as all the carefully orchestrated manoeuvrings I'd have to do to make sure I didn't get anything above my shoulders wet.

"Oh, the friends I invited are here--" Janine started to say till I interrupted.

"JANINE. Can't you use normal words? Who says invite?" I grumped. But that's when I saw him. Frankie. My first crush. He was almost a freshman in high school, and Janine had met him in her summer classes. My older sister clearly liked him, but Frankie gave me his shirt to wear when I got cold, and he put mustard and ketchup on my hot dog, so I knew I'd won.

Frankie called and came by for me a lot that summer. I saw my parents exchanging uncomfortable glances when he came over, but I didn't care. Frankie was the only one who understood my art. I'd given him a picture of a sparrow I'd sketched and before saying, "Oh, uh, thanks, what a great tumor," he had crumpled it up and put it in his jeans pocket that didn't contain wadded up gum. Finally, someone who appreciated my art.

One day, right before school started, we went to the pool with his other friends. They fawned over him and made fun of me. One of them asked if I'd been to day camp that summer. Later that night, Frankie called and said we shouldn't see each other anymore. "But--

"Besides," he said, "I don't think Connecticut has a Romeo and Juliet provision for statutory crimes yet." He hung up. So that was love. I realized I had a lot of growing up to do.

I talked to Janine about it because I knew she'd been upset, and we had a moment that felt sort of intimate. I almost confided in her about my hidden candy and Nancy Drew books but remembered that we couldn't get too close until the phantom phone calls episode or Mimi having her stroke, and pulled back. Then it was time to to re-befriend Kristy and Mary Anne, or as I called them, the reserve friends. After all, I never knew when my regular lunchtime set Dori Wallingford, Pete Black, and Rick Chow would drop me.

Kristy

One night, Mary Anne, Claudia, and I sat together reminiscing about our summer. By our standards, it had been simple. No trips to Hawaii or Europe. Only one crush. No medical emergencies, no makeovers, no racist incidents. Still, it had been wonderful in its own quiet way.

"I was afraid we'd grown apart," I said to Claudia. "You've been wearing some awfully wild things. Like magenta."

"I felt that way, too, at first. But I think we're closer than we realize. There's a glue holding us together," she told me. "The glue is all down Bradford Park. In the sidewalk. In this tree. And not just in all of us--it's in the supporting characters like our parents and Janine and Sam and Charlie and Mimi. And in the almost non-existent ones like Kristy's father and Mary Anne's dead mother."

"Didn't the summer go by fast?" said Mary Anne.

"No," I said. "Not fast enough for me. I just wish I knew what the future held in store. If only there were a way to look ahead in a crystal ball. Not so much for us but for the people around us whose only entertainment is our preteen dreams."

Claudia nodded. "Like, what if there were a way to see if we had a Big Day or Great Idea or something coming up. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Our lives are just so interesting. Everyone really needs to stay tuned," I said, glancing off into the future.

Stacey

That summer had been a really intense one for me. My former best friend Laine and I grew apart. And then I got the diabetes and had to spend most of my time watching Wilford Brimley infomercials.

It was a simpler time. I was so much younger at twelve than I am now, telling this, at thirteen. There was a time when I actually begged to be allowed to order non diet ginger cola when today the mere sight of regular soda fills me with a rage rivaled only by Meme Roth's sugar hatred.

My parents arranged a surprise party for me before I left. They even invited Laine. I knew they wanted it to go well, but no one was prepared for how badly things went, least of all me. My old friends laughed at my babysitting charges. And then Laine did the most absolutely shocking thing she's ever done. She poured coke on my new ruffled blouse.

I was really glad to go to make the move to the suburbs. I'll always love the city, but I guess you can see that New York kids are more than a little wild.

My first week in Stoneybrook, I met a girl who showed me where my science class was. She wore braided pigtails and looked shy. As she scurried away, part of me knew that my destiny was entwined with hers.

I had lunch with Emily Bernstein, the school's Tracy Flick. She showed me around and introduced me to some people. Since there were only a few things there I could eat and my overprotective stay at home mom hadn't thought to pack me an appropriate lunch, I bought a pretty small meal. I could see Emily eying my meal and thinking, "Did Dalton kick her out for anorexia or bulimia?" but one glance at her healthy gams, and I knew she was just jealous of my flat stomach and filled out chest.

That was the day I met Claudia. She was pretty much the only who fill the position of BFF for me, based on her fashion sense and ability to attract guys without overshadowing me. Yup, I had a feeling the school year was going to go fine.