A Class-ic Conundrum

August 20, 2011

I mentioned a while back that the sitcom writing class I signed up for at my local Adult Education concern was unceremoniously canceled.

(Actually, I don’t know that for certain. They may well have had a ceremony. I know Jenn, who was to teach it, had a little party about it. I think I scared her with my zookeepers.)

I also mentioned that the Adult Education concern was highly unconcerned about giving my money back, instead insisting that I take ‘class credit’ for a future offering in the fall. Well, now it’s fall — or close enough — and their offerings are officially out. I’ve got the brochure right here. And I want a do-over.

First of all, there’s nothing remotely like sitcom writing on the menu. I suppose that’s to be expected when you offer it once, and some doofus with a blog and an idea about a bunch of giraffe brushers scares everyone else away. No problem. Point taken.

So I looked for other classes that might scratch the same itch. Or a similar itch. Or tickle and itch, and then scratch it. Sadly, the ticklings are slim. Here’s a short list of some of the actual sessions upcoming:

Yoga Dance: Awesome. I’ve always wanted to break my hip and slip a disc at the same time. Where do I sign, Starflower?

An Exploration of the Importing Business: You see this? This is me, already sleeping. Zzzzzz.

All About Water: I thought it might be about how that crazy swinger ‘O’ landed hot twin ‘H’s, and managed to hang onto them in the sexiest ‘menage-eau-trois’ known to chemistry.

“I’ll give you a hint: tap, shower head, drain, toilet. There. I just saved us all a few bucks.”

Instead, it’s about our town’s drinking water, where it comes from and where it goes. I’ll give you a hint: tap, shower head, drain, toilet. There. I just saved us all a few bucks.

Gluten-free Side Dishes and Desserts: …make the baby Jesus Poppinfresh cry. Fixed it!

Learning to Be a Hospital Clown: It’s comedy-related, sort of, and certainly a worthy cause. Because all children — even those who are sick in the hospital — deserve the opportunity to develop a deep-seated, shrieking fear of hobos in whiteface with impossible grins painted on. And many of these kids will never meet Jocelyn Wildenstein. So yay, clowns.

But I’m not paying money to be slathered in pancake makeup and mobbed by a bunch of kids. They’d probably be ‘practice kids’, too, that aren’t even sick. Which would just make them punchier and bitier, and I’m not down with that. Pass.

Learn to Play the Flute: Right. Because I never met my ‘getting wedgied’ quota back in middle school.

Mock SAT: “Ooh, you think you’re such an important test, do you? All big and scary when you’re picking on eighteen-year-olds, aren’t you? Y’know what? The ACT eats your lunch, asshole. That’s right. I said it.”

Wait. Not that kind of ‘mock’? Next.

Poetry for Artists: Because I never met my ‘getting atomic wedgied‘ quota? What’s wrong with you people?

Assertive Communication: I will NOT take this class. No, sir — I will NOT!

Apparently, I don’t need this one. Moving on.

Discovering What’s Next: I imagine each class is ten minutes long, and consists solely of reading the syllabus for the next class. Sorry. I don’t do ‘meta’.

Rock Climbing in a Rock Gym: Too hard. Call me when you’re offering ‘Rock Climbing in a Moonbounce’, or preferably ‘Rock Climbing in a Barcalounger with a Six-Pack of Beer’.

H.H. Richardson and Frederick Law Olmsted: A Walking Discussion: You lost me somewhere around ‘H.H.’ By the time we got to ‘Walking’, I was considering the flute lessons. No sale.

Cool Jazz Moves: (see ‘Yoga Dance’ above. At least I can scat while I’m writhing on the floor in pain.)

The Language of Paint: Painting Workshop: Paint has only ever said one thing to me: ‘You goin’ need to change them pants, messy.‘ I think I’m good here.

Long Lasting Terrariums: Why be bored for mere weeks when we can show you how to stretch the un-fun for years on end?

Also, hyphenation. Use it. I’m not taking any classes from a grammatical train wreck.

Aprons for Any Occasion: Bar Mitzvahs? Skinny dipping? How about a White House Cabinet meeting? Ooh, make one for riverdancing. And skydiving. That’d be cool.

Tap at the Studio: Why don’t you just stuff me head-first into a cafeteria trash can now, Adult Ed. people? That’s what you want, isn’t it? Clearly.

So that’s the list. It’s looking pretty grim for the winter. Maybe if they jumble a few together — they could teach me how to import flute-playing clowns who bake nasty affronts to creme brulee, for instance. Then we might have something.

In the meantime, I’m going to spend my weekends doing some ‘rock climbing’, if you know what I mean. I’m rappelling down the south face of ‘Mount Guinness’ as we speak. Good class!