The Keepinnit Reels 3 - Pollick, Michael
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In "The Keepinnit Reels Part 3: Revenge Or Return Of The Snark," Michael Pollick takes us on a riotous journey through the kaleidoscope of his childhood, where every awkward moment and embarrassing misstep is transformed into comedic gold. Each essay is like a time capsule, bursting with the absurdities of youth-think playground politics, questionable fashion choices, and those cringeworthy family vacations that seem to last an eternity. Pollick's sharp wit and self-deprecating humor make you feel like you're sitting around a campfire, sharing stories that are both relatable and hilariously…mehr

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In "The Keepinnit Reels Part 3: Revenge Or Return Of The Snark," Michael Pollick takes us on a riotous journey through the kaleidoscope of his childhood, where every awkward moment and embarrassing misstep is transformed into comedic gold. Each essay is like a time capsule, bursting with the absurdities of youth-think playground politics, questionable fashion choices, and those cringeworthy family vacations that seem to last an eternity. Pollick's sharp wit and self-deprecating humor make you feel like you're sitting around a campfire, sharing stories that are both relatable and hilariously exaggerated. He navigates the chaos of growing up with a keen eye for the ridiculous, reminding us that even the most mundane experiences can be laced with humor. With a blend of nostalgia and snark, Pollick invites us to laugh at the trials of adolescence, proving that sometimes, the best way to cope with the past is to poke fun at it. A Sea Of Chocolate Milks: Lunchroom Monitor Confidential Serving the public good on the grade school Student Council was a perk limited to two fortunate students per classroom. The chosen few manned the bookstore in the mornings, helped in the central office, or, in my case, became lunchroom monitors. As a sixth grader, this meant being the only Gulliver in a gymnasium filled with first-grade Lilliputs. I accepted the challenge. Most of the time, the job involved crowd control, with the occasional Shell Answer Man moments thrown in. We politely but firmly pointed out where the lunch-packing sheep could graze, and made sure they returned their trays to the proper hair-netted authorities. However, there was one situation that took up almost all of our time, and it only cost a nickel. Milk cartons. Opening a chocolate milk carton at age six required motor skills usually reserved for age seven or above. The milks would hit the tables and immediately a sea of hands shot up. Monitors dutifully went from child to child, bending and unfolding every carton. Once in a while, we had a rogue "me do it myself", but it only took one launch failure to bring him back to the fold. These kids today.
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