Pathetic Geek Stories

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So here's my sad pathetic geek story:

During the summer before sixth grade, I had a crush on a girl named Holly who lived up the street. I wanted to ask her out but I didn't have the balls. So I had my friend Bryan call her up and ask her out for me. She promptly said no and hung up the phone. I was pretty crushed. The next day I was going to meet up with Bryan and go ride bikes. I rode to his house and saw a bunch of kids including Holly sitting on their bikes talking. As soon as she saw me she yelled out "Fag!" All the kids laughed and pointed at me. I quickly turned my bike around and rode home fighting away tears.

pretty sad, eh? It's kinda funny too. I hope you can use this.


—Jonathan H.

Until I was sixteen or seventeen, my periods were really really irregular, and I was too much of a space ball to carry pads with me, so if I got my period during the school day, I'd usually just stuff my pants with toilet paper, and go on my way. Mistake.

In tenth grade, I was a menstruating, severely undersized, near-sighted band geek, and the favored terror-target of the drummers in the marching band, who only took the class because they were big enough to carry the drums, and the band director exchanged their presence for an 'A,’ which, calculated into their GPA, helped them barely graduate. They called me The Troll.

The way the band room was set up, there was an upper level, by the door, then the drum section at the back of the band, intermediate instruments, and then the clarinet section (that's where I was). Anyhow, on such a toilet-paper and khakis day (my mother still dressed me - khakis and polo shirts), I was nabbed by two of the drummers, who each grabbed an arm and a leg, and started swinging me over my classmate's heads, as if to throw me over, onto the band floor. This lasted a good ten or fifteen seconds, and my shrieking effectively called attention to the large, crusty brown stain between the legs of my pants.

My band director thought I didn't know what my period was, and for the rest of the semester, instead of going to band on Mondays, he sent me to the school counselor.




From the age of 8 to 14 I really, really, really wanted to be a stuntman. I used to practice by riding my bike full speed and crashing into these high curbs in my neighborhood. I would then fly off the bike over the handlebars into a neighbors yard or brushes. I later found out that a lot of those neighbors that didn't know my family personally thought I was mentally handicap. They'd say, "there goes that little retarded Irwin kid again.”



The year was 1978 or 1979. I was in Junior High—I was pretty much the first kid in my class to be seriously into heavy music (also the first pot-smoker of my grade) so I would wear and be very proud of my Blue Oyster Cult and Rush and Foghat T-shirts. (yes, I had feathered hair, long in the back, and parted down the middle) I HATED top 40 and disco with a passion. Well, we had a little school paper that came out once a month or so, and one feature was "What is your favorite song?" and they would ask six or seven students what their current favorite song on the radio was. One day I opened it up and there was my name, and it said my favorite song was "In the Navy" by the Village People!!!! Someone had completely FORGED this! No one ever asked me what my favorite song was, if they did it would have been something by UFO or Foghat or Cheap Trick!! Some kids knew it was a joke, and I found out later that this guy Chris had done the dirty deed of making it up, but nonetheless, I took some grief from quite a few kids, and I had a few days of damage control to do--"I did NOT say that to anyone!!" (sure, Brent) " I HATE the Village People!" (yeah, sure) " I hate that crap!!" (Laughs, titters, jeers.............).



i was in 6th grade in the 1985-86 school year. by january, i still found it hard adjusting to middle school.

i longed to be the one who had something cool or witty to say. i was coming back from lunch with my math class when someone mentioned a fire on the space shuttle.

i joked that someone should have brought some ground beef and hamburgers. my teacher, who had obviously been privy to more information than me, chewed me out for being so insensitive.

the class stared at me while i wondered what was the matter.

when i saw what happened to the challenger on television later that day, i felt like the biggest idiot at my school!


—J. (guy)

Idrooln eighth grade, sporting a J.C. Penny's Fox polo shirt (instead of Izod), cardboard-like Wrangler's (instead of Levis), and a poor attempt at a feathered back hairstyle, I was destined to sit at the loser's table in the school cafeteria. While my geek cohorts discussed REO Speedwagon's High Infidelity and played a game of paper football, I noticed how my saliva had become thick from drinking milk. Caught in my own world, I attempted to see how far my saliva would stretch to the floor. For a few minutes, I tested it's viscosity and elasticity, slurping it up each time, just before it snapped off. The last time, it must of reached two feet, before I sucked it back, slapping my forehead and chin before it went back into my mouth. With pride I looked up only to see Cindy, the hottest girl in the school, and her friends looking at me from the popular table with disgust.



One night, my dad was experimenting with lots of spices and herbs for his chicken. He ended up burning some exotic ingredient, making the whole house reek of something that smelled like armpits. After growing used to the smell, I didn't notice it as I was leaving for school the next morning. Apparently, the smell had latched itself onto my hair and clothes and gave me the scent of nasty underarms. At lunch, this one popular girl finally got the courage to ask me why I smelled so bad. I got really nervous and began sweating like a pig. Suddenly, her friend pointed out my sweat rings and said, "EEEWWW! Look at her arms! No wonder she smells!" I ran off to the bathroom and stayed the rest of lunch.



When I was in 7th grade, I was in the lunch line with some “friends.” It was during Lent, so we had a choice between pizza burgers and tuna casserole. Jokingly, I said to my also Catholic friends, "We'd better had the tuna since it's Friday" even though I was planning getting the Pizza Burger as well. They looked at me weird and said "Whatever." The lunch lady, who happened to be Catholic as well, over heard this exchange and dished me up the tuna casserole and said, "It's good that some of us keep to our faith." When I got back to the lunch table, I was taunted a being a Jesus freak.




It was my first day back at school in the sixth grade and I sat at the geeks table cos i didn't know anyone there i was sittin there waiting for the teacher then i seen the coolest girl look at me with a smirk on her face i wondered what she was talking about then i seen her mouth my name so i just looked away then she came up to my table and told me i was in the wrong class geek!




When I was sixteen, I fell in love with a girl from my acting class. I was too self-conscious and shy to ask her out, so I made friends with her instead. After I had known her for a year, I asked a mutual friend to try to figure out if she would go out with me. A group of my friends and other actors from the program were at a Perkins late one night, when the mutual friend accidentally gave away that I love her. She burst into tears, and called her mother to be taken home. I was in another part of the restaurant, and didn't realize what was happening until the friend came in and told me she was crying outside and I should go talk to her. Five years later, she has turned me down two more times, and we're still close, if sometimes tense, friends.



my brother is two years older than me and evil. and he failed two grades before he quit school, so by the time i was in 8th grade, we were in the same grade. he was a football player mulleted redneck by trade and i was a anne rice nut w/badly permed hair, crooked teeth, obscenely huge breasts and glasses. i probably was wearing hyper-color tshirts and acid washed jeans at this point, maybe w/eastlands. i also had an unfortunate relationship w/a sleazebag much, much (much) older than me at this time and had my first experience w/oral sex, which my brother heard all about cuz he listened to a phone conversation i had w/my best friend. so when i got to school the next day, many of brother's friends knew all about it too, making the usual cocksucking jokes that all preteens know and my rep as a slut was solidified though i never had anything to do w/that trash. it might help to know that i am from ky. (if you couldn't guess)

wow, that just sounds awful!





In the 7th grade, I was "rewarded" for my math skills by being placed in an 8th grade class. Not being very popular in my own grade, I was very happy when an "older" girl I was sitting across from started talking to me. I didn't understand everything she was saying, but trying to be polite, I nodded and smiled at the appropriate times. This went on for about 3 minutes until... "What the hell are you looking at FREAK!" It was then I realized she had actually been talking to her friend behind me, and that I had been nodding and smiling to myself incoherantly about nothing for 3 minutes.



…I was either 14 or 15 at the time. One day in english one of the popular girls was misbehaving and as punishment [my teacher] Mrs Martin told her she had to sit next to me. When another student laughed Mrs Martin asked him why, he responded "Because Jeremy's a dick." She replied "Perhaps you would like to sit by him"



From about 4th grade to 7th grade the only shoes I would wear were cowboy boots. In 7th grade we had a new classmate who had a physical disability that caused her to walk with a limp—I think her plan was to become top bully before anyone could make her the victim. Her favorite activity was to make fun of my boots.

At first I didn't even catch on...

"Liz, do you know how to ride a horse?"
"No, why?"

It got so bad that I decided to get new shoes, regular black sneakers. Then they couldn’t make fun of me, right? Wrong. As soon as she saw them she asked where my boots went. At the time we were outside and she was in a wheelchair at the top of the hill. I wanted to kick her down the hill. Instead, I went home and cried.


—Elizabeth H.

On the first day of junior high, we were paired up and assigned wall lockers. The student who was paired with me was obviously a popular jock and I figured he wouldn't let me keep my stuff in "his" wall locker, so I just carried all my books around in my bag.

During lunch and gym, however, I didn't want it to be obvious that I didn't have a wall locker. I asked a janitor if I could put my bag in a storage closet, and he kindly agreed.

Some kids must have noticed me putting my stuff in the closet every day, because one day I went back to the closet to find my bag missing.

All of my books and papers were torn up and spread throughout the halls of the school. I was scolded by my mother for losing all of it.



It’s been a while since you’ve posted any new strips, but I thought I’d submit for the hell of it. I’m fairly young (a college student, if you didn’t guess from my email address) and I’d like to think I’m mostly past my awkward phase, but it was pretty rough for a while there, especially 6th grade. I was a pimply, frizzy-haired eleven year old who’s best and only friend was a selective mute (pretty cool when she was at home, almost completely silent at school). Naturally, I identify with a lot of the stories on your site. It’s cathartic in a way to talk about it all, the mocking, the bizarre ways we made things harder on ourselves, etc, even more so when you can look back and actually laugh. So in that spirit, here's memorable incident from my past:


In the spring of 6th grade, I got sick with a very bad stomach virus. Within 48 hours I was so dehydrated that my mother had to take me to the hospital. I was given water and anti-nausea medicine through an IV and by the next day I was well enough to go to school. In class, my teacher asked if I had been sick, and I said yes, thinking I could talk about the IV and it would seem very exciting. Before I had the chance the girl who always tortured me the most (and sat a couple of seats down) said “No you didn’t! You stayed home because you don’t have any friends.” I didn’t know what to say so I froze and the teacher spoke for me saying “That’s not true.” “Yes it is,” the girl said back, “Nobody likes her.” All I could think was, “This isn’t fair. I had to go to the HOSPITAL last night!”


—Anna W.

The summer before fifth grade, my family moved to a new state. The apartment complex we moved into had a pool and I spent the entire summer in it, turning my practically white hair a dull shade of lime green. My mother tried every remedy she could think of to get it out before I started school that fall, including scrubbing my scalp with liquid Tide, but nothing helped. On the first day of school, this other new kid with severely chapped lips and a serious rattail called me Swamp Thing, and I bore the nickname until I entered junior high a year later.



I was a real smart kid. Straight A's and all that. I was always in the accelerated classes. My family moved around alot. When I got to junior high, my parents divorced and the moving stopped. My mother was raising myself and my 2 brothers by working at a convenience store. We didnt have much money. For some reason, only the rich kids were in the accelerated classes. They made fun of me constantly cause I didnt have nice clothes. They liked to put stickers on my back. I dont know how they managed to do it. The one I remember was "My girdle is killing me". Everybody kept asking me "is it really?". I had no idea what they were talking about till I got home and found the sticker on the back of my shirt.


Just to get away from them, I quit doing my homework and got kicked out of the accelerated classes and put in with the other poor kids. My parents and the school counselors didnt even seem to notice. I made some new friends. I got heavily into drugs by high school and barely graduated.


—Harry F.

When I was in tenth grade, I fell madly in love the student assistant in my history class. I was too shy to talk to her, but, on the last day, I summoned my courage and approached her. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I asked her if I could borrow a pencil. She looked at me strangely, but obliged. I looked back at my desk and realized that I had several pencils in plain view (she worked at a table right across from me). I still have the pencil to this day, as I was too scared to return it. If it would make the strip funnier, I had long hair and wore Pink Floyd shirts every day, even though I didn't smoke pot and was in 'advanced' classes.
I really like your strip. It's good to know I'm not alone. Thanks for reading.


—Greg E.

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