whatevs. i haven't been gone that long.
UM - 791
MSU - 10
my friend here's a bit less optimistic. he says michigan will win two goals to nil.
i'm a bit in the dark when it comes to news of the homeland. other than a weak signal from the bbc, some outdated newsweeks from pee/see, and the safe assumption that my president's still a douche, i'm relatively uninformed. relatively: the last i read in newsweek is that bush is losing his reelection, clinton being the strong favorite. relatively: the fox news signal doesn't reach africa, leaving me less retarded than most.. anyhow, apparently msu is good at football and should beat michigan this week. eh? i mean, i remember previous meetings when i thought it possible that michigan could lose, but that's b/c there are only two possible outcomes, losing being one of them. i never thought it likely, but now msu is killing everyone, michigan sucks, and the game's in east lansing....
whatevs. i haven't been gone that long.
UM - 791
MSU - 10
my friend here's a bit less optimistic. he says michigan will win two goals to nil.
whatevs. i haven't been gone that long.
UM - 791
MSU - 10
my friend here's a bit less optimistic. he says michigan will win two goals to nil.
ooh, technology. here's what gosen combined school would look like had i remained stateside and ate myself fat:
but i'm skinny, and ppl here can't thank me enough for my vision, ingenuity, and willingess to serve:
we can accomplish so much when we work together...
but i'm skinny, and ppl here can't thank me enough for my vision, ingenuity, and willingess to serve:
we can accomplish so much when we work together...
i know i shouldn't look a gift donkey in the mouth, but if yr one of those considerate-types who's made sure i have the occasional shirt to replace the ones i've worn threadbare, a run through the dryer would be nice. even though i've finally put aside enough of my pee/see salary to purchase a new washer and dryer, i still haven't figured out how to shrink anything not pre-shrunken. 'tis no problem, however, now that i realize ppl have a thing here for 50 cent, at least till they realize he isn't from africa...
pee/see generally anticipates that the jobs they give us are going to be assbutt (but this job is ass). they don’t tell you that at recruitment of course. what happens is you roll into a staging session somewhere in seattle or phila or miami and find out 30% of yr job is called a secondary project, which i assume is where yr supposed to locate any sort of satisfaction as a human being with a job. i’m both ass and butt at my gig, meaning i’m perfect for the job i’m required to do and haven’t had to be very proactive in committing myself to a secondary anything. i don’t mean to sound like i don’t have any secondary projects. i do, i just haven’t committed myself to any them. the school library, for instance, which people in america would call a broom closet. i’ve been at it a year and the extent of progress has been to serve eviction notices to the teachers who have their desks in the staff room. of course, only a douche would be so brilliant as to clear room for a shit ton of books that aren’t coming any time soon (cough: at all). next... i’ve also been at work on this calendar thingy the hi-5 committee puts out to raise money for awareness programs. at work, by the by, means i enlist my sister’s help stateside and then go all awol and shit, though that’s a different story/finger to point.
anyhow, the reason i don’t have a palpable secondary project is b/c my supervisor is my principal, and most (all) of my meetings with him follow the same pattern:
-i have an idea, how about ________________?
-we can even do that.
-even? we’ve done wank to shit, dood. even means we’ve done this this this that and this and can even throw in yr last suggestion no worries lets go snort coke.
this week i had a meeting with him that varied a bit. it went like this:
-i have an idea, how about ________________?
-we can even do that.
-even? we’ve done wank to shit, dood. even means we’ve done this this this that and this and can even throw in yr last suggestion no worries lets go snort coke.
my suggestion this week was that it’s fucking hot in africa – in case the african guy didn’t catch on yet – and that classrooms made of metal get fuck like really hot. students remain in the same class all day and the teachers move from room to room, so imagine rocking out in a sauna for six hours while yr trying to learn. or the more self-involved reason for my suggestion: if most students wash their uniforms on sunday, and thursday’s the fourth straight day of 90° weather, how nice should i expect 30 kids in a tin shack to smell?
-why don’t we rip the top part of the back wall off, create a cross breeze?
-we can even do that.
so yeah, i don’t care much about a library, and I care even less about this basketball project I’m supposed to initiate, but i REALLY FOOKEN CARE about getting punched in the face by stank ass stank every time I have an afternoon class in the shacks, so it appears i’ve finally committed myself to a secondary project. of course, i should credit my principal for inspiring this idea. he informed the other teachers and me that third term's a bit hot, and that our creativity is required so our students will pay attention despite having class in an oven. me, i follwed his advice and combined creativity with my political sensibilities. american liberals aren't good for much other than tearing things apart, so last week i borrowed a hammer and dismantled enough of the shacks to accomodate a cool breeze. i do so much, eh.
anyhow, the reason i don’t have a palpable secondary project is b/c my supervisor is my principal, and most (all) of my meetings with him follow the same pattern:
-i have an idea, how about ________________?
-we can even do that.
-even? we’ve done wank to shit, dood. even means we’ve done this this this that and this and can even throw in yr last suggestion no worries lets go snort coke.
this week i had a meeting with him that varied a bit. it went like this:
-i have an idea, how about ________________?
-we can even do that.
-even? we’ve done wank to shit, dood. even means we’ve done this this this that and this and can even throw in yr last suggestion no worries lets go snort coke.
my suggestion this week was that it’s fucking hot in africa – in case the african guy didn’t catch on yet – and that classrooms made of metal get fuck like really hot. students remain in the same class all day and the teachers move from room to room, so imagine rocking out in a sauna for six hours while yr trying to learn. or the more self-involved reason for my suggestion: if most students wash their uniforms on sunday, and thursday’s the fourth straight day of 90° weather, how nice should i expect 30 kids in a tin shack to smell?
-why don’t we rip the top part of the back wall off, create a cross breeze?
-we can even do that.
so yeah, i don’t care much about a library, and I care even less about this basketball project I’m supposed to initiate, but i REALLY FOOKEN CARE about getting punched in the face by stank ass stank every time I have an afternoon class in the shacks, so it appears i’ve finally committed myself to a secondary project. of course, i should credit my principal for inspiring this idea. he informed the other teachers and me that third term's a bit hot, and that our creativity is required so our students will pay attention despite having class in an oven. me, i follwed his advice and combined creativity with my political sensibilities. american liberals aren't good for much other than tearing things apart, so last week i borrowed a hammer and dismantled enough of the shacks to accomodate a cool breeze. i do so much, eh.
say what you want about namibian education, but at least i can wear cornrows to school...
HUGE game this weekend between the alma maters. sheeat, whom to root for... michigan, whom i've supported since i was 8-years-old b/c i lived in oregon and my dad would phone from michigan to make excuses for their pitiful, though annual, nonconference showing? or emu, whom i followed every year at uni until they won a game, pissing me off that they wouldn't go 0-11 and bring national exposure to the school. i suppose i've created a false dilemna for myself. i mean, shit, eastern? at least if they refined crude through their arse and won michigan could still go to the rose bowl. oh wait, the rose bowl is reserved this year for good teams. i meant the fiesta bowl. or some bowl you get to go to b/c you suck but the teams in yr conference suck worse. fucking notre dame.
HUGE game this weekend between the alma maters. sheeat, whom to root for... michigan, whom i've supported since i was 8-years-old b/c i lived in oregon and my dad would phone from michigan to make excuses for their pitiful, though annual, nonconference showing? or emu, whom i followed every year at uni until they won a game, pissing me off that they wouldn't go 0-11 and bring national exposure to the school. i suppose i've created a false dilemna for myself. i mean, shit, eastern? at least if they refined crude through their arse and won michigan could still go to the rose bowl. oh wait, the rose bowl is reserved this year for good teams. i meant the fiesta bowl. or some bowl you get to go to b/c you suck but the teams in yr conference suck worse. fucking notre dame.
most good news begins with an es, as in SIKE, as in sancho isn't dead b/c she happened to find me while i was out for a run. das sigh of relief... good thing, b/c i was buggered enough to spend the first half of the week planning revenge. i'm not much for an eye for an eye, so i thought the quick theft of my witchdoctor's cowboy hat would suffice. my "educated" roommate gasped when i ran my plan of attack by her. "he will witch you." oh, ppl...
i've combined my love of fashion design with my equally passionate concern for all things living to create a new line of clothing. the concept for my designs centers on sancho, and thus i've titled my line don't eat my fooken dog! fashion is obviously my life. models, please..
of course, using fashion to plea for my pooch's welfare is much more effective than doing something halfway tangible about it, like foregoing my obstinacy and offering my witchdoctor friend a chicken as an alternative to dog. my campaign has gone about as well as livestrong has. i mean, all those cute bracelets and ppl still die from cancer. my dog, too. all that work i put in to get don't eat my fooken dog! launched for the fall season and i'm fairly certain sancho's been eaten. bugger.
selah, at least i can try making out with my ladyfriend. god i'm smooth..
of course, using fashion to plea for my pooch's welfare is much more effective than doing something halfway tangible about it, like foregoing my obstinacy and offering my witchdoctor friend a chicken as an alternative to dog. my campaign has gone about as well as livestrong has. i mean, all those cute bracelets and ppl still die from cancer. my dog, too. all that work i put in to get don't eat my fooken dog! launched for the fall season and i'm fairly certain sancho's been eaten. bugger.
selah, at least i can try making out with my ladyfriend. god i'm smooth..
i'm a pretty smooth guy, you know. i dress nice, have perfect hair, spend hours in the gym, earn six figures, and drive a fuck-big suv when i don't feel like pulling my italian roadster out of storage. this obviously means i'm better than you. it also means i pull quite a bit of ass, enough so that my nomme de guerre is tugboat. but occasionally i meet one of those women who think and shit and i have to pretend i'm not shallow. luckily i studied literature in undergrad and can impress with my poetic wit, though sometimes i trip over authors and books and other artsy shite. like this one time i tried rocking out on some hottie. i was too preoccupied with my cool man walk that i neglected to work out an opening line. i actually forgot to work out a purpose for the come on, so caught up was i with my gangsta stroll, that i confused my idioms and went about picking a fight rather than picking her up. so i sucker punched her. right before she kicked my ass. and i don't mean kicked my ass like i sat there and took it. i mean i tried to win the fight but didn't.
figures. i suppose that's what happens to you when you try to exert your manhood, if you even have one. like me. i may have testicles, a deep voice, male ticked on all my application forms, higher insurance premiums, a large beard, and a hott ladyfriend, but i also have small muscles, a preference for wine over beer, emotions, a library, a disposition toward pacifism, tickets to the opera, uncalloused hands, and a closet full of dresses (joke). the point: i'm not brawny. i don't think people would look at my picture and mistake me for a hell's angel, which means i need to find a theater that demonstrates how fooken tough i am. the best i've found so far is a soccer field. how brute, right? imagine: barefoot and short shorts. it just bleeds tough, like a toothless hockey player and his two black eyes. except i'm a panzy and they stuck me in goal. how will people know i'm tough if all i do is stand at the edge of the field, a glorified spectator? no worries, i eventually collided with an 80 lb monster and hurt myself. ooh, my angle: i can play hurt and people will admire my tenacity. 'twas only a sprained ankle, but people nonetheless asked if it hurt, to which i'd nonchalantly answer, sheeat. pretty soon i was wearing muscle shirts and drinking beer, but three months have since passed and my ankle still hurts. uhhh... that's not good. i finally took myself to see the doctor - crying, of course - and had an x-ray taken. it turns out i fractured my fibula. holla. who's a tough guy now? ME me ME me ME me ME me... ME me... i've been walking around on a broken leg for three months. that means i'm tough, and all i have left to do now is find the bitch that kicked my ass and, i don't know, see if she'd like to ride donkeys???
figures. i suppose that's what happens to you when you try to exert your manhood, if you even have one. like me. i may have testicles, a deep voice, male ticked on all my application forms, higher insurance premiums, a large beard, and a hott ladyfriend, but i also have small muscles, a preference for wine over beer, emotions, a library, a disposition toward pacifism, tickets to the opera, uncalloused hands, and a closet full of dresses (joke). the point: i'm not brawny. i don't think people would look at my picture and mistake me for a hell's angel, which means i need to find a theater that demonstrates how fooken tough i am. the best i've found so far is a soccer field. how brute, right? imagine: barefoot and short shorts. it just bleeds tough, like a toothless hockey player and his two black eyes. except i'm a panzy and they stuck me in goal. how will people know i'm tough if all i do is stand at the edge of the field, a glorified spectator? no worries, i eventually collided with an 80 lb monster and hurt myself. ooh, my angle: i can play hurt and people will admire my tenacity. 'twas only a sprained ankle, but people nonetheless asked if it hurt, to which i'd nonchalantly answer, sheeat. pretty soon i was wearing muscle shirts and drinking beer, but three months have since passed and my ankle still hurts. uhhh... that's not good. i finally took myself to see the doctor - crying, of course - and had an x-ray taken. it turns out i fractured my fibula. holla. who's a tough guy now? ME me ME me ME me ME me... ME me... i've been walking around on a broken leg for three months. that means i'm tough, and all i have left to do now is find the bitch that kicked my ass and, i don't know, see if she'd like to ride donkeys???
