My pride is wounded!!! DANGGGG! Ok, I don’t know how to properly and accurately put this but… My professor today betttttttch slapped me with his WORDS! There, ok I said it. Gahhhh! It happened. And all I could do was stand there and take it like—not like a man—but like a crackhead at an intervention with some sprinklings around his mouth! The crackhead can’t say ishhhhh in defense!
My professor, who I would describe as sinister-looking with a crooked smile and jagged, lifeless teeth, believed it to be true that I had asked him to meet 15 minutes before class to look over my powerpoint. I had, in fact, asked him to quickly look over my presentation right before class; no specific time given ‘cuz that’s just how I roll. As soon as I arrived to my class (on-time, mind you), my professor’s yellow glazed eye slithered its gaze around to the front of the room. He then villainously descended upon his prey—me. What proceeded entirely, remains a blur, for good reasons. Guy, le prénom de mon professeur (fo’ reals!), spoke of irresponsibility, shame, and anger. A lot of anger. Now, at first I tried to correct his misunderstanding in the hope that he would see his wrongdoings. Yeah, that turned out to be a mistake. Les Français ne bougent jamais! After my presentation, Guy let looooooose his reign of intellectual arrogance upon my vulnerable position at the head of the class. My pronunciation errors, which extended to the faint sound of the letter “d” at the end of a word, seemed criminal to him. Projecting to the class, he escalated my faults—only mine, ignoring my partner’s—by declaring it nearly impossible to utter such offensively incorrect French. Until I, he seethed, lowered the bar of grammatical standards.
Yeahhhhh it burned. Guy: 1. Me: 0. Until next week, old man!
12/04/2008
UGH! Youth...
Sooo for the past week my nemesis revitalized two-fold her duties as a mother with the gracious accommodation of her grandchildren. Oh, she LOVED every second of it. Consequentially, I despised it all. I never once saw these hooligans—but I certainly heard them. Starting 8AM, I could hear a stampede approaching the kitchen with shrilling laughter that verged on the brink of deathly cries. Bringing up the rear, the mother chuckled at, I’m sure, “the gift of a child’s laughter.” Bah! Children are nothing but greedy, ok. They stole my sleep, my sanity, AND my happiness. I say, mélangez some applesauce and a splash of Benadryl; stuff them full and be on your way. If that’s not responsible parenting, then I don’t know what is.
11/30/2008
Where yo boss at??
I have nothing to blog about. My mom always told me, if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all. If I had followed that advice when it was given, I would be a mute child. However, I’ll make an exception this time.
But let’s get one thing straight. I’m a boss! And don’t forget it.
But let’s get one thing straight. I’m a boss! And don’t forget it.
11/25/2008
Survival of the fittest
This past weekend was all about the extremity. I mean, HOT DANG it was intense! It began early Friday morning past, when I thought Karma had hit its threshold and pondered the idea of correcting my foregoing reprehensible behavior. The flight to Salzburg confronted death head on in its miniature aircraft equipped with propellers, not jets. While my roommate KC slept undisturbed—surprisingly, without the help of tranquilizers—Abby and I weathered, quite literally, through the storm. If I were capable of crying, the tears would have been streaming down my fear-stricken face. I contemplated escape plans in hopes of ensuring a higher chance of survival. I questioned my coat’s potential with a lunatic eye: Could this act as a parachute if need be? As we embarked on our descent through the tempestuous clouds, I knew it would require a fight in which Nature wouldn’t play fair. A fight, it was indeed; one that left me physically ill and mentally disturbed. I walked off that plane, legs shaking against my confounded will. How I survived, I cannot say. I feel like I gained years of wisdom on that flight—perhaps because the stress aged me twenty years.
The extreme theme continued when Abby and KC tricked Anne and me into climbing up a mountain to see a fortress. Yes, a fortress. Instead of taking the funicular (that would have been too easy), we dragged ourselves up an icy, treacherous mountain in the name of tourism. Unprepared for climbing mountains, Anne and I wobbled our way up all the while cursing the likelihood of crashing to the icy ground which would then lead us to slip down the mountain. Perilous, I say!
We ventured on… The Sound of Music bus tour followed. It may not seem so extreme after a few near-death encounters, but let me correct you. FOUR hours of singing musical numbers, including miserable imitations of Julie Andrews' voice, could be nothing but extreme! The campy bus with a Sound of Music drawing plastered all around it treaded through Salzburg and up into the mountains while our tour guide, Trudy, squeaked corny-ass jokes and Sound of Music trivia. It was everything I hate most in the world, all trapped into one seemingly small bus. EXTREME!
11/20/2008
The hills are aaaaalive
Blahhhh… I just ate an entire box of cereal in under two hours. I rested a huge bowl filled to the rim below my chin so as to limit the distance my spoon had to travel to my mouth. I kept the cereal box in proximity in order to persuade numerous refills. What is wrong with me?! ...Rhetorical question. Damn Special Form for being so deliciously addictive!!! Now, Special Form is the poor man’s Special K, but I didn’t seem to care. I’m not broke (yet) but it befits my lifestyle so well that I can’t object to the label. When someone accuses me of being cheap, all I can do is shrug my shoulders in unconcerned accordance. Why argue with the truth?
But my cheap-ass will be traveling to SALZBURG, AUSTRIA tomorrow!!!! Yeah, that’s right, where The Sound of Music was filmed. Control your jealousy, fools! It’s gonna be badass!!
But my cheap-ass will be traveling to SALZBURG, AUSTRIA tomorrow!!!! Yeah, that’s right, where The Sound of Music was filmed. Control your jealousy, fools! It’s gonna be badass!!
11/19/2008
Tales to be told
OMG! I have sooooooo much to explain!! To do so, a series of disjointed anecdotes will recount the important events of the past several days…
Ok, Portugal. Not only was the weather amazing, but the universe also graciously gave me the opportunity to DENY some kid’s game. Yeahhhh it was just the kind of vacation I needed. This kid—though, I shouldn’t say “kid” since he was 26—was wuuuurkinnnn it hard! Which gave me all the more satisfaction shutting that down!! I was like, Not today, son!
Back in Paris, I saw the most incredible visual polarity on Rue Notre Dame des Champs—also known as my hood, holla! While walking to my favorite hot spot (the discount grocery store), I heard an unfamiliar buzzing noise that became more and more thunderous with each step. Veiled in a cold sweat, I searched feverishly for the echoing sound in every shadowy crevice. Finally, my eyes caught sight of swerving orange blob off in the distance. As the shape skidded closer, the reality of this sight began to focus. The vibrating hum came from an elderly, half-melted woman cruising at top speed in her electric wheelchair. Precariously navigating the road, she harshly puffed on a cigarette with one gnarled hand and controlled the wheelchair with the other. A fluorescent orange flag attached to the back of her chair thrashed at full mast while she hacked up a previous life in between her slow exhalations of nicotine. I stopped my stride to acknowledge the rarity of such a sight. I almost pulled out my camera but then I thought, “Nah I don’t want to be one of those people…”
It’s official. I have a new favorite neighborhood hobo!!!! Finally. My previous fave just couldn’t keep up with the competition. This hobo is spectacular, he shames all the other bums. KC abruptly pointed him out to me while walking home from class the other day. He must of found enough change on the streets because he was sitting at a café, making everyone around him uneasy. Prolonging his chance to blend in with the rest of society, he smoked a cigarette with great leisure calling attention to the drunken arrogance of his cross-legged posture. His lanky build prompted his knobby limbs to stick out into the street, wherein I noticed that one of his dirty socks didn't have a slipper covering it like the other. But this didn’t prohibit him from enjoying his wine-induced hazy life. No, he mumbled a few words in a caroling voice and elegantly waved to passersby while swaying back and forth in his chair. Before we passed him, he let out a jolly, delirious laugh and flicked his cigarette in such a grandiose manner. He was the only one in on the joke but he continued on. Yeah, he’s a classy one.
Ok, Portugal. Not only was the weather amazing, but the universe also graciously gave me the opportunity to DENY some kid’s game. Yeahhhh it was just the kind of vacation I needed. This kid—though, I shouldn’t say “kid” since he was 26—was wuuuurkinnnn it hard! Which gave me all the more satisfaction shutting that down!! I was like, Not today, son!
Back in Paris, I saw the most incredible visual polarity on Rue Notre Dame des Champs—also known as my hood, holla! While walking to my favorite hot spot (the discount grocery store), I heard an unfamiliar buzzing noise that became more and more thunderous with each step. Veiled in a cold sweat, I searched feverishly for the echoing sound in every shadowy crevice. Finally, my eyes caught sight of swerving orange blob off in the distance. As the shape skidded closer, the reality of this sight began to focus. The vibrating hum came from an elderly, half-melted woman cruising at top speed in her electric wheelchair. Precariously navigating the road, she harshly puffed on a cigarette with one gnarled hand and controlled the wheelchair with the other. A fluorescent orange flag attached to the back of her chair thrashed at full mast while she hacked up a previous life in between her slow exhalations of nicotine. I stopped my stride to acknowledge the rarity of such a sight. I almost pulled out my camera but then I thought, “Nah I don’t want to be one of those people…”
It’s official. I have a new favorite neighborhood hobo!!!! Finally. My previous fave just couldn’t keep up with the competition. This hobo is spectacular, he shames all the other bums. KC abruptly pointed him out to me while walking home from class the other day. He must of found enough change on the streets because he was sitting at a café, making everyone around him uneasy. Prolonging his chance to blend in with the rest of society, he smoked a cigarette with great leisure calling attention to the drunken arrogance of his cross-legged posture. His lanky build prompted his knobby limbs to stick out into the street, wherein I noticed that one of his dirty socks didn't have a slipper covering it like the other. But this didn’t prohibit him from enjoying his wine-induced hazy life. No, he mumbled a few words in a caroling voice and elegantly waved to passersby while swaying back and forth in his chair. Before we passed him, he let out a jolly, delirious laugh and flicked his cigarette in such a grandiose manner. He was the only one in on the joke but he continued on. Yeah, he’s a classy one.
11/13/2008
Great expectations
Please read/act out the following sentence like you’re a professional Oprah impersonator: I’m going to PORTUGAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!!!! Yeah, eff this cold weather! I’m heading to a country with some agreeably lukewarm weather, holla! My expectations are possibly unreasonable but I anticipate that every guy under the age of 30 will be looking fiiiiiiiiine. I only hope my dreams won’t be crushed…
Oh I forgot to mention this earlier but I (temporarily) broke my bed. Who knew jumping on it like a immature little girl would have such consequences?? Following my third or forth victory jump, I heard a fracturing noise beneath my feet. I gave it a few more jumps before deciding to quit in fear of collapsing the bed’s foundation. But it seemed that at 4am my bed had all it could take. A pulsating crash broke the silence of the night, plummeting my motionless body the length of a few inches. And what’s worse, it disturbed my sleep. I laid there, eyes thrown up and breathing densely, trying to piece together why I was sinking into a vortex-like dent in my mattress. The next morning I chose to omit this vital detail to my host mother when she asked how I was doing. I thought it was for the best. When she thought I broke her washing machine, we didn’t hear that deafening spin cycle sound for a month! I can’t go that long without a bed, ok. That’s ridiculous.
Oh I forgot to mention this earlier but I (temporarily) broke my bed. Who knew jumping on it like a immature little girl would have such consequences?? Following my third or forth victory jump, I heard a fracturing noise beneath my feet. I gave it a few more jumps before deciding to quit in fear of collapsing the bed’s foundation. But it seemed that at 4am my bed had all it could take. A pulsating crash broke the silence of the night, plummeting my motionless body the length of a few inches. And what’s worse, it disturbed my sleep. I laid there, eyes thrown up and breathing densely, trying to piece together why I was sinking into a vortex-like dent in my mattress. The next morning I chose to omit this vital detail to my host mother when she asked how I was doing. I thought it was for the best. When she thought I broke her washing machine, we didn’t hear that deafening spin cycle sound for a month! I can’t go that long without a bed, ok. That’s ridiculous.
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