"Septuagenarian", or My Day At Tard-School!
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"Septuagenarian", or My Day At Tard-School!
Worm?
Last edited by Lex on Sun Sep 07, 2003 7:18 pm, edited 3 times in total.
WHOOA!
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I'm not feeling very funny now; reading through some of the newer "Best Of" threads. The word appears there.
I join in conversations, sometimes I even start 'em, but I don't claim to be a funny guy, I never did. I can say the odd hilarious thing, but if I do strike GOLD! it's by accident, and rarely by design. It seems odd to spend your time online constantly trying to make other people laugh.
Which makes me wonder about all the psychobabble about humor being a damaged self-defence machanism; does that meen noone here except myself and, possibley, ^Aardvaark, are not emotional cripples?
No, wait, shit, I made this thread incredibley boring. Who saw *that* coming?
^Err, not that you're not funny, Aardvaark, it's just you never claim to be.
I join in conversations, sometimes I even start 'em, but I don't claim to be a funny guy, I never did. I can say the odd hilarious thing, but if I do strike GOLD! it's by accident, and rarely by design. It seems odd to spend your time online constantly trying to make other people laugh.
Which makes me wonder about all the psychobabble about humor being a damaged self-defence machanism; does that meen noone here except myself and, possibley, ^Aardvaark, are not emotional cripples?
No, wait, shit, I made this thread incredibley boring. Who saw *that* coming?
^Err, not that you're not funny, Aardvaark, it's just you never claim to be.
Last edited by Lex on Sun Sep 07, 2003 6:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
WHOOA!
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Let Me Tell you All about 'Tard Class
So today was my first day of college. I'm doing some highers; it's kinda like doing a high-school degree again, I guess. But I never finished my English higher & I'm looking to get Business Management & Maths. I wanted to do Drama, etc., but all the interesting classes were closed at the last moment. It's actually possible that maths won't be running at all, and that's the reason I'm going there. They're not so good at telling people what's happening.
So, anyway, today I had my Business Management class. I, and the 6 other people who make up my class, are waiting patiently outside our appointed classroom. Our lecturer doesn't turn up.
And doesn't turn up.
And doesn't turn up.
During this time, an interesting assortment of various "special" people are entering the room -- the room reserved, if you recall correctly, for our Business class. We give each other anxious glances.
After a while, I head down to the Information Desk to try & get someone up. Eventually, he does turn up, and due to what we hear with relief is a double-booking, we go into the next-door room, 14-a.
The gentleman is also double-booked. After we all sit down, he tells us to come back in an hour, because he's teaching another class. We get up.
Okay, fair enough, I mean, it's only an education establishment, right?
Xiou Li, a small-amount-of-English Chinese girl I met on the day & will be helping along makes a surprising lucid comment on the "stupid lecturer's inability to keep one goddam class straight". I chuckle, ask her if she's sure she'll be able to understand the classes, and she says "Aye." She's been living in Scotland four years, and the mixture of broken English & chinese-pronounced Scots is disconcerting.
As we leave, we hear some screaming. Someone's wheelchair has collapsed. We all hasten to the canteen.
One hour later, as we're all settling, the lecturer walks in, looking rather flustered. He won't acknowledge or tell us why. That's fair enough; we've known him less than three-minutes, consecutive time. So, we get down to it -- he starts to explain the basis of Business Management, and we begin to take notes on what he is saying. A few minutes later, he gives us a written-task to do.
As pen touches paper, it happens.
A strong, clear chord rings out through the classroom. A guitar strumming something warm, something friendly. Something vaguely... familiar. A women's beautiful, piercing voice melodically begins the ancient verse:
"My Bodies Nobody's Body But Mine!"
"You've got your Own Body, Let Me have Mine!"
This isn't so bad, but as it's a song we all have to endure through grade-school we all give eachother uncomfortable looks, and then pen goes to paper again.
But that, my friend, was just the gathering storm. Then the howling gale begins to pick up.
The same verse again, only this time, underneath it, all frighteningly out of tune like those whispers in the videogame "Blood", which I am now going to creep myself out with by remembering;
It wouldn't be so bad if it was screaming. You know where you stand with screaming, but what came next was an unholy moaning, which would not stop. Vaguely in-time, vaguely in-tune, partially lucid like some frighteningly intelligent Uran-otan, they groan. But loudly, really loudly.
We shiver, but try to get along with it.
Then the banging starts.
By the end of the class the lecturer is a nervous wreck; he was either holding in giggles all the time and about to explode, or has a genuine fear of the 'tarded. I do not know. But; I do not think I am going to enjoy my Business Management class.
Still, I did get to play Virtua Cop 3 afterwards, so I'm not fussy.
So, anyway, today I had my Business Management class. I, and the 6 other people who make up my class, are waiting patiently outside our appointed classroom. Our lecturer doesn't turn up.
And doesn't turn up.
And doesn't turn up.
During this time, an interesting assortment of various "special" people are entering the room -- the room reserved, if you recall correctly, for our Business class. We give each other anxious glances.
After a while, I head down to the Information Desk to try & get someone up. Eventually, he does turn up, and due to what we hear with relief is a double-booking, we go into the next-door room, 14-a.
The gentleman is also double-booked. After we all sit down, he tells us to come back in an hour, because he's teaching another class. We get up.
Okay, fair enough, I mean, it's only an education establishment, right?
Xiou Li, a small-amount-of-English Chinese girl I met on the day & will be helping along makes a surprising lucid comment on the "stupid lecturer's inability to keep one goddam class straight". I chuckle, ask her if she's sure she'll be able to understand the classes, and she says "Aye." She's been living in Scotland four years, and the mixture of broken English & chinese-pronounced Scots is disconcerting.
As we leave, we hear some screaming. Someone's wheelchair has collapsed. We all hasten to the canteen.
One hour later, as we're all settling, the lecturer walks in, looking rather flustered. He won't acknowledge or tell us why. That's fair enough; we've known him less than three-minutes, consecutive time. So, we get down to it -- he starts to explain the basis of Business Management, and we begin to take notes on what he is saying. A few minutes later, he gives us a written-task to do.
As pen touches paper, it happens.
A strong, clear chord rings out through the classroom. A guitar strumming something warm, something friendly. Something vaguely... familiar. A women's beautiful, piercing voice melodically begins the ancient verse:
"My Bodies Nobody's Body But Mine!"
"You've got your Own Body, Let Me have Mine!"
This isn't so bad, but as it's a song we all have to endure through grade-school we all give eachother uncomfortable looks, and then pen goes to paper again.
But that, my friend, was just the gathering storm. Then the howling gale begins to pick up.
The same verse again, only this time, underneath it, all frighteningly out of tune like those whispers in the videogame "Blood", which I am now going to creep myself out with by remembering;
It wouldn't be so bad if it was screaming. You know where you stand with screaming, but what came next was an unholy moaning, which would not stop. Vaguely in-time, vaguely in-tune, partially lucid like some frighteningly intelligent Uran-otan, they groan. But loudly, really loudly.
We shiver, but try to get along with it.
Then the banging starts.
By the end of the class the lecturer is a nervous wreck; he was either holding in giggles all the time and about to explode, or has a genuine fear of the 'tarded. I do not know. But; I do not think I am going to enjoy my Business Management class.
Still, I did get to play Virtua Cop 3 afterwards, so I'm not fussy.
WHOOA!
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That bit about you working for GAME and happily not getting paid was funny, Lex.
Also, constantly insisting you are not funny is as much a defense mechanism as actually trying to be funny. I should know.
Also, I think that's "Manic Monday". And "septugenerian".'
And that's all the sense I could make of this thread.
Also, constantly insisting you are not funny is as much a defense mechanism as actually trying to be funny. I should know.
Also, I think that's "Manic Monday". And "septugenerian".'
And that's all the sense I could make of this thread.
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I'm cute; I don't need to be funny. Also:
Today was my Second Day of 'tard class.
More of the same, but due to the unholy banging they did yesterday they must've figured the 'Tards wanted drums.
Then they listened to that "Walkin' On Walkin' On Broken Gla-ah-ahs..." song, and they sing along.
We all shiver as we picture in our minds 1,000 tards screaming and jumping and running across a field of broken glass.
The lecturer believes we should leave this room after a particularly beautiful 'tard solo of "Beneath my Wings". Beautiful, in the same way that a road accident makes Wil Wheaton look hot. Suddenly the Trumpet Practice, yeah, that's right, the fucking TRUMPET PRACTICE happening on the other side of the classroom doens't sound nearly as bad.
So... Y'know, that was my day.
Today was my Second Day of 'tard class.
More of the same, but due to the unholy banging they did yesterday they must've figured the 'Tards wanted drums.
Then they listened to that "Walkin' On Walkin' On Broken Gla-ah-ahs..." song, and they sing along.
We all shiver as we picture in our minds 1,000 tards screaming and jumping and running across a field of broken glass.
The lecturer believes we should leave this room after a particularly beautiful 'tard solo of "Beneath my Wings". Beautiful, in the same way that a road accident makes Wil Wheaton look hot. Suddenly the Trumpet Practice, yeah, that's right, the fucking TRUMPET PRACTICE happening on the other side of the classroom doens't sound nearly as bad.
So... Y'know, that was my day.
WHOOA!
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I am finally getting into the swing of things at my college. I had taken a year off last year so it was odd having a full schedule again. It's also difficult being a commuter and trying to make friends on campus.
Yesterday as I was crossing the street some asshole called me an ugly bitch. This has made me hate college students. Why do people have to be such jackasses. Making friends has now become a secondary priority. Now all I want is revenge, well not really.
Yesterday as I was crossing the street some asshole called me an ugly bitch. This has made me hate college students. Why do people have to be such jackasses. Making friends has now become a secondary priority. Now all I want is revenge, well not really.
The End
- Ice Cream Jonsey
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Speaking as a non-pedestrian, yesterday I blew by a toll booth at approximately 65 miles per hour on the way to the Denver International Airport. I would not have been able to do this on foot. The conclusion I draw from this is that those of us in cars can pretty much be assholes, but you kind of knew that going in anyway.Violet wrote:Yesterday as I was crossing the street some asshole called me an ugly bitch. This has made me hate college students. Why do people have to be such jackasses. Making friends has now become a secondary priority. Now all I want is revenge, well not really.
Also, the best revenge is for you to hop into your new car, grab a shotgun, and shoot them all in the head. Other drivers, I mean.
the dark and gritty...Ice Cream Jonsey!
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- AArdvark
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Obviously the Dutch spelling of Aardvark...Err, not that you're not funny, Aardvaark, it's just you never claim to be.
No I don't claim to funny, It just happens like soda pop fizzing up thru the neck of The plastic 2 litre Jolt Country container..
I guess I see things in a Dave Barry, Art Buchwald, MST3K-esque (esque?) way.. Daz waddit iz.
The visual on that is KILLING me... But I don't want to offend anyone.. Please work that into a text adventure!As we leave, we hear some screaming. Someone's wheelchair has collapsed. We all hasten to the canteen.
THE
CALL RENT A WRECK
AARDVARK
Just KILLING me.....!!!
- AArdvark
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For the background story to that last post and why it was so funny to me, you must travel back to the year 1983 when I was a lowly junior at Jefferson H.S. There was a special education department there, and my fondest memory of the attendees is one fellow (in a wheelchair) wearing a long sleeved turtleneck in bright green. This person (wearing a safety helmet, mind you) would slowly reel back both arms untill they were at his sides. Then he would grasp the wheels and give himself a push forwards. (this is the normal wheelchair locomotion) This would move him about 10 feet forwards down the hall. He would wait until his forward motion was completely stopped then slowly reel in his long green arms to repeat the process. Again and again.
I never gave him a second thought until someone passing by called him FROGGER!
Now, I am totally ashamed of myself and should go iron my hands or something but it was so goddam funny. I guess when you're not supposed to laugh at something it makes it even funnier.
THE
SAY A NOVENA
AARDVARK
I never gave him a second thought until someone passing by called him FROGGER!
Now, I am totally ashamed of myself and should go iron my hands or something but it was so goddam funny. I guess when you're not supposed to laugh at something it makes it even funnier.
THE
SAY A NOVENA
AARDVARK
- Ice Cream Jonsey
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Yeah, the part where you hand over your drivers license and $500 cash and in return they hand you a book, assign you a room, and tell you that the normal sized adult that normally stands at the head of that room had to take his son to Little League, and could you please all get started on your own assignments? pretty much truthifies the lesson only being as good as the teacher idea.
WAGER TO SELF: Will that sentence make sense to anybody but me?
SELF: Never has before, why start now?
SELF2: Did I just win, or lose?
SELF: You won. You won all over the place. Come here, honey, and get your prize.
SELF2: Ah b-----mmm.
WAGER TO SELF: Will that sentence make sense to anybody but me?
SELF: Never has before, why start now?
SELF2: Did I just win, or lose?
SELF: You won. You won all over the place. Come here, honey, and get your prize.
SELF2: Ah b-----mmm.