Beaver Tails
If you say you're going to eat a beaver tail to an American, you'll get a funny look. Say it to a Canadian, and he'll know what you're talking about and say, "Ooooh I cood goo foor a beaver tail too." He won't say "eh" though. That's something Polish people made up to draw attention away from themselves.
Once upon a time I was walking through the history museum on campus, which is open from Wednesday to Saturday and is free to students or people who bring in bookbags pretending to be students. They had cool stuff. All the small pocketables were behind glass, but some big things were right in the open. After the Greek portion I was drawn to the Egyptian section (what can I say, I didn't linger in the Tutonic aka "Christian" section very long). On a pretty pedastol was the head and shoulders of a several thousand year old Egyptian dude, and I don't mean his shampoo. His name was Ibi. He was a priest and he was over 6500 years old.
I know, because that's what the plaque said.
Ibi knew, because that was his name, and he could also see the future and stuff. The plaque said that, too.
Seeing that it was a sacred relic no ancient Egyptians but the high priests would even ever see, and seeing that he could tell the future and all, I became curious. At least, that's my excuse for being a schizoid who doesn't control his actions sometimes. Whatever the authorities will believe, that's what you tell them.
No one in the room. Cameras. Excuse? None needed. It was self explanatory how ingeniusly stupid and pointless it was. Why even try to make an excuse?
So I kissed him. Right on the stone mouth. It was good. Maybe too good.
Then I walked out of the museum smiling. The people at the desk smiled back, and I went home to play little kids games on my computer.
The end!
But speaking of little kids games, I'm playing one now that I swear has to be designed for little kids ages 18+. Parts of it are ridiculously difficult. Today I was trying to accomplish a "quest" that entailed going through a subway. Only it wasn't a normal subway, this subway had little platforms you had to jump to, with electric wires and lazers to screw you up and make you start all over.
After starting over about the 25th time, I asked myself...who the hell puts moving lazer defenses in a subway, anyhow? Then it hit me like a tsunami caused by a 9.0 earthquake beneath the seas off the coast of Indonesia...only an Asian would have lazers in a subway...and only VINCE would have MOBILE lazers. That crafty bastard. I was hoping I'd never see the day when he figured out bubbles weren't good for defense...this may well win him the battle. Nay, the war!
And speaking of school, which starts in one week, I've gotten letters from two of the five colleges I was waiting on. They're the "thank you for applying" sort of letter.
But wait, it's not the American "thank you for applying" kind of letter that really means "we don't want you, because you're stupid." No, these are Canadian "thank you" letters, which are sent before you even apply. Like, "Thank YOU for giving US the time of day." That's so crazily inconceivable down here. American schools might as well just send you a letter that says "pfffft" with a big red X on your transcripts.
I've gotten mail from Durham and Georgian. I honestly don't remember where they are, but I wanted to apply for one college and they said they'd name drop me to five for the same price, so I said that sounded pretty tasty, and they said mmm it is.
Hopefully I hear from Conestoga. And hopefully I get into Conestoga. Vin-o-matic goes there (even though sometimes I tell him "Naaah grrl don't go there!" and bob my head around), which is nice, but that's not why I want to go there, even though it's good to know someone at a new school (we're both reclusive and would probably hide and plot and only see each other during attacks anyway). I just want to be by a big city. In it would be nicer. It might even be more nicerer, but that's a little bit of a stretch, and by little bit of a stretch, I mean shitty English.
This really blows. I only ever applied to one university and was accepted basically without question. If I had whipped it out and stuck it on top of my application, they probably would've done it. They're all old ladies though, and probably have no teeth. But I hear that can be good. At least, that's what Chaos tells people.
Despite being on academic probation after having successfully failed educational psychology, I can only count on one thing (by which I mean a few loosely related crappy strands of hope). That would be the fact that I'll be considered an international student, and even though I'm only one country away, that means I can help fill a quota and pay thrice as much as everyone else. Also, college standards tend to be...how shall I say...shittier than university standards. An F in a university has to be like a B+ in a college, right? Right?
If worse comes to worse, I'll just start applying to places as "Native American." I know it's lame to do, and though I love being "NDN" (ha) like white dudes love weed, I hate to claim it just so I can get into a school and be part of a quota. I hate affirmative blacktion with a passion. If I were Kel from Keenan and Kel, I'd say "I do I do I do I doo-oooo." Even if you're black in some places it doesn't help you, but there's always a shortage of us Injuns. We can get into anywhere on a quota, except maybe if Las Vegas opened a university.
I want a new job, too. I'm so sick of food. And bastards. And hungry bastards who want food. And not so hungry but hanging out with their friends and just sort of scrounging bastards. Mostly people who look at me and want me to smile, but I frown so they think maybe I'm doing something to the food. I'm not. If I were smiling, it would probably mean that I had actually done something to it for a change.
Don't get me wrong. I'll pee in something before my time is done. Even if it's just a toilet. I won't flush. I'll show those bastards.
I'm "waking up" in an hour and ten minutes. I'll shower and shave and dress and leave for an hour, travel for two hours, and have my blood taken. Then I'll be practically dead and have to run all around town for around three or so errands, then two more hours back.
I'll just do like I do even when I've had sleep...pull over and sleep every hour for an hour. Driving does that to me. It takes me twice as long to get pretty much anywhere. Two hours is about my maximum before I have to stop and sleep. Chaos would probably have liked to know that before he agreed to a road trip, but Chaos is in the desert on a horse with no name, so he can't do shit about it. Only the horse is a .50 cal most of the time. I think its name is S.A.W. If it were mine, I'd call it Buzz. Like Buzz-S.A.W. That'd be witty. And by witty I mean cutesy little faerypants faggish. The army likes that sort of thing. Plus it puts Polacks in the desert, which is funny in itself.
They threw me out of church for calling one of the deacons a motherfucker.
And now I need to sleep, fo rillz y0!!1one1!~ sl33p liek teh pr0z!!!@!
Frottage. Unf.
Once upon a time I was walking through the history museum on campus, which is open from Wednesday to Saturday and is free to students or people who bring in bookbags pretending to be students. They had cool stuff. All the small pocketables were behind glass, but some big things were right in the open. After the Greek portion I was drawn to the Egyptian section (what can I say, I didn't linger in the Tutonic aka "Christian" section very long). On a pretty pedastol was the head and shoulders of a several thousand year old Egyptian dude, and I don't mean his shampoo. His name was Ibi. He was a priest and he was over 6500 years old.
I know, because that's what the plaque said.
Ibi knew, because that was his name, and he could also see the future and stuff. The plaque said that, too.
Seeing that it was a sacred relic no ancient Egyptians but the high priests would even ever see, and seeing that he could tell the future and all, I became curious. At least, that's my excuse for being a schizoid who doesn't control his actions sometimes. Whatever the authorities will believe, that's what you tell them.
No one in the room. Cameras. Excuse? None needed. It was self explanatory how ingeniusly stupid and pointless it was. Why even try to make an excuse?
So I kissed him. Right on the stone mouth. It was good. Maybe too good.
Then I walked out of the museum smiling. The people at the desk smiled back, and I went home to play little kids games on my computer.
The end!
But speaking of little kids games, I'm playing one now that I swear has to be designed for little kids ages 18+. Parts of it are ridiculously difficult. Today I was trying to accomplish a "quest" that entailed going through a subway. Only it wasn't a normal subway, this subway had little platforms you had to jump to, with electric wires and lazers to screw you up and make you start all over.
After starting over about the 25th time, I asked myself...who the hell puts moving lazer defenses in a subway, anyhow? Then it hit me like a tsunami caused by a 9.0 earthquake beneath the seas off the coast of Indonesia...only an Asian would have lazers in a subway...and only VINCE would have MOBILE lazers. That crafty bastard. I was hoping I'd never see the day when he figured out bubbles weren't good for defense...this may well win him the battle. Nay, the war!
And speaking of school, which starts in one week, I've gotten letters from two of the five colleges I was waiting on. They're the "thank you for applying" sort of letter.
But wait, it's not the American "thank you for applying" kind of letter that really means "we don't want you, because you're stupid." No, these are Canadian "thank you" letters, which are sent before you even apply. Like, "Thank YOU for giving US the time of day." That's so crazily inconceivable down here. American schools might as well just send you a letter that says "pfffft" with a big red X on your transcripts.
I've gotten mail from Durham and Georgian. I honestly don't remember where they are, but I wanted to apply for one college and they said they'd name drop me to five for the same price, so I said that sounded pretty tasty, and they said mmm it is.
Hopefully I hear from Conestoga. And hopefully I get into Conestoga. Vin-o-matic goes there (even though sometimes I tell him "Naaah grrl don't go there!" and bob my head around), which is nice, but that's not why I want to go there, even though it's good to know someone at a new school (we're both reclusive and would probably hide and plot and only see each other during attacks anyway). I just want to be by a big city. In it would be nicer. It might even be more nicerer, but that's a little bit of a stretch, and by little bit of a stretch, I mean shitty English.
This really blows. I only ever applied to one university and was accepted basically without question. If I had whipped it out and stuck it on top of my application, they probably would've done it. They're all old ladies though, and probably have no teeth. But I hear that can be good. At least, that's what Chaos tells people.
Despite being on academic probation after having successfully failed educational psychology, I can only count on one thing (by which I mean a few loosely related crappy strands of hope). That would be the fact that I'll be considered an international student, and even though I'm only one country away, that means I can help fill a quota and pay thrice as much as everyone else. Also, college standards tend to be...how shall I say...shittier than university standards. An F in a university has to be like a B+ in a college, right? Right?
If worse comes to worse, I'll just start applying to places as "Native American." I know it's lame to do, and though I love being "NDN" (ha) like white dudes love weed, I hate to claim it just so I can get into a school and be part of a quota. I hate affirmative blacktion with a passion. If I were Kel from Keenan and Kel, I'd say "I do I do I do I doo-oooo." Even if you're black in some places it doesn't help you, but there's always a shortage of us Injuns. We can get into anywhere on a quota, except maybe if Las Vegas opened a university.
I want a new job, too. I'm so sick of food. And bastards. And hungry bastards who want food. And not so hungry but hanging out with their friends and just sort of scrounging bastards. Mostly people who look at me and want me to smile, but I frown so they think maybe I'm doing something to the food. I'm not. If I were smiling, it would probably mean that I had actually done something to it for a change.
Don't get me wrong. I'll pee in something before my time is done. Even if it's just a toilet. I won't flush. I'll show those bastards.
I'm "waking up" in an hour and ten minutes. I'll shower and shave and dress and leave for an hour, travel for two hours, and have my blood taken. Then I'll be practically dead and have to run all around town for around three or so errands, then two more hours back.
I'll just do like I do even when I've had sleep...pull over and sleep every hour for an hour. Driving does that to me. It takes me twice as long to get pretty much anywhere. Two hours is about my maximum before I have to stop and sleep. Chaos would probably have liked to know that before he agreed to a road trip, but Chaos is in the desert on a horse with no name, so he can't do shit about it. Only the horse is a .50 cal most of the time. I think its name is S.A.W. If it were mine, I'd call it Buzz. Like Buzz-S.A.W. That'd be witty. And by witty I mean cutesy little faerypants faggish. The army likes that sort of thing. Plus it puts Polacks in the desert, which is funny in itself.
They threw me out of church for calling one of the deacons a motherfucker.
And now I need to sleep, fo rillz y0!!1one1!~ sl33p liek teh pr0z!!!@!
Frottage. Unf.
posted by red at 03:13
2 Comments:
If I made The Village, it would rule. I'd reveal that the monsters were fake halfway through, but THEN I'd reveal that holy shit, the monsters AREN'T fake and they'd eat a bunch of stupid kids. About-to-cry looking guy from Gladiator would get his nose ripped off and bleed to death through his face. Then the monsters would really end up being pissed off Vietnamese people who are still mad that America wouldn't just leave them the hell alone and decided to bring it to our side of the pond. Only Charlie would definitely for sure have gear like the dudes in Predator. Arnold would see the opportunity to fight them and get even more famous, only he'd lose. The end would be a combination of Tremmors and Gremlins with all kinds of crazy creatures taking over Texas, which no one likes anyway. The credits would start with a clip of the Trinity Explosion for absolutely no reason at all, and that'd be it. Everything you could want in a movie.
That, and then "The Village 3: When Birdman Lost his Mind." Of course that'd have all your Space Ghost friends, Master Shake, and Gundams (just so terrified animated people will point off screen shouting, "Ahhh! It's a Gundam!") And hippos playing air guitar, for the ninja fans.
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