Yes, yes, I know. Sorry for my extended absence, but I've had very limited access to the interwebs for the last couple of weeks, and besides, I seriously hope you all don't think I have nothing better to do than sit and blog about idiots. Pfft. I have a life.
Lies aside for now, though, I'm back with something that could almost partially resemble a vengeance, and ready to rock. So. Things, idiots, grievances.
Introducing: Ms. Clingy.
Ms. Clingy is a second-year student who has all the wit and charm of a semi-retarded horse. Initially I thought she may have Asperger's Syndrome, but no, she's just annoying. Within five minutes of asking if she could hang out with my friend and I, she was already attempting to delve into my personal life by asking me if I was straight or gay. Yeah, maybe I'll tell you that sort of stuff when you actually learn my name.
Ms. Clingy is the kind of person who made no friends in her first year and thus, to compensate, is trying to make all of the new first-years like her (and I think, failing really badly). Amusing note though, a friend and I both happened to look to the wrong side of the class at the wrong time, for we saw Ms. Clingy stand up, but her pants didn't exactly come up with her. So - friend and I were treated to what might as well have been a square meter of pure buttcrack. O my brothers, it was golden. And oh so terrible.
Introducing: The Fat Sarcastic Star Trek Fan.
Not just a stereotype anymore! Actually, "sarcastic" may not be quite the word for it, as his attempts at sarcasm are not only usually very base, but also tend to intermingle heavily with his attempts to make everyone in the class like him.
I hate him. But I almost - ALMOST - feel sorry for him. You know those really uncomfortable moments when you've made a few cracks that have gone over reasonably well, and then you get cocky and make one that fails horribly and awkwardly? Well, The Fat Sarcastic Star Trek Fan made an award-winning awkward moment the other day.
There's a pleasant Irish man in our Editing class. However, Fat Sarcastic Star Trek Fan must not have been previously aware of this. So, the lecturer asked the Irish man to read from the notes she gave us, and said to the class, "I hope everyone likes Irish accents!" To this, Fat Sarcastic Star Trek Fan responded, in the most horribly cliched Irish imitation I've ever heard, "Ah, tobesure, tobesure!" Cue awkward silence, cue ugly moment. After what felt like a minute, the lecturer said, "Yeaaaah... that's a bit of a stereotype there." Ow.
Oh, there's plenty more, but more posts means more joy for all the girls and boys. Toodle-pip!
Friday, March 2, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Introducing: Mrs. Mills-And-Boon
Who here likes Mills and Boon romance novels?
If you raised your hand, I will shoot you.
I don't read Mills and Boon, or indeed any romance novels at all. To me they just seem formulaic, a way to earn a quick buck or two by indulging middle-aged housewives' deepest sexual fantasies within one hundred pages, with of course, a shirtless blonde muscular he-man-man type holding a svelte prettylady in his bulging arms. But at least the people who are reading them, are in fact reading - right?
WRONG
Our first subject in this cavalcade of horrors is a woman I shall refer to only as "Mrs. Mills-and-Boon". I'm estimating that she is in her mid-to-late forties - one of my class' many empty-nesters (the kids have all moved away from home so it's time for mom to indulge her creative side!).
Of course, this is all incidental. See, I wouldn't have any problem with this woman if she were a mute, or one of those African tribeswomen with lip-discs. At least then she wouldn't be able to speak intelligibly. But sadly, she isn't, and she can, and oh, how she will.
Submitted for your approval is the story of my first class. An evening class, Novel 1. I was thoroughly enjoying it, the lecturer was verbose and attention-grabbing. However, about twenty minutes in, Mrs. Mills-and-Boon asks the lecturer if the class members are allowed to speak to the lecturer. The lecturer replied yes, and at least half the class (myself included) shot looks at each other intimating that we knew this would soon become a problem.
The lecturer continues on, talking about what he feels makes a great novel. He makes a derogatory comment about Mills and Boon romance novels (as you do) and most of the class laughed (understandably). However, Mrs. Mills-and-Boon responded, "Well, actually, I've written a Mills and Boon novel, and I quite enjoy them."
"Well, that's fine," says the lecturer.
However, another member of the class says something to the effect of "But they're hardly literature, are they?" - launching one side of the room into heavy debate, in which can clearly be heard from Mrs. Mills-and-Boon the following - "The only people who don't like romance novels are feminists". I choke back laughter and exchange bemused glances with the girl next to me.
She continues on to say "Everybody loves a bit of romance in their lives. If you don't, you must be a hermit or something."
Excuse me for a moment, I feel a heavy rant coming on.
WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE ON ABOUT, EXACTLY? A HERMIT? I'M SINGLE, DOES THAT MEAN I LIVE IN A CAVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE AND EAT TWIGS AND MOSS AND SHIT?
Phew. Sorry. Like a bowel movement, it just has to be passed.
Anyway, obviously I was quite shocked to hear words come out of a forty-something-year old woman's mouth that would have better belonged to one of the less bright (and that's being generous) members of my Year 12 English class.
More on Mrs. Mills-and-Boon as it comes - and I think there's going to be a lot of it, somehow.
If you raised your hand, I will shoot you.
I don't read Mills and Boon, or indeed any romance novels at all. To me they just seem formulaic, a way to earn a quick buck or two by indulging middle-aged housewives' deepest sexual fantasies within one hundred pages, with of course, a shirtless blonde muscular he-man-man type holding a svelte prettylady in his bulging arms. But at least the people who are reading them, are in fact reading - right?
WRONG
Our first subject in this cavalcade of horrors is a woman I shall refer to only as "Mrs. Mills-and-Boon". I'm estimating that she is in her mid-to-late forties - one of my class' many empty-nesters (the kids have all moved away from home so it's time for mom to indulge her creative side!).
Of course, this is all incidental. See, I wouldn't have any problem with this woman if she were a mute, or one of those African tribeswomen with lip-discs. At least then she wouldn't be able to speak intelligibly. But sadly, she isn't, and she can, and oh, how she will.
Submitted for your approval is the story of my first class. An evening class, Novel 1. I was thoroughly enjoying it, the lecturer was verbose and attention-grabbing. However, about twenty minutes in, Mrs. Mills-and-Boon asks the lecturer if the class members are allowed to speak to the lecturer. The lecturer replied yes, and at least half the class (myself included) shot looks at each other intimating that we knew this would soon become a problem.
The lecturer continues on, talking about what he feels makes a great novel. He makes a derogatory comment about Mills and Boon romance novels (as you do) and most of the class laughed (understandably). However, Mrs. Mills-and-Boon responded, "Well, actually, I've written a Mills and Boon novel, and I quite enjoy them."
"Well, that's fine," says the lecturer.
However, another member of the class says something to the effect of "But they're hardly literature, are they?" - launching one side of the room into heavy debate, in which can clearly be heard from Mrs. Mills-and-Boon the following - "The only people who don't like romance novels are feminists". I choke back laughter and exchange bemused glances with the girl next to me.
She continues on to say "Everybody loves a bit of romance in their lives. If you don't, you must be a hermit or something."
Excuse me for a moment, I feel a heavy rant coming on.
WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE ON ABOUT, EXACTLY? A HERMIT? I'M SINGLE, DOES THAT MEAN I LIVE IN A CAVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE AND EAT TWIGS AND MOSS AND SHIT?
Phew. Sorry. Like a bowel movement, it just has to be passed.
Anyway, obviously I was quite shocked to hear words come out of a forty-something-year old woman's mouth that would have better belonged to one of the less bright (and that's being generous) members of my Year 12 English class.
More on Mrs. Mills-and-Boon as it comes - and I think there's going to be a lot of it, somehow.
Templates make me queasy
I've had blogs before. I know how they work. And I have a love-hate relationship with them. Other people seemed to like them just fine (in fact, I made many a friend in the olden times of MSN Spaces - there is no shudder turbulent enough, I know - which I still remain on close terms with) but ultimately it wasn't unlike being a seal sitting on a rock in a zoo, clapping my flippers in the hopes that somebody would throw me a fish.
Having said this, there just has to be somewhere for me to relate anecdotes regarding some of the more foolish people in the college course I'm currently serving the first of three (or something) years of.
Ever seen the film "Art School Confidential"? Or read the brief Daniel Clowes comic that it was based on? Both manage to accurately and hilariously categorize art school students ("the suck-up", "Mom", "Mr. Phantasy", "the macho art sadist", etc.) and, one of my college prospects actually being an art school, I was living in fear. But when I instead managed to get into writing class, the fear disappeared.
Until the very first class.
My god, Mr. Clowes knows what he's talking about. Sadly, "Art School Confidential" not only applies to art school students, but also aspiring writers! Who'd'a thunk it? Not me, that's for sure.
I've been a member of the class for three days, and I've already seen and heard so many asinine and/or just plain stupid comments that, well, I feel the urge to share them.
So sit back and watch me bitch my little brains out.
Having said this, there just has to be somewhere for me to relate anecdotes regarding some of the more foolish people in the college course I'm currently serving the first of three (or something) years of.
Ever seen the film "Art School Confidential"? Or read the brief Daniel Clowes comic that it was based on? Both manage to accurately and hilariously categorize art school students ("the suck-up", "Mom", "Mr. Phantasy", "the macho art sadist", etc.) and, one of my college prospects actually being an art school, I was living in fear. But when I instead managed to get into writing class, the fear disappeared.
Until the very first class.
My god, Mr. Clowes knows what he's talking about. Sadly, "Art School Confidential" not only applies to art school students, but also aspiring writers! Who'd'a thunk it? Not me, that's for sure.
I've been a member of the class for three days, and I've already seen and heard so many asinine and/or just plain stupid comments that, well, I feel the urge to share them.
So sit back and watch me bitch my little brains out.
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