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...my German teacher. *shakes head*
Her: Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Me: *starts laughing, quickly turns it into a cough*
Her: Guys, don't do any drugs or alcohol. Girls, if anyone gives you something to drink, what do you do?
Class: ...throw it in their face...?
Her: Don't drink it. If your date wants to become - intimate - with you, girls, remember, you can always say no. Then run away. Guys, if your date wants to become intimate with you, say no. And run away.
Class: ...
Her: And if you're in trouble and need help, just remember you can always call me. My number's in the phone book. I will come and pick you up wherever you are.
Class: ...right, we'll do that, can we go now?
Just remember, this is the woman that made me cry. Twice. ME. And she lost my test, gave my grades to another student, told us, "If you handed something in and didn't get it back, I don't know where it is," lost other students' papers, refused to give other students work when they were gone, fails about ninety percent of her class, cannot spell either English OR German (and she teaches both, which is scary), and is completely and utterly insane. You'd have to be SERIOUSLY screwed to call her.
My band director's warning: I know Tolo is tomorrow, but don't do anything stupid. Be safe and smart.
Me: I'm going with a sax player, how smart is that?
And something randomly heard from the back of the German classroom (where the third year students arenot working):
"You lit my pants on fire!"
"Only once!"
And overheard in Physics today while Joey and I were talking about Tolo:
Kyle: Is Kenley (younger brother, my year) going with you?
Joey: No.
Kyle: Good, because I'm going to KILL him!
It was so funny, because Kyle and Kenley are total opposites. Kenley's really outgoing, while Kyle's really shy and quiet - except when he's around Joey, then he laughs and talks and jokes. Which is amazing, because dude, Kyle. Talking.
My friends that aren't going to Tolo are having pity parties on Saturday. They almost sound more fun than Tolo, and I'm seriously afraid that they're going to call my cell when we're at dinner. *facepalm* They'd do it, too. Or crash my house when Joey's picking me up.
*pokes at Bloody Sunday 3* Thank God I did an outline, or I would have forgotten about Subplot Number Two. As it is, I think it's going fairly well. I'm writing Lindsay's POV for the first time, and it's...sort of weird. Stepping into a new character's shoes, you know? She's - well, I like Aiden better, but it's not particularly hard to write her. She's a hick country girl, and I know plenty of those. It's like writing RPF! Only not. Of course, she hasn't had any dialogue yet and I have to introduce a new OC soon. Shep Newcombe. An newspaper reporter. And if that tells you anything, more power to you.
Also, Lindsay, on New York accents: Until she’d come here, Lindsay had thought that was all just an exaggeration, that nobody actually talked that way and the media did it just to be annoying. Maybe New York did it just to be annoying, and to increase the feeling of alienation from the rest of America. It certainly felt alienated.
Her: Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Me: *starts laughing, quickly turns it into a cough*
Her: Guys, don't do any drugs or alcohol. Girls, if anyone gives you something to drink, what do you do?
Class: ...throw it in their face...?
Her: Don't drink it. If your date wants to become - intimate - with you, girls, remember, you can always say no. Then run away. Guys, if your date wants to become intimate with you, say no. And run away.
Class: ...
Her: And if you're in trouble and need help, just remember you can always call me. My number's in the phone book. I will come and pick you up wherever you are.
Class: ...right, we'll do that, can we go now?
Just remember, this is the woman that made me cry. Twice. ME. And she lost my test, gave my grades to another student, told us, "If you handed something in and didn't get it back, I don't know where it is," lost other students' papers, refused to give other students work when they were gone, fails about ninety percent of her class, cannot spell either English OR German (and she teaches both, which is scary), and is completely and utterly insane. You'd have to be SERIOUSLY screwed to call her.
My band director's warning: I know Tolo is tomorrow, but don't do anything stupid. Be safe and smart.
Me: I'm going with a sax player, how smart is that?
And something randomly heard from the back of the German classroom (where the third year students are
"You lit my pants on fire!"
"Only once!"
And overheard in Physics today while Joey and I were talking about Tolo:
Kyle: Is Kenley (younger brother, my year) going with you?
Joey: No.
Kyle: Good, because I'm going to KILL him!
It was so funny, because Kyle and Kenley are total opposites. Kenley's really outgoing, while Kyle's really shy and quiet - except when he's around Joey, then he laughs and talks and jokes. Which is amazing, because dude, Kyle. Talking.
My friends that aren't going to Tolo are having pity parties on Saturday. They almost sound more fun than Tolo, and I'm seriously afraid that they're going to call my cell when we're at dinner. *facepalm* They'd do it, too. Or crash my house when Joey's picking me up.
*pokes at Bloody Sunday 3* Thank God I did an outline, or I would have forgotten about Subplot Number Two. As it is, I think it's going fairly well. I'm writing Lindsay's POV for the first time, and it's...sort of weird. Stepping into a new character's shoes, you know? She's - well, I like Aiden better, but it's not particularly hard to write her. She's a hick country girl, and I know plenty of those. It's like writing RPF! Only not. Of course, she hasn't had any dialogue yet and I have to introduce a new OC soon. Shep Newcombe. An newspaper reporter. And if that tells you anything, more power to you.
Also, Lindsay, on New York accents: Until she’d come here, Lindsay had thought that was all just an exaggeration, that nobody actually talked that way and the media did it just to be annoying. Maybe New York did it just to be annoying, and to increase the feeling of alienation from the rest of America. It certainly felt alienated.