Hello Sweetheart

Today at lunch as I walked to the office to pick up my exam exemption sheet, I passed a couple of girls who were sitting on a bench outside the teacher’s auditorium. Then, some fellow passed and one of these young ladies gave him a fond, “Hello sweetheart.” I’m assuming they were friends – who says that to strangers?

Anyway, the guy who walked past merely retorted with, “Hi.” I guess when guys aren’t as intimate as girls would like, they go into a tizzy. At least, this one did. The girl who gave the initial greeting yelled angrily at this poor boy as I walked by, “What?! I’m not good enough for a ‘Hello, sweetheart?!’”

In an attempt to calm this young lady’s reservations about her relationship with others (read: to shut her up), as I passed our eyes met and with a smirk about my face, I greeted her with a simple, yet refined, “Hello sweetheart,” and kept walking.

What’s sad is the fact that that’s about the most intimate I’ve ever been with a girl. Perhaps we will meet again, whereupon I can propose to her – I think I have an outside shot with this one.

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Moscow girls make me sing and shout

Today at school, there were a couple of foreign exchange students from Russia. After meeting them and welcoming them to our humble little country, I urged them to go eat some high quality American cuisine.

And what do they do? They go eat cookies for lunch; cookies that could just as easily been eaten in Kaliningrad. I find that to be a highly innutritious and un-American lunch choice. It’s not everywhere you can get overpriced turkey tetrazini with a fifty cent dinner roll.

But I forgive them for two reasons. First, this is a strange, new land to them. Second, they were a couple of lovely ladies. And everyone knows there is no lovelier lady folk than can be found in Russia and all of her U.S.S.R. buddies from way back when.

Therefore, they are absolved so long as I have my Eastern European eye candy.

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Unlisted Numbers

And now, I present to the masses a list of unrelated thoughts to compensate for my week of debloggification:

1. Sometimes I forget to turn the knob before walking through doors. I understand that without such a crucial action, the whole process is doomed; I just have other things on my mind when walking through doors. I can only assume it’s because I like to think about what I will do when I get to the other side of the door and force the inner monologue of actually getting out to the back burner of my mind.

2. Frozen pizza is better than hot pizza. I think that when I’m old and living in a Miamian condominium, I’ll just order an extra large pie and refrigerate it for lunch every day of the ensuing week. Then I can save my money for more important things, like my senior’s coffee at McDonald’s for 65 cents.

3. I should probably start my Higher Level History paper comparing and contrasting the Mexican Independence Movement and the Haitian Revolution. Or perhaps I could hire a Mexican to write it for me. Either that or a Haitian. If they cooperated, I’d have an outstandingly accurate paper – what better primary source than an immigrant who’s Great Grandpappy Randolfo actually participated in the bloodshed? Either way, it has to be in Burton’s hand in a little over two weeks.

4. Whoever decided to paint the school while classes are in session should be severely punished. I’ve seen many a damsel in distress with paint on her because of unmarked wet paint. It’s like a severely misapplied case of the Scarlet Letter. Except it’s paint, not scarlet. And more of a blob of blue than a letter. And to receive this letter, you don’t have to be as kinky. On second thought, it’s nothing like the Scarlet Letter.

5. I met these two girls in the courtyard during lunch the other day. From afar, I spotted one of them accidentally drop some spare change. So I sprung into action and dashed the forty feet to their midst and dove to pick up the coins for them, as they had their hands full and were wearing garb that would not be flattering to bend over in. I retrieved the three coins and gave them to one of the young ladies saying, “Here’s your sixty cents,” and ran away again, out of sight. That’s the last I’ve seen of them.

6. Potato turbate would be more appetizing if they changed the name. No one wants to eat turbate.

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SI

It’s here.

And I’m happy.

My dog got a new collar that says “Stetson Law.” He’s gonna be the coolest dog on the block.

[/sarcasm]

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Deep Fried Overdose

I went to the new Long John Silver’s tonight with my brother, Ian, and his girlfriend, Nikki, for the first time and after my brother ordered his fish sandwich, Nikki and I decided that we were hungry so we would split a family meal: 5 chicken planks, 4 pieces of fish, 2 orders of fries, 6 fried shrimp, and an order of hushpuppies. After paying for our flipping $28.00 worth of food we proceeded to wait at our table until it was done. During this time, we put on cardboard pirate hats and I got me a bib – This was gonna be some hardcore eating. And how right I was.

Round one.
I ate a plank of chicken. Nikki ate a plank of fish.

Round two.
I ate another plank of chicken. Nikki was still working on her first piece of fish.

Round three.
I ate another plank of chicken. Nikki’s still busy with that first plank of succulent cod.

Round four.
Chicken piece #4. Fish piece #1. You get the picture.

Round five.
(I’ll condense the rest of this story, it all pretty much goes the same.)
I ate the last piece of chicken and two pieces of fish. Nikki ate 1 (one) piece of fish.

The moral of this story? Girls don’t hold up their end of the bargain. Ever.

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Bananas in Pajamas

Advice for all the men out there: Never compare a woman to a banana. While it may seem like a good idea at the time, odds are she won’t take it the way you intend.

In fact, you should avoid comparing them to any fruits. Trust me.

Happy New Year.

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