Untitled Two
Stress city here I come! My exams start next Thursday and I don’t even have the schedule yet! Talk about typical school board efficiency—knowing them, we’ll receive the schedule sometime after the exams are over.
The Name List of Doom is out; at least, that’s what I call the list that the government posted online stating who’s been drafted into the National Service program. That’s what they call it; I prefer to call it 3 Months of Torture, Brainwashing, and Possible Death. The worst is that the draftees have to return to their place of birth for the program, so I’d have to go to another state just to get tortured into pain and suffering. Fortunately, I didn’t get in. The Book-hater did, though; most of the sports nuts in my class did. It’s a pity the charitable classmate didn’t get in, though; to be candid, her voice is somewhat like a chipmunk’s, and it would be amusing to hear “One! Two!” yelled out in soprano…make that sopranissimo.
This morning, the Cue Ball lectured my class about our alleged dirtiness and XXXXXL-sized egos, mostly because my classroom is chock full of junk left behind by the other class that we share the room with. As punishment, we were made to stand in the school field under the sun for about forty minutes. We had the last laugh, though. The other class (drat the hypocrites!) left a stack of their textbooks in the classroom, so we got all those and dumped them on the Head Discipline Teacher’s table. She wasn’t in her office at the time, though, so we didn’t see the fireworks. It would have been nice to see her reaction…and the punishment she came up with for the other (idiotic, moronic, stupid, foolish, retarded, butt-headed, infantile) class (of brainless dolts).
There’s nothing going on these days, really. Everyone around me is up to their ears and beyond in books and exam fever. Me too, actually, but I can’t resist the occasional urge to surf. This must be the only water sport that can be done on dry land!
The Name List of Doom is out; at least, that’s what I call the list that the government posted online stating who’s been drafted into the National Service program. That’s what they call it; I prefer to call it 3 Months of Torture, Brainwashing, and Possible Death. The worst is that the draftees have to return to their place of birth for the program, so I’d have to go to another state just to get tortured into pain and suffering. Fortunately, I didn’t get in. The Book-hater did, though; most of the sports nuts in my class did. It’s a pity the charitable classmate didn’t get in, though; to be candid, her voice is somewhat like a chipmunk’s, and it would be amusing to hear “One! Two!” yelled out in soprano…make that sopranissimo.
This morning, the Cue Ball lectured my class about our alleged dirtiness and XXXXXL-sized egos, mostly because my classroom is chock full of junk left behind by the other class that we share the room with. As punishment, we were made to stand in the school field under the sun for about forty minutes. We had the last laugh, though. The other class (drat the hypocrites!) left a stack of their textbooks in the classroom, so we got all those and dumped them on the Head Discipline Teacher’s table. She wasn’t in her office at the time, though, so we didn’t see the fireworks. It would have been nice to see her reaction…and the punishment she came up with for the other (idiotic, moronic, stupid, foolish, retarded, butt-headed, infantile) class (of brainless dolts).
There’s nothing going on these days, really. Everyone around me is up to their ears and beyond in books and exam fever. Me too, actually, but I can’t resist the occasional urge to surf. This must be the only water sport that can be done on dry land!
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