Smile And Say Baiseur
Why oh why can't I keep my tongue under proper control? Every time I think I've finally mastered the art of speech, I open my mouth and systematically feed myself my foot, fresh from the shoe. It doesn't help that it's usually accompanied by a colourful word or two to a teacher, and usually causes a bit of an uproar in the class. Fortunately it has never gotten me into serious trouble, but I can't expect this kind of luck to continue long. I have got to get these episodes to end!
The incident I refer to occurred on Friday, during English class. The other one ocurred in Form Four, during Moral class. Basically they went like this:
(Form Four, Moral Class. Situation: Teacher telling students to trade compliments.)
Fab Yellow: pointing at me 'Pandai berkawan!' [Translation: Friendly! (This was a very sarcastic compliment given that at the time I was something of a pariah.)]
Me: pointing at Fab Yellow 'Pandai mengawan!' [Translation: Good at mating!]
(Friday, English Class. Situation: Teacher asking me if I knew any words in French.)
Me: Just one word, teacher.
Teacher: Well then, teach us!
Me: It's a swear word, teacher.
Teacher: looking interested What is it?
Me: Baiseur.
Psycho: gasps He's just sitting there insulting the teacher!
Teacher: What was that?
Me: Baiseur, teacher.
Teacher: What does it mean?
Me: Fucker.
Psycho: If I die tomorrow I've seen everything!
Teacher: leaning forward What?
Me: Fucker, teacher.
Class erupts in laughter.
You'd think that by now I'd be so used to sticking my foot down my gullet that I'd have tried to avoid that. But no, I've done that, and there's no escaping fact. At least nobody seems to have remembered my brief flirtation with insanity.
Saturday, I skipped a class. Yes, you heard it right from the geek's mouth: I skipped class. Of course, it was to attend a society's orientation, so I can't surround it with any fantastic awe-inspiring myth; but all the same, it's the first class I've ever skipped.
It was the English Language Society, and I'd paid seven bucks to join; so naturally I made sure that I should not waste it. Unfortunately, I arrived there one hour late all the same, and was just in time to play what Psycho called the cheesiest game of all time. I won't torture you with the details. Fortunately lunch was provided, so Psycho and I had a little Eating Competition.Three large ladles of fried rice, at least five ladles of chicken curry, three chunks of curried chicken, one piece of potato, five meatballs, and four nuggets were consumed by us within five minutes; Psycho won, though I was close behind him. He did choke at one point, however; but all the same it was a close contest.
I cut my hair on Sunday, in obedience to the wishes of my family (who have been quite apoplectic with my assurances that my fringe was longer than it had been for thirteen years, and now could touch my nostrils quite easily). So I went to the nearest hairdresser and asked for advice, during which I picked up such illumining points as that my face is small and a centre parting gives me a rather SpongeBob-ish look; or that my hair should not be cut too short as its bristly quality would then shine through like the sun. So I told her to make me look good, and she, I think, did her best. I could hardly recognise myself in the mirror later; I have been assured that my head appears shrunken; and fifteen people, give or take fifteen, have asked me if I cut my hair.At least I didn't go gadding off to any malls this time.
I have, however, been reading a lot lately, and have found another gem: The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger. It's a great book, full of typically British humour, and very interesting. The plot is, I admit, quite convoluted as to chronological arrangement, but it proceeds at a decent pace and leaves the reader quite enough time to digest each happening before the next bombshell lands. A great book, and one I'm certainly going to want to get for my own.
On the other hand, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince isn't all that much to shout about. I began reading it at one o'clock today (during class!) and finished it at four-thirty. All six hundred pages plus of it. The plot is moderately interesting, if only to see what trouble Potter gets into, but it reads like a pseudo-Christie whodunnit. For one thing, the book offers up a spoiler in the very first chapter, exposing as a traitor the very person who'd be expected to betray them all. So very predictable. But I won't give any spoilers, just some advice to borrow it from somebody else, as I did, and not to buy it with your own money. Ninety bucks could be put to a better use.
Many, many better uses, in fact.
The incident I refer to occurred on Friday, during English class. The other one ocurred in Form Four, during Moral class. Basically they went like this:
(Form Four, Moral Class. Situation: Teacher telling students to trade compliments.)
Fab Yellow: pointing at me 'Pandai berkawan!' [Translation: Friendly! (This was a very sarcastic compliment given that at the time I was something of a pariah.)]
Me: pointing at Fab Yellow 'Pandai mengawan!' [Translation: Good at mating!]
(Friday, English Class. Situation: Teacher asking me if I knew any words in French.)
Me: Just one word, teacher.
Teacher: Well then, teach us!
Me: It's a swear word, teacher.
Teacher: looking interested What is it?
Me: Baiseur.
Psycho: gasps He's just sitting there insulting the teacher!
Teacher: What was that?
Me: Baiseur, teacher.
Teacher: What does it mean?
Me: Fucker.
Psycho: If I die tomorrow I've seen everything!
Teacher: leaning forward What?
Me: Fucker, teacher.
Class erupts in laughter.
You'd think that by now I'd be so used to sticking my foot down my gullet that I'd have tried to avoid that. But no, I've done that, and there's no escaping fact. At least nobody seems to have remembered my brief flirtation with insanity.
Saturday, I skipped a class. Yes, you heard it right from the geek's mouth: I skipped class. Of course, it was to attend a society's orientation, so I can't surround it with any fantastic awe-inspiring myth; but all the same, it's the first class I've ever skipped.
It was the English Language Society, and I'd paid seven bucks to join; so naturally I made sure that I should not waste it. Unfortunately, I arrived there one hour late all the same, and was just in time to play what Psycho called the cheesiest game of all time. I won't torture you with the details. Fortunately lunch was provided, so Psycho and I had a little Eating Competition.Three large ladles of fried rice, at least five ladles of chicken curry, three chunks of curried chicken, one piece of potato, five meatballs, and four nuggets were consumed by us within five minutes; Psycho won, though I was close behind him. He did choke at one point, however; but all the same it was a close contest.
I cut my hair on Sunday, in obedience to the wishes of my family (who have been quite apoplectic with my assurances that my fringe was longer than it had been for thirteen years, and now could touch my nostrils quite easily). So I went to the nearest hairdresser and asked for advice, during which I picked up such illumining points as that my face is small and a centre parting gives me a rather SpongeBob-ish look; or that my hair should not be cut too short as its bristly quality would then shine through like the sun. So I told her to make me look good, and she, I think, did her best. I could hardly recognise myself in the mirror later; I have been assured that my head appears shrunken; and fifteen people, give or take fifteen, have asked me if I cut my hair.At least I didn't go gadding off to any malls this time.
I have, however, been reading a lot lately, and have found another gem: The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger. It's a great book, full of typically British humour, and very interesting. The plot is, I admit, quite convoluted as to chronological arrangement, but it proceeds at a decent pace and leaves the reader quite enough time to digest each happening before the next bombshell lands. A great book, and one I'm certainly going to want to get for my own.
On the other hand, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince isn't all that much to shout about. I began reading it at one o'clock today (during class!) and finished it at four-thirty. All six hundred pages plus of it. The plot is moderately interesting, if only to see what trouble Potter gets into, but it reads like a pseudo-Christie whodunnit. For one thing, the book offers up a spoiler in the very first chapter, exposing as a traitor the very person who'd be expected to betray them all. So very predictable. But I won't give any spoilers, just some advice to borrow it from somebody else, as I did, and not to buy it with your own money. Ninety bucks could be put to a better use.
Many, many better uses, in fact.
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