The Kettle/Watergate Scandal
Hello my friends, and welcome once more to the undiluted slopping out of my brain that I like to call my blog.
Before I regale you with more drugs, sex and alcohol fuelled confessions of a teacher (sadly precious little of any of the above are included this week), I think I'll bulk this post up with what could euphemistically be described as my 'process' for writing a post. I hear you gasp thousands of kilometres away, but yes, some thought and occasionally even planning goes into these.
So, to begin. Over a week or so I garner many random thoughts, many of which are unsuitable for production. The few that I don't forget and that then make it through the rigorous self-censorship process are jotted down and published here, on t'internet, for you, me, and every man and his dog to read, even though we all know that dogs can't read. Rather than forming fully fledged ideas or thoughts, I save valuable time and effort by writing down key words. This can sometimes be confusing as I find bits of paper with things like 'parrots, lemon, Brignole' written on them. I'd like to think that in thousands of years time when the monkeys that survived our nuclear apocalypse are sifting through the rubble, they find my bits of paper and have to stop to scratch their heads, eat a banana, and fling faeces at each other. It might not be as grand as MLK's, but hey, everyone has to have a dream.
So, without further hesitation or procrastination, here's what I've mostly been thinking about this week:
1) Football
Seriously, who would've guessed that football would be in the list?! On Sunday I went to the home of the beautiful game in Italy, the Stadio Luigi di Ferraris to see Genoa play Fiorentina. Truly a big match, as the Viola (Fiorentina) were a mere 1 point ahead of the RossoBlu (Genoa) in the race for the final Champions League place. It being an Old Firm day, I did the Weegies proud by getting a little bit squiffy before the game. I met a guy from one of the factories I work at who I'd talked to about football, and who bizarrely, loves Scotland. When Scotland made their scheduled brief appearance at Italia '90 they played in Genoa, and Mauro met some Scots and got on swimmingly with them, which led to him going to see the Old Country and seeing Hearts play Spurs in a friendly at Swinecastle. Truly odd. He picked up some colourful language, and so we arranged to meet a in a f****** bar before the game. Imagine my disappointment when I arrived, and found out it was a regular bar! Anyways, drank a wee bit, and went to the game. Genoa went 3-0 up after 60 minutes, but with the slight sour note of having a man sent off. Then, with the aid of the referee who is clearly either married to a Florentine or owes money there, Fiorentina scored the equalising goal with the very last kick of the ball. 3-3. Damn you Mutu, you drug guzzling fool! It felt as if someone had stolen my money, kicked me in the nuts and then told me that all four of the hot Girls Aloud were born as boys. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm writing this at home on Thursday night, and this festering filled wound continues to smart. Football is truly a cruel mistress.
2) A Kettle, or rather, TooMuchWaterInTheKettleGate
The scandal that will one day sink my run to be president of the world, TooMuchWaterInTheKettleGate erupted last weekend, and was extremely traumatic, although really quite straight forward. Basically, I was caught red-handed/with my trousers down/etc, filling the kettle with too much water (I'd like to point out now that my trousers were safely fastened around my waist). But yes, I type before you as a sinner, breaking God's unwritten, but universally understood 11th Commandment: "Thou shalt not useth too much water when thou hast to fill thy kettle." Apparently to the devout folks that I stay with this is a problem. If I drink the water from said kettle, I struggle to agree, but it seems I was using too much.
3) Students
It's getting near that time when many of my courses are finishing, and my students leave me like leaves from a tree in the Autumn. It's quite a sad time, as I get to know them for 30 or so hours and then like a proverbial lion cub they are forced to leave their father after he's killed by his evil uncle Scar, and have to fend for themselves in the big bad savannah, save for the comedic company of a MeerKat and a Warthog. Wait..... that's the plot of the Lion King, and for copyright reasons is very unlike my situation. None the less, it's a sad time. I'd like to think for my padewans more than me, but also for me. Little did I know that teaching would be such a roller coaster of emotions!
Well, I think that's all, my voodoo dolls of Adrian Mutu and the referee won't stick pins into themselves!
Ciao the now
Before I regale you with more drugs, sex and alcohol fuelled confessions of a teacher (sadly precious little of any of the above are included this week), I think I'll bulk this post up with what could euphemistically be described as my 'process' for writing a post. I hear you gasp thousands of kilometres away, but yes, some thought and occasionally even planning goes into these.
So, to begin. Over a week or so I garner many random thoughts, many of which are unsuitable for production. The few that I don't forget and that then make it through the rigorous self-censorship process are jotted down and published here, on t'internet, for you, me, and every man and his dog to read, even though we all know that dogs can't read. Rather than forming fully fledged ideas or thoughts, I save valuable time and effort by writing down key words. This can sometimes be confusing as I find bits of paper with things like 'parrots, lemon, Brignole' written on them. I'd like to think that in thousands of years time when the monkeys that survived our nuclear apocalypse are sifting through the rubble, they find my bits of paper and have to stop to scratch their heads, eat a banana, and fling faeces at each other. It might not be as grand as MLK's, but hey, everyone has to have a dream.
So, without further hesitation or procrastination, here's what I've mostly been thinking about this week:
1) Football
Seriously, who would've guessed that football would be in the list?! On Sunday I went to the home of the beautiful game in Italy, the Stadio Luigi di Ferraris to see Genoa play Fiorentina. Truly a big match, as the Viola (Fiorentina) were a mere 1 point ahead of the RossoBlu (Genoa) in the race for the final Champions League place. It being an Old Firm day, I did the Weegies proud by getting a little bit squiffy before the game. I met a guy from one of the factories I work at who I'd talked to about football, and who bizarrely, loves Scotland. When Scotland made their scheduled brief appearance at Italia '90 they played in Genoa, and Mauro met some Scots and got on swimmingly with them, which led to him going to see the Old Country and seeing Hearts play Spurs in a friendly at Swinecastle. Truly odd. He picked up some colourful language, and so we arranged to meet a in a f****** bar before the game. Imagine my disappointment when I arrived, and found out it was a regular bar! Anyways, drank a wee bit, and went to the game. Genoa went 3-0 up after 60 minutes, but with the slight sour note of having a man sent off. Then, with the aid of the referee who is clearly either married to a Florentine or owes money there, Fiorentina scored the equalising goal with the very last kick of the ball. 3-3. Damn you Mutu, you drug guzzling fool! It felt as if someone had stolen my money, kicked me in the nuts and then told me that all four of the hot Girls Aloud were born as boys. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm writing this at home on Thursday night, and this festering filled wound continues to smart. Football is truly a cruel mistress.
2) A Kettle, or rather, TooMuchWaterInTheKettleGate
The scandal that will one day sink my run to be president of the world, TooMuchWaterInTheKettleGate erupted last weekend, and was extremely traumatic, although really quite straight forward. Basically, I was caught red-handed/with my trousers down/etc, filling the kettle with too much water (I'd like to point out now that my trousers were safely fastened around my waist). But yes, I type before you as a sinner, breaking God's unwritten, but universally understood 11th Commandment: "Thou shalt not useth too much water when thou hast to fill thy kettle." Apparently to the devout folks that I stay with this is a problem. If I drink the water from said kettle, I struggle to agree, but it seems I was using too much.
3) Students
It's getting near that time when many of my courses are finishing, and my students leave me like leaves from a tree in the Autumn. It's quite a sad time, as I get to know them for 30 or so hours and then like a proverbial lion cub they are forced to leave their father after he's killed by his evil uncle Scar, and have to fend for themselves in the big bad savannah, save for the comedic company of a MeerKat and a Warthog. Wait..... that's the plot of the Lion King, and for copyright reasons is very unlike my situation. None the less, it's a sad time. I'd like to think for my padewans more than me, but also for me. Little did I know that teaching would be such a roller coaster of emotions!
Well, I think that's all, my voodoo dolls of Adrian Mutu and the referee won't stick pins into themselves!
Ciao the now
posted by michael | 08:42
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