PAYDAY, PAYDAY, trallalalalalalaa! My employer, the City of Edinburgh Council sent a cheque today! Unfortunately, I won't be able to transform it into good solid money, as I would need a bank account to do that and the Bank of Scotland just is not so fast. But that minor problem couldn't stop me from dancing around the kitchen (approximately 20 minutes before almost settig it on fire, but that is beside the point... und du fragst einfach nich warum.) and laughing like a Madman. You know, like the one at the end of Michael Jackson's "Thriller".
Apart from that, nobody can say that I don't earn my money like-real-hard-yeah-big-time. I had this second year group today. There were only five of them but I fought!
I give you ... "The Boomtown Brats":
Dean: Did you meet Hitler? (These kids are so obsessed with this guy. Do spanish people ever get asked about Franco?)
Me: No, he died like 60 years ago.
Dean: Did your parents meet Hitler?
Me: No, they're too young as well.
Dean: Did your grandparents meet Hitler?
Me: No, but my grandfathers had to fight in the war.
Dean: Did they die in the war?
Me: No, my grandfather died about six years ago.
Dean: Was he shot?
Me: No, he died of cancer.
Dean: Did you cry?
Me (slightly impatient): Of course.
Dean: Was your grandfather a Nazi?
Me: No.
Dean: Are you a Nazi?
Me (slightly puzzled): No...?! What do you think?
Dean: I think you're a Nazi.
Me: Why would I be a Nazi?
Dean: You're German.
Me: ... right.
Dean: Do you fancy Mr Campbell?
Me: No.
Dean: I bet you fancy him.
Me: Yes, alright, you got me, but don't tell him I do.
Dean: Do you ever fart?
I SWEAR I didn't make that up, this is what happened! About ten minutes later I sent Dean back to his class and under the supervision of the above mentioned Mr Campbell, who was less then delighted about Deans behavior. The little brat spent the rest of the period copying the school's code of conduct (which contains things like "we respect each other" or "we don't discuss flatulence with our teachers") and writing down an apology for me. "I'msorryforbehavingsillyandsorryforbeingcheekyitwon'thappenagainIpromise." It had better not, boy!
6 comments:
Ich glaub ehrlich gesagt, dass das Lederhosenklischee mein geringstes Problem sein wird bei dem Kerl. Und von tannenzaepfle hat der bestimmt noch nie was gehoert. Gelle.
es ist nun auch nicht so, dass gute noten in der kategorie "von tannenzäpfle gehört" nicht unbedingt den modernen menschen ausmacht. frag ihn lieber mal nach der "diet of worms"
mit einem freundlichen gelle
mr thick ties
es gibt einen fleck junior? die kaddi etwa? und ist herr campbell denn sexy? ja, das wars auch schon. ich muss hier mal weg, langsam wird dieses büro zum inneren meines kopfes, weisste, so wie in "being john m."
Wow, hier tummeln sich ja aussergewoehnlich viele Individuen. Haben meine Schlaegertrupps etwa schon die Runde gemacht und alle an die Rechner gezwungen? Schmidde, ich raffs die Paul-Carter-saetze net, aber das macht nix. Die Boys und Girls finden mit ach und krach Berlin auf der Karte, wenn sie mal Deutschland gefunden haben, aber ich werde ihnen natuerlich ab naechste Woche Worms naeher bringen. Herr Campbell is null sexy, er ist viel zu alt. Aber er bekam Strahleaugen als ich ihn nach nem Campingequipmentladen gefragt hab, das is ja auch was wert.
Offensichtlich haben meine Schlaegertrupp-Interventionen ein wenig gewirkt... sogar bei mir, denn ich bin
SCHNAUTZEJUNGE, Raecher der ungelesenen und unkommentiertren Blogs!
Gott sei Dank! Es ist Schnautzejunge-Man!
In Liebe,
Rechthabe-Women
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