Snarks and Ladders

So, I have been back at work for 2 whole days, and I already want to go on a massive ‘EVERYONE must DIE’ spree.

One of my classes (unfortunately, one of my senior classes) would have to be the most selfish, lazy, ignorant people on the face of the planet.  THESE are the people who are going to be coming into the world soon: kids who don’t know how to shut up when necessary, lack any tact, have no respect and think they are entitled to be spoon fed everything because working stuff out for yourself is just too damn difficult.

Case in point: I gave the students an assessment notification 6 weeks ago.  They have to write a speech.  I went over the assessment, I went through EVERY GOD DAMN detail, I asked them if they had any questions, and I tried to deal with their concerns.  We went over it and over it and over it until they were satisfied, and they said they understood it, they were tired of talking about it, and they fucking knew it already.   Admittedly, I may have been a bit dismissive of what they saw as two major issues, but then… well… this is what they were

1. Your speech must be on palm cards, you are not to read off a piece of paper:   How god damn hard is it to write some notes on some god damn palm cards so you look like you are at a level of schooling where you don’t just read the sheet your mother wrote for you?  It’s a standard thing in high school from god damn Year 7 – you DON’T READ OFF A PIECE OF PAPER.  Reading off a piece of paper is a bad look, but these kids just don’t get that.
2. Your speech should go for 5-8 minutes:  Newsflash guys – you are in  SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL.  I expect you to be able to talk about something for more than two minutes.  I expect you to be able to talk about 3 separate texts for at least 5 minutes altogether.  It’s a bloody minute and a half per text, with 30 seconds left for an introduction and a conclusion.  Very fucking brief.

I don’t think I’d be so fucking annoyed except now they are whining and panicking the week before the damn thing is due, saying they don’t know what to do and STILL whining about the length of the speech.  Then I catch little whispers which indicate they have some sort of issue with my teaching and they don’t think it’s good enough.  That would be fine if they would fucking TELL ME what it is I haven’t done well enough, or what it is they feel uncomfortable with.  Sitting there whispering about me behind my back isn’t going to get them anywhere, and it sure as hell isn’t going to help me know what it is they think they need.

Fucking grow up children.  If you have an issue, don’t just bitch about it behind people’s backs.  Don’t expect me to be a mind reader and know what the hell it is you need.  I’m not your mother, I’m not here to make your life all happy and cuddly and to give you things, I’m here to fucking teach you.  You are here to bloody learn.

And I happen to be totally into him!  Of course, as always, life can’t make things that damn easy…

I live on one continent.  He lives on a freaking OTHER continent.  This is like taking a distance relationship, supersizing it, and then throwing in a whole extra helping of god damned FRIES. 

A part of me is already assessing the situation – I’m experienced in this type of crap, and you’d better believe I know what to expect by now!  Undisclosed psychotic-ness?  Already has a girlfriend?  Will expect me to drop my whole goddamn life and ship my ass to the US?  The weird thing is, none of the buttons are twitching.  I can’t find anything wrong with him apart from the usual crap!  What the hell?

Yeah, yeah, I have been wrong before.  Take note of I.M.E. #2… the guy who refused to leave my house for 2 days after I ended it.  The guy who would always tell me that I had better not be seeing anyone else.  The guy who still demands that I drop everything for him, and is basically fucking e-stalking you since he cant stalk you IRL.  Yeah, you didn’t see that coming, did you Dumbass?

Well… he really doesn’t give off those vibes.  I.M.E #2 gave off some weird ass vibes that I idiotically ignored since I was in “luuuuuuuuuuurve”, and, let’s face it, I really really wanted to get laid at the time.  Damn my rare hornbag tendencies getting the better of me.  This guy, well… I can see his flaws.  And they aren’t biggies.  His politics disagree with mine… eh, all the better to argue with.  He sounds like he can be stubborn as all fuck, which could be bad, if I didn’t know I could outstubborn a whole army of mules and their mother on a bad day.  He might like his computer a bit too much, but since I have a relationship with my books which verges on insanity, I have to deal with that one.  And he wants to punt my cat, but frankly, something which interrupts SO many Skype calls and half destroys my headset maybe deserves it.

Then there’s the whole deal of ‘you met over the internet, OMGWTFBBQSAUCEROFL!!??’  That, truth be told… is a bit scary to me.  Not that we met over the net (although telling Mum and Dad all about it at some point scares the shit out of me), but the fact that the sheer physical distance between us makes it difficult for us both to gauge the situation and each other.  Sure, I am crazy about the guy, pathetically head over heels we may say… but it makes life very god damn difficult when every visit is going to set one of us back a couple thousand dollars.  Sure, I CAN move to the US… in a couple of years.  The US (no offense to the Septics) has never been a place which has appealed to me.  The original plan was Canada, damn it!  Australia was never really a place which appealed to him either, and buggered if I know what someone with his qualifications (Business/IT stuffs) can do in the middle of the ever-fucking Outback!

So, I am in a quandary… even though I logically know what I SHOULD do, I really don’t want to do it.  Stupid fricking emotions being a pile of irrational shit.

I would usually talk about this sort of thing in my gaming blog, but I decided that I should really talk about it here as well.  Why?  Well…

When I was bookshopping while I was on holidays (which is where I have been rather than writing here, because, let’s face it, I do need a life outside the internets, ya know?) I came across a little book that intrigued me – “Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the rise of raunch culture”.  A flick through confirmed that the author of the book and I found the same thing in life bloody confusing -  How does prancing around half naked with a Playboy bunny symbol on your shirt make you sexually liberated?  Thus persuaded, I purchased my book, counting it as a strike against the ditzes and bimboes in the world that I seem to encounter everyday.

Well, I came home, half unpacked since I am a lazy ass, forgot about the books, and spent the week doing what I do best when it’s holidays: played games, chatted to the potential BF on Skype (a topic for another post, not sure if he is at the bloggable stage yet!), avoided the psycho I.M.E (DEFINITELY the topic of another post!), and ate Tim Tams.  While I was playing the game I play best, as it is the only game I play, I decided to participate in one of the holiday activities.

This holiday activity sounds fairly innocuous – collect eggs, eat chocolate, get a bunneh pet.  I got all that stuff done, got myself a pretty dress, a basket, and a cute set of ‘I’m totally fuckable bunneh ears’

… wait, what?

Fuckable bunneh ears?  And that’s not the end of it!  In my total ignorance of my own fricking beliefs, I screenshot said bunneh ears (perched oh so cutely on top of my sophisticated head), crop it to REALLY draw attention to my ears, and stick it up on Twitter.

Yeah.  I basically just advertised to the internet that I am a fuckable bimbo.

Way to go Angela, way to compromise your beliefs right there.  To be honest, I am not sure why I find the ears so appealing… I haven’t taken the picture down, despite the objections I have to it.  Guess we can just add hypocrisy to my list of faults – it’s OK to compromise all my beliefs if I look damn hot doing it!

Of course… I could look more like this chick right here: next to her I look downright Victorian Prudish.  Skank.

• Note: angela-reads.com is migrating under a new name to snarksandladders.com #

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