I hear Rob becoming increasingly frustrated and then he says, “Ma’am, Mario Batali ate an omelet and spat it into John Colbert’s mouth. Baby bird style.”
Pretty much made my day.
Very few things bring me from zero to nuclear faster than some pill popping jerkoff who wants to know how fast the drugs he did will be out of his system. They have some big ‘X’ that they have to pass the test for, or ‘Y’.
I hope you get caught. Caught and punished. Not because of the War on Drugs bullshit. Do the drugs. Do all the drugs. But be prepared for what comes. It doesn’t bother me so much that they’re doing drugs in and of itself, but that they want to live without the consequences.
Today the TOEFL exam is being administered. For those of you who are ignorant savages, mouth breathers, or basement dwellers, the TOEFL exam is the reason your GTA can’t speak English. It’s either a poor test, or the requirements for admission are too low. I’m not sure which it is, but the end result is the same.
What I hear on most days. ^^^
What I’ll hear today. vvv
Today TOEFL the inspection is carried out. Regarding is the ignorant savage, the mouth time to regroup or basement resident’s these you, the TOEFL inspection is the reason your GTA can’ t speaks English. It’ a s bad test or the admission request is too low. I’ It is did not affirm, but the final outcome is the same.
I got 5 hours of sleep. When I walked in this morning to find that I’d be working alone, I was… unhappy.
For my first call of the day, I got to explain to a woman that she might have cancer.
I have no witty retort. I want today to end.
Of course the woman from Cullman would add a racial qualifier to her request for a dentist’s phone number. This is me, not surprised, at all.
Caller- “Hey for the area of a rectangle, it’s fourteen and you times that by six, then by like pi over four. Right?”
Me-“No. No. No-no-no-no. No.”
Me- “It’s base multiplied by hei-“
Caller- “Then times pi, right?”
Me- “No. Just base multiplied by height.”
Caller- “Oh yeah, okay. But what if I just want two sides? Then don’t I have to multiply them?”
Me- “N-What? Two sides? If you want a perimeter, you just add up the sides.”
Caller- “Yeah, yeah right man. I multiply. Thanks.”
Finally something noteworthy.
We’ve all seen freshmen do retarded shit. But tonight, I saw a jogger wearing a headlamp and a red flashing LED cord around his neck. I wasn’t sure I had seen what I had seen, so I asked two passersby if it actually happened. And it had. And all was wrong with the world.
A younger-than-me black girl came up and asked where the Poultry Science Building is located. Not in those words. Those are my words, and I’ve forgotten her’s moments after she spoke them. The reason being that the next 60 seconds probably caused me permanent harm.
Me. (After I grab a map, orient it for her, and locate the Poultry Science Building.)— “We’re here in the Student Center, and the (PSB) is here, on Lem Morrison,” I say as I point on the map.
Young Black Girl— “This map don’t tell me much.”
There was a soft popping sound, like a squishing grape, that came from my head. I couldn’t move or speak for about a minute, and she walked away during that time. I’ve since recovered, but there’s a persistent numbness in the left side of my body.
A moron called and took roughly 45 seconds to explain that he had a class. From there, he told me that he had gone three of the seven times to this class. Another 45 seconds.
Then he told me that if he missed more than 50% of this class, he failed it. So he asked me what was going to happen.
I said, “So you missed 4 classes. You’re going to fail. Because three is less than half of seven.” Then blood began to slowly trickle from my nose, and he hung up.