MOVE BACK MUTHAFUCKA/THE ONYX IS HERE/BACK THE FUCK UP, YOU BETTAH, BACK THE FUCK UP
Yeah so I haven't posted in like a day and a thousand years. Right now I'm working on the final piece of work that I have to do before the term is over. I pretty much can't do it. I have to write a faux-paper (i.e. no evidence it's all feeling and ideas) about this horror film class that I took, where my prof really showed only 3 horror films. It was obnoxious and I'm still mad that I didn't get to see people shit their pants to the original The Haunting.
Anyway my hell term is almost over including my class from with "The Professor from Shitheadville." In a strange turn of events I woke up at 9:50 am this morning, usually this would be absurdly early and if possible I would return to my slumber dreaming of assaulting Danes and dealing with ecstasy rolling sisters of roommates that don't exist (the sister not the roommate)however I was suppose to take a final at 9am. After shouting, "Oh, Shit, Oh Fuck, I'm fucked with shit," I threw on the clothes I wore the day before and shoes without socks and proceeded to walk at breakneck speeds to the room we were taking the final in. Due to the wall of my shoe coming through I arrived in front of Prof Cocksucker with bloody feet, bugged-out eyes and bed-headed beard. He allowed me to take an oral later in the day which i passed with flying Cs. My favorite part of the hour I spent with him was when I essentially told him that not only was my High School harder than Drexel but that the art history I did in my European History AP class was better than his class, not in so many words though.
For those that may want to know who the heck I'm talking about--I'll take you down memory lane. essentially it's a double whammy:
WHAMMY 1: I got really into a paper on El Greco. When I got it back I was giving a C, and it had things like when I gave the date of his birth, a comment would says "How do we know this?" I went up to him asking what the fuck he was jabbering on about. He said "Well how do you know this is when he was born?"
"I read it in a book?"
"Books are filled with lies and infallicies."
"What, do you want me to get a birth certificate?"
"No I wanted you to get the info from a great scholar of the painter."
Now in my head while he jibber-jabbered about his day or how he doesn't get to watch his tv shows in the Home, I was thinking. Why the fuck do I care what a bunch of old Bourgeois European faggolas think about El Greco, I'm writing the paper, I know what I like.
When he was done I said, though I don't think he hear d me:
"You want us to right a dissertation in a required class no one wants to take, go fuck yourself!" And I stormed off and looked real sexy doing it, roughly 12 girls offered to blow me as a passed them but they either looked underage or didn't have thick asses.
WHAMMY 2: He made us write a 7 page paper comparing various tales from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to the paintings we've gone over in the class. These are the reasons why this idea is equivalent to the advise from a retarded 3 year old on how to impregnate a moose (If you dream enough the jizz-faerie comes and hits the cows fefe with a wand!):
1. The Canterbury has nothing to do with Art History
2. The Canterbury Tales was written over a hundred years before the earliest painting we looked at
3. The Canterbury has nothing to do with Art History.
This is the shit that I loathe about professors, it always seems like the ones who teach a required course that you are forced to take but just have no interst in--need to come up with some sort of hair brained extra-curriculum bullshit to make our lives hell.
JUST TEACH THE FUCKIN CLASS!
Anyway here are a two videos that amuse me:
Here's a commersh I worked on while I pulled an all-nighter babbling about Chaucer and paintings. It's not mine, i'm just in it.
Perhaps the single most catchy song of all time. Rich Boy's "Throws Some Ds" JUS' BAH A CA'ILLAKE
By the way these vids worked in preview but Blogger was being an utter shit about it and wouldn't let me embed them.
ENJOY
Anyway my hell term is almost over including my class from with "The Professor from Shitheadville." In a strange turn of events I woke up at 9:50 am this morning, usually this would be absurdly early and if possible I would return to my slumber dreaming of assaulting Danes and dealing with ecstasy rolling sisters of roommates that don't exist (the sister not the roommate)however I was suppose to take a final at 9am. After shouting, "Oh, Shit, Oh Fuck, I'm fucked with shit," I threw on the clothes I wore the day before and shoes without socks and proceeded to walk at breakneck speeds to the room we were taking the final in. Due to the wall of my shoe coming through I arrived in front of Prof Cocksucker with bloody feet, bugged-out eyes and bed-headed beard. He allowed me to take an oral later in the day which i passed with flying Cs. My favorite part of the hour I spent with him was when I essentially told him that not only was my High School harder than Drexel but that the art history I did in my European History AP class was better than his class, not in so many words though.
For those that may want to know who the heck I'm talking about--I'll take you down memory lane. essentially it's a double whammy:
WHAMMY 1: I got really into a paper on El Greco. When I got it back I was giving a C, and it had things like when I gave the date of his birth, a comment would says "How do we know this?" I went up to him asking what the fuck he was jabbering on about. He said "Well how do you know this is when he was born?"
"I read it in a book?"
"Books are filled with lies and infallicies."
"What, do you want me to get a birth certificate?"
"No I wanted you to get the info from a great scholar of the painter."
Now in my head while he jibber-jabbered about his day or how he doesn't get to watch his tv shows in the Home, I was thinking. Why the fuck do I care what a bunch of old Bourgeois European faggolas think about El Greco, I'm writing the paper, I know what I like.
When he was done I said, though I don't think he hear d me:
"You want us to right a dissertation in a required class no one wants to take, go fuck yourself!" And I stormed off and looked real sexy doing it, roughly 12 girls offered to blow me as a passed them but they either looked underage or didn't have thick asses.
WHAMMY 2: He made us write a 7 page paper comparing various tales from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales to the paintings we've gone over in the class. These are the reasons why this idea is equivalent to the advise from a retarded 3 year old on how to impregnate a moose (If you dream enough the jizz-faerie comes and hits the cows fefe with a wand!):
1. The Canterbury has nothing to do with Art History
2. The Canterbury Tales was written over a hundred years before the earliest painting we looked at
3. The Canterbury has nothing to do with Art History.
This is the shit that I loathe about professors, it always seems like the ones who teach a required course that you are forced to take but just have no interst in--need to come up with some sort of hair brained extra-curriculum bullshit to make our lives hell.
JUST TEACH THE FUCKIN CLASS!
Anyway here are a two videos that amuse me:
Here's a commersh I worked on while I pulled an all-nighter babbling about Chaucer and paintings. It's not mine, i'm just in it.
Perhaps the single most catchy song of all time. Rich Boy's "Throws Some Ds" JUS' BAH A CA'ILLAKE
By the way these vids worked in preview but Blogger was being an utter shit about it and wouldn't let me embed them.
ENJOY
posted by ESN-TNS at 11:20 PM
2 comments
