Friday, November 03, 2006
NY: weathering the storm
Woe is me, I checked my schedule for today before I went home last night (via the bar) and it looked bad, bad, bad: a broken up mess of a day, rounded off with the chance to renew my acquaintance with NY (click here if you need to refresh your memory) in my penultimate lesson. Worse still, I had Voice before, which is exactly where the turd was bound to be killing time before his latest, ahem, venture into the realm of, ah, English conversation.
Woe is me, for this proved to be just as I'd expected.
As usual, it was an awful lot of, ahem, verbosity and not a great deal of reward for an English teacher who'd just spent 40 minutes trying vainly to persuade a group of four ten year olds that kicking each other between the legs is not in the best interests of remedying their country's declining birth rate.
NY was waxing protracted about his family's new car, which, for some reason, they allow him to drive.
"...But the other day, mm, I was actually on the highway, in fact, and I passed the car in front, I felt it could accelerate much more, mm-mm, smoothly than my old car."
(Notice the abused "my" there; I never use "my" to describe anything that's, ahem, actually, my Mum's.)
So I asked NY how fast he'd driven this raw, throbbing, penis-extension, ahem, beast of a car.
He told me 120 kmph and mentioned, ah, in passing that this was the fastest he'd ever driven. Er, actually.
I wrote this down on the board, next to my own modest record of 135 mph.
NY said that 135 mph "seemed" to be faster than 120 kmph. I took a time out to have a quick inner dialogue with Albert Einstein, who is always right there when I need him:
DAN: Larger unit of measurement and a larger number; he says it "seems" to be faster.
EINSTEIN: Yes. That's because, actually, as you know, NY is a sweaty arse picker.
DAN: Ah, so.
My day was made complete when, as I had also suspected would be the case, this page's Japanese readership waltzed through the door and had to struggle to suppress a fit of giggles when she saw who I was locking horns with; doubly so when she found out that I was teaching him in the next class as well.
I taught him weather. That's right: weather.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
-----
Disclaimer: the author of this page always drives his Mum's car.
Woe is me, for this proved to be just as I'd expected.
As usual, it was an awful lot of, ahem, verbosity and not a great deal of reward for an English teacher who'd just spent 40 minutes trying vainly to persuade a group of four ten year olds that kicking each other between the legs is not in the best interests of remedying their country's declining birth rate.
NY was waxing protracted about his family's new car, which, for some reason, they allow him to drive.
"...But the other day, mm, I was actually on the highway, in fact, and I passed the car in front, I felt it could accelerate much more, mm-mm, smoothly than my old car."
(Notice the abused "my" there; I never use "my" to describe anything that's, ahem, actually, my Mum's.)
So I asked NY how fast he'd driven this raw, throbbing, penis-extension, ahem, beast of a car.
He told me 120 kmph and mentioned, ah, in passing that this was the fastest he'd ever driven. Er, actually.
I wrote this down on the board, next to my own modest record of 135 mph.
NY said that 135 mph "seemed" to be faster than 120 kmph. I took a time out to have a quick inner dialogue with Albert Einstein, who is always right there when I need him:
DAN: Larger unit of measurement and a larger number; he says it "seems" to be faster.
EINSTEIN: Yes. That's because, actually, as you know, NY is a sweaty arse picker.
DAN: Ah, so.
My day was made complete when, as I had also suspected would be the case, this page's Japanese readership waltzed through the door and had to struggle to suppress a fit of giggles when she saw who I was locking horns with; doubly so when she found out that I was teaching him in the next class as well.
I taught him weather. That's right: weather.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
-----
Disclaimer: the author of this page always drives his Mum's car.
Comments:
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Damn, NY is still talking about his mother's car? He was in the Bash two or three weeks ago talking like it was the best thing since sliced bread. He didn't seem too happy when I started dissing him for his mother's car being white (he left midway thru my Voice).
--VMM
--VMM
# posted by 
: 9:09 AM
: 9:09 AM
Everytime I see him in Voice room, I get depressed or irritated, but I couldn't stop giggling last night. He kept talking after I joined (sometimes I'm impressed how he can talk so much using the word "Speaking of..."), but it didn't matter. Your blog entry "Now ya takin'" stuck to my mind and it made Voice yesterday just so funny:p
# posted by : 10:04 AM
: 10:04 AM
Nah, what's impressive is how phrases such as "speaking of..." or "that reminds me of..." serve as an introduction for something completely different from what everybody was talking about and commonly herald the introduction of a topic which involves an ingratiating runt in glasses.
And dude, good work on getting him out of your Voice. I've always regarded hostility as a last resort rather than an opening gambit, but I think I'm starting to come over to the dark side.
And dude, good work on getting him out of your Voice. I've always regarded hostility as a last resort rather than an opening gambit, but I think I'm starting to come over to the dark side.
I was trying to think of things I didn't miss about Japan. How could I forget NY? He may actually top the list. Followed by cheeslessness, drunken salarymen, and (everyone's favorite) excessive use of mayonnaise.
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# posted by : 1:58 PM
: 1:58 PM << Home
