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June 13, 2005

Gnashing of teeth

Texas Chris tells me that he always thinks of hell when he hears of the gnashing of teeth.

I'm not in hell, not really. If I were, I'd say hello to my grandfather on my dad's side, plus the economics professor that I inadvertently killed.

However, I've been unconsciously grinding my teeth all day, and I've got a roaring headache.

Nothing is really going quite right today.

School is definitely wrapping up. My control is so much better, or the kids are just too overheated to move. My classes are well-behaved, but the school is insane.

The air conditioner that I hauled to school has been sitting on the back shelf of my room for two weeks. I finally jury rigged it into an upper window. Even my father and his infamous jury-rigging of mechanical items would recoil from my dangerous setup.

Speaing of my dad, I tried to print some photos for him, as the marketing day chosen to sell cards geared towards sperm production is next Sunday. The printer is low on some combination of colors that produces a lovely beet tone for our skin colors. Since one of the photos is of me and Derrick, I guess it gives him a reason to not put them in frames, right?

On Friday I had purchased some pastries from this awesome place near my school. I left them on the counter of the kitchen, unnoticed until this evening. I bit into one, belatedly realizing that the center was a dairy cream that had turned into a soured cottage cheese mass with veiny gray liquid. Yummy.

I swallowed some before I could spit it out, so now I'm drinking a glass of wine to kill bacteria in my stomach. Maybe the wine will also relax my jaw.

I could really go for a massage right now, either a strong German woman, or a six foot former rugby player with vengeance in his hands.

Posted by G at June 13, 2005 10:21 PM

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Comments

when you're done with the former rugby player, can i borrow him for say six, seven, several sessions?? pretty please with soured dairy cream filling inside?

Posted by: jiminy at June 14, 2005 12:03 AM

I re-tore a calf muscle on the weekend (war canoe race - long story). Jiminy, can I have the (shudder) rugby player next? I swear to GOD I'll return him when he's done...er... I'm done... no wait, I'm SPENT. Oh hell just send him over - preferably in those cute little shorts.

Posted by: Jim at June 14, 2005 04:27 AM

Ouch. Okay, I'll stop whining right now. Once we've named the fantasy masseur, we'll send him right over.

Posted by: glenn at June 14, 2005 07:53 AM

Veiny gray liquid...it's not just for breakfast anymore.

(GLURK!)


Posted by: Helen Damnation at June 14, 2005 09:32 AM

ok, i can't supply a rugby player or i'd use him myself.....but if you'd like i'll call kayla and see if she can fly back from germany for you today. and please elaborate on the accidental death of an economics prof. this sounds like a fun story......

Posted by: brian at June 14, 2005 10:50 AM

"the economics professor that I inadvertently killed"

Ummm...?

Posted by: palochi at June 14, 2005 12:19 PM

I vote for the Rugby player also!

Ew on the sour cream!

Posted by: Mr H.K. at June 14, 2005 03:04 PM

I don't believe for one minute that killing was inadvertent. Or unjustified.

And isn't it Jerry-rigged? Who was Jerry?

Posted by: MzOuiser at June 14, 2005 04:34 PM

i can't believe the schools up there are still in. the ones down here let out like 3 weeks ago. of course, i supposed that'd mean they go back earlier.

i hope the masseur is REALLY strong ... what with being passed around so much. and i'll take my turn too .. even if it did end up being a really dike-ish german woman.

Posted by: myke at June 15, 2005 11:23 AM

Massage by a strong, strappin' rugby player = Mmmm.

Soured pastries = Way gross. Sorry, babe.

Posted by: Scott at June 15, 2005 03:31 PM

"Jerry," or The Jerries, was slang for the Germans during WWII. "Jerry-rigged" refers to how the German tank crews managed to keep their tanks rolling at the end of the war, even though they'd been practically blown apart in previous battles. They'd hold (rig) them together with chicken wire, spit, and hope, even though they knew the Allies would eventually win.

Hence, if something is "Jerry-rigged", it means held together temporarily until a better resolution.

G, was your father German tank engineer? :-)

Posted by: palochi at June 17, 2005 12:44 PM