Agony shan't

 So, more dental treatment, I'm sure loads of you have been through it. Apologies for not poating for a while. I've had a truckload of work I wanted to get through (one more essay to do tonight, it's quarter to eleven and this one's due tomorrow) and I still have a bit more (okay LOADS but let's ignore it for the minute).

This little intro brings me to what I call the Golden Rule of Work (GROW). The GROW is, and this is not simplified or shortened or anything, because it's nice and simple already- "As long as the work is in on the deadline, completed to a satisfactory degree and quality, then it doesn't matter when you do it."

I live by this rule. Seriously. I'm the "night before the deadline" kind of person many of my friends despise. Not because I don't do the work, but because I work well under pressure, so leaving most of the application (which admittedly I do preplan in advance, because it gives me days to think of what I'll write into the longer essays) until the night before is fine by me. I can speed-type when I'm in the working mood. By speed type I mean seven pages in an hour. Size twelve font. But yeah, I have to be in a working mood. A productive mood, as it were. It does depend on the subject, though. Law and Sociology essays are a lot easier to complete than German ones, not least because I already know English grammar, syntax, cases, and verb agreement. I've just finished an essay titled "Das Verhältnis zwischen Martin und Clarissa ist gespannt. Wie ist das zu erklären und auf welche Weise wird das im Film vermittelt?". For those of you, I guess a majority, who don't speak German, this translates into "The relationship between Martin and Clarissa is strained. How is this explained and through what methods is it mediated (shown)?" so yes. Sometimes A-Level languages have some strange questions. We've just finished a seven-week long "Environmental resources" topic- believe it or not, I've learnt more about renewable resources in the last term than science taught me in the whole of Secondary School.

Anywhooo, I got braces put on my top teeth this past Friday (two days ago). I still can't chew anything, and they're cutting my mouth because the orthodontist didn't cut the ends of the wires off enough. So every time I smile or laugh or talk or eat or even brush my teeth, I cut the inside of my cheeks. Like an inside-out joker. Except even less funny. Agony shan't get the better of me, however.

One thing that gets rid of pain is hilarity- and hilarity did indeed present itself yesterday evening. Boy oh boy, it was a treat, I tell you! My mother and I, her boyfriend (Julian) and his daughter were all sat in the living room, me on the floor, the other three on chairs (I'm completely uncouth, I know). Suddenly, Julian jumped off the chair, and smacked a rather large spider onto the floor. It started jogging (not quite a run, not quite a walk, like it was hurrying, I suppose) towards the curtains. His daughter ran to get a glass and postcard [note: these should exist in every house at all times for moments such as this]. Right as she left the room, he put his foot in front of it, to stop it getting to the curtains. Now, I would have applauded this (admittedly ill-thought out) tactical move, if it were not for what happened next. The spider, seeing the shoe, sped up. It ran to the shoe, straight UP the side of the shoe (still on Julian's foot) and... Up his trouserleg. There was a moment of disbelief. He then started doing what I can only describe as a one-legged, three-times-normal-speed haka dance, stamping the foot over and over again. After four or so frenzied stamps (all four of us are scared of spiders, I should say), it fell to the floor. The damage, however, has been done. My mother and I pissed ourselves laughing, and there are now conversations underway to the effect of wearing bicycle clips at all times. A good idea, perhaps, but I think I prefer the more interesting outcome that results from the alternative.

Happy reading, folks!

teeny tiny terrors (should grow the hell up)

So recently I've been going up to main school to talk to some of the teachers there (various endeavours require student-teacher conversations, it's unfortunate). Anyway, I've heard tiny tiny children (the year sevens, they'd be cute if they weren't so vicious and rude) yelling all manner of insults at each other. What is this? Why do young people not know how to argue properly any more? It's truly ridiculous, nobody ever seems to sit down and calmly talk through anything, instead it's all yelling and throwinf various things- insults, punches, chairs, and so on.

This miniscule scrap of a kid the other day yelled the words "Oi, get off me bruv, you gayboy!" I fail to see why being gay is a bad thing, something to be used as an insult, and as for all this "bruv" business, you merely sound like you can't pronounce the word broth properly. Year sevens, in short, are idiots. Anybody who can run into me at top speed (not that fast, they only have short legs, remember) and bounce off my chiseled abs (ha!) without so much as a sorry... Deserves to be shot. In the kneecaps. Hopefully with some sort of gun that sports exploding bullets, or something.

So yes, a note to the year sevens: Go away. You are deceptively small, fast, and apart from being completely cuturally unaware ("What you doing man?! That's so gay! Oi battyboy! Fuck you!"), you are ruining our precious language. You are also required to not get in the goddamn way. I have to say please more than twice and your name goes in the black book, you little bastards. I don't care that your mummy thinks you're special. Learn something. Read a book, "y'all". If you can't read, then it's no problem, not for me anyway, because then you can't read my insults. Har har har. LEARN TO READ. Learn some respect. Then, keep to yourselves. Wow.

happy reading folks!