Utterly disgusting…

…and disgraceful.

Sorry about the pause in the WOTD posts. They’ll resume shortly. I do have one or two things to say about what can only be described as completely apathetic incompetence. Tomorrow is graduation day at my school so today I’ve been really involved in getting everything set up and ready. For the 68 graduating students we set up two big long tables with nice festive table cloths, balloons and streamers. We hung nautical signal flags over them, and Douglas hung up some more flags on the walls, for Germany, Ireland, France, Sweden, and the UK, to emphasize the international aspect of our school.

(But we do have two teachers from the States and one from Bolivia, but neither North nor South America will be represented by their countries’ respective flags. Hmm…must do something about that for next year.)

The students will be served a buffet lunch tomorrow and we’ve borrowed the dishes, cups, and utensils from the cafeteria downstairs. They were delivered around four in the afternoon and right away I noticed that the plates didn’t look very clean. I picked up one plate and noticed several little black specks on it that turned out to be dead fruit flies.Then I found another plate that had a huge streak of yellow grease on it. What the fuck? Did they send us their dirty plates by mistake (or not)? Further inspection of the remainder of the plates revealed more dead bugs, more grease, and various bits of dried food that hadn’t come off. This was totally unacceptable. I still haven’t looked at the cups and utensils. I’m kind of afraid to.

Anyway, by this time the cafeteria was closed so it was too late to send the stuff back and get clean replacements.One of my colleagues (who must be as blind as a fucking bat) had already begun putting the plates on the table, so I told him to stop and gather them all up again. I said we’re going to have to wash every single one of these plates and possibly all the cups and utensils. He wasn’t too happy to hear that.

But what choice do we have? I wouldn’t serve a dog food on one of those plates.

By the way, the same cafeteria that provided the dirty plates will also be providing tomorrow’s food. Ugh…

Pity The Bitter Optimist

Pity the bitter optimist,
He wants to rant and shake his fist,
But just can’t seem to bring himself to do so,
He doesn’t want to think the best,
He knows the world’s completely messed,
From his mouth it never quite rings true though,
He’s certainly no giddy fool,
Thinks cynical is kind of cool,
But is cursed to always find the silver lining,
He’s tried to practice sneer and scowl,
Even worked up an evil growl,
Still he knows somewhere the sun is always shining,
He makes his outside sort of tough,
Wears shades and reads the darker stuff,
But somewhere inside lives Little Orphan Annie,
He’s even tried to turn to drink,
He thought it’d make him mean I think,
Found his ability to laugh is near uncanny,
So if you are pessimistic,
I’m afraid to him it won’t stick,
Despite the twisted ruse he tries so oft to borrow,
Yes his charade is oh so thin,
For very much to his chagrin,
He can’t help but hope for better things tomorrow.

Memorial Day Chicken Recipe

1.  Get some chicken.

2. Get a grill.

3. Take chicken pieces out and place in a bowl.  Pour olive oil all over the chicken and then add Old Bay Seasoning.  Put your hands in the bowl and mix chicken all around making sure that the olive oil and the seasoning cover all the surfaces.

4. Heat grill and then grill the chicken till it’s done.  Stick a thermometer in there so that you don’t get some kind of food poisoning.

5. Let’s recap:  Chicken, grill, olive oil, Old Bay Seasoning, bowl, heat, thermometer.  Done!

To the Graduating Class of 2011

Why should you listen to what I say?
I’m not that important anyway.
Who am I to tell all of you,
What you should or should not do?

I should probably give you some advice,
Like maybe use sunscreen once or twice.
But I know you’d soon forget it,
(Though, if you do you may regret it…)

Words of inspiration are hard to find.
They’re buried deep within my mind.
Our emotions are deep and elemental,
And words are merely sentimental.

They do not express the way I feel,
And cannot make the feelings real.
But the things that you don’t know about,
You’ll soon have that all figured out.

Still, you’ve heard all of this before,
So I don’t really need to talk anymore.
Your time here ends, and with any luck,
You won’t look back and think it sucked.

SLEEP

I guess this is like a little rant, on the topic of sleep. We all know how important it is, I think, and yet so many people seem to have trouble with it. There are studies galore about how sleep deprivation affects us. To name but a few:
aching muscles, confusion, memory lapses or loss, depression, hallucinations, hand tremors, headaches, bloodshot eyes, periorbital puffiness, commonly known as “bags under eyes” or eye bags, increased blood pressure, increased stress hormone levels, increased risk of diabetes, increased risk of fibromyalgia, irritability, nystagmus (rapid involuntary rhythmic eye movement), obesity, temper tantrums in children (probably in adults as well), yawning
(more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_deprivation )
So often I hear from friends, either directly, or via FB status, that they have trouble sleeping to varying degrees, or have insomnia. My first reaction is always to want to say all kinds of comforting things like of course you can sleep, and I know you can make yourself sleep, and blah blah blah fucking blah, but the truth is I very very rarely have trouble sleeping, and I am routinely shocked, saddened, and appalled at the number of people who do so. It is truly truly disturbing. Sleep is so so so so so important. We cheat ourselves in so many ways by underestimating it. In our modern times it has often been a symbol of pride “oh I can get by on 3 hours” much the same as the American CEO who takes 2 weeks vacation for all 50 working years of his life, and is never ever sick. Sleep. Will yourself. Do everything possible. Turn everything off. Relax. Showers. No caffeine. Meditate. Deep breath. Do whatever it fucking takes. Drugs and alcohol if necessary. But sleep. Sleep deep, and well and feel the flights of angels whisk you off to the nether nether where the ethereal mix of fantasy and reality leave you wondering where you were once you awake and what was real and what was not.

WOTD: toothsome

Today’s word is an adjective. It’s old-fashioned slang for sexually attractive. The word toothsome originally meant “pleasing to the taste or palatable.” I’m not surprised that the word toothsome has sexual connotations because hunger and sexual desire are often equated with one another.

In ye olde days a young man might say the following to an attractive young lady he wishes to court:

I do declare, Miss Mary, you are looking most toothsome this evening. 

Miss Mary would then blush coquettishly and either 1. retreat, or 2. ask him to bring her another glass of rum punch.

These days a strapping young dude on the make might say this to a smokin’ hot babe with whom he wishes to hook up:

Goddamn, Mary, you look so fucking good I could eat you with a spoon. 

Mary would then lean sexily against the bar and 1. say, “That’s right, honey. You can look but you can’t touch.” or 2. Ask him to buy her another Cosmopolitan.

 

WOTD: hair

Continuing with our hair theme, and with thanks to CC Champagne for the idea…

Hair is very important to us humans. So too is the lack of hair. It’s so important we even named a Tribal Love-Rock musical after it. I haven’t actually seen it, but I probably should because I love musicals, being a total dork in that respect. The themes explored in the the musical Hair include the hippy counter-culture movement and sexual revolution of the late 1960s. This was when love (and STDs) was free and growing out one’s hair was considered a rebellious act, especially if you were a man…

Typical hippies at a typical hippy music festival

In the 1970s and 80s, growing out your hair if you were a man meant that you were into certain types of hard rock music. You might have even been a member of a Hair Metal (sometimes called Glam Metal) band, so called because it was required that each member of the band have a long and big and heavily hair-sprayed style…

The "biggest" hair metal band of them all: Nitro.

Big hair was popular in general in the 80s for men and women alike. I can still recall the smell of Aqua Net hairspray in the girl’s locker room, and how we would tease out our hair and spray it until it was almost bullet proof. We were totally insane. Little white beads of Aqua Net would drip off our over-sprayed hair and onto the floor. Oh the memories come flooding back…

Janet Gardner of the all girl hair metal band Vixen.

Nowadays, when it comes to hair for both men and women less is generally considered more. Body hair of any kind has become a big no-no for women and most of us shave or pluck every bit of it off. The only hair we want is the hair on our heads and a couple of carefully plucked or waxed eyebrows. Additionally, an increasing number of men are now engaging in “manscaping” which is the colloquial term for the removal of superfluous body hair on a man, including back, chest, and genital hair.

As for my feelings on this, well… I like my man have some hair on him. It makes him more manly, and it provides valuable traction.

Until next time…

Shaved

You know that hair,
Down you know where?
There must be a reason,
Why it’s there.
Perhaps to keep,
Your naughty bits warm?
Protect them from
An insect swarm?
Your muff, your bush,
Whatever it’s called,
It’s expected now
To be quite bald.
Way back in,
Previous centuries,
Up till the 1970s,
A natural bush was
Oft desired, loved,
Admired and required.
But alas, the times,
And look have changed.
Pubes styled and dyed,
And rearranged.
A prepubescent look is craved.
And thus our beavers
Are now shaved.

Submitted for Funny Bunny Fridays Week 2

Yeah, I Shed

Yeah, I shed,
Okay I said it.
It’d near define me if I let it,
For I can’t deny my birthday suit,
Is irreversably hirsute,
I’m well blessed by the Gods of Hair,
And it does tend to get everywhere,
I do my best to primp and fuss,
Get groomed at “Gorillaz R Us”,
Still I find these fluffy mounds,
Seems my shedding knows no bounds,
With beds it’s found both on and under,
On bathroom floors (though that’s no wonder),
But not confined to my own dwelling,
The scale of my shedding’s telling,
It’s been found in places near and far,
There may be some just where you are,
It’s been found on the forest floor,
A few strands up on Mount Rushmore,
Here and there some bits that ladies keep,
In the Falklands it’s been found on sheep,
Tough to spot there in Arabia,
But it sure stands out in Scandanavia,
There’s been a rumour I can’t scuttle,
They found some up on the space shuttle,
It’s even been found on the great wall of China,
And in livingrooms in Raleigh, North Carolina.