An Addendum

Oh and by the way.

I got my HSC timetable today. The BOS can S my D.

Quite literally, and failing that at least figuratively.

The week.

This may become a regular fixture - the assorted school funnies of the week which didn't warrant their own post.

To begin with: FRANKENLORD (expletive) a way to blaspheme obscenely without actually using obscenities.
"You brought Frankenstein today? Thank the Frankenlord!"
N.B. pronounced in a manner akin to 'fuckin'.

FRANKENMOTHERFUCKER (n) As Victor is the 'mother' of the monster (i.e. he 'bore' it) thus, to be a frankenmotherfucker, he would have to be wanking. Thus, a frankenmotherfucker is one who supplicates themselves after creating a monster otu of spare parts.

In Latin on thursday, we had some entertaining segways. One of them involved us speculating as to what animal Mr Morrison (our teacher) would be. Sarah suggested a meerkat. I suggested a giant squid. As it turns out, that's his favourite animal. Who'd have thunk.

There was then a minor discussion regardign the pronunciation of the word command which resulted in teh following conversational gems:

Mr Morrison: You say command, I say potato.

Me: You say potato, I say giant squid.

Monica: You say potato, I say Lady Gaga.

Later in the lesson, as we discussed Cicero's wording, Mr Morrison said "How much authority does this speech have?"

Half the class however thought he had said "How much authority does this bitch have?" something which mildly confused us - because that's not the kind of thing he usually says - at which point we dissolved into giggles.

Today, during Latin extension, we were translating a Catullus poem addressed to Furius and Aurelius - the selfsame men Catullus 16 was addressed to. Namely the guys he said he would sodomise violently (and that was the nice part of the poem).

This led me say "Catullus didn't like many people", to which Mr Morrison responded "Catullus liked his brother."

Utter silence.

And then as we were leaving, he said "My comment for the weekend is be nice to each other." at which point he left the room. The moment he was outside the door he added "And don't get drunk or pregnant."

Well. That was unexpected. All I can say is: I won't.

A is for irritation.

Last night, my family were being irksome. By irksome, I mean my younger sisters were acting like five year olds while I was trying to get homework done, and I was yelled at for yelling at them.

And so after shutting the door to my room and switching on my trusty mp3, I went to one of the things that tends to put me in a happy mood: my Windows Media player.

As the HSC progresses, and my sisters (especially the one whom I have to share a room with) get on my nerves more and more, I’ll be blogging a hell of a lot about music. This is because most of the other stuff I do in order to calm down (like go over old music from when I was in SCC, having a good singalong and enjoying afresh my glory days) is rather boring.

So today I will be looking at the fruitier stuff on my Windows Media, and explaining why it’s there.

“I Believe In A Thing Called Love” which I think may be by The Darkness.

I’ve loved this song ever since I heard it on the soundtrack for Bridget Jones 2. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for acid trip rock. This is the result of it. Every time I hear it, I smile. And then sing along like a guy using the upper reaches of his falsetto.

Then there’s the stuff I ripped from the Forrest Gump soundtrack. I suppose the sixties and seventies were a good time for American music. It more or less went downhill from there.

There’s also the stuff I ripped from the soundtrack of The Full Monty:
Flashdance. Enough said.
You Sexy Thing. Ditto.
Make Me Smile by Steve Harley and the Cockney Rebel.
Any pop song with harmonies I actually like as a massive rarity. One that I can listen to for hours on end is even more rare. It’s a happy song.

I have the winners single from Eurovision 2009 – Fairytale from Alexander Rybak.

I have immense respect for a young man who can saw his way through a violin bow on Eurovision because he’s playing so hard.

Poison by Alice Cooper. I’ve gotten a perfect score on Singstar for this song. That was a wasted week spent in hospital. But moving on…

I have some Andrew Lloyd Weber stuff. Don’t ask me why. I much prefer Sondheim or Boublil and Schönberg.

I also have the complete discography of Apocalyptica.

I’m a bit of a classical music nerd, and so when a band comes along which makes heavy metal out of cellos, I’m going to be markedly impressed. At the moment, I’m listening to their cover of Hall of the Mountain King by Edvard Grieg. That’s some marvy cello.

Then onto the Avenue Q soundtrack.

Avenue Q. How can one describe it? I don’t know.

Suffice I list a few of the song titles:

Everyone’s a little bit racist
The internet is for porn
Of you were gay
Schadenfreude
It sucks to be me.

That having been said, it’s actually a markedly happy musical. Lots of black humour.

And I mean that in both senses of the word. It’s ironic, and there’s a character called Gary Coleman.


And that’s it for the A section. Next time I’m pissed off at my relations, I’ll move onto B. Perhaps C…

A Facebook Conversation About Pablo Neruda.

This is the gist of a facebook conversation with one of the people whom I know doing the IB.

Adela (on Damon's wall): Wow. Neruda is messed up. On the upside, you don't need to do Frankenstein. Victor is a sissy little girl bitch. (I got that gem of an insult off Scrubs. I love that show.) If I were to be studying Neruda in english, I have a feeling I would have given my teacher a nervous breakdown.

(Just as a bit of a pointer, that was paraphrased.)

Damon (in the comments thingy): Ha! You see!!! He is a douche-wad with issues pertaining to women. We had to deal with 21 poems of his.
"It steadily gets worse and worse... first the dodgy sexual imagery, leading to his whispering girly man things..."

The bit in quotation marks was (surprise, surprise) a quote.

Neruda REALLY needed a girlfriend.

Pablo Neruda

A while ago, I did a post about Rime of the Ancient Mariner - one of Coleridge's opium epics.

Anyway, in a fit of boredom today, I decided to see what was so utterly perverse about Pablo Neruda.
Some people I know who do the IB have to study his works, and the general feedback I get is that among other things, he needed to get laid.

I read some of his stuff, and all I can say is holy *numerous expletives in numerous languages*. This man had issues.

Who writes an ode to a flea?

You know how I said I could imagine Coleridge lying there in his opium den wondering what could rhyme with noon before hitting on the word 'bassoon' with an almost eureka-like enthusaism?

I can picture Neruda sitting there in his little poetry hole or den or nook or wherever the hell he wrote his poetry looking at sketches of naked women and saying in a seedy south american accent as he stroked his goatee (I know I'm verging into the lands of the politically incorrect, but seriously.) and said 'Hmmm. Now how can I describe this in a manner that will make students all over the world cringe when they read it...A-ha! I know! White hills!!!' (Scribbles away furiously).

That guy had issues.

Life

I hate being sixteen.

Seriously. Not only am I a good chunk younger than the vast majority of my year group, pretty soon I'll be making decisions which will more or less shape the course of he rest of my life.

I spend my spare time playing Lacrosse and watching Sesame Street. I'm not ready to go into the real world.

School is like my security blanket. I've been attending St George for a good 37% of my life. IT'S FAMILIAR. I know what I'm going to be doing each day, and I know to an extent what to expect of each day.

Whenever I put concerted effort onto thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my life, I get nowhere. I change my mind with reasonable regularity. At the moment, I feel like studying Mechanical Engineering. Who knows how long this phase'll last?

The only way I can describe my mind when it comes to thinking about the future is a snafu.

I'm feeling rather snafulated at the moment.

Grr.

Latin for the day

Last term I was informed that I am the whore of the Latin Class. Apparently I've been getting a hell of a lot of some lately.

I seem not to have noticed that this getting of some was taking place, but who knows.

This stems from a minor dalliance carried out whilst in New Zealand on school band tour.

Go figure.

Everyone then made some comments that whilst innocuous in context, would sound rather off colour if reproduced. Unfortunately, I don't remember them, otherwise I would most definitely post them. More's the pity.

I did manage to recall these gems from class today.

Mr Morrison: The next day, Verres started playing Silly Buggers.

Me: I just spoonerised 'witty banter'.

Mr Morrison: The slave wars of Spartacus didn't spread across to Sicily.
Mersini: That's probably because he [Verres] paid them.