Why are they called supervisors? Nothing super about them.
I have had far too much coffee to be posting right now. Therefore, inevitably, I shall. I started thinking about all the things I’d like to say to my supervisor. Things, that is, I’d only say were I inebriated beyond all discernible sanity or ten minutes from hopping onto an international flight clad with four hundred pounds of luggage and the knowledge that I shall never, ever return…oh, and drunk on top of that. So…for the sake of this post, pretend I’m drunk. (Not too hard really. Evidently I just rave about Ken Kesey’s style of writing and talk about contemporary art…or I punch you in the stomach.)
Croatia is its own country. Get a map. Look it up. Capital Zagreb. Dr. Kovach is a native. I bet you’ve never heard of Yugoslavia either. That’s okay, most of them were made refugees and slaughtered anyway.
Don’t ask me if I know Mike Brown. He’s a fictitious character in the textbook, for educational purposes. He doesn’t really live in New York. He doesn’t really have two sisters and play baseball every day after school. He doesn’t even really exist. Hence, no, I don’t know him. Not my loss, I feel.
Don’t refer to your husband as, “The Fat Man.” The phrase ’spousal abuse’ comes to mind.
The phrase isn’t, “pick you down.” It’s “drop you off.” Hey, here’s an idea, learn some English. You know, for simple entertainment, extracurricular fun time, a much needed hobby…I mean, it’s not like it’s your job or anything.
Don’t take me to the hospital for a headache. I’m confident I’ll survive.
Learn to discipline students in the classroom before you take them outside for the WWF smack down of a lifetime.
Don’t correct my pronunciation of “a.” I’ll take you outside for a smack down.
Don’t cough on me when you’re sick. Despite what you may think, it’s not funny. Really. There’s this thing called germs, they spread, they turn your son’s conjunctivitis into my conjunctivitis. It’s not cool. I blame you for the crack fiend façade I now maintain.
You haven’t been to America if you were in LAX for an hour, nor were you in Taiwan. Don’t lie.
Political science doesn’t involve microscopes, no.
The EU is not the same as Europe. It's only what, 25/47th of the continent!
Do not procreate. I repeat, DO NOT PROCREATE…again at least.
Croatia is its own country. Get a map. Look it up. Capital Zagreb. Dr. Kovach is a native. I bet you’ve never heard of Yugoslavia either. That’s okay, most of them were made refugees and slaughtered anyway.
Don’t ask me if I know Mike Brown. He’s a fictitious character in the textbook, for educational purposes. He doesn’t really live in New York. He doesn’t really have two sisters and play baseball every day after school. He doesn’t even really exist. Hence, no, I don’t know him. Not my loss, I feel.
Don’t refer to your husband as, “The Fat Man.” The phrase ’spousal abuse’ comes to mind.
The phrase isn’t, “pick you down.” It’s “drop you off.” Hey, here’s an idea, learn some English. You know, for simple entertainment, extracurricular fun time, a much needed hobby…I mean, it’s not like it’s your job or anything.
Don’t take me to the hospital for a headache. I’m confident I’ll survive.
Learn to discipline students in the classroom before you take them outside for the WWF smack down of a lifetime.
Don’t correct my pronunciation of “a.” I’ll take you outside for a smack down.
Don’t cough on me when you’re sick. Despite what you may think, it’s not funny. Really. There’s this thing called germs, they spread, they turn your son’s conjunctivitis into my conjunctivitis. It’s not cool. I blame you for the crack fiend façade I now maintain.
You haven’t been to America if you were in LAX for an hour, nor were you in Taiwan. Don’t lie.
Political science doesn’t involve microscopes, no.
The EU is not the same as Europe. It's only what, 25/47th of the continent!
Do not procreate. I repeat, DO NOT PROCREATE…again at least.
posted by Chishiki Lauren at 2:15 AM
2 Comments:
i have a mental image of parents and teachers all across Japan body slamming their prepubescent children...
Close to it. If they're going to act like amateur wrestlers, they might as well adopt the spandex, I feel. Give themselves some credibility.
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