Random Tuesday: Student talk

Random Tuesdays

One of the undeniable perks of being  a teacher is the vacation time, sure. But what happens during the remaining 9 months of marking and marking and marking? In a perfect world, marking wouldn’t really be as long and tedious as it actually is, because most of the essays would make sense. In reality, most are full of errors and malapropisms that offer a glimmer of hilarity to the whole ordeal.

This blog captures some of the great student gems found in writings. It’s quite amusing, if not frightening, what spellcheck lets you get away with.

Have you got any glaring examples of language misuse? Please share!

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Random Tuesday: Stick it

Random Tuesdays

I’m a big fan of stickers. My collection includes the likes of Hello Kitty (a must), Godzilla (remember him?) and non-sensical Thai pop-ups that pronounce “me love you” (say what?). There’s nothing a little sticker can’t fix or spice up. Even something as everyday as the tube. I bring you this awesome blog which documents hilarious play-on-words for London Tube stops.

Text me

Commentary

My cellphone beeps quietly when an incoming message comes through. It’s so discreet that I often don’t even hear it, much to my relief, to be honest with you. On the rare occasions that I don’t have the radio playing in my car — I find it hard to resist the daily crap that local stations broadcastreligiously — I may catch the end of my jazzy ringtone (key word: rare). Sure, I have, at times, stupidly rummaged through my bag while driving in an attempt to pick up on time, for once. But since my bad hearing goes hand-in-hand with my clumsiness, I thought it prudent to invest in a set of headphones.

On the up side of this, I’m more alert to incoming calls whilst driving. On the downside, I’m also aware of incoming text messages, which I occasionally read at red lights. Recently, I’ve been getting quite a number of messages, all of them from sources unknown to me. Mercedes texts me on a regular basis, Audi R8 has added me as a contact recently, NRG is a devoted spammer, BMW X5 ditto. Can someone please tell me what ever happened to privacy? I don’t even know how or when these companies acquired my number, but surely there must be a breach of privacy here? Whenever I sign up for something, I always make it a point to tick the box that says Do not spam me or so help you God! So what gives spammers?

A reasonable person might point me to a simple solution: these spammers are not really offending anyone since they offer a toll-free number at the bottom of every text message that allows you to be taken off the illegitimate list of cell numbers. Sure, I’ve noticed it! It’s a toll-free number that is always busy. In fact, I’m even questioning its validity because I’ve tried to call it every single time I get another chance to enter a mega-competition-or-else. It’s just useless.

If companies are not respecting individual right to privacy, or even offering the chance to defend my right by ticking the much-coveted box, why isn’t there a no-call / no-text registry in Cyprus? If I get one more spam message in the middle of the night, I think I’m going to give up on my cellphone altogether. Or life.

On deadlines

Rants

Day by day, I become more convinced that I am one of the few remaining people who respect deadlines. Cypriots everywhere: a deadline is a deadline is a deadline. SHAPE UP!

Hello deadline, nice to meet you! I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Mega Procrastinator and I’m very happy to finally get to talk to you. I know, I know, I hate blind dates too, but hey we’re here but let’s make the most of it, despite the awkwardness. So, my friend Lazy Ass mentioned that you’re really into punctuality. Can I ask you something? Why? I mean, isn’t punctuality an internal thing? If you’re OK with the timing, isn’t that punctuality that’s true to yourself? Why are you shaking your head so vehemently, relax. All I’m saying is, that it’s good to let go. I don’t ever wear a watch even — I’m not a slave to time.  Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize that you’d be so offended with my lateness. I was pretty proud of myself for remembering that today is Friday; after all, I hardly keep track of days. What’s the point? They’re all the same anyway right? OK, OK, I’ll change the topic.

So where do you hang out? Oh at Post-It! I kinda hate that place — it’s full of people worrying about insignificant things. Oh, yes, I see. So are you turned on by people enumerating things to do? Really?! I’d rather watch 3 non-stop hours of YouTube videos than go to that bar. Sure, it’s fun. I do it with Lazy Ass all the fucking time. It’s a riot. Don’t even get me started on the fun we have commenting on them on Facebook! You use the events function only on Facebook? Nah, I never reply. I show up if I feel like it, whatever time. It still works all the same. What’s that? An urgent call you need to take? Sure, go ahead.

(Pause)

What do you mean you need to go, we’re hanging out here, chillaxin’… Oh I’m sorry to hear that. No I don’t know any Dignity or Responsibility, they’re not in my circle. Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Are you sure? It’s no problem, I’ll take right after this song finishes. I fucking love Kings of Convenience.

On a lighter, less cynical note, enjoy this video:

Random Tuesday: Is there a Selleck in your sandwich?

Random Tuesdays

I live for randomness: it keeps me sane in a pretty nonsensical world. I have therefore decided to dedicate Tuesdays to randomness, with the hope that I can either:

a) bring out the ridiculous in you

b) at least to get you to laugh at the abounding internet (or real life) silliness

I have a very special someone to head start this column. Remember Richard from friends? That awkwardly mature doctor that Monica was dating? Well you wouldn’t think it but he actually goes quite well with sandwiches — and burgers, if need be! Set him up next to a waterfall and BAM! it’s a classic. This tumblr blog is onto something huge.

Just when you think you it can’t get any funnier, you scroll down only to find another hilarious snapshot! This blog is a must-add on your reader / blogroll if you’re looking for some randomness to spice up your subscriptions.

Which Selleck/waterfall/sandwich picture tops your list?

Also: Name a random object / person and watch for the uploaded collage of your suggestions on your RSS feed.

Have a random day!

Random Tuesday: Frowning Flower Girl FTW

Random Tuesdays

I’m sure you’ve also seen the most epic photograph to come out of the Royal Wedding. It’s the only dose I got from the ceremony, and it more than encapsulates how I, and I’m sure countless others, felt about the big fuss.

Move over Kate, here is the girl everyone’s cheering at the moment:

The face is just so priceless it’s sparked a series of edits, some seriously hilarious! Enjoy!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

via mashable

Ode to muscles

Odes

I am asking for definition,

Let my body hate me

with every bounce, even more.

On the tips of my toes

— on the verge of collapse —

I breathe out CO2,

bend my body to an illegible question mark,

stretch my back like a paralyzed cat.

My belly dances, the music beats

like a hammer on my muscles.

Contracting, detracting, contracting,

retracting. The image of my body

glares from the mirror.

The aching begins,

a better version of me,

sooner than requested,

should be with you shortly.

The unsuspecting vegetarian

Rants

Courtesy: Jorge-11

Easter: a time of vegetarian solidarity. The much dreaded religious holiday is already well underway and to top it off this year, I have my birthday to crown the greatest of all feasts on Easter Sunday. Oh dear.

I have never been one to hang around the lamb on the spit, gradually roasting its way into mouth-watering decadence (for some). As for the liver wrapped in intestine, I unsuspectingly declined plates of this delicacy falsely believing it was rooster, which was offensive enough to my innocent spirit, let alone the vulgar reality of the aforementioned specific body parts. Indeed, Easter has always been out to get me when I least suspected it.

As a kid, I have fond memories of lighting firesparkles, a ritual that required speed and enthusiasm. The end goal was lighting all the firesparkles in the garden. The reward? A soup of intestines, liver and stomach. I slurped unsuspectingly without really understanding what it was I was forcing myself to digest.

Years later, no longer the soup sucker that I was as a kid, I was pretty much against most food on the table, simply because it didn’t agree with my palate. On Saturday night after church, after gathering at an aunt’s house for the traditional soup (thanks, I’ll pass), meat (no, I’m fine thanks) and potatoes (do I have to eat this at 12:30 a..m? Really?) I scanned the dining table for a sign of something barely edible so late in the night. There was hardly anything worth noting: the usual suspects were there, as was the gelatin with private body parts, ears and whatnot floating in a see-through volume of a globe. Then I noticed a plate of spaghetti and eggs, a newcomer and a rather unusual recipe altogether. I hurried to add a serving; given that I was always criticized for the lack of food in my plate, I was more than elated that the spaghetti took up a considerable portion. But of course, there was a catch. As I forked a bunch of spaghetti and egg and raised it to mouth, my uncle across me asked calmly: Since when do you eat intestines? Since, omg I’m going to faint. I barely smiled politely.

That was a close one.

And then here we are now, not so many years later. Am I traumatized? Hell yeah! Every Easter I dread all the food on the table, all the jokes on my eating habits and all that meat that’s trying to make its way into my mouth, one way or another. But this year, , let the whole world rejoice with souvla on my birthday. I will feel happy to mouth a bit of green and a slice of cake — I’ve got my 29th to chew on.

Note: soon something you can chew on. More in coming entries.