The WORST Thing in the World…!

Okay.

Let’s be honest for a split second. (Not that I’m not honest for every other second, mind.)

What is the worst thing ever?

You might be tempted to say: Why, the worst thing ever is when a baby lizard is brutally murdered by a snapping turtle who feels encroached upon after eating a hearty breakfast and laying in the sun to aid in the digestion process, which is quite finicky to say the least.

This is true, yes, but you’d be wrong.

That’s second.

The first worst thing is getting up early.

Very early.

Like 4am early.

That’s bad.

So, so dadblame bad.

It goes like this:

The alarm rings and you shut it off. After all, how dare it wake you up?!

Alarm clocks don’t look this nice.

It rings 20 minutes later. Well, it was supposed to ring 20 minutes later, but you’re pretty sure it’s only 5. (Imagine a clock that can’t keep time. What’s this world coming to?)

You crank your head up and stare at the clock. It stares back at you.

“Look here,” you try to reason with it, “I don’t really care if I’m late even though I know I have to be there. After all, sleep is more important than anything else…CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!

The clock shrugs and moves forward a minute.

“Dadblameit, you slug!” you nearly scream. “I need some understanding!”

The insult must make it mad, ’cause it moves 2 whole minutes forward.

“Don’t…please…”

What else is there but to beg now?

Tears begin to flow.

Another minute.

“Fine then, you absurd box with red lights, I’m up!”

And thus begins a day.

It’s an early day.

And you’ve already been ticked off (see what I did there) by your clock.

Btdubs, this is a true story.

Moral: I haven’t thought one up yet.

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“You’re Narrow-minded.” HOW DARE YOU

“Maybe you’re just narrow-minded.”

She said it bluntly, it was so blunt. So blunt.

Not that I minded, of course. The professor never minds.

But it did throw off my groove, if I’m completely honest.

Yes, the professor usually functions in some sort of groove.

Now, here’s the thing, you see: It’s not that I was insulted, it’s just that I wasn’t sure what to say.

Previously, the professor had been winning the war of words.

But the line she delivered was a sinker.

I had to act and act fast.

So, I said the only thing I could think of:

“What was that?”

She sighed, gave me a look of annoyance, put her hands on her hips, and said: “I SAID, if you think you’re always right, you’re probably a bit narrow-minded.”

And then the words I needed came to me in a gust of inspiration.

I was searching for a gif to put there and this is what popped up. I completely agree with this statement.

“Look here,” I began, “firstly first, I’m always right because if I wasn’t right for one split second, why then I’d be wrong, and if I was wrong, why then it would mean I wasn’t right, and how could that possibly be the case when we just all agreed that I was right when I’m right which is pretty much all the time?”

See what I did there? Lots of words. I must admit, I said nothing, but it sounded like I said something. Plus–ultra cool–I said that we all just agreed on what I said, which included her.

That caught her up nice and fluffy.

“But…but…” she said.

I said nothing. #professorwins

“But you might be narrow-minded, then.”

“Then we all probably are, since we all just agreed I’m usually right.”

Moral: If you’re ever not sure what to say, say it all and say it quick.

Why Jumping is Overrated

So…okay, this is rather a brutal thing to say, but you know this professor: I can’t help myself.

See, sometimes it’s best to be brutal: You get out what you need to say and you don’t have long thinks about it and end up changing your mind.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were quite happy and quite frustrated at once? A situation where you were relieved but pretty badly annoyed?

Let me explain.

You see, I had been searching all over for this gym bag. It was a red, Under Armour gym bag, to be precise.

Aha. This be the brute.

Then, wonders of wonders, I found it! (It was in the last store I checked, too. How’s that for a dadblamery?)

Thus, this professor was extremely overjoyed, having found the bag.

BUT.

And this is a big but.

The bag was wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy way way way way at the top of a shelf, far out of my reach.

So it was a sticky wicket.


Now, there was a fellow about who worked there, but he was far off, leaning on a table, staring this professor’s way.

Yes, he was taunting me.

“You can’t get the bag,” he seemed to be saying.

“That might be,” I seemed to be saying back, “but watch how I end up getting it.”

I’ll be honest right away.

The jumping didn’t work.

Gosh. I hope I didn’t look like that.

Up to this point in my life, I must admit I thought I was a rather good jumper. You know how it is. You fancy you can do something well, you even take pride in thinking that you can, but the fact is you’ve just never really tried.

So now we all know I can’t jump.

DADBLAMEIT. You know what…? Forget I even mentioned that…

After my jumping attempts failed (just because my ankle was rather sore that day) I moved on to a better solution: a hockey stick.

You see, one glance in the fellow’s direction proved that he was still leaning on the table. But there was a smug look on his face after the attempted jumps. (Dadblame that sore ankle, right?)

But once I returned with the hockey stick…

Ah, he stood up then…

…and watched the professor fetch his bag.

Moral: You don’t need to jump when you have a hockey stick.

Girls Can’t Bow

So, I won’t lie.

I never do, you know.

Well, that’s not true.

See, sometimes I lie, other times I don’t. It’s a consternation, but it can’t be helped.

That’s why I always say: “I lie every other day.”

Anyways, I must tell you something that’s rather hurtful, and I def can’t lie about it.

Here it is:

Girls can’t bow.

That’s not to say they don’t want to, but it’s just an impossibility. What happens when they try isn’t a bow, see. We can’t go redefining words, after all. (For example, you wouldn’t call a crocodile a lizard if he was stunted in the growth department, would you? Of course not. Likewise, we can’t call a not-bow a bow.)

What's the difference between a bow a bough and a bow? Never mind. That's neither here nor over there.

So, to back up my hypothesis, I must now needs present proof. (All good professor do such things, see. And I’m a good professor, double-see.)

What better way to prove a point than using our dear friend Mr. Google.

Here’s what I found after a quick google; I scanned nearly 642,000 results, btdubs.

And these images were the best that the ladies had to offer.

Proof #1

I mean, this is so far from a bow that I win right away. No problem; no battle; no skin from my lobes.

Proof #2 & #3

A hand spin is not bowing.

Proof #4

This one was closest to a bow…but for a bow to be legit, you really can’t speak and bow at the same time. Therefore, I win.

And I didn’t tell a lie.

And girls can’t bow.

And that’s the end.

Late Because Not My Fault

The professor is a patient person.

Usually.

Sometimes, I’m not, and that’s when I riot. #riotingisfun

160209115236-24-mong-kok-riot-0209-exlarge-169

A picture of me after rioting.

But, anyways and some, I pushed the elevator button, because I had to go up, after all.

Just up a floor, mind.

And I had to get there within three minutes. Not a problem.

Sadly, that’s when it all went south, like a buffalo running down a hill who loses control and starts to tumble.

jumpingbuffalo-yellowstonenationalp

You see, that’s when the hallway became packed with so many people, I feared–the sudden–for my oxygen supply.

Then there was a ding, and the elevator opened.

It was going down, not up.

“Dadblameit!” I cussed.

“That’s not going to help anything,” a girl next to me, who was also waiting, said.

“What’s not?”

“Cursing. It’s not how you should live your life.”

“But you’re as wrong as wrong can get, because I’m always right. It definitely helps. After all, Mark Twain and John Wayne said it does, and they can’t possibly be wrong.”

This is the first thing John Wayne said to me when I met him back in the day.

This is the first thing John Wayne said to me when I met him back in the day.

She raised an eyebrow.

The elevator came again.

And success!

It was going up.

But, rats and a heifer, there was no room.

That’s when the professor glanced at his watch.

Just thirty seconds now.

I ran to the stairs.

And wonders of wonders, can you believe when I arrived at the correct floor, the door to access that floor was handle-less?! No handle. No way to get it.

What made it even worse was the fact that I could see the place where I needed to be through the window.

The professor just couldn’t get there.

So…I rioted.

Riot mode.

Riot mode.

The professor busted down the door with inhuman strength, charged into the nearest room, grabbed the nearest employee, and dragged him back to the door.

“What is wrong with your building, hmm, dadblameit?! Elevator service is awfully awful and there’s no handles on your doors! What is this? A giggle-joke?!”

“I’ll fix it right away, sir!” the fellow said nervously as he shook brutally.

“You better,” I said, relaxing. “Now you’ve gone and made me late.”

“I’ll make it up to you!” He was on his knees know, begging. “Please don’t hurt me!”

The professor raised an eyebrow. “A free lunch? That’s what I require.”

“Yes!! You got it!”

Double-dadblameit. That sounded so good, too.

That’s how I did it in my mind, see.

In reality, I stood there, staring through the door for a good ten minutes, before I decided to try to find another way in.

The professor was late, and there was nothing a soul, or ghost, could do about it.


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Punchy Argot:

1. Dadblameit.
2. Humdinger
3. Chickit
4. Chicky-woot-woot
5. Malediction
6. Rapscallion
7. Gardoobled
8. Congratulilolations
9. Togoggin
10. Gargonic
11. Two and Five Gurgles
12. Rats and a Heifer
13. Two nods, a wink, and an astroid
14. A bit, bits, and little bits
15. Huff-Hum and a Roar
16. So many thanks, I can't begin to thank you
17. Ri-do-diculous

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