Posts Tagged 'The professor'



Confronted at an Outlet Mall

professor speaks

Okay, so, outlet malls are sorta outside malls–if that makes sense.

I’ve finally sorted that after all these years.

You see, when I first heard about an outlet mall, this professor said: “What sort of devilry is this?”

And I’ve got three main problems with outlet malls. Here they are:

(1) Too many clothing stores. 

(2) Too little knife stores.

(3) No bakeries.

I think they are three good reasons. Enough of an excuse to declare war on outlet malls.

Yes, well, I’m glad you agree, the sudden.

outlet-stores-lure-droves-of-shoppers-every-year-f1

Anyways and some, the professor was actually at an outlet mall recently searching for this thingy.

I couldn’t find it either.

So, I leaned up against a wall. It’s important to take breathers like that, you know.

“Hey, buddy.”

I didn’t even see the fellow approach, but there he was.

He looked like a security fellow.

“Yes?” I asked. “What’s up, my man?”

“No soliciting outside this store.”

It was Gap.

Unknown-1

“I’m not doing that,” I assured him. “I’m just hanging on the wall. Or, actually, leaning on it.”

“You don’t get it. I need you to move on. Find another place to ‘hang’.”

And that’s when I got a bit cranky. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

“Do you own this wall?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“No,” I said, “that is my point, the sudden.”

“The sudden? What are you? High?”

“You can’t stick to my point, can you?”

“Listen, you have to move, or I’ll call the police.”

“But do you own the wall? This, I feel in my boney bones, is a free wall.”

“It’s not a free wall, and you have to move on. Now.”

“Okay,” I said, “but only after you answer a question.”

He put his hands on his hips and breathed hard. “What?”

“What is the point of security if they need to call the police?”

And I left him with that.

I do admit, this professor was too cranky. But still…

Moral: Don’t let security make you cranky when you’re leaning on a free wall. It is a free country, after all.

 

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Traveling Pains

You may know (or mayn’t, depending on your disposition) that this professor was about traveling a few weeks back, I think.

My mind is a bit hazy on the exact date.

Anyway, the professor was traveling.

And you see, once I landed at the airport, I had to find a bus (or some sort of transportation) to the hotel.

(I do have a sense of direction, you know. It’s rather spotless, but I still didn’t want to walk the distance.)

So, this professor walked out from baggage claim (took a bit too long for the bags to arrive) and began the search for a bus.

I saw a sign and headed towards it.

A rather dark lady was standing there.

“Uhh…hello,” I said.

“Can I help you?” she said. She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.

“Yes, yes you can. I need to go to this address.” And this professor showed her a paper. “It’s in Anaheim,” I added.

She looked at the address for a bit, then looked at me quizzically. “That address isn’t in Anaheim, honey. Someone gave you the wrong address.”

Now, at this point, I was quite gardoobled.

See, I’d printed the address directly from the hotel’s website, and I was rather sure they knew where they were at.

At least, I hoped so.

“But see here,” I began, “this is the hotel’s address. Promise.” I added ‘promise’ after a seconds thought. That usually helps matters, you know, you know.

She shook her head. I think she was feeling bad for me.

“Honey, that may be the address, but it’s in the wrong county. Not Anaheim. Someone gave you the wrong address.”

“Dadblameit,” I muttered.

“When the driver comes, show him. He’ll know better than me.”

And that’s exactly what this professor did. Turns out, the lady was wrong.

Moral: Never argue with the hotel’s website directions.

Ever.

A Dinner Party

So, this professor got in a car (so I could act as a guide) and then I ended up at a dinner party.

At a mansion, mind you.

With lots of guests.

And they were all dressed up.

Alice and Joseph—they were the people in the car—escorted me into the house.

Not that the professor needs an escort, double mind you.

But before we could get to the dining hall (all the guests were taking their seats) an older lady stopped us.

She looked at Alice. “Why is your son not wearing clothes?”

It was a shocking statement.

And the professor was wearing clothes. I just wasn’t dressed up, so to speak.

But Alice just smiled, and Joseph laughed.

“He’s not our son,” Alice said.

“Quite right,” I put in. “Look here, for instance, I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”

The older woman looked at me weirdly. “Oh, poppycock. You should have least put on a dress shirt.”

“There wasn’t room with the one I’m currently wearing.”

She didn’t like that.

Joe laughed, and Alice ushered us into the dining hall where we were seated.

Now I got worried.

There were people all about this huge table. And they were quite distinguished. And quite a few were ugly, in truth that’s true.

We were all served some sort of soup—soups are always confusing me; they’re never what they seem—and everyone dug right in.

No prayers said, see.

I took a sip, cautiously.

It was awful. I must’ve made a face, for Alice—who was sitting across from me—said, “What’s a matter? Don’t like it?”

Joe was sitting next to her. And he laughed. “I figure you can’t take this type of food. You must be used to ‘lower-class food.’ Your stomach may grow used to this food in time—if you can find more dinner parties like this, which I highly doubt.”

Everyone at the table laughed. And I mean everyone. It was quite a moment.

So the professor said the first thing that popped to mind—which isn’t always smart.

“Well, my stomach mayn’t be able to handle this sort of food—I bet a cat’s could, though; I hear they have strong stomachs and that they can’t taste too well—but at least I know how to navigate roads.”

Complete silence.

“Alice,” an older gentleman said, “who is this?” He was looking at me.

“I’m not sure,” Alice retorted. “He acted as our driver today, because Thomas called off sick.”

“At the last moment,” I added.

Alice shot me an angry glance.

“Who are you?” that same older gentleman asked. Only this time, he asked me.

“Well, my man,” I answered. “You may call me Charleston.” Never give your name up to people you can’t stand. Because, if you do, your name will sound ugly coming from their lips.

Another lady, with red hair all tousled up on her head—and maybe a hint of a mustache, at least I thought I saw one—said: “So, Charleston, where did you go to school?”

“In a bucket,” I answered.

“What?!” she asked. “No, seriously!”

“Sorry,” this professor said. “I thought you asked something different.”

I was sorta ignored for the rest of the dinner.

But at least, I got free food. And dessert.

Later, I was having speaks with Mr. Magi.

“Yes,” he said, nodding profusely, “that house is always hosting parties. And lots of ‘influential’ persons go there. But don’t you take to it. Everyone is influential.”

I’d keep it in mind—the house and the parties, I mean.

Perfect place to revisit with Mr. Schwarz Tauptinker some day.

A Professorish Snack

So, the professor was hungry one day–quite late.

And I made something I’ll never forget.

Something dreadfully terrible.

I took a bagel, put an egg on it (a mostly cooked one, mind you), and put a piece of pepper jack cheese on top of the mostly cooked egg.

It was a garbage masterpiece, I fear.

The professor does not recommend eating such a concoction–ever.

Does it sound terrible?

See, I believe part of the problem was that the concoction sounded good when I first came up with the idea.

Food-logically it should work. Which makes me think there must have been something wrong with the cheese.

But does cheese go bad, PF? I’m not sure.

It was a dadblamery of a meal.

Book Review: A Kingdom Far and Clear

WARNING: What you are about to read is, in fact, a dadblame regular book review. You see, the professor loves this book to death, so the ripping of it might cause him repulsion. Onward, then!

A KINGDOM FAR AND CLEAR–THE COMPLETE SWAN LAKE TRILOGY by MARK HELPRIN

DSC00222I know this is a bit different from the normal routine of ripping books until they’re dead, but…this novel deserves respect, I think.

The Kingdom Far and Clear is composed of three novellas that each tell the gripping story of a young girl who was displaced from the throne by the horribly devious, scarily deformed “Usurper.”

Now that is horribly frightening!

Each of the three novellas is told from a different perspective. Helprin creates amazing imagery with his prose. (It can be considered too flowery at times, though, and has been known to induce a headache in the professor’s case.)

Once, the mountains held within their silvered walls a forest so high and so gracefully forgotten that it rode above the troubles of the world as easily as the blinding white clouds that sometimes catch on the jagged peaks and musically unfurl.

At the time of reading, the professor was quite curious about the “gracefully forgotten” part. It does stagger the imagination, doesn’t it?

There is a lingering sadness in each of the stories that is buffered by a thread of hope. A perfect example of a modern “Fairy Tale,” that is as suitable to adults as well as to children, A Kingdom Far and Clear is a haunting read that will stay with you long after you’ve read the last word.

One of things the professor found remarkable about the book is the “sad humor” throughout. (We really must have a discussion about “sad humor” some day. Definitely a professorish topic.)

So, the professor highly recommends it.

Now, there is one rippable part.

It’s the dedication.

I’m almost sure that the professor should be in there somewhere, for I must be the book’s greatest fan!


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Depends on the day, see.

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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