Perhaps you noticed the lack of updates this week. It's not because I don't have material. Believe you me, there's plenty of that, I've got more in the queue than I've ever had, and hopefully I'll get a couple more out today.
No, it's because a fucking pipe burst in my office, causing me to lose at least two days of this week, and spending Wednesday, not only trying to qrite many stories for deadline, but also pack up everything in the office so it can me moved out and the carpet replaced.
But that's not the subject of Friday Hate. I enjoy pipes. Whether it's laying pipe, smoking a pipe, or.... well, I guess those are the only two analogies. Apologies for getting your hopes up.
No, today's Friday Hate is about: school.
I recently returned to the halls of academia, in the form of a photography class, which takes place at a local high school at night.
It's a decent class, doesn't go for very long, and is relatively inexpensive.
But school sucks.
As soon as I walked into that high school, it all came pouring back. The pastel-colored cinderblocks. Row after row of garishly painted lockers.
And then I see things like this:
Hate free zone? I want no part of that.
Here is a selection of DVDs that the students were enjoying:
Click on the image to see better quality.Evolution? Stem Cells? HIV/AIDS? What are they teaching kids these days? When will they go back to like it was in the good old days. I mean, nothing bad happened in the 40s, right?
And then there's the classmates.
I remember being in high school, and if you were like me, you were bored 75% of the time, which you spent thinking about which girls in the class you would band, and in what order.
I went to a private high school, so I had a bonus during the warmer months: girls were required to wear skirts, so I could spend time trying to get a glimpse whenever they crossed and uncrossed their legs.
But we're in the dead of winter now, and people taking photography classes aren't exactly wearing skirts to class. Fucking teases.
The class meets on Wednesday nights, and I chose that one against one that met on Tuesday nights. Big fucking mistake.
I get there, and there are only three chicks there. Two of which, are extremely attractive, one of which is sitting right next to me. Score.
I won't lie. One of the things I was hoping to get out of the class was to meet some hot artsy chick that didn't mind giving up the butt, and/or smoke drugs with me.
Then the teacher came in, and mentioned that the other class, the Tuesday one, the one I was going to sign up for, only had one guy, and the rest were chicks. Fuck.
But, I reasoned, at least there are two hotties in this class that I can spit my horrible, horrbile game at.
At least, until I saw their hands.
Let me tell you something. There is nothing worse than seeing a hot chick, and the seeing a diamond ring on one of those fingers. It blows.
And one of these chicks, not the one sitting next to me, but the other one, she could not go more than one minute without mentioning her husband. A sample of dialogue:
Teacher: Why are you taking this class?
Chick: Well, me and my husband like to travel, and we take photos and I want to get better (hands out her samples)
Teacher: This is a nice one.
Chick: Yeah, that was a Virginia Tech. That's where I met my husband. He was in the engineering program, and we went there a few weeks ago.
Teacher: Where are you from?
Chick: Well, I live in Falls Church. Whenever me and my husband go into D.C., we always want to take a picture at the metro stop, there are so many people.
Bitch! How am I supposed to fantasize about face-fucking you if you keep bringing up your husband? I get it. You have a good thing going. But try not to mention him in every single sentence you utter.
I'm planning on counting the times she mentions her husband next class, and I will report back to you with the number. I know it will be fucking ridiculous.
This Friday seemed to have plenty of hate to go around. There are a lot of things I hate.
Like you. I hate you.
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