"working on my faults and cracks..."


Getting your dab on

News In Briefs:
WYWS Edition

* Apparently schools in Cincinnati closed their doors for the first time in 10 years on account of the recent heat wave. But here in Okayama, when it gets that hot (usually by 9 or 10 am every day), we just bring gym class inside. God forbid the mercury rise any higher, as we'd be forced to allow the pupils to start wearing shorts.
So, our big "Open School" starts Monday. I'm told it'll be different from the last two, but I'm still using the same lessons ("pin the tadger on the barmcake"). Sure, "Open School" sounds tame enough, but when we get to the bottom of all the advert pimping and whoring that goes on behind the scenes, just to get a few little J-butts in our little seats, I'm having trouble seeing the point. Leave it to the shit-for-brains English teacher to start raising eyebrows when the buck-toothed television cameras start vigorously humping the greasy leg of the propaganda machine. Seriousry, it's rike some kinda X-lated movie set out here or something. Sans "Lake" Peter.

* Yellowcard has finally gotten their nadgers together and released the appropriate vindication for the absolute shit-matsuri that was "Lights and Sounds." Ryan Key not acting like a complete twat anymore is probably a pretty reasonable explanation.

* I know it's horribly late beyond all relevancy, but the Mt. Fuji climb video that Brian and I shot last month is still in the works. I'm in the process of trimming it to fit in the YouTube allotted ten minutes for my peasant account. I'm not gonna lie, it's actually not very awesome--what, with most of the footage containing "rocks," "dark," and "more rocks." But, since it's already taking up precious space on my hard drive, I'm going to force you to watch it anyway. Sit tight.

* "Twernt": Noun. Anatomically, the area between the genitals and the anus. Derived from the expression "if it twern't there, your guts would fall out."

I often find myself desperately wishing I had been born in England as a oft rat-arsed cackhander, growing up with a dial like a bag of spanners, telling all the salad dodging twats and faffers to stuff it up the marmite motorway while rubbernecking the apples packing dead heat in a Zeppelin race.

Sigh...Silly Brits have all the good vocabulary.
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