Ha (Greatpoets as entertainment)

The the impotence of proofreading

Has this ever happened to you?
You work very horde on a paper for English clash
And then get a very glow raid (like a D or even a D=)
and all because you are the word¹s liverwurst spoiler.
Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.

This is a problem that affects manly, manly students.
I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English teacher in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that¹s all I wanted, just to get into a good colleague.
Not just anal community colleague,
because I wouldn¹t be happy at anal community colleague.
I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation,
I really need to be challenged, challenged menstrually.
I know this makes me sound like a stereo,
but I really wanted to go to an ivory legal colleague.
So I needed to improvement
or gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison
(in Prison, New Jersey).

So I got myself a spell checker
and figured I was on Sleazy Street.

But there are several missed aches
that a spell chukker can¹t can¹t catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave a word
your spell exchequer won¹t put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov might replace a word
with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because what do you want it to douch?
It only does what you tell it to douche.
You¹re the one with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit.
It just goes to show you how embargo
one careless clit of the mouth can be.

Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher read my entire paper on A Sale of Two Titties
out loud to all of my assmates.
I¹m not joking, I¹m totally cereal.
It was the most humidifying experience of my life,
being laughed at pubically.

So do yourself a flavor and follow these two Pisces of advice:
One: There is no prostitute for careful editing.
And three: When it comes to proofreading,
the red penis your friend.



Taylor Mali

Writing for the joy of it.

After reading a post on Valentine's Day, I wandered over to Angus and said, "happy not-Valentine's day!" and gave him a hug.

"I'm glad it's not Valentine's day," he responded.

"Hey, we had a nice Valentine's day this year," I reminded him.

"Yeah, this year wasn't bad," he conceded.

I always win little things like that on technicalities and semantics.

He generally wins when we're addressing the substance of the matter.

The little exchange reminded me just how many people are walking wounded when it comes to relationships. I definitely have been, and in fact probably still have tons of hidden baggage somewhere, but the boy and I have been whittling down our respective piles slowly. We've made good progress. The framework for this relationship is one of mutual support, which means first of all that we maintain the separation of individuals enough to be able to tell more or less where our selves begin and end, and secondly that we place that self in the service of the other's well-being as one of our top priorities. I never write about it because, though it does take work, it's not dramatic. It's also everpresent, which adds difficulty to the writing. I also (oddly enough) don't care about analysing it all that much. I guess we all can break character from time to time.

I felt like I had a lot more to say in this vein, but I have just realised that it's seven in the morning and I badly want to take myself out for food, but that the place which sells cod roe udon right around the corner won't be open till 1pm. That is patently ridiculous. I could go out to a diner (the Templeton is a very good breakfast place and it's close) but I really want my noodles in salty creamy goo (huh, that was totally unintentional). The next best thing is atomic orange macaroni and cheese, and cheese really doesn't make my body happy. There are no egg tarts in my neighborhood (that will be addressed by the next move, oh yes it will) and the only bbq pork steam buns I want to eat anymore come from that place at Keefer and Gore with the steamer (though I guess T&T has a dim sum counter) and that place wouldn't be open anyhow.

What this town really needs is a couple more good congee joints (a la Happy King at Renfrew and 1st or the Penny) open for breakfast in my immediate vicinity.

What do ethnically white people have for breakfast besides wheat and eggs and maybe oats? There's gotta be something. It's probably not of something open near me in any case.

What do you have for breakfast?

Where do you eat in downtown Vancouver?

Do you ever take yourself joyfully out for dinner (where by dinner I mean any meal), or conversely make yourself dinner in and eat it in a cozy state of self-nourishing bliss?

Oooo, maybe I'll wait and hit tanpopo up for 11:30 or noon when Angus leaves for gaming. All you can eat sashimi for lunch sounds awful nice. Anyone wanna join me?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Went out with Juggler for lunch at kintaro.

Then I applied to BCIT

EXCITED!

(no subject)

Excited Excited!