I heard the real version of this song last night and spent most of it trying to remember the words to the “literal” version, so now I have to share it with you.
You may recall I’m working on getting a classroom set up, what with how I haven’t shut up about it for days. What I haven’t mentioned is that I’ve had a couple of Indiana University flags hanging up in virtually every classroom I’ve ever had that had the wall space for them, and I have been tearing the house apart over the last several days trying to figure out where the hell I put them after I closed down my last classroom. There was no way I would ever have thrown them away, and I realized this afternoon that there were certain other objects missing as well– most notably, my collection of Hulk toys, mostly gifts from students– that I similarly would never have gotten rid of.
They had to be in the basement. They had to be. There were other boxes of school shit down there; why wouldn’t the flags be down there somewhere? But both my wife and I had already gone through the basement. Independently. And found nothing.
Our basement is a fucking mess, y’all.
Now, in this picture, you need to ignore the fact that one of the flags in question is on top of the pile, but note that that cardboard box is open. And the reason the flag is on top of the pile of stuff there but with nothing underneath it dislodged is that the motherfucking thing was in plain goddamn sight the entire time, on top of everything in that cardboard box. And yet, somehow, two adults who were looking for red flags didn’t see it.
Trash bags full of undonated baby clothes removed, we see … part of a roll of paper towels, for some reason, part of a car seat, and … wait, what’s that?
If anyone has advice on how to get wrinkles out of a polyester flag, they’d be appreciated. And look! Underneath the flag!
My Hulk toys. My Hulk mugs. My binary clock. My Easy Button. My Skull of An Unnamed Former Student. All the shit that I knew goddamn well I didn’t throw away.
For once, something– a minor something, mind you, but something— has gone right.
How fucked-up and wrong does something have to be before you find yourself unable to recommend it? Or, alternatively, how good does something have to be before you find yourself recommending it despite its multitude of problems?
So, yesterday was a day, and it is a hundred forty degrees outside and I have already spent about half my waking hours in the pool, and you may disregard the entirety of yesterday’s post because why would things like saying I would like to offer you this job mean that you get a job, and I’m just keeping my mouth shut from here on out until I have signatures on shit.
I am tired and overheated and spent most of yesterday in an exceptionally bad mood and all I want to do today is play video games and not catch on fire.
Man do I wish I had been born in any generation other than the one that literally ended the world.
I didn’t post yesterday on account of having nothing to say, and I very nearly didn’t post today, but then I took a look at where my traffic was coming from today (as one does) and found the list of countries rather interesting:
Mozambique, Tanzania, Nepal and the EU (which I think means Kosovo, as every other EU country comes through as the actual country) all in the same day, in a day where I haven’t managed 100 hits yet? That’s something.