Braving the barf
Hello, readers of us!
My fellow blogger and vice-manager of TBS (Terrific Biology Society) was right: I have not been very faithful in updating this blog. The main cause is, of course, my parents. They won't allow me on the internet every day, afraid that I might contract an addiction of some sort, or that I get acquainted with dirty old men who want to do Unspeakable Things to me (I have no idea what my mother means by that, but I imagine it can get quite violent. And silent, lol).
Also, I have been very busy, managing my new club. There was a brief quarrel with Mathew for the supreme leadership, but I won out, because my grades were better and because I knew the size of an amoeba and he didn't (roughly 700 µm!)! The club also had a heated argument over whether we would allow girls in our club. Arguments against were that a "club" is typically masculine (although this new law in Britain will open up traditional clubs to women), and that most girls will only want to contribute pretty pictures of their cute pussy or their puppy. Arguments for (my position) were that they were girls and the above-mentioned law. The issue was left undecided.
Yesterday the strangest thing happened: After I had braved the verbal diarrhoea of yet another argument over computer games (my parents won't allow me to buy Cruise ship tycoon), I was nearly sicked on by Mathew's little sister, who's suffering from tummy aches and, apparently, violent tummy contractions. Her vomit ended up at least two feet from her mouth, quite close to my shoes. Thinking of any responsability I might have to acquire in view of any paternal developments in my life (which I have been thinking about lately, hence the discussion about girls in the club), I started cleaning the floor. The scent, however, made me so dizzy I vomited too, after which I was excused of further cleaning duties.
I might have to alter my point of view on the admission of girls in the club. I had to suffer painful remarks from my fellow TBS-ers, and I prefer no girl ever finds out about this. It would prevent me from coming across as capable of looking after children.
Distraughtly yours,
Martin "Sigi" Miller
My fellow blogger and vice-manager of TBS (Terrific Biology Society) was right: I have not been very faithful in updating this blog. The main cause is, of course, my parents. They won't allow me on the internet every day, afraid that I might contract an addiction of some sort, or that I get acquainted with dirty old men who want to do Unspeakable Things to me (I have no idea what my mother means by that, but I imagine it can get quite violent. And silent, lol).
Also, I have been very busy, managing my new club. There was a brief quarrel with Mathew for the supreme leadership, but I won out, because my grades were better and because I knew the size of an amoeba and he didn't (roughly 700 µm!)! The club also had a heated argument over whether we would allow girls in our club. Arguments against were that a "club" is typically masculine (although this new law in Britain will open up traditional clubs to women), and that most girls will only want to contribute pretty pictures of their cute pussy or their puppy. Arguments for (my position) were that they were girls and the above-mentioned law. The issue was left undecided.
Yesterday the strangest thing happened: After I had braved the verbal diarrhoea of yet another argument over computer games (my parents won't allow me to buy Cruise ship tycoon), I was nearly sicked on by Mathew's little sister, who's suffering from tummy aches and, apparently, violent tummy contractions. Her vomit ended up at least two feet from her mouth, quite close to my shoes. Thinking of any responsability I might have to acquire in view of any paternal developments in my life (which I have been thinking about lately, hence the discussion about girls in the club), I started cleaning the floor. The scent, however, made me so dizzy I vomited too, after which I was excused of further cleaning duties.
I might have to alter my point of view on the admission of girls in the club. I had to suffer painful remarks from my fellow TBS-ers, and I prefer no girl ever finds out about this. It would prevent me from coming across as capable of looking after children.
Distraughtly yours,
Martin "Sigi" Miller
posted by Trevare | Thursday, February 16, 2006
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