South Park Self

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox

Yesterday was unmitigated hell. The corridor outside my office is festooned with bits of shredded student, only most of whom deserved it. Today will be more of the same, except that I have improved it somewhat by (a) coming up to campus early so that the traffic doesn't render me pre-homicidal, and (b) eating plums and chocolate shortbread for breakfast. I am now uneasily eyeing my Seekrit Weapon, viz. the can of Red Bull which is standing on my desk, sweating gently. I hate the stuff, but by gum it works. Any moment now I'm going to hold my nose and choke it down.

I am also tolerably amused by today's surreal billboard headline, which reads "HAWKS CLAW CROC SKINNER". It's one of those completely unparseable ones, where you really need to know the context before anything faintly resembling sense can emerge. I darkly suspect that this may have something to do with a local police unit nabbing a game-skin smuggler, but without the context it's a pleasingly meaningless collection of syllables. It doesn't help that I persist in reading "Croc Skinner" as a name.

Shall now firmly deal with the umpteen plaintive student requests in my inbox, before launching into a day filled with registration crises. Aargh.

p.s. in all the registration chaos, still managed to put up another Microfiction. The theme was "Stand up". For the record, I have absolutely no idea what the hell I was on about in this one.
  • Current Mood: cranky cranky