The Thing and Junk

School last night. Wow. Where do I start?

First of all, it was the last session of this particular class, so I will never have to listen to Diane Chambers again. Whoooooohoooooooo. Man, was she annoying. And weird.

Thing did his heresy presentation last night. I'd been dreading it, because I was sure it would be a rambling mess that would take at least half the class time. Well, he gets up there and hands out a term paper on his chosen heresy. This frickin' paper was eight pages long, front and back. Holy crap, dude. So I start looking at the paper, and it is absolutely perfect. No misspellings, no run-on sentences, lots of great big words, even a little Greek thrown in for good measure. It was so frickin' obvious that he is a gigantic plagiarist. There is no way in hell Thing wrote a single word of that paper. This fact was totally underscored by his presentation. He basically started reading from his paper (after a five minute, rambling, senseless introduction that had nothing to do with anything), and he couldn't even frickin' read it. He's mispronouncing words, stumbling over the sentence structures, and obviously struggling to comprehend what he supposedly researched and wrote. And he had the nerve to go, "Y'all know how I love to learn and research stuff." Hmmmm. Really? Then why doesn't your in-depth research ever result in a finished paper??? Idiot. The funny thing was that he was only on page four of his huge-ass work of plagiarism when the prof goes, "Five minutes left." Yeah, I can't say I was at all surprised that Thing was totally unable to present anything within a fifteen minute time frame. So he starts skipping pages, and I just totally tuned out. At the end, the prof asked if anyone had any questions and Thing looked like he was going to pass out. No one asked him jack because no one could stomach the thought of getting him talking again, but I was really tempted to ask him a very specific question relating to his manifesto just to watch him squirm. I know... evil.

Later on in class we were discussing the role of the Holy Spirit, and Thing starts this long-ass debate with the prof. He was basically saying the same thing as the prof (as usual), but for some reason felt they were not on the same page and totally kept belaboring the point. Totally frustrating. When I get stressed I start to chew my cuticles... lemme tell ya, I've got a few ragged ones from last night. At one point, Thing goes, "The Holy Spirit came into my life and made me stop doing evil," and all I could think was, "Too bad the Holy Spirit can't make you shut the hell up." I would've started kicking him at that point, but couldn't quite reach him. And trust me, I looked under the desk to gauge whether or not I could make contact.

Another funny thing that happened:
We're watching this video sermon about atonement, and the guy on the screen is talking about an Old Testament practice where the high priest would take this goat and confess all the sins of the nation of Israel on the head of the goat, and then a Gentile would take the goat out into the wilderness and let it go. So the sins of the people were on the goat, not on the people. Atonement/salvation.

Here's the funny part: the guy is talking about putting your sins on the goat, and he keeps saying, "They all put their junk on the goat," "The junk of the entire nation was on that goat," "Put your junk on the altar," and a few more comments along that line. I was going, "Holy crap! Stop Saying JUNK!" Of course, horrible person that I am, I was totally thinking of "junk" as... well, you all know what "junk" is. If you don't, you must be living in a cave somewhere on the outskirts of town. I was totally laughing... I mean sitting with my head down so my hair would cover my face so no one would see me laughing, shoulders shaking, everything but the Horshack-like donkey bray that flies out of my mouth when I am laughing hysterically. Of course I go to school with grown-ups, so I was the only immature, perverted dork who found it funny.

About Computer Boy's ass: if I have to look at that thing one more time I'm going to scream. I ask you, how can he be completely oblivious to the fact that he is standing around flashing his bare ass at poor, unsuspecting, innocent classmates??? What have we ever done to deserve such an oogie fate??? That classroom is really cold, too, so there is no frickin' way he cannot feel the breeze on his skin. And he'll walk to the front of the class with the full moon out, turn to face us, and THEN pull his pants up. Yeah, a little too little a little too late, pal. He also sometimes has his naked belly exposed during class, which is particularly hilarious when he leans back in his chair while making a point during a discussion. Now, there is just no excuse for that. One, you have got to feel the cold air on your skin. Two, it's right in front of you, so you can totally see that your shirt is riding up to just below your nipple line. Yet he rarely makes a move to correct the problem right away. And I know that if I dared to look under the table his ass would be hanging out too, which would mean that he was virtually naked from thighs to chest. Can I just say: EW, EW, EEEEEEEWWWWWWWW.

It's like a 10.0 on the rectal scale. (Yeah, I'm never going to be able to let go of that one. So sue me.)