Sour Grapes

Now is a good time to talk to you, I think. 

I have two folders, jammed with tests, that I need to correct. 

Now's a good time to tell you how I've been doing. 

"I'm miserable." 

That's what I tell people at school when they ask me at the coffee machine. 

They think I'm joking. 

I went to a party this weekend. 

There was a french man, and lots of guys who were broader than me. 
And likely still are. 

I smoked drugs by a hot water heater. 

Then I went upstairs to see that more guests had arrived. 

Women guests. 

Guests with breasts. 

I entered the living room and had a minor panic attack about where I should be standing. 

Then I drank more beer. 

Then I was fine. 

I can't remember any real highlights.

I was halfway through a cigarette with some man in a green shirt before I realized that he wasn't interesting enough, relative to the temperature, for me to continue talking to him.

I know I made a witty comment about almonds. 

And was immediately glad I had opened the tub. 

It was the first thing I tasted the next morning. 

The next thing I tasted was defeat. 

Just like every other morning. 

Peter and Turpin and I listened to portions of songs and drank portions of beer. 

I did not enjoy myself. 

And so I drank fewer portions. 

Then they yelled at me. 

Later they vomited and I didn't. 

I enjoyed myself a little more, then. 

Shoyden frauda. 

That's why. 

Who's up on their German? Who can spell it for me?

I know that Germans don't use 'Y' very often when they spell words. 

So that's probably wrong. 

They like 'O', though. Especially when it has little dots over it. 

Alright, this was stupid. 

I'm going to tell 60 students or so whether or not they know what 'tone' is. 

I barely know.