and where she stuck those pink carnations I'll leave to your imaginations
I wrote a paper yesterday. FOUR days before it was due. Professor Unprounacablename was like "write me a 6 page paper" and I was "yo, wiz, no prob."

FOUR DAYS.

Also, it's Monday afternoon and I'm already 8/10ths (aka 4/5ths or 80%) of the way through my Early Irish homework. We reveal scribes to the warriors in the temple? No sweat. Fuck you, noun stems. I am not afraid.

Hey, Nicola digs the singer's club. And on zee third day you can hav zee PO-TAT-O witzButtah. This train of thought has officially derailed.

Wednesday is our next rugby match, Julie won't be there again so I'm the fucking starting forward prop. Oh my my, oh hell yes.

Last wednesday I taught a class of 11 Polish immegrants vocabulary about the garden which I'm sure will really help them as they search for jobs in their new country. Next week I'm going to ask the nuns if I can taylor the lessons to be more pertainent to job accuisition. Somehow I don't think being able to say "The man on the ladder is fixing the roof with roof tiles" will help too much when they go into to get willingly exploited by the Irish Ferry's. I like teaching a lot, though. It's fun and it comes naturally. Maybe I should give up my dreams of being a rock star and persue a career in teaching.

Nah.