argonautgod

Last week ended 21 years of hostilities between me and cheesecake.

This week has seen the end of 10 years of cold war between me and my favourite teacher at school.

You see at school, economics was my subject of choice and the teacher, one Mr Palompo, was freaking awesome. Just an awesome inspiring teacher with a badass sense of humour. Economics ruled so hard that I was going to study it at university and stuff. Anyway, we were tight. When the 6th year yearbook came around in he went as a favourite teacher (and it was my belief that it was my vote that saw him in... the power of VOTE! Get out and abuse yours today.) All was cool.

Then came the final day of 6th year.

Tradition was that on the final school day of 6th year before the exams thing got a touch wild. This 'touch wild' had been escalating for years. Then it was our turn.

We turned that school into a minefield. A sludge of dreck. People were floured (including me by George Macarthur, fecker stained my coat, never got it out. Webby noticed for the first time that I was actually white.) Door were locked. Fire alarms went off. The cafeteria was mooned. Cars were vandalised. Ceiling tiles wrecked. Much fun.

During the apex of anarchy Mr Palompo among others were trying to calm the situation. It worked to an extent. Some jokers dressed up with water pistols were locked out the school. All seemed calm.

Then Macrae, who stood right next to me, thought he was going to be caught holding an egg (the rumour was anyone found with eggs were going to be kicked out) so he chucked it was.

Somehow that egg smacked against the ceiling and exploded over Mr Palompo.

This shit was funny. It was a one in a million event event and it happened before my eyes. Laughing. You bet. Harder than anyone and anything.

Then Mr Palompo turned around and shot me a look that killed. Just killed. I shut up. Nobody else did. He thought it was me who tossed the egg. There was no point arguing otherwise. He would have gone nuts. But I knew from there on out things wouldn't be friendly at all. Civil but not friendly.

And they weren't until last week. I'm at work and see him coming and say hello (as you do when you're me, manners maketh man and all that). He says hello back and we start shooting the breeze. All is cool again. Which is nice. All I want to find out now is if he actually thought it was me who tossed the egg, correct him if he's wrong and make him laugh when I tell what happened to Macrae. He will laugh. Karma!

But it was some f'n riot. Made the papers and everything. There's been nothing like it since, not even in jest. It was that serious. But it was cool. I say so.

Right, let's see if... ack, dammit. There no video on Youtube about Scotland's glorious 1-0 dicking of France last night. This is probably because everyone is still too wrecked from celebrating. No way did anyone really believe we could win that game. A draw would have been a grand result but to beat those 'cheese-eating surrender monkeys' (tm: William 'shortarse' Hague) is an incredible result. The ghost of that litle c*nt Berti has been slayed forever. Much bigger than the Holland result. We will likely lose the return game in Paris but yesterday's result will live forever.

Seeing the English draw with Macedonia and the Welsh spanked 5-1 makes it even sweeter. Tee-hee.

And the Bears are on the TV tonight against the Bills. Shall be good. Oh yes. Oh yes!

Right, Hindu Cow is coming soon. So in lieu of the Scotland goal, take it away... Proclaimers.



Would I walk 500 miles? For a result like yesterday's you bet your ass AND I would walk 500 more too...