Reasons why #teamhudson is better than #teamfahs:
1. Miss Hudson never insults you, unlike Mister Fahs who incessantly insults you
2. Miss Hudson actually comes to your class meetings, unlike Mister Fahs who hardly ever shows up
3. Miss Hudson will show positive feedback while Mister Fahs likes to use negative feedback
4. Miss Hudson is understanding. Mister Fahs likes to make fun of you if you're insecure
5. Miss Hudson will never foul you while playing basketball, but Mister Fahs will foul you every chance he gets
6. Mister Fahs likes to mess with your windshield wipers and your gas can lid. Miss Hudson won't even touch your car.
7. Miss Hudson bakes baked goods for bake sales, while Mister Fahs if anything will go to a store and buy cookies or something lame.
8.Miss Hudson will teach you grammer; Mister Fahs can't teach you anything.
9.Miss Hudson will introduce you to her family. Mister Fahs still hasn't introduced me to anyone in his family.
10. Miss Hudson complements your shoes. Mister Fahs won't even notice if you have new shoes.
But in all honesty, I'm probably #teamdevlin .
#keepreadingthishashtagandyoulleventuallyrealizeimjustsayingtreyislame
Friday, October 23, 2015
Saturday, October 17, 2015
week eight: the baby shoes
I doubt I will ever amount to the prowess of Ernest Hemingway, but here we go:
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
This past week I visited "Secondhand Attire and Other Miscellaneous Items" a thrift shop I often frequent at least once a month. I've made a habit of going down each aisle to make sure I never miss any interesting articles. On this most recent visit, I happened to chance upon one of the most intriguing objects I've found to date. As I was walking down the row with mother and baby items, a peculiar sign caught my eye. It read as follows "baby shoes, never worn." I bought them without a second thought and at the checkout I asked the cashier if he knew the story behind the shoes. The kindly old bearded man told me that he unfortunately didn't have any extra information, but that I could go ask the worker in the unloading station if he might know. Following the instructions, I went back to the unloading station and met with the man. His name was Karl. Karl said that the shoes were brought in earlier today. A seemingly nice mid thirties man brought them in and luckily for me, "Secondhand Attire and Other Miscellaneous Items" has a sign in book for all people who donate so the employees can call and ask if they have any other items that they'd like to get rid of. Luckily, the middle aged man had decided to fill in his information. Karl said it was alright if I tore out the man's page and took it with. I stopped at the nearest traveler's center and purchased a tri-fold map to find my way to the address he left on the paper. I went to the nearest Starbucks and sat down at an outside cafe table and studied the map. After about an hour I finally pinpointed the location. I got on the nearest red-line L train and then rode towards 95th/ Dan Ryan. I got off somewhere shortly before the loop, most likely the stop on Grand, and then followed the direction I wrote to myself. After a roughly thirty minute stroll, I arrived at a large apartment complex. I found the man's name, Johann Eickhoff, on the directory. I toned up to his apartment and awaited the original questions. What I wasn't expecting was German yelled through the intercom at me. I jumped back alarmed and then started to explain myself. After approximately fifteen minutes of conversation, he buzzed me in, while giving me directions to his room. I took the elevator to the sixth floor and went to the room marked 644. I knocked on the door and a fair haired man opened it. I happened to peek past him and saw a transparent tarp on the ground and was a little distressed, but then thought maybe the man was just doing some painting. I walked in and he hastily shut the door behind me. Johann showed me around his apartment a little bit and then I asked him about the baby shoes. A little bit off offhandedly he said things didn't work out as well as he had planned with his expecting wife. At that moment I started to realize that there was a bit of a weird tense in the atmosphere and I peeked around the corner to glance into the adjacent room where I first glimpsed the tarp. When I saw the bloody streaks on it and a woman's body in the partially rolled up tarp, I ran to the door as fast as I could. Just as I hastily unlatched the locks and burst through the doorway I heard Johann's footsteps coming down the hall. I ran to the stairs, because waiting for the elevator to come would have been the end of me. I jumped down four stairs at a time and then dashed through the entrance to the building. I ran all the way back to the thrift shop and returned the shoes. I no longer frequent the shop. In fact I haven't frequented anywhere lately. I jump at every shadow expecting Johann to be there waiting to tie up his loose ends.
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
This past week I visited "Secondhand Attire and Other Miscellaneous Items" a thrift shop I often frequent at least once a month. I've made a habit of going down each aisle to make sure I never miss any interesting articles. On this most recent visit, I happened to chance upon one of the most intriguing objects I've found to date. As I was walking down the row with mother and baby items, a peculiar sign caught my eye. It read as follows "baby shoes, never worn." I bought them without a second thought and at the checkout I asked the cashier if he knew the story behind the shoes. The kindly old bearded man told me that he unfortunately didn't have any extra information, but that I could go ask the worker in the unloading station if he might know. Following the instructions, I went back to the unloading station and met with the man. His name was Karl. Karl said that the shoes were brought in earlier today. A seemingly nice mid thirties man brought them in and luckily for me, "Secondhand Attire and Other Miscellaneous Items" has a sign in book for all people who donate so the employees can call and ask if they have any other items that they'd like to get rid of. Luckily, the middle aged man had decided to fill in his information. Karl said it was alright if I tore out the man's page and took it with. I stopped at the nearest traveler's center and purchased a tri-fold map to find my way to the address he left on the paper. I went to the nearest Starbucks and sat down at an outside cafe table and studied the map. After about an hour I finally pinpointed the location. I got on the nearest red-line L train and then rode towards 95th/ Dan Ryan. I got off somewhere shortly before the loop, most likely the stop on Grand, and then followed the direction I wrote to myself. After a roughly thirty minute stroll, I arrived at a large apartment complex. I found the man's name, Johann Eickhoff, on the directory. I toned up to his apartment and awaited the original questions. What I wasn't expecting was German yelled through the intercom at me. I jumped back alarmed and then started to explain myself. After approximately fifteen minutes of conversation, he buzzed me in, while giving me directions to his room. I took the elevator to the sixth floor and went to the room marked 644. I knocked on the door and a fair haired man opened it. I happened to peek past him and saw a transparent tarp on the ground and was a little distressed, but then thought maybe the man was just doing some painting. I walked in and he hastily shut the door behind me. Johann showed me around his apartment a little bit and then I asked him about the baby shoes. A little bit off offhandedly he said things didn't work out as well as he had planned with his expecting wife. At that moment I started to realize that there was a bit of a weird tense in the atmosphere and I peeked around the corner to glance into the adjacent room where I first glimpsed the tarp. When I saw the bloody streaks on it and a woman's body in the partially rolled up tarp, I ran to the door as fast as I could. Just as I hastily unlatched the locks and burst through the doorway I heard Johann's footsteps coming down the hall. I ran to the stairs, because waiting for the elevator to come would have been the end of me. I jumped down four stairs at a time and then dashed through the entrance to the building. I ran all the way back to the thrift shop and returned the shoes. I no longer frequent the shop. In fact I haven't frequented anywhere lately. I jump at every shadow expecting Johann to be there waiting to tie up his loose ends.
Friday, October 16, 2015
week seven: the shrew from my closet
The
last thing I saw was my alarm clock flashing 12:07 before she pushed her long,
rotting nails through my chest, her other hand muffling my screams. I sat bolt
upright, relieved it was only a dream, but as I saw my alarm clock read 12:06,
I heard my closet door creak open. At this exact moment, I knew that I only had
a little bit less than a minute to prevent my dream from becoming reality. I
happen to be an expert on making a little bit of time go a long way, for
example I've perfected my ways by waking up late a countless amount of times on
school days. Anyways, in about thirty seconds I came up with my entire plan on
how to disengage from the situation and how to maim or at least disable my
assailant. I jumped up into a standing position, bringing my thick comforter
with me. Then I threw it in a similar fashion to a fisherman casting his net,
except I made sure that I let go of my throwing device. Next, I side stepped
along the wall to turn on the ceiling light, but left my eyes towards where I
threw my blanket. I remembered from my dream that the woman had long nasty
nails that she used as a weapon, so as I dashed past her I decided to throw a
punch at her head to see if it would disorient her. I felt my fist
connect with a solid surface, but i didn't waste anytime to see the effects. As
I reached the opposite corner of the room, I grabbed my hand-and-a-half
polypropylene sword and swung around while bringing the sword into ready
striking position. I completed my rotation just in time to see the wretched hag
disentangle herself from the blanket. I swung with all my might, directing the
strike at the fiend's temple. The swing struck true and her skull caved inwards
from the blow. When her body hit the ground, her festering brains splattered
upon my nice white blanket I used to ensnarl her earlier. It was really too bad
that it was my favorite blanket.
week six: frozen: Sven edition
Kristoff has ice. need carrots. I take ice in wagon. need carrots. We sleep in barn. Oooo, carrots! Pretty lady. Oh no wolves. need carrots. Bye bye sled. Ooo little snow man. CARROT!!!! Big ice house. Big scary ice man. need carrots. Pretty lady throws snow ball. run run run. Falling. Big snow pile. Kapoof! need carrots. Pretty lady has white hair. We go see rock family. Kristoff lets's pretty lady go. sad. need carrots. Kristoff changed his mind. We go rescue pretty lady. OHHH!!! COLD WATER. ice melts. need carrots. Yay!! Kristoff and pretty lady are happy. Little snowman. CARROTS!!!!!!!
Friday, October 2, 2015
week five: orca adventuring
Well I would go to the set of Fuller House and there I would meet Robert Lane Saget, also known as Bob Saget. Then after shooting my scene for the new TV show, we would go get ice cream. After that we would go to the mall and ride around on Segways making people jump out of the way. About an or two into this, we would get bored and since Bob Saget is an old man, age 59, we would get a massage from those chairs that you have to put money into but Bob is so famous someone would pay for us. When we get done getting our deep tissue massages, we would go to SeaWorld, see the orca whales, and then buy them all and set them free. Then we would take a swag boat ride and watch them swim out into the sunset. All in all, it'd be a great day.
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