I'm sure I'll get better one day or else society will force me to know how. I'm terrible at cooking. I spend forever cleaning vegetables because I'm paranoid that they'll be dirty. I slice carefully because I don't want to lose a finger! I also drop food into the pan one by one and jump back after it drops into the pan. I don't like it when oil splatters... it hurts. I can steam pretty well but I tend to steam a bit too long because the vegetables turn all yellow. The only thing I can do well is cooking rice! Wash the rice and then put it into the rice cooker. However, sometimes I add too much water.
Besides not being able to cook, I have this thing for staring at the stove. The redness of the hot stove is so... alluring. Though the color is too bright for my taste, I really want to touch it. I didn't, however, nor will I ever. It's just that it calls at me, telling me to touch it! I know better though. I can't go listening to stupid stoves that turn a nice, bright red...
Anyways, tonight I had to cook because my mom didn't want to. So being "good" and shit, I cooked dumplings tonight. I thought I doing a good job steaming them since they looked really nice. I served them right in a bowl and presented my cooking to her. She eats them but then starts noting they taste kind of funny. Four dumplings later, she tells me that they were still raw! Luckly I only ate two. At least she didn't get so mad at me and just told me what I should have done instead. My mom recooked the dumplings and we then ate them fully cooked.
"You should get corn-rows," suggested a girl.
"I don't like corn," Dauber replied.
Mr. Galloway is the shamefully bald student-teacher, and his appearance is defined by a hideous goatee. He resembles a penguin.
Recently, we were asked how a criminal that weighs 75 kg could lower himself down from a window on a sheet-rope that can only hold 50 kg. I suggested that the criminal slice off both of his legs and then proceed to descend to the ground. However, this proposal was not well-accepted. During his lectures, large spittles occasionally launch themselves from Dr. Dauber's mouth, with a troubling range of 5-10 feet. I'll tell you one thing: having one of these land on your face while you're dozing off is a mortifying ordeal. Mortifying. They also do not provide any form of relief whatsoever from the anguished boredom that is endured otherwise.
I have physics 6th period, and this has proven on a frightfully large number of occasions to be brutally abusive to the senses. Today was friday, and it was during the last few minutes of class and I was close to mental expiration, silently pleading to Jehovah for the sugary enticement of death. Anyway, I wasn't granted this request. However, I did break into a mild sweat and my leg began to convulse as it usually does during the last, restless minutes of any class, amidst a distinct sense of closing books and rustling back-packs. My eyes nervously darted about the room, tensely checking on the clock, and planning the quickest and most effective way out the door.
The sound of the bell pierced the tension. The instincts took over and I took off like a beast. Out the door, into the hallways. My mind wasn't thinking. The hallways filled quickly with other desperate prisoners.
It hit me then. First, the steamy heat that suddenly slapped against my face warned me from taking a breath. But I did anyway. The vilest stench that had ever met my nostrils plunged deep into my lungs. Someone had farted in the suspense. I almost suffocated and would have swooned and fallen to the ground had the hall been not so crowded. The first emotion to pervade my mind was complete ANGER. I wanted to kill whoever had jetted that cabbage. It was so foul that my eyes began to tear up. After about 3 more highly offensive inhalations, I regained a sense of rational thought and fought desperately to make it out of that hot mess. Like a beast.
The scene became ugly. One guy started to scream in Spanish. He'd whipped out a pocket knife and was stabbing at random. A mother held a grieved baby in her arms and both wept. Shots rang out, and several men fell to to the ground. Alas, my beloved friend Giuseppe was hit in the chest. He fell at my side. I took hold of his arm but he told me firmly to leave him be. I whispered a solemn oath into his ear that I would take care of his wife and children, and then fled. "Go! Save yourself!" he screamed painfully in a hoarse voice.
I survived. I choked and almost cried when I breathed in the fresh air. The freedom, the life.
There was some Chinese street-fest in progress, so apparently every Chinese person in Oakland had arrived to celebrate good times. So the usual disturbingly high amount of pedestrian traffic-law violation had intensified by approximately three-fold. The cops in charge of preventing people from getting run over had chickened out and shyly retreated to an abandoned corner of an intersection to socialize and oversee the chaos. It was a colorful scene. There was an immense number of stands, selling everything between jade Buddhas to diverse selections of critter body parts (cooked in a variety of methods and sauces), throngs of happy Chinese people, who, needless to say, contributed much of the exciting, yellow flurry that met one's eyes, and of course one of those red street dragons that dance around in a discomfortingly drunken manner. Luckily, I made it to 9th street uninjured. I showed up about 15 minutes late, and the proctor impatiently slipped me the test with an irritated look.
The room where we were taking the test was adjacent to a drive-through for vans and such, so there was the occasional sound of a vehicle's engine humming by. It was half-way through one of the critical reading sections and my mind had floated into a cushiony state of dreaminess, about a fourth concentrated on the test and the remaining 3 quarters focused assiduously on the flash video I had seen the night before, "They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard!". Don't ask.
I then heard a deep rumbling sensation that felt awkwardly close to be a truck outside. It lasted for about 5 seconds and left me in utter confusion as to from what or where it had been emitted.
About half a minute later it happened again. This time it lasted for about 10 seconds, and it genuinely troubled me. I looked around curiously to see what the hell could have made it. Apparently nobody else in the room had noticed it, as they all remained hunched over their tests as if their lives depended on it.
I then discovered what it was. It was the girl sitting across the corner of the table from me. Her stomach. It sounded like a muffled lion. A muffled lion. Anyway, the rumbling noise pervaded the silence of the room several more times. Each time I miraculously refrained from laughing out hysterically. She had noticed by then that I was dying of suppressed laughter, and sighed sheepishly after each gastrointestinal barrage.
Anyway, it ceased for approximately 3 minutes, after which I had almost forgotten about the whole matter.
But suddenly, her gutbucket eminated another bawl louder and more untamed than any before. Air escaped from my pursed lips giving the impression of a terribly musical fart. I kind of turned to the side and desperately pinched my nose to keep from laughing straight out loud. My eyes were tensely contorted from agonizingly censored laughing fits. She glanced at me uncomfortably and sipped some water, hoping to relinquish the hungry monster that called forth from the depths of her insides. I began to gasp. The situation was one that you might define as grievously hilarious.
I left that day with my own insides irreparably damaged from direly intense pressure of the laughter. I have to wait till winter to see if it hurts when it rains.
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