» The Worst Journey in the World

When in Rome
Roman public transportation is utter shit. Went there last summer as part of a university program. This resulted in many oh-so-humorous incidents involving the Roman Metro and/or bus service.

Our apartment was on one line of the Metro (there are only two), so we hopped it every day to go out sightseeing and finished our day about 10 in the evening. Then, we headed back to Termini station, where the vast and complex system that is the Metro originates, only to find out that our entire line has been closed for maintenance starting a 9 o' clock. Did they have this sign posted that morning? Of course not.

So, we milled around a while trying to decide what to do and finally boarded a bus known as Rome's Pickpocket Express. Fortunately, however, the bus was only at about half capacity, and no one was robbed or seriously groped. After that, we walk about an hour trying to find a bus line to take us home. It was about midnight at this point, and we finally happened upon the correct bus. Upon seeing us, however, the driver shut his door and sped away. So, we embarked on a three-hour walking tour of residential Rome, which is surprisingly boring at 2 in the morning. Oh, well, no one died, which is a shock really.

The same week, was riding a bus with my face in the armpit of some Italian man who apparently had not showered since Mussolini was in power. The driver stops and tells everyone to get off. Grumbling and muttering and headed for the nearest Metro station, we happen upon a giant open-air concert put on by MTV. Fucking James Blunt forced me off my bus! It rained torentially an hour later; I laughed.
(Mon 11th Sep 2006, 2:56, More)

» Your Weirdest Teacher

Some of my junior high school teachers
My 8th grade American History teacher was probably the only decent history teacher I've had up till then or since. He was, of course, somewhat eccentric. Every day, he wore a plaid shirt and upsettingly tight jeans with hiking boots. He would always run his hands through his hair as he talked and had about a millimeter of fingernail on each finger. The way he graded homework was to take it up the day it was due, but not before he went over every single answer in great detail and slowly enough that you could write it down. After grading exams, he would either call you to his desk to see your score or simply belt out in a Southern drawl the immortal phrase, "Many are called, few are chosen." This meant you had gotten a 100%. This phrase was heard frequently in his classroom. There was, of course, the minor detail that he would fly into a rage if one should miss part or all of his class due to some other school-related activity. He and the choir director both carried a thinly-veiled hatred for each other. It was also widely known that he was boinking one of the 7th-grade Science teachers. And three years later, he was arrested for possession of marijuana. He was awesome. I dressed up as him for Halloween that year.

Now, my Science teacher was one of the most frightening human beings I have ever encountered. He had a tremendous superiority complex and was rather fond of picking on the shy students. Being a sensitive child, I prayed each day that he would ignore me. Now, he had some sort of vision issue such that he would not appear to be looking at the person he was actually focusing on. So, I can remember many a moment of pant-wetting terror when those aquamarine eyes would swivel round to focus on me and the ensuing relief when he would bark out some other poor sod's name. About a year ago, I felt a fleeting twinge of fear when I went to a service at a different church than mine and saw that he was in the choir.

Also, my boyfriend's Marketing professor boasted to his class that her water had broken while she was administering an exam, and she had toughed it out until the end of the exam. Of course, she's got a Ph.D., so this qualifies her as being eccentric and not certifiably nuts.

Length, girth, blah blah blah...get over it.
(Mon 14th Nov 2005, 4:08, More)

» Singing the wrong words

Bonanza
When my mother was young, she and her siblings somehow decided that the lyrics to part of the theme song from the show Bonanza (even though there aren't actually any lyrics) went as follows:

We've got a hole on a bump on a log.
Bonanza!
A horse and a sleigh and a buffalo tray --
How rich can a fellow be?

My mother claims that she doesn't remember who came up with those, but I suspect that she was the only one of the group who could have thought of such nonsense.
(Wed 2nd Feb 2005, 2:37, More)