Friday 4 April 2008
Things which irritate me: Having a prac on Friday afternoons while everyone else pisses off home early for the holidays.
Especially when this particular Friday is the last day of the quarter and we get a "well-deserved" week off lectures next week. Seems ridiculous if f you ask me, since we've only had classes for like 7 weeks, but I'm not complaining too loudly. My back is about 70% there and should be back up to full speed in the next couple of days, Ian reckons – that wank is going to be spectacular, let me tell you – so the extra couple of days to veg around won't be bad and hopefully I can still contribute some to the football team.
I made the cut, you see – we kinda all did. You can have up to 10 players on the roster and you'll rotate from a choice of a match-day 8 during the game. One of the guys, Rene, can't commit since he has lunchtime tuts next semester and another one, Stewart, doesn't want to be in the competitive side and so they are just playing socially with us, hence Paolo's sourcing of the Gay Porn twins as cover. So I'm in! We went through a ream of names before deciding to go comedic and pop-culture with Dulce & Cubana while wearing hideous t-shirts with knocked off D&C logos on as our uniforms. Misspellings are intentional, btw; these are the names of two local watering holes where we Ikeys have been known to congregate. In addition to the Spring Chicken and The Naut, of course, and The Crowded House and The Ruby and The Pig and The Crowbar and Lloyds and Comic Strip and and and.
Ian... yes. Turns out it was a genuine emergency on Monday, which is why he had to cancel, and that's all. I have not been booted out of their practice and in turn have not been outed to my folks, thank G_d. It did occur to me later that it's a private practice, renting space in the Sports Center and not technically part of the University at all even though they provide official cover to the University's sports teams; there was no way this was going to pop up on my academic transcript (already looking shit at the mo; can you imagine what it would say? Maths 101 – failing; Cell Bio 100 – simply adequate; Physics 104 – surprisingly good; Chem 101 – not bad; Other notes – your son is a pervert who wanted a happy ending to his physiotherapy massage so we've had him expelled. PS: did you know he was gay?).
More than that, before I could get my big apology out – which I've been practising all weekend – Ian jumped in with one of his own, saying he should have watched where he was putting his hands and everything and saying how it was unprofessional. He looked really bummed and I felt so bad about it I wanted to cry. I did manage to stop myself from saying "no, no, I enjoyed it, really!" to try to make him feel better, since even though it was true that would have just dropped me 15 feet into the shit, so I just nodded and said I barely noticed anything. In other news, if I die today I'm on my way to Hell for lying to Ian, but I think it needed to be said. He's still fairly new at this, currently in his first year out since finishing the course and doing the two-year internship thing the medical people all do here. So he's only been at it in private for four months, and I guess it would have been his first scandal had I complained. So it's only fair on my part to put the poor guy at ease and I'm sure you agree with me on that, right? Especially since it's not like he did anything wrong. He's actually younger than I thought he was at only 25.
Anyway, even though I'm on leave with the University's undergrads taking vac, I do still have a session with Ian next Tuesday since they don't shut down. Around that, I shall be watching tv, hanging out with some of my new mates from varsity and my old crew, and hopefully introducing some of each group to some in the other, hopefully hitting the beach to buff up my shoddy excuse for a tan before winter, and of course catching up on some assignments and whatnot for classes. And surprisingly I have even cracked the nod to Kim's birthday bash on Wednesday night along with Trevor and a few of our other new classmates which should be interesting. Because lastly, a bit of info which is sure to become the stuff of scandalous legend – Trevor has the hots for Kim! He was asking today whether he should ask her out. I tried in vain to mention the bf, Paul, but our Trev just kinda glossed over all that and reckoned he could bring as much to the table and probably more than Paul can and is going to make a move next week, he thinks.
A word on Paul: Paul is a nutter. Paul will cut you. I'm sure deep-down he overplays all that stuff and is probably significantly brighter than he made sure he came across as to be all main-piel and big-dick back at school, like some guys do so that people don't expect much from them and thus aren't let down. But Paul runs with a tougher crowd than most, of bigger misfits than most. I knew a couple of those guys from Technika (a long story for another time) and in truth some of them do have hearts of gold, but in an honour amongst thieves kinda way, and literally so. Let's meet the gang:
1: Crazy-eyes Francois
He's a Leo whose favourite pastime is coming across as genuinely disturbed, probably because I really do think he is. Particularly when he carves exotic pictures and words like "mame" (presumably he means "maim", but hey, I'm not gonna tell him) into his forearm with a rusty old compass, which he found on the floor in English class, during Afrikaans class. My old mate Alistair was in the same maths class as Francois, and by all accounts inspiration would strike out of the blue and he'd do it there, too. It is surely only a matter of time before Francois kills his entire family with a home-made hacksaw-nailgun combo (my bet), and/or joins a suicide cult (Al's bet), although I suspect he will view it as a homicide cult and not hold up his end of the bargain while generously helping everyone else to hold up theirs. According to the SA National Parks and Wildlife Board's Guide to Dangerous Animals, this one is worth avoiding at all costs.
2, 3 and 4: Other Paul, other other Paul, and Martin
These guys all had minds like steel traps and were inseparable from Way Back in The Day since they've been mates since they were about three. Anyway, Martin casually happened to mention one day that during break-time they'd figured out and tested a path to take which would allow them to walk right past the passive infra-red intruder detector in the main corridor of the Technika building without setting it off. They'd also worked out how to jimmy the door with the dodgy lock into the main workshop and then get into the lab there virtually undetected. Conveniently, that night the Technika building was broken into, the door was jimmied and a lot of expensive stuff was nicked from said lab. Conveniently, the alarm didn't go off. Conveniently, among the things which got nicked was a pair of top-end digital multi-meters which both other other Paul and Martin had expressed a desire to own during our prac sessions in that lab two days previously. Co-incidence? Maybe, I suppose. Cops came in to investigate and we all got fingerprinted so they could eliminate which prints were ours; since we're the only people who use that lab, this would easily identify which were the criminals' prints. Conveniently they found only the fingerprints of the twenty four of us plus our two teachers all over the place. Guess the crooks wore gloves, eh? I coached other Paul (yes, there are three Pauls in total) for physics and chem and some maths which he was struggling with in our final year; in return, at Valedictory, he told me in solemn earnestness "You're a good guy, Charley, and I gave you a rough enough ride here at school and still you stuck up for me and helped me out and I respect that. I owe you one. So if you ever need your car stolen for insurance purposes, you let me know."
- Geoffrey
Don't call him Geoff, or he'll fucking ninja-kick you in the face. Craig, one of the guys in our Technika class, found that out the hard way when we were supposed to be working and instead all twenty four of us were fucking around, like you do when you're an unsupervised adolescent with a penis in a room full of stuff you shouldn't be touching. Geoffrey was fond of setting things on fire, usually with a can of deodorant and a lighter. This pseudo-arson became his thing after his phase of making pea-shooters – basically catapults which fired out a small pellet made from scrunched-up paper compacted into a tiny ball and tied with sellotape with a drawing pin put through the lot, so when it hit you it stuck and you bled. This pea-shooter phase only stopped when he stupidly shot Fat Carl in the butt with it (in addition to three Pauls, there were also three Carls in the ill-fated Technika class; all quite chunky, but only one was really fat enough to earn the nickname and had been teased about it for too long). Fat Carl howled like a chainsawed donkey and went on a massive, frothing benny and pounded the living fuck out of Geoffrey. Geoffrey defended himself well at first – karate was his thing, you see; see earlier comment re ninja-kicks and faces – but Fat Carl took a few solid punches without going down while backing Geoffrey into a corner and then rushed him and sat on him about nine times and the pea-shooter phase officially ended. Geoffrey dropped out of school the following year, but from what I gather from Kim him and her Paul are still good mates. Yay!
- Brent
Brent is of Greek descent and has the singular honour of having the largest dick I have ever seen in person. It is fucking huge. I would do very rude things to it if given half a chance, truth be told. Those pr0n 10-inchers which are really 8-inchers are significantly smaller than the massive tree-trunk which is Brent's flaccid, uncut Rolls-Royce of a penis; I suspect an erection must at the very least make him quite dizzy. Realising early on that whoever was next in line size-wise was running in quite a distant second, it was Brent who pushed for school showers after Phys Ed and who spent as much time as possible with no clothes on with his massive cock swinging around in the open, always getting naked while were changing for PE or sports. I suppose that were I as genetically gifted I'd have done much the same sort of thing. In comparison to his schlong, everyone else owned a schlort.Unlike the rest of Paul's crowd, Brent wasn't really a bad, scary or dangerous guy, and I want to give him bonus points for letting me always see his dick. He did have an entertaining if largely unsanitary habit of skommeling around in his underpants - briefs, always; he had not at last count yet joined the Trunks Revolution - during Maths every lesson and removing a solitary pube which was dropped into our unbeloved teacher's coffee mug, onto her angora wool jersey, into her bag, or, in one case, onto her head as she bent over a desk to help another kid with a tricky bit of calculus.
- Paul himself
And lastly there was Kim's Paul, who picked a fight with another pupil in the boys' toilets one day before school during which Paul stuck a pencil into the other's neck. Full-on into, not a graze or a slash, but into. Like when you put a spoon into a bowl of custard. In. To. How most of these guys didn't get expelled is beyond me, and raises several serious questions about the aptitude and fitness of the principal at my former school who somehow is not yet an alcoholic.
So Kim's Paul runs with the baddest of the big dogs, and regardless of what Trevor thinks he can bring to the table he still pisses like a puppy. I suspect that, if Trevor gives this a go despite my warnings, we might have seen the last of the poor chap.
-C