Avril told me to blog.
And so I blogged.
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Right. I'm incredibly pissed off at the maths teacher now.
She says "It is your duty to do assignments,
corright or not,
grass?" Yes, of course, our lovely natural fertiliser. And so, being the lovely old kind lady she is, she expects us to copy down questions WORD FOR WORD and draw out ANGLES FOR ANGLES. Bloody @*@&%$.
For sanity's sake, please learn how to pronounce words properly before accusing us of not listening to your instructions when you can't even speak faster than 9 words a minute and warp the English language so horribly we can't bear to listen.
I'm not going to insult your looks because I'm going to sound so superficial. But your dress sense. Even I have a better dress sense, and that's saying a lot. Ah well. At least I now know that I can dress decently.
GET A NEW HAIRDO. I'm sick of those two strange curly quiffs of hair sticking out the sides of your head like you hail from Bad-Hair-Land. Yes, lovely hair, miss. Carry on skipping around the whole world with antennae and a bald patch. Go ahead, bask in the glory. All our New Age hairstyles pale in comparison to your 60s' hair.
If I could, I'd change your voice box. Your voice is graaaaaaaaaaaaaaating.
Ahem. I shan't digress anymore. Back to the topic of her shitass teaching.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! She, the one who won't even sacrifice her time for us, expects US to be at her beck and call, and see her WHENEVER SHE LIKES IT REGARDLESS OF OUR OTHER ACTIVITIES. BECAUSE IT IS OUR DUTY AND MATHS IS VERY IMPORTANT, SO MUCH SO THAT IT PLAYS A PART IN OUR JC SCORE. Excuse me while I go mock her and die of laughter.
Ahem. Back. I'm wasting my energy getting angry. Speaking of which,
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. She got so bloody pissed off at us, acted like she was reaching menopause (which I think she is, but whatever), simply over a MINOR mistake where she INTERPRETED THE QUESTION WRONGLY HERSELF as 56 DEGREES as a right angle!
*insert hyena-like laughter here*
Okay. I'm done. Don't accuse me of not blogging now.