1- The number of new nieces I have recently acquired in the past week. The poor thing's been nicknamed 'Izzy-Butt' for a few months now. Her life's gonna be hell for sure.
2- Months until I get to meet aforementioned niece. Hopefully she is out of the gooey pink alien stage by then.
3- Inches of solid paper I need to grade and input into the gradebook.
78- The number of kids I have approximately 3 weeks to prepare for a buttload of external exams. (I'm thinking that a buttload should be assigned a number so it can be quantified. Something like how a dozen is 12 or a mole is 6.022 x 10^23 of something. Just a thought.)
3-4 - The number of comics from Mike's latest shipment that I manage to read per day. (Thanks for keeping me a nerd.)
0- Number of new, bad chemistry jokes I've managed to find lately. We were doing functional groups in AP chem today and I told one of the girls to name the following: Bunny - O - Bunny. She didn't get it. It took a few minutes before someone shouted out "Ether Bunny!" There were a few chuckles, more groans, and one girl pipes up to say (in all seriousness), "No! It should be Dibunny Ether!" Then I just got a bunch of complaints for a stupid joke. Sometimes I think I'm teaching soulless robots with no senses of humor. *sigh*
10 - The grade that still appreciate a good, lame chemistry joke. A proton walks into a pub and sits down promptly at the bar and orders a double whiskey, straight, no ice. The bartender obliges and notices the dark rings around the protons eyes. His clothes are shabby, as if they haven't been changed in days, his face is lined with worry and strain. He smells of booze and may have even soiled himself. With pity the bartender asks him what's the matter. After drawing in a long breath and exhaling a woeful sigh the proton replies, "Well, it all started a few days ago when I lost my electron..." The bartender, in a moment of exasperation and surprise, interrupts the proton, "Whoa, whoa, whoa that's pretty heavy stuff buddy! An electron?! Are you sure?!" "Yeah," says the proton, "I'm positive."
Ba dum dum
Two muffins are in an oven. One exclaims, "Boy, it sure is getting hot in here." To which the other replies, "Ah! A talking muffin!"
4 comments:
1 - number of questions I have about the lame jokes I only occasionally understand on this here bloggy-blog:
Who only bakes two muffins at a time? Or are there more, but only two can speak?
I'm just stating that there are two muffins in an oven. There can be more in there but they serve no purpose to the joke. It's like starting off saying the proton walks into a pub. Do you really picture the pub empty except for the proton and the bartender? No, of course not! There are other patrons there. A scruffy looking guy sits at the bar where he has for the past 16 years. A couple of young guys are playing snooker. A ripped guy in a tight black t-shirt stands next to the juke box. Three women sit cackling in a booth annoying the shit out of the aspiring writer trying to find inspiration in the bottom of his glass.
I think you're asking the wrong questions. What KIND of muffins are they? Bran muffins? Blueberry? Glass? Israeli-Palestinian Conflict muffins?
I see the muffin tins as half full.
My GOD, I love you people.
Post a Comment