Why has no one told me that I could save myself 4 letters when speaking about a yummy snack food? All these years I've been saying "tapioca pudding" and looking like a fool when I could have been saying "tapioca pud." Just thinking of all the times that I wasted that extra "ding" on the ending of "pud" makes me sad. What if we're only allotted so many letters per lifetime of speaking? I may get to the end of my life & not be able to properly pronounce words with those 4 letters in them.
Oh, dear me, my name has 2 of those letters in it. Will I not be able to say my own name?
That really shook me up. Made me forget why I looked up the word in the first place.
The hubs told me that Idiot Teacher is a pud. I had never heard this word before. After reading the definition of the word, I was 100% positive that hubby wasn't calling him a sweet dessert. I was 99% certain that hubby would have used a different word if he was calling Mr. Moron a penis.
Hubby told me it's basically the not nice version of a dork. How did I not know this? I have children. I was a child at one point. And yet I'm just now hearing this word.
So Mr. Pud emailed me. An email where he basically talked to me like I had the understanding of a 4 year old. A 4 year old who deserved a verbal beating...which, by the way, I never needed a verbal beating when I was 4 'cause I was every Mother's dream child. Please don't call my parents to verify this because they will only confuse you with a little game they play where they speak the opposite of the truth.
He didn't include his favorite little tidbit about only being able to get a job at Arby's if I don't get 100% in his class/joyfully give speeches to a room full of 18-20 year olds that don't give a hooey about my topic/unquestionably kiss his butt/fill in the blank. He has said this to the entire class at least 25 times, with various different reasons why he is apparently the key holder to our futures & has the sole responsibility of our future work places.
He did, however give me what I will nicely term "advice" on what is expected of me if I ever get a job. Again, 'cause I'm 4 & have never had a job & have no clue how to handle myself professionally.
The email I got was meant to intimidate me. Do you hear that? Yeah, that's laughter you hear. Intimidate Eddi? Is he new here?
I wasn't intimidated. I was ever so pleased as I thought of his boss reading that email, because you know I didn't keep it, or my reply, to myself. Ah, the joys of people incriminating themselves. Makes my job so much easier. If only everyone was so thoughtful as to actually put their abuse into written proof.
Tomorrow is my last class with this instructor. I would be ever so happy if it was the last class he ever taught. Just to show what a nice person I am, I will give him a Christmas present though: an application to Arby's.
Merry Christmas, Pud.