Monday: No School (And Rule Britannia!)

Good morning oh dearest of all possible readers!

Today is Monday, and where I am, there is no school today. This is a wonderful thing for a teacher, especially one who deals with students with severe behaviors like i do. (And yes, I know I’ve mentioned that before ad infinitum, ad nauseum); BUT it’s my last free day until I return to the Lion’s Den and I’m going to enjoy it.

I got back to sleep (Yay Sedatives!!) and got up feeling much refreshed and ready to annoy and bother everyone across the globe again today with my inane horror stories, wonky haikus, and general rubbish.

I want to take this time to salute all the member of the UK out there who might be reading this. You see, although I am in the States I am actually, in fact, one of you. I was adopted, you see, from here in the States but recently, thanks to the efforts of DNA and all it implies and discovers, I was able to trace my true ancestry to literally, the middle of London. This meant the world to me, because, as an adopted person, you have no real heritage until you actually have the proof. And now I do you see.

I’ve always loved Python, Hammer Films, Christmas Pudding (the real stuff not that other rubbish), Doctor Who, The Thick of It, and, of course, my BELOVED The Prisoner.

I decdied to make my “Man Cave” as we Americans say (yuck) into a small slice of Britian so here it is for your viewiing pleasure:

In addition, and ever since discovering “my people” as it were, I have forever thrown out the rubbish Texas “hee-haw” dialect I was raised with, and adapted a tongue more suited to my true birth home. For example:

Shit = Shite (As in clean up yours my children)
Ass = Arse (As in while I sit upon mine, clean that shite up children)
Garbage = Rubbish (As well as nonsense, in general)
Bullshit = Bollocks (Something that is not true)
Bollocking = A Tongue Lashing (See: “Taylor, Malcolm”)
Bollocks = Well… things that dangle and get bunched up in underwear

You get the point.

I want you all to knw that knowing I have legitimate roots in Great Britain also led my wife to do her DNA. She is from Dublin, or her people are at least. This explains a lot. Red hair, green eyes, tendency to sing nautical songs, lust for bagpipes, etc…I kid… Actually, I don’t. It’s suddenly like being married to Conor MacGregor, but without the tattoos and the need for legal services.

Knowing these new things about ourselves has changed our lives and we feel kinship now to the UK and are desperately making plans to join with you there. For. Good.

So…Heads up UK. Me wife and meself are saving up as we are planning to escape this mad, bollocking, load of rubbish here in the Good Olee’ Banjo Playing USa and heding your way…very soon. To Wales, I should think. And to a certain area around a certain Village. C’or, It’s going to be BRILLIANT!

Bloody hell, why does everything good take so bloody long to get done?


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