Well, fuck you too bitch. I walked into class tonight to find Typhoid Maria on her phone. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be rude. She rattled off in Spanglish for another five minuets and hung up. I fully expected her typical fake hello, but nothing. Then her teammate walks in, the other one who I shall now call Jerry Curl, and she says, "Oh hello Jerry Curl! How are you?" He answers, they converse in Spanglish, shoot me a dirty look (her not him), and then stop talking. In walks Fat Alberto and Clown Face, same thing. First thing that came to mind was that thy must have seen my blog. Shit. But Clown Face, Fat Alberto, and Jerry Curl all said hi after they spoke with her. Clown Face actually carried on a conversation with me about my computer and how she wants to buy a Mac. Typhoid Maria scoffed and said "Well, if we could all afford such luxurious computers."
Okay, it isn't the blog. She's just being her usual bitchy self. Clown Face and I ignored her, well, I ignored her. Clown Face responded by telling her that she was being "Pavisè agressivo." No joke. I laughed, couldn't help it. Typhoid Maria scowled and whispered to Fat Alberto something about "esa puta es tan roja" which Google translate told me means "that bitch is so red." She's right, I am red. I'm pretty sure I got sun stroke yesterday. If she's lucky, I'll throw up on her in a bit. You don't just get red with sun stroke, you get nauseous too.
OMG. This bitch pulled out some Avon catalogues and handed them to me, Clown Face, and Juarez Teenager Female. She smiled and said "We have some really good makeup that covers redness." Clown Face told her no thank you, that she only wear luxurious brands. Damn you, you took my line! Juarez Teenager Female just smiled and said thank you. I handed it back to her and said that since she's so sick of me that turning this into a business relationship probably isn't a good idea. She said nothing. Clown Face really killed it with that line, I'm bummed now.
It's near 10 past and we haven't started. Not typical of Mr. Bordertown. I do get more time to listen to Typhoid Maria and Fat Alberto discuss how they're doing next week's assignment. Fat Alberto says that he can do the first bullet, TM can do the second and third, and Jerry Curl can do 4-7. I looked at the syllabus and the first bullet is a 100-word answer if I stretch it, 30 words knowing Fat Alberto's quality of work. Two and three will be roughly 300 based on TM's work, 4-7 is a minimum of 1,000 to cover everything and get a C. Not just my opinion, this is based on Mr. Bordertown's grading rubric. Fat Alberto says that since he puts everything together, he should do the least work. TM seems to agree. Poor Jerry Curl, he looks pissed. He told FA and TM that it should be equal, but FA said "You're the newest so you do more." He just sadly nodded.
We've been discussing the status of the Middle East for the past hour. It's been interesting to say the least. Fat Alberto's foreign policy is creative. He thinks "We should be like the ones who say no and stuff, you know, because they need to listen and stuff." I don't know what that means, but he's pretty confident it would work, and if Fat Alberto is confident in a plan, shouldn't we all be on board with it? Yeah, Mr. Bordertown didn't think so either.
Mr. B: Fat Alberto, do you think before you speak?
FA: (laughs) You know, yeah, but you know they don't listen and stuff, you know.
Mr. B: I think it's you who doesn't listen, you know?
FA: It's cause in the Middle Easts, they, you know, have the Islams and they...
Mr. B: (looks directly at me) Pointless, huh?
I laughed for far longer than was polite. I couldn't help it. No one else laughed because no one else got it, though Clown Face nervously giggled. I choose to believe she got it. Denial can make you feel less lonely sometimes.
After break, we began talking about components of the criminal justice system, to include Fat Alberto's profession, the security guard. Yes, security officers are part of law enforcement. Yes, they serve an invaluable purpose as police cannot do everything. Yes, in Texas they do have to meet state requirements. No, you are not a cop. Fat Alberto told us a tale about a friend of his who...I'll let his words tell you.
My friend, he's a security officer you know, and he was watching this park. You know like guarding? He saw these kids you know and he told them 'Hey kids, you know, it's past the hours of time you can be here you know' but they didn't listen and they pointed a gun about him you know. So he called the police, you know, but the cop came and he was a white guy and because he was white you know, he said he didn't believe him. The kids said the friend of mine was drinking and the white cop said 'I believe the kids you know.'
Okay, that story happened, but we weren't too sure if the EVENT happened. We asked (and by we I mean Mr. Bordertown and I) if he reported this to his supervisor or filed a formal complaint with Sun City PD. Okay I told him because the white cop did it to be a racist you know, but he said he had to wait for 15 days because that's what he knows. So then we asked why he had to wait 15 days. Oh you know because he said he had to wait in case they wanted to test him or something.
Test him for what? Drugs and alcohol? Mr. Bordertown asked me to please explain to Fat Alberto why the officer's doubt of the security guard had nothing to do with race. I obliged gladly. I informed him that the officer's treatment of his buddy had nothing to do with race and everything to do with his badge coming from a Cracker Jack box. No it's metals. I then told him that his friend's failure to report the incident (especially if those kids really had a gun) caused it to wreak of bullshit. I know but he said you know. And the cop was white. Again with the white? Mr. Bordertown jumped in and told him that it really had nothing to do with race. The cop probably just thought the security guard was a tool. Clown Face replied with "Tools are useful." Damn girl, that 3 lbs of makeup really caused me to underestimate you.
It was another night of mostly stimulating conversation. I normally can type and talk, but when you're actually invested in the conversation, it's hard to do both. I will pick back up at the end of class.
Mr. Bordertown wanted to talk to us about our papers. He had told Hubby that he grades everyone else off what my grade is and I was flattered and sorta thought he was joking. He wasn't.
Mr. B: Remember guys, when I graded your papers last week, I left you comments and corrections. I hope you read them and didn't repeat those mistakes. I only gave out one 10 last week and there's good reason for that. It would serve you well to ask her...or him how to make that happen. Because some of you, well, it wasn't pretty.
FA: Oh you know, I saw the words in red and you know, they helped.
Mr. B: Well, make sure you're utilizing the tools that are available to you to improve your papers. Tiffany doesn't get perfect scores because she wings it. I mean, whoever got the 10. Make sure you are checking your spelling and grammar with spellcheck.
FA: Oh you know, I was gonna ask you. Is there a, you know, a thing that does a spellcheck like you said, you know?
*dead silence*
Tiffany: Um, yeah, there is. It's called "Spellcheck."
FA: Oh okay. Cause like, I thought they should make something like that, you know.
Tiffany: Well, "they" do. It's been around for a while. Spellcheck. Little box with "ABC" and a check mark. When the little red squiggly line shows up under a word, that means it's spelled wrong. When the squiggly line is green, it's a grammar mistake. Been around since, well, forever.
FA: Oh okay. I might check that out.
Mr. B: No, you WILL check that out.
FA: Oh si. You know, if it's on the writing thing.
Now, you know you're a fucking dumb ass when even Blond Sonja is laughing at you. Like, hardcore, can't catch your breath style laughing. Who doesn't know about spellcheck? Maybe it's just something found on luxurious computers.
I know this was supposed to be up last night, sorry? Little Bug has her BFF over for a play date and I'll probably post later as the convo I am overhearing is hysterical. See ya later!
Monday already?! Fuck this noise. I want to go back to sleep! Even Little Bug is testy. She told me not to take her pictures. Que rude, right? Anyway, I have nothing for the must haves today. Want a time warp instead? Of course you do. Let me tell you a tale about a rotten vagina.
Her name was Tiny and she was a frienemy of mine. Younger than me (barely) and single, she and I fake bonded while I was pregnant and my husband was deployed. I had live in the dorms because my First Sgt kept dicking me over on when my married and pregnant self could move out and she lived down the way.
Did I mention this was an AF flashback? Picture everyone in BDUs and it should work better.
Back to it. Tiny was an active slut. Not knocking it, I dabbled in my single days, but she was out to set a world record. This isn't just word around the squadron stuff either. I'm talking from her lips to mine and God's ears. Her mouth lips. Get your minds out of the gutter.
Tiny and I always had an understanding. I would say nothing about her whoring as long as she stayed away from my guy friends. She could have my sloppy seconds, she could go after whomever made her lady parts tingle, just leave my friends alone. For a little while, she did.
Until that fateful night.
Remember my BFF minus the ovaries? Well, we still aren't talking. He has talked to Hubby and claims he knew nothing was wrong. That tells me he is an oblivious idiot or never got my texts or messages. Hmm. Anyway, before his current squeeze, he was on par with Tiny in the slut department. My pregnant belly served as his wing man more times than I am willing to admit, though not as many times as I served as DD. Everyone loves a pregnant girl, no need for a taxi.
He had been warned on several occasions, most of them sober, to stay away from Tiny. Not just because I didn't want to deal with the awkwardness if it didn't work out, but because
skank + man-skank= AIDS. He swore to me that nothing was going to happen. He lied.
One night, I refused to play DD or wing man or babysitter and I went to sleep. He went to the bar. So did Tiny. They came back to his dorm together. They tried to fuck. End of story.
Just kidding! You think I would leave it at that?! I'll tell you his side of the story first, as I heard it first. The next day, he and I met up after work. We usually ate dinner together at Chilli's or grilled outside. I think the plan was for Chilli's. He was such a good pregnancy friend. I never had to cook. Anyway, as I walked into his room, he didn't look well. He looked nauseated and shameful. Keep in mind, I had no idea about what had transpired the previous night, so I was concerned. I told him he didn't look well and asked if he was okay. He said he had to tell me something and that I should sit down.
Him: Something happened last night.
Me: Oh, you drank too much?
Him: Well, yeah, but that's not what I mean.
Me: Dude, what's wrong? You seriously look like someone shot your dog.
Him: I wish.
Me: Spill. Now.
Him: You're gonna be mad. Just know that. And save it until the end. And no judging. Well, until the end.
Me: I might be able to do that. Proceed.
Him: So I went to the bar last night. Had a good time. Hung out with some people. Brought Tiny home. Tried to fuck her. Couldn't do it. Her snatch was rotten. So, how are you today? Any morning sickness.
Read that last one as fast as you can. Now times it by 2 and that's how quickly he tried to get it out. Of course I made him explain. Apparently, she was DTF (down to fuck for those of you not hip to the lingo) and made it clear that he could have it. The more he drank (and the more he struck out with other ladies), the more he became open to the idea. I wasn't too mad. It was bound to happen.
They stumbled back to his dorm room and started foolin' around. She wanted to skip the foreplay and just go for it. So he did. Well he tried. She wasn't wet. Not a even a sprinkle. After a little bit of smashing and smacking, she suggested he warm it up a little. As he isn't a selfish man (his words), he obliged. He moved down to the nether region, opened his mouth, moved closer...and then stopped himself from throwing up.
According to him, it was quite possibly the most noxious smell imaginable. Imagine rotten cabbage, mix in a little sewage, add tuna, and you've got yourself the stink of Tiny's snatch. He gagged some more and promptly got up. He said he thought about lying and saying he was too drunk and was sick, but Texas pride wouldn't allow him to act like a pussy. Unfortunately, that was the only Texas quality he invoked. He told her that he couldn't have sex with her...because her vagina stank. She giggled and tried to play it off, but he repeated this fact and asked her to leave his room. Embarrassed as all get out, she gathered her things and left.
I wanted to smack him, wanted to scold him, wanted to high-five him for calling her out...but mostly, I wanted to be thinking about anything but Tiny's rotten puss. I had to leave. I couldn't eat dinner with him having just heard what I heard. In fact, I didn't eat (and keep anything down) for a few days. I had perma-morning sickness, but in this instance, it was the thought of her poon.
I went upstairs to my room and found Tiny writing a note on my door board. She looked upset (who wouldn't be?) and upon seeing me, she shrieked about how she was so glad to see me and how she needed to talk. And I didn't see this coming, how?!
Her tale started the same. Bar, boozing, propositioning him. At least she didn't try and put the luring on him. Props for that. But then it began to differ. He begged her to let him go down on her because he wasn't hard yet, whiskey dick and all. She normally doesn't like that sort of thing, but he was just so eager that she couldn't tell him no. That would be rude, right? So he goes down there and before he starts, he gets sick and almost throws up because he can't handle his liquor. She tried to see if he was okay, but he got mad at her for his not being able to get hard and then he shouted it out. He said "It's not my fucking fault you have a nasty ass pussy!" Naturally she was taken aback, but he just kept ranting about how her pussy smelled and told her to get the fuck out of his room. She left and wanted to come tell me immediately, but she knew how much I needed my sleep. So considerate, that girl.
I realize that the truth always lies somewhere in between both of these versions, but I've never found Tiny's words to be truthful. From what happened at work that day to her bra size, there was always something false there. And I know him, knew him I guess, and the boy can handle his liquor. And he would never shout at someone like that, he's a happy drunk, not an angry one. Like, ever. I could imagine his version of events in my mind, vividly, but her version seemed like a bad movie.
It took everything not to throw up on her. However, my nausea gave me an out. She excused herself and said she would check on me later, but if I could maybe talk to him...Yeah. Saw that one coming a mile away. I smiled and said that it really wasn't my place to talk to him about it. Shit flipped real quick. Why wouldn't I talk to him? Because I didn't want to. Aren't I supposed to be her best friend? That was news to me. What the fuck was my problem? At the moment, it was the overwhelming desire to puke. Was I just going to let him spread vicious lies about her? He wasn't saying anything. Didn't I know how much shit she could say about him? Um, this just got awkward-er.
I let her storm off and took a coma. It was lovely. Drama free sleepy-time is always great. I didn't even have one stinky vagina dream. Tiny and I, well our friendship never recovered. He never told anyone else about her skeezy snatch, I was only privy to that gem. But boy, did she run her mouth about what happened with him. Different versions to different people, but still a whole lot of shit came out of her mouth.
Later, she would give another friend of mine Gonorrhea. He knew it was her because he hadn't had unprotected sex with anyone else (and for quite sometime). He told her after he went to the doctor and she denied it. She said there was no way he got it from her because she had just gotten the all clear from her doctor. I know this to be a lie because I was at the doctor the same day she got her test results. She cried on my shoulder and begged me not to tell anyone. I didn't, until now. Whoops.
So that's the tale of a stinky vagina. Be repulsed. Be disgusted. As long as you were entertained, I'll be happy.
Her name was Tiny and she was a frienemy of mine. Younger than me (barely) and single, she and I fake bonded while I was pregnant and my husband was deployed. I had live in the dorms because my First Sgt kept dicking me over on when my married and pregnant self could move out and she lived down the way.
Did I mention this was an AF flashback? Picture everyone in BDUs and it should work better.
Back to it. Tiny was an active slut. Not knocking it, I dabbled in my single days, but she was out to set a world record. This isn't just word around the squadron stuff either. I'm talking from her lips to mine and God's ears. Her mouth lips. Get your minds out of the gutter.
Tiny and I always had an understanding. I would say nothing about her whoring as long as she stayed away from my guy friends. She could have my sloppy seconds, she could go after whomever made her lady parts tingle, just leave my friends alone. For a little while, she did.
Until that fateful night.
Remember my BFF minus the ovaries? Well, we still aren't talking. He has talked to Hubby and claims he knew nothing was wrong. That tells me he is an oblivious idiot or never got my texts or messages. Hmm. Anyway, before his current squeeze, he was on par with Tiny in the slut department. My pregnant belly served as his wing man more times than I am willing to admit, though not as many times as I served as DD. Everyone loves a pregnant girl, no need for a taxi.
He had been warned on several occasions, most of them sober, to stay away from Tiny. Not just because I didn't want to deal with the awkwardness if it didn't work out, but because
skank + man-skank= AIDS. He swore to me that nothing was going to happen. He lied.
One night, I refused to play DD or wing man or babysitter and I went to sleep. He went to the bar. So did Tiny. They came back to his dorm together. They tried to fuck. End of story.
Just kidding! You think I would leave it at that?! I'll tell you his side of the story first, as I heard it first. The next day, he and I met up after work. We usually ate dinner together at Chilli's or grilled outside. I think the plan was for Chilli's. He was such a good pregnancy friend. I never had to cook. Anyway, as I walked into his room, he didn't look well. He looked nauseated and shameful. Keep in mind, I had no idea about what had transpired the previous night, so I was concerned. I told him he didn't look well and asked if he was okay. He said he had to tell me something and that I should sit down.
Him: Something happened last night.
Me: Oh, you drank too much?
Him: Well, yeah, but that's not what I mean.
Me: Dude, what's wrong? You seriously look like someone shot your dog.
Him: I wish.
Me: Spill. Now.
Him: You're gonna be mad. Just know that. And save it until the end. And no judging. Well, until the end.
Me: I might be able to do that. Proceed.
Him: So I went to the bar last night. Had a good time. Hung out with some people. Brought Tiny home. Tried to fuck her. Couldn't do it. Her snatch was rotten. So, how are you today? Any morning sickness.
Read that last one as fast as you can. Now times it by 2 and that's how quickly he tried to get it out. Of course I made him explain. Apparently, she was DTF (down to fuck for those of you not hip to the lingo) and made it clear that he could have it. The more he drank (and the more he struck out with other ladies), the more he became open to the idea. I wasn't too mad. It was bound to happen.
They stumbled back to his dorm room and started foolin' around. She wanted to skip the foreplay and just go for it. So he did. Well he tried. She wasn't wet. Not a even a sprinkle. After a little bit of smashing and smacking, she suggested he warm it up a little. As he isn't a selfish man (his words), he obliged. He moved down to the nether region, opened his mouth, moved closer...and then stopped himself from throwing up.
According to him, it was quite possibly the most noxious smell imaginable. Imagine rotten cabbage, mix in a little sewage, add tuna, and you've got yourself the stink of Tiny's snatch. He gagged some more and promptly got up. He said he thought about lying and saying he was too drunk and was sick, but Texas pride wouldn't allow him to act like a pussy. Unfortunately, that was the only Texas quality he invoked. He told her that he couldn't have sex with her...because her vagina stank. She giggled and tried to play it off, but he repeated this fact and asked her to leave his room. Embarrassed as all get out, she gathered her things and left.
I wanted to smack him, wanted to scold him, wanted to high-five him for calling her out...but mostly, I wanted to be thinking about anything but Tiny's rotten puss. I had to leave. I couldn't eat dinner with him having just heard what I heard. In fact, I didn't eat (and keep anything down) for a few days. I had perma-morning sickness, but in this instance, it was the thought of her poon.
I went upstairs to my room and found Tiny writing a note on my door board. She looked upset (who wouldn't be?) and upon seeing me, she shrieked about how she was so glad to see me and how she needed to talk. And I didn't see this coming, how?!
Her tale started the same. Bar, boozing, propositioning him. At least she didn't try and put the luring on him. Props for that. But then it began to differ. He begged her to let him go down on her because he wasn't hard yet, whiskey dick and all. She normally doesn't like that sort of thing, but he was just so eager that she couldn't tell him no. That would be rude, right? So he goes down there and before he starts, he gets sick and almost throws up because he can't handle his liquor. She tried to see if he was okay, but he got mad at her for his not being able to get hard and then he shouted it out. He said "It's not my fucking fault you have a nasty ass pussy!" Naturally she was taken aback, but he just kept ranting about how her pussy smelled and told her to get the fuck out of his room. She left and wanted to come tell me immediately, but she knew how much I needed my sleep. So considerate, that girl.
I realize that the truth always lies somewhere in between both of these versions, but I've never found Tiny's words to be truthful. From what happened at work that day to her bra size, there was always something false there. And I know him, knew him I guess, and the boy can handle his liquor. And he would never shout at someone like that, he's a happy drunk, not an angry one. Like, ever. I could imagine his version of events in my mind, vividly, but her version seemed like a bad movie.
It took everything not to throw up on her. However, my nausea gave me an out. She excused herself and said she would check on me later, but if I could maybe talk to him...Yeah. Saw that one coming a mile away. I smiled and said that it really wasn't my place to talk to him about it. Shit flipped real quick. Why wouldn't I talk to him? Because I didn't want to. Aren't I supposed to be her best friend? That was news to me. What the fuck was my problem? At the moment, it was the overwhelming desire to puke. Was I just going to let him spread vicious lies about her? He wasn't saying anything. Didn't I know how much shit she could say about him? Um, this just got awkward-er.
I let her storm off and took a coma. It was lovely. Drama free sleepy-time is always great. I didn't even have one stinky vagina dream. Tiny and I, well our friendship never recovered. He never told anyone else about her skeezy snatch, I was only privy to that gem. But boy, did she run her mouth about what happened with him. Different versions to different people, but still a whole lot of shit came out of her mouth.
Later, she would give another friend of mine Gonorrhea. He knew it was her because he hadn't had unprotected sex with anyone else (and for quite sometime). He told her after he went to the doctor and she denied it. She said there was no way he got it from her because she had just gotten the all clear from her doctor. I know this to be a lie because I was at the doctor the same day she got her test results. She cried on my shoulder and begged me not to tell anyone. I didn't, until now. Whoops.
So that's the tale of a stinky vagina. Be repulsed. Be disgusted. As long as you were entertained, I'll be happy.
"Yeah, after this class I move over to the human services part of the degree. It'll be good because now I won't have to be with all the same people. Some of us are going to different parts of the degree. Thank goodness because it's been a long time coming," said Typhoid Maria to Clown Face as I walked in class. She looked shocked and directly at me so I figured she was talking about me. Shit, I've had coffee, I'll play.
"Do you mean me?" I asked. She nervously laughed and said something in Spanish to Clown Face and then to me said, "Oh, no, I just meant, um, well, you're probably sick of all of us too..."
"Yes, I absolutely am. You're all idiots. I'll be surprised if you graduate, and if you do graduate, you'll never find a job,"I WANTED to say. Instead, I said, "Wow, I didn't realize what a catty, passive-aggressive bitch you are. Well, yes I did." Fat Alberto laughed, Clown Face said something in Spanish with a laugh, and Typhoid Maria just scowled. Come at me bitch.
I've had our new instructor before, though I don't think I have blogged about him. He is also Hubby's teacher at the law enforcement academy. He thinks highly of me according to Hubby and said he grades everyone elses papers off of mine. I'm flattered and had I known this before, I would have tried harder.
He's smaller than I remember. He also isn't wearing his glasses and I thought that maybe Hubby and I know two different men named the same thing. Oh, name. He needs a blog name. We can go with Mr. Bordertown. It works, I promise.
I haven't seen Clown Face since I-USA's class. Her makeup has gotten much worse. She looks like a stroke victim. I wish I could snap a picture, but I respect Mr. Bordertown too much to be that rude.
It should be a quick night, should be. But Fat Alberto thinks this is his opportunity to brag about being a security officer. Mr. Bordertown took this opportunity to talk about how big of a nutcase most security guards are. I LOL'd real world. Fat Alberto didn't get it. He just kept talking about how he thinks his "people" need to be carrying tasers.
I kind of feel bad for the rest of the class. Mr. Bordertown and I have been discussing trends in law enforcement as if the rest of the class doesn't exist. Fat Alberto and Clown Face are trying, but he just sort of ignores what they add. Bad for them, but great for me. I feel like my brain is getting some exercise. I needed this big time.
Most of break was spent talking football with him and a bit of local politics.
After break, we discussed issues plaguing law enforcement today, but it all ended up with the class discussing Sun City and its eternal corruption. Mr. Bordertown was privy to some shit that perks my interests something fierce. Unfortunately, he didn't play politics, he wasn't corruptible, and he called them on their shit. In this town, if you aren't with them, you're dead to them.
I recorded the class so I could blog about it later, and I will. Promise. Some good shit happened, but I am exhausted! Little Bug woke up at 4:41 AM and that means I was up at 4:41 AM after only having gone to sleep at 1 AM. I need to knock the fuck out. Updates tomorrow!
"Do you mean me?" I asked. She nervously laughed and said something in Spanish to Clown Face and then to me said, "Oh, no, I just meant, um, well, you're probably sick of all of us too..."
"Yes, I absolutely am. You're all idiots. I'll be surprised if you graduate, and if you do graduate, you'll never find a job,"I WANTED to say. Instead, I said, "Wow, I didn't realize what a catty, passive-aggressive bitch you are. Well, yes I did." Fat Alberto laughed, Clown Face said something in Spanish with a laugh, and Typhoid Maria just scowled. Come at me bitch.
I've had our new instructor before, though I don't think I have blogged about him. He is also Hubby's teacher at the law enforcement academy. He thinks highly of me according to Hubby and said he grades everyone elses papers off of mine. I'm flattered and had I known this before, I would have tried harder.
He's smaller than I remember. He also isn't wearing his glasses and I thought that maybe Hubby and I know two different men named the same thing. Oh, name. He needs a blog name. We can go with Mr. Bordertown. It works, I promise.
I haven't seen Clown Face since I-USA's class. Her makeup has gotten much worse. She looks like a stroke victim. I wish I could snap a picture, but I respect Mr. Bordertown too much to be that rude.
It should be a quick night, should be. But Fat Alberto thinks this is his opportunity to brag about being a security officer. Mr. Bordertown took this opportunity to talk about how big of a nutcase most security guards are. I LOL'd real world. Fat Alberto didn't get it. He just kept talking about how he thinks his "people" need to be carrying tasers.
I kind of feel bad for the rest of the class. Mr. Bordertown and I have been discussing trends in law enforcement as if the rest of the class doesn't exist. Fat Alberto and Clown Face are trying, but he just sort of ignores what they add. Bad for them, but great for me. I feel like my brain is getting some exercise. I needed this big time.
Most of break was spent talking football with him and a bit of local politics.
After break, we discussed issues plaguing law enforcement today, but it all ended up with the class discussing Sun City and its eternal corruption. Mr. Bordertown was privy to some shit that perks my interests something fierce. Unfortunately, he didn't play politics, he wasn't corruptible, and he called them on their shit. In this town, if you aren't with them, you're dead to them.
I recorded the class so I could blog about it later, and I will. Promise. Some good shit happened, but I am exhausted! Little Bug woke up at 4:41 AM and that means I was up at 4:41 AM after only having gone to sleep at 1 AM. I need to knock the fuck out. Updates tomorrow!
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