Uninspiring Title

I looked around my room for an inspiring blog post title name, but the only things I could find were, "Lynx Dry," "Coalition's End," "No Fear," "Adidas," "The Bourne Ultamatum," "Chapter 5," and I think you'll agree with me when I say that none of these things would've been fit as a blog title, and certainly didn't give me any inspiration. Hence the name of today's post.

But did you see last night's pun? What a roffle.
What's a roffle?
I don't know, something My Kids say.
Do you mean rofl?
That doesn't make sense at all. That can't possibly be a word.
It means, "rolling on floor laughing"
But that would mean that they'd have to purposefully make a sentence grammatically incorrect and then shorten it to an anagram.
Well what do you suggest?
It would work better as Iarotfl.
I can see it catching on.
And besides, how can you type, "I am rolling on the floor laughing," if you are indeed rolling on the floor laughing?
Perhaps their inside voices did it.
No, those kids aren't smart enough to have inside voices. And trust me, I know.
Good point. I am an extremely intelligent being.
Yes, yes I am.

Anyway, I decided to leave last night's placeholder post as an actual post, which makes it even funnier because now it's ironic as well. I am definitely the best blogger of all time. You shouldn't even bother looking for a better blog, because you won't find one. Please don't look for a better blog. I only know of one other fantastic blog, and Hyperbole and a Half hasn't been the same since Allie Brosh got a job. I'm the champion of the internets now. Suck it.

Although a Hyperbole and a Half book is coming out next year, which I'm pretty excited about. I should make a book... then I could make monies... hmm... It's weird though, because Allie Brosh said that the book would contain 50% old material and 50% new material, so then she just stops blogging. I would kind of understand if she didn't make as many posts (and trust me, posting once a month definitely counts as not making as many posts. I mean, I don't know how she could live with herself going from posting nearly everyday to posting nearly never), but stopping altogether is just precarious.

Anyway, I believe I wanted to post to make a point. And that point would be...

What have I done for the last few days? Well, on Saturday night (Joe's actual birthday) the Brotherhood got together to celebrate that fact. We started drinking to get through the mountain of alcohol that was still left at Joe's house from the two nights previous, but I didn't drink much of it because I still had a stiff neck and wanted a good night's sleep. Anyway, we played card games for what seemed like hours. Actually, that's probably not far from the truth. I left at about midnight to let the other two get drunk and play more card games. I have no idea what time they finished. The plan was to do it until like 3 in the morning. That's why I didn't stay. And because my house gets locked at like half midnight.

So that was that day. Sunday ... we were supposed to go round Josh's but Dukey was a tit and told us that he was ill, so we chatted on Skype and tried to organise a trip to Australia. I had protested from the get-go that there would be no way in hell that I would be able to save up the money to go to Australia, and after Josh researched everything for like 6 hours we came to the conclusion that we can't do it next year. If I'm perfectly honest with you though, I don't want to do a massive trip like that until Uni is finished, and I'm sure every other sane person on the planet would agree with me. Otherwise I want to go to Cyprus, because I looked into it and they've got old ruins and stuff, and there are beaches for boring people to sit on all day. It sounds like a great place for a holiday.

So that was exciting. On Monday the Brotherhood got together again because Joe wanted to go to town to go to the post office and pick up - uh... [redacted]. Bullet, dodged. He also wanted to buy some new shoes. Oh, and he also gave me some new Tsingtao and I was ever-so-grateful. He felt like he owed me for the book I bought him, but that was kind of a present, buddy. It's kind of a thing to give people those and expect nothing in return apart from a present on my birthday. Smiley face.

Also yesterday Courtney and Emily (a couple of My Kids) caught me as I was walking home from a little bit of light shopping at Sainsbury's. I described to them how easy my life was now and how I still had a month off and how they were really jealous of that, and then Courtney started talking about how things had been, and how things were going to be as she goes into Year 10. But then she started talking about what things had been like without me. Apparently, literally everyone was asking her about me and how I had been. Firstly, this is how news travels around a year group. Because I used to get on Courtney's bus (it's hers now because I can no longer use it) and I occasionally talked to her everyone automatically knew that she was the one to turn to if they wanted to get in contact with me. The odd thing is is that even Mr Barrett (my teaching bro) also asked her how I was doing, assuming that for some reason she still saw me. That's an insight, to say the least. In her own words, "Some people were saying, 'but I didn't even talk to him that much, but things were a lot better when he was here.' So yeah, everyone misses you." As always, I was quite taken aback by this. I mean, it's easy for those kids to say to me, "I'm going to miss you" but to actually hear from the ... what's the phrase? Horse's mouth? Yeah, sure. But to actually hear from the horse's mouth that they talk about me in lesson - without me actually being there to have an influence on them - and do actually genuinely miss me. Aw.

But when I said goodbye to them Bekah pissed me the fuck off. In the middle of the conversation I was having with my kids, I received a text message, so I ignored it because that's the kind of guy that I am. If it's important, they will have phoned. She sent the words, "stop talking to little girls, people will think you're Hoier lol." That's not okay. You should all know that if anyone our age went for my kids then I'd have to kill them. And you should all know, because I'm complained about it before, that the one that angers me more than "ya mum" jokes are paedophile jokes. You can see the proof in the previous paragraph, I helped these kids in a way that many teachers don't seem to be able to manage, but yet you continue, even now, to slander this and compare my brilliance to those low-life, fucked up nutjobs. It's not a laughing matter.

Also, Tom Hoier is not a paedophile. He just went a little... below the bar once. But he's certainly not one of those low-life, fucked-up ntujobs.

If you couldn't understand why any of that isn't funny, then plug yourself into the computer, and fucking hard-wire it in. Straight from this blog if you have to. In fact, I'd prefer it if you did.

Whoa, angry rant over.

Umm... I need something light-hearted to finish the post with.

So yeah, My Kids really miss me, which proves that there is hope for them yet. Anyone who can benefit from my teachings and realise that when I am gone they pretty much have to fend for themselves because they know that a lot of teachers are incompetent will definitely grow up to be the next great thing. For example, Albert Einstein wasn't "all that" in school, but then he met me. He now is famous for theories such as E=mc2 and ... others. Isaac Newton was a dumb piece of shit, but after a little encouragement from yours truly he invented gravity. No he didn't. He simply realised that gravity exists. That's what I said. It may be what you mean, but it's not what you said. Anyway, if you fancy becoming the next big thing then just be taught by me for two years and it's in the bag for you. Stephen Playmountain was homeless before he met me, and now he's one of the most famous Hollywood directors of all time.

There, that should do it.

P.S. My family are complete morons. Apparently there've been some house raids down here, all apparently Indian homes. So who do they think are to blame? "Oh it's the Indians, innit?" Dickheads.