Well, I've got some time to kill befor I'm off of work. This new policy that forces teachers to stay the 45 minutes after the bell that are lawfully allowed. It's really just a way of getting teachers to do tutorials for free when EOC comes around but for the meanwhile it's just another pointless procedure in the wonderful oh-so-sensical *sarcasm noted* world of education. So, I'd figure I'd write a little something since I feel off the writing wagon a few weeks (see: months) back. So here are just some random tid-bits about my life and me essentially just ranting.
First of, I hate being ignored. By girls, especially. I absolutely fucking despise it. I prefer being kicked in the nuts and told to fuck off for (xReason) than to be just plain out utterly ignored. It happened to me recently and if you're a friend of mine that's even relatively close, then you've heard about it. See, thing is that it was out of nowhere. Everything seemed great and then BAM nothing. Sure, it was only a couple of days that we actually even had any sort of communication outside of facebook, but I thought we enjoyed each others company. I guess it's just the fact that it leaves me wonderng "wtf did I do?"
-Did I fuck up?
- Text too much?
- Not enough?
- Too pushy?
- not pushy enough?
- met someone else?
all of these are totally okay cause, like I said, I barely know this girl, so it's (almost) whatever. Thing is that it seemed like we were cool--at the very least I thought I'd end up in the friend zone. But then...nothing? Double you tee eff, mate. So, if anyone knows any information....please, feel free to share it and if you don't and don't even know who/what I'm talking about "Nobody reads this Luis!" shut it! "Talking to yourself, they say thats' the first sign..." Of, genius? yes I know. Anywho, keep me posted!!
- This staying til 4:15 is so utterly pointless it makes wearing crocs seem prudent. *shivers*
- I really wish I could wrestle those fuckin' LWA shows. They'll have an awesome crowd...and no one to entertain them.
- Training being led by Spartan today. WATCH OUT NOW!
- Since I'm not doing the Mr. Laredo show, I really really really want Chic-fil-a. :D
- I always spell it Chic (like fashion sheek) instead of Chik....
- Also, I have this student in my class that looks like one of my ex-girlfriend. My most recent one at that (see: not recent at all 2+ years). Still, it's kind of trippy looking at a teenager that looks like the last person you were ga-ga for. She's lucky. I'm sure I'll subconciously treat her nicer than other kids lol She's a good kid to begin with. NO. Don't even start with the jailbait jokes. That shit is nothing to laugh at--it's a felony and I'd lose my job. "What about the morality of it" ...the moral is I'd lose my job? What more do you want from me!? kidding...pedophilia is wrong! I'm looking at you Ashley Blumenshine! Heh, Blumenshine...I bet she blumenshined his ...I'll stop now...
-Also, I'm totally biting the Geekologie.com style of writer. It's a tribute to you GW! Only because I don't feel like being original and frankly, I find it hillarious.
Well, I'm putting in four minutes overtime! I'm deucing....and not in the I'm on the toilet sense, Polo! Nastay...
Adios!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Angels Pt III
I took a big gulp. The thought hadn't even occurred to me. The paper, the writing , the ink was at least 50 years old. There was no doubt about it. Eons before the internet or e-mail was invented we had someone write about it on paper. It had to be a farce, right?
I looked at Mrs. Botello wearily.
"Let's check your e-mail." I said meekly.
"OK".
We slowly walked over to her desk, cluttered with assignments and books and trays that held letters and post-it's and referral forms and turned on the computer monitor. Botello grabbed the black mouse and double-clicked on internet explorer it opened up to the e-mail homepage. She typed in her user name and password. "vbotello, ********" *click*
We waited.
One new message.
From: Gongora
Subject: Read Carefully.
Both Botello and I glanced at the name and looked back at each other. The same name as my teacher and her friend. The date stamp said today, one minute ago. This thing was just sent. Botello navigated the mouse cursor to the subject link and clicked. The browser rapidly open a message. There were a few attachments.
The e-mail read:
"Guess, what, Rosey, Vero? I'm not dead!"
I looked at Mrs. Botello wearily.
"Let's check your e-mail." I said meekly.
"OK".
We slowly walked over to her desk, cluttered with assignments and books and trays that held letters and post-it's and referral forms and turned on the computer monitor. Botello grabbed the black mouse and double-clicked on internet explorer it opened up to the e-mail homepage. She typed in her user name and password. "vbotello, ********" *click*
We waited.
One new message.
From: Gongora
Subject: Read Carefully.
Both Botello and I glanced at the name and looked back at each other. The same name as my teacher and her friend. The date stamp said today, one minute ago. This thing was just sent. Botello navigated the mouse cursor to the subject link and clicked. The browser rapidly open a message. There were a few attachments.
The e-mail read:
"Guess, what, Rosey, Vero? I'm not dead!"
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Too Good To Be True
There's too much on my mind to write. I'll keep up with it tomorrow, ya'll. Sorry!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Angels ptII
RING!!!
The bell startles me outta my seat. I look around and everyone's just moving on to their first block. I sat there silently as every one rushed passed me eager to get into the halls. I had to think about what I had just read. Mr. Gongora did have a knack for playing tricks but this felt different. It didn't feel like one of his tricks--mostly because his tricks usually involved the whole class seeing and he wasn't a creeper like Coach Saenz. *Shiver* Yuck, Coach Saenz. But Gongora was always a sweet heart. He had never had a girlfriend, he would just date and he would treat his students like he would little sisters. "You girls are trouble" he'd always say "it'd be easier to just teach boys, at least I can just scream at them. You lot, you're smarter, you I have to be nice to." he'd continue with a smile and a wink.
I carefully glanced at the picture again. The statue was now facing the camera. It's arms spread out at its sides in the manner that catholic saints are portrayed, palms up and open. The face was blank, the eyes had no pupils, and the curly hair engraved in stone was split down the middle and was short going only slightly past the ears. The angel was depicted as wearing a simple robe garment with a belt around the middle. The faces blank stare seemed to mesmerize me. I suddenly felt ill. I was intrigued and disgusted at the same time yet I couldn't pull myself away. The blank pupil-less eyes were drawing my attention and the more I tried to look at another part of the photo the more the eyes called me back.
"Rose!"
I snapped back into reality.
"Urm, huh, yeah, what? Hi." I tried to fake a smile.
"Mrs. Botello is calling you, you're gonna be..."
RING!
"Late." Sandra finished ,"Come on, let's get going."
"Hey Sandra, are Botello and Gongora friends" I inquired.
"Um..yeah, I guess, I've seen them talk a few times, they share stuff. Why do you care?"
I briefly thought about telling Sandra about the letter, the picture, the statue. Everything. But I decided that she'd think I'm a nut job so I decided it'd be best to keep it to myself. "I'll just tell Dan" I decided "he's a weird dude, he'll appreciate this." So I settled there. Only Dan and myself would know.
I grabbed the letter, the picture and my make-up and stuffed it all quickly into my backpack and scurried over across the hall to Mrs. Botello's room. From there, class was normal like usual. Short journal, short assignment, distract Botello by asking her stories about her life, turn in said short assignment, talk and wait for the bell. The usual. Oh and throw in some screaming and yelling in there too. When the bell was about to ring for the next block I asked Botello if I could stay behind.
With a strange look she wearily agreed.
When the bell rang, I stayed behind.
"What's going on Rose Mary?" she asked.
"Well, you see, umm, well, Mr. Gongora..."
"Is missing, I know" she interrupted. "His car's here, he clocked in, his lunch is here, but we can't for the life of him figure anything out."
My eyes widened and I got a sudden lump in my throat. Slowly, my eyes started to water.
"Oh sweetie! No, no, don't cry! I'm sure there's a good explanation..."
All I could do was muster the composure to hand her the letter.
She grabbed the envelope and stopped mid-sentence. "Where did you get this!?" she asked with a sudden change of tone in her voice. The sweet and caring voice was gone and now a worried voice took it's place.
She slowly walked over and picked up something on her desk. It was a note written in blue ink--Gongora's ONLY choice in ink color and in his unmistakeable almost illegible print. All the note read was "wait for the letter. Then check your e-mail. - EGong"
"This was in my box this morning" Botello explained "I didn't understand it but..well, here's the letter. Is he up to one of his little pranks or projects?"
I simply nodded no.
"I didn't think so, this paper is at least 50 years old. It looks like the love letters I kept from my youth, only...older still."
I glanced at her quizzically.
"The paper wasn't what bothered me, sweetie."
"Then what did?" I asked
She paused for a moment. Pursed her lips together in thought and took her reading glasses off. She sat at the edge of her desk and gulped visibly.
"My husband collects antiques, you see. Old war items, mostly. Money, guns, coins, hats, clothes, and letters. So I've learned a few things..."
"Mrs. Botello, no offense, but could you get to the point? What bothered you if it wasn't the old paper?" I interrupted.
She took another visible gulp and cautiously said "It's the ink. The ink bothers me."
"Why? It's old and faded like the letter, so?" I asked.
"So if it's as old as the paper, and as old as that letter, which is what it appears to be..." Botello started
*BeepBop* The e-mail alert rang.
"Then how did whomever wrote it know about e-mail?" She said as she cocked one eyebrow.
The bell startles me outta my seat. I look around and everyone's just moving on to their first block. I sat there silently as every one rushed passed me eager to get into the halls. I had to think about what I had just read. Mr. Gongora did have a knack for playing tricks but this felt different. It didn't feel like one of his tricks--mostly because his tricks usually involved the whole class seeing and he wasn't a creeper like Coach Saenz. *Shiver* Yuck, Coach Saenz. But Gongora was always a sweet heart. He had never had a girlfriend, he would just date and he would treat his students like he would little sisters. "You girls are trouble" he'd always say "it'd be easier to just teach boys, at least I can just scream at them. You lot, you're smarter, you I have to be nice to." he'd continue with a smile and a wink.
I carefully glanced at the picture again. The statue was now facing the camera. It's arms spread out at its sides in the manner that catholic saints are portrayed, palms up and open. The face was blank, the eyes had no pupils, and the curly hair engraved in stone was split down the middle and was short going only slightly past the ears. The angel was depicted as wearing a simple robe garment with a belt around the middle. The faces blank stare seemed to mesmerize me. I suddenly felt ill. I was intrigued and disgusted at the same time yet I couldn't pull myself away. The blank pupil-less eyes were drawing my attention and the more I tried to look at another part of the photo the more the eyes called me back.
"Rose!"
I snapped back into reality.
"Urm, huh, yeah, what? Hi." I tried to fake a smile.
"Mrs. Botello is calling you, you're gonna be..."
RING!
"Late." Sandra finished ,"Come on, let's get going."
"Hey Sandra, are Botello and Gongora friends" I inquired.
"Um..yeah, I guess, I've seen them talk a few times, they share stuff. Why do you care?"
I briefly thought about telling Sandra about the letter, the picture, the statue. Everything. But I decided that she'd think I'm a nut job so I decided it'd be best to keep it to myself. "I'll just tell Dan" I decided "he's a weird dude, he'll appreciate this." So I settled there. Only Dan and myself would know.
I grabbed the letter, the picture and my make-up and stuffed it all quickly into my backpack and scurried over across the hall to Mrs. Botello's room. From there, class was normal like usual. Short journal, short assignment, distract Botello by asking her stories about her life, turn in said short assignment, talk and wait for the bell. The usual. Oh and throw in some screaming and yelling in there too. When the bell was about to ring for the next block I asked Botello if I could stay behind.
With a strange look she wearily agreed.
When the bell rang, I stayed behind.
"What's going on Rose Mary?" she asked.
"Well, you see, umm, well, Mr. Gongora..."
"Is missing, I know" she interrupted. "His car's here, he clocked in, his lunch is here, but we can't for the life of him figure anything out."
My eyes widened and I got a sudden lump in my throat. Slowly, my eyes started to water.
"Oh sweetie! No, no, don't cry! I'm sure there's a good explanation..."
All I could do was muster the composure to hand her the letter.
She grabbed the envelope and stopped mid-sentence. "Where did you get this!?" she asked with a sudden change of tone in her voice. The sweet and caring voice was gone and now a worried voice took it's place.
She slowly walked over and picked up something on her desk. It was a note written in blue ink--Gongora's ONLY choice in ink color and in his unmistakeable almost illegible print. All the note read was "wait for the letter. Then check your e-mail. - EGong"
"This was in my box this morning" Botello explained "I didn't understand it but..well, here's the letter. Is he up to one of his little pranks or projects?"
I simply nodded no.
"I didn't think so, this paper is at least 50 years old. It looks like the love letters I kept from my youth, only...older still."
I glanced at her quizzically.
"The paper wasn't what bothered me, sweetie."
"Then what did?" I asked
She paused for a moment. Pursed her lips together in thought and took her reading glasses off. She sat at the edge of her desk and gulped visibly.
"My husband collects antiques, you see. Old war items, mostly. Money, guns, coins, hats, clothes, and letters. So I've learned a few things..."
"Mrs. Botello, no offense, but could you get to the point? What bothered you if it wasn't the old paper?" I interrupted.
She took another visible gulp and cautiously said "It's the ink. The ink bothers me."
"Why? It's old and faded like the letter, so?" I asked.
"So if it's as old as the paper, and as old as that letter, which is what it appears to be..." Botello started
*BeepBop* The e-mail alert rang.
"Then how did whomever wrote it know about e-mail?" She said as she cocked one eyebrow.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Angels
It started out like any other day. I got up, had my cereal, washed my face, waited for the bus and did my make up in homeroom. Nothing strange really. But that day would change the scope of my life forever. That day would scar me and scare me to my wits end like I had never been scared before. This was the day of the weeping angels.
----
It started out normal, like I said. I woke up at 7:45 am--running late like always--grabbed a bowl of honey bunches of oats and hot tailed it to the bus stop. I ate the cereal while we waited and while on the bus and threw the disposable cup I had my cereal in away when we got to school. We had Mr. Gongora for homeroom. He was a young guy, probably in his mid twenties, started teaching a few years ago and still didn't take his job too seriously. He was by self-admission an insomniac so the 30minute homeroom hour consisted of him talking to us while drinking a monster energy drink or a protein shake. Occassionaly, we'd have some standardize test questions--probably because they forced him to give it to us. But for the most part, homeroom was left to us for waking up, eating breakfast, doing our make up, or just shooting the shit with Mr. Gongora. Today, however, Gongora was absent.
There was no sub. No assignments. No notes or news and I could have sworn I saw his car out in the parking lot when we drove in. Now, Mr. Gongora was a cool cat, but he wasn't the type to let us have free time either if he wasn't there. "I was in your shoes once, I remember how terrible we were with substitutes" he would reminisce, "I am NOT giving you the opportunity to do the same." Smart man. But today, nothing. Not even a single marking on the board that would indicate he was out.
It took a good 25minutes before a teacher walked in to ask about him and realized that he was out. I had first block--the class right after homeroom--with Gongora so I stayed in the room while the others fled to their rooms. I opened my book to see where we left off and in there there was an envelope. It looked old. Older than anything in the room at that time. "Rose Mary Sanchez" --my name--was drawn across the front of the envelope.
I was too curious not to open it so I opened it and found two things: an old letter, antique looking almost and a black and white picture of the school gymnasium's basement, in the corner, circled in red ink, appeared a figure of what looked like a statue with wings, but it was hard to make out.
I examined the picture closely. It defnitely was not a fake and it was as old as the envelope and it had a date stamp: "7-30-1943".
The summer of 1943 was the one when they shut the school down. They said the "structure was unsafe" for anyone to be in and it was revamped and reopened one school year later. I took a close look at the letter. It was neatly folded with two folds. I carefully opened the letter up, and began to read it's contents.
"Rose Mary,
You have to get out of the school. You, Erika, Steve, everyone get everyone out. Pull the fire alarm, call in bomb threats, punch the principal something! You have to get out of the school. This is Mr. Gongora speaking. You were the most level headed student in my class, I thought you should get this. There's something in that school. It's hard to explain. I was there this morning...but now I'm, well, now I'm dead. I've left you more letters around the school. I need you to find them. They'll be in your classes and in my teacher-friends' classrooms. You need to find them.
The picture you ask, well, it's of what got me. It's what killed me. Well, sort of killed me. It sent me back in time--I know, you think this is a lie or a trick--but it can happen. I'm in the basement of the gym trying to get some dodgeballs and then all of a sudden I wake up and it's 1943. I'm 25 and it's 1943. I'll be dead by the time you read this in 2011.
There's a statue in that picture, you saw it but you couldn't distinguish what it was. That's because it's got a natural perception filter on it, but now that you know what to look for. Look at the picture again. Try to find a stone angel. "
Weirded out, i grabbed the picture and looked at it one more time. I glanced closely at the corner of the photo and the faint image of a human now was a fully developed Angel figure. It was looking away, it's face in its hands as if it was crying. I was shocked at the sight! I looked back at the letter and back at the photo. The angel's head was a bit different now. It was titled slightly backward as if trying to peak over it's own shoulder--at me.
I turned to the letter and back to the photo and the angel's arms weren't at it's face anymore.
"I must be going outside my mind!" I thought to myself.
I kept reading the letter.
"I can't really write more in this parcticular letter. Find the rest. Start off in your classes, your teacher. There'll be clues after." the letter \read.
"And one more thing, don't blink! These things are fast. If you see a statue, and it sees you, don't turn away, don't turn your back, and don't even blink. You're life depends on it. Don't blink, don't ever blink. Find the notes. It's yours--and your schools only shot. You're only shot to survive The Weeping Angels.
----
It started out normal, like I said. I woke up at 7:45 am--running late like always--grabbed a bowl of honey bunches of oats and hot tailed it to the bus stop. I ate the cereal while we waited and while on the bus and threw the disposable cup I had my cereal in away when we got to school. We had Mr. Gongora for homeroom. He was a young guy, probably in his mid twenties, started teaching a few years ago and still didn't take his job too seriously. He was by self-admission an insomniac so the 30minute homeroom hour consisted of him talking to us while drinking a monster energy drink or a protein shake. Occassionaly, we'd have some standardize test questions--probably because they forced him to give it to us. But for the most part, homeroom was left to us for waking up, eating breakfast, doing our make up, or just shooting the shit with Mr. Gongora. Today, however, Gongora was absent.
There was no sub. No assignments. No notes or news and I could have sworn I saw his car out in the parking lot when we drove in. Now, Mr. Gongora was a cool cat, but he wasn't the type to let us have free time either if he wasn't there. "I was in your shoes once, I remember how terrible we were with substitutes" he would reminisce, "I am NOT giving you the opportunity to do the same." Smart man. But today, nothing. Not even a single marking on the board that would indicate he was out.
It took a good 25minutes before a teacher walked in to ask about him and realized that he was out. I had first block--the class right after homeroom--with Gongora so I stayed in the room while the others fled to their rooms. I opened my book to see where we left off and in there there was an envelope. It looked old. Older than anything in the room at that time. "Rose Mary Sanchez" --my name--was drawn across the front of the envelope.
I was too curious not to open it so I opened it and found two things: an old letter, antique looking almost and a black and white picture of the school gymnasium's basement, in the corner, circled in red ink, appeared a figure of what looked like a statue with wings, but it was hard to make out.
I examined the picture closely. It defnitely was not a fake and it was as old as the envelope and it had a date stamp: "7-30-1943".
The summer of 1943 was the one when they shut the school down. They said the "structure was unsafe" for anyone to be in and it was revamped and reopened one school year later. I took a close look at the letter. It was neatly folded with two folds. I carefully opened the letter up, and began to read it's contents.
"Rose Mary,
You have to get out of the school. You, Erika, Steve, everyone get everyone out. Pull the fire alarm, call in bomb threats, punch the principal something! You have to get out of the school. This is Mr. Gongora speaking. You were the most level headed student in my class, I thought you should get this. There's something in that school. It's hard to explain. I was there this morning...but now I'm, well, now I'm dead. I've left you more letters around the school. I need you to find them. They'll be in your classes and in my teacher-friends' classrooms. You need to find them.
The picture you ask, well, it's of what got me. It's what killed me. Well, sort of killed me. It sent me back in time--I know, you think this is a lie or a trick--but it can happen. I'm in the basement of the gym trying to get some dodgeballs and then all of a sudden I wake up and it's 1943. I'm 25 and it's 1943. I'll be dead by the time you read this in 2011.
There's a statue in that picture, you saw it but you couldn't distinguish what it was. That's because it's got a natural perception filter on it, but now that you know what to look for. Look at the picture again. Try to find a stone angel. "
Weirded out, i grabbed the picture and looked at it one more time. I glanced closely at the corner of the photo and the faint image of a human now was a fully developed Angel figure. It was looking away, it's face in its hands as if it was crying. I was shocked at the sight! I looked back at the letter and back at the photo. The angel's head was a bit different now. It was titled slightly backward as if trying to peak over it's own shoulder--at me.
I turned to the letter and back to the photo and the angel's arms weren't at it's face anymore.
"I must be going outside my mind!" I thought to myself.
I kept reading the letter.
"I can't really write more in this parcticular letter. Find the rest. Start off in your classes, your teacher. There'll be clues after." the letter \read.
"And one more thing, don't blink! These things are fast. If you see a statue, and it sees you, don't turn away, don't turn your back, and don't even blink. You're life depends on it. Don't blink, don't ever blink. Find the notes. It's yours--and your schools only shot. You're only shot to survive The Weeping Angels.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Oil Rush pt III
I guess I owe you a bit of an explanation.
This isn't the start of some awesome 70s porn where the boss's daughter takes me away to Europe. After that first time we met out in the desert, we ran into each other a couple of more times Usually at company soirees. Her and I were the only two around our age so we naturally gravitated towards each other. Now, we never really dated or anything, I was a low-level grunt and she was the owner's daughter--it wasn't happening. But she did have a sort of affection towards me. It might have been because I was the only one who wasn't a middle-aged drunk man who was hitting on her at every local that had alcohol. I was the 20 some year old who wanted to hit on her but never did. Yeah, that guy. After I got the promotion to shop manager, I also inherited the responsibilities of an ailing operations manager at a raise in salary. Now, I didn't handle all the operations. There was financial things that I wasn't allowed to touch yet, but was being groomed to take over. I had proved worthy enough to handle transportation issues so that duty was delegated to me--at no extra pay mind you. This is why she needed me to sign off on the plane. It would fly from Laredo to Houston, Houston to North Carolina and from N. C. to London's Gatwick airport. She was accompanied by the usual slew of lackies and I guess she thought I was worthy company. Maybe this trip would be my chance!
"Saldivar, bring the books and your company laptop. We have things to go over during our flight." she said as her tone turned cold suddenly.
"Yes, ma'am" I dutifully responded.
Oh, right. What I meant to tell you also is that she's being groomed to be the next CEO of this company. She was out of college already and was serving as interim VP of fiscal operations. Her pops decided that she needed to know the ins and outs of the companies fortune and where it went in order to make the decisions as the CEO whenever the time came for the old man to retire--which at his age wasn't going to be too far down the line. Unfortunately for her gallivanting dad, she took to the job like a fish to water and swam magnificently in the role. This brought up the question as to the allocation of some company funds for "business excursions"--the London trip.
"Meet me at the airport in one hour. Have the jet be fueled, primed and ready to go. I'm already packed. Go get your necessities and hurry up. I do not like to be kept waiting." she yelled at me as she got back into her car.
"And Saldivar" she continued.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Wear a decent shirt for Christ's sake" she said with a wink.
"I gave a smirk and continued to pack up the books and laptop."
This isn't the start of some awesome 70s porn where the boss's daughter takes me away to Europe. After that first time we met out in the desert, we ran into each other a couple of more times Usually at company soirees. Her and I were the only two around our age so we naturally gravitated towards each other. Now, we never really dated or anything, I was a low-level grunt and she was the owner's daughter--it wasn't happening. But she did have a sort of affection towards me. It might have been because I was the only one who wasn't a middle-aged drunk man who was hitting on her at every local that had alcohol. I was the 20 some year old who wanted to hit on her but never did. Yeah, that guy. After I got the promotion to shop manager, I also inherited the responsibilities of an ailing operations manager at a raise in salary. Now, I didn't handle all the operations. There was financial things that I wasn't allowed to touch yet, but was being groomed to take over. I had proved worthy enough to handle transportation issues so that duty was delegated to me--at no extra pay mind you. This is why she needed me to sign off on the plane. It would fly from Laredo to Houston, Houston to North Carolina and from N. C. to London's Gatwick airport. She was accompanied by the usual slew of lackies and I guess she thought I was worthy company. Maybe this trip would be my chance!
"Saldivar, bring the books and your company laptop. We have things to go over during our flight." she said as her tone turned cold suddenly.
"Yes, ma'am" I dutifully responded.
Oh, right. What I meant to tell you also is that she's being groomed to be the next CEO of this company. She was out of college already and was serving as interim VP of fiscal operations. Her pops decided that she needed to know the ins and outs of the companies fortune and where it went in order to make the decisions as the CEO whenever the time came for the old man to retire--which at his age wasn't going to be too far down the line. Unfortunately for her gallivanting dad, she took to the job like a fish to water and swam magnificently in the role. This brought up the question as to the allocation of some company funds for "business excursions"--the London trip.
"Meet me at the airport in one hour. Have the jet be fueled, primed and ready to go. I'm already packed. Go get your necessities and hurry up. I do not like to be kept waiting." she yelled at me as she got back into her car.
"And Saldivar" she continued.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Wear a decent shirt for Christ's sake" she said with a wink.
"I gave a smirk and continued to pack up the books and laptop."
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Spartan Talking: Promo against Octane
Writing my monologue for this weekends event. *Spoilers* Don't read if you're a fan! :-P
I heard we had a strong crowd going on today, but the only thing strong about this crowd is their body odor! Seriously, someone light a match it's starting to smell like chorizo in here. A few weeks ago at LWA's Independence, this little cheerleader of a wrestler named Octane wrestled for the LWA Championship. He--of course--lost that match to our own Nikon. But thanks to the absolutely GENIUS booking from our management, he had an opportunity to regain the number one contender spot during a battle royal. I guess that's what happens when you're a veteran. Big deal, you can't go to college so you become a grunt and all of a sudden you get a title shot, big effin deal! At that battle royal, Little yellleader Octane by a shear stroke of luck eliminated me..the last man in that ring from that rumble and all of a sudden, he thinks that he's better than Team Nikon. Lemme break it down for you, son! You ain't a damn thing in this league! You ain't better than Nikon--as we showed you in Zapata, you ain't better than Vampiro, and you damn sure are not better than Trinidad "The Spartan" Ramirez. Face it Octane, you're a one trick pony. You run around the ring hopping and bouncing and spinning I'm starting to think that you haven't taken your ADHD meds in a while! But tonight, here, at Collateral Damage, I'm going to prove to you exactly why I am a better athlete, a better performer, and a better wrestler than you and prove to these idiots sitting here staring at me just why you don't deserve another shot at the title and prove to everyone in this sweat-house why I am wrestling personified! After tonight's match,Octane, I promise you, the only high-flying you're gonna be doing is going to come from the pain killers your gonna have to be on after I'm done with you! Now, hit my music!
I heard we had a strong crowd going on today, but the only thing strong about this crowd is their body odor! Seriously, someone light a match it's starting to smell like chorizo in here. A few weeks ago at LWA's Independence, this little cheerleader of a wrestler named Octane wrestled for the LWA Championship. He--of course--lost that match to our own Nikon. But thanks to the absolutely GENIUS booking from our management, he had an opportunity to regain the number one contender spot during a battle royal. I guess that's what happens when you're a veteran. Big deal, you can't go to college so you become a grunt and all of a sudden you get a title shot, big effin deal! At that battle royal, Little yellleader Octane by a shear stroke of luck eliminated me..the last man in that ring from that rumble and all of a sudden, he thinks that he's better than Team Nikon. Lemme break it down for you, son! You ain't a damn thing in this league! You ain't better than Nikon--as we showed you in Zapata, you ain't better than Vampiro, and you damn sure are not better than Trinidad "The Spartan" Ramirez. Face it Octane, you're a one trick pony. You run around the ring hopping and bouncing and spinning I'm starting to think that you haven't taken your ADHD meds in a while! But tonight, here, at Collateral Damage, I'm going to prove to you exactly why I am a better athlete, a better performer, and a better wrestler than you and prove to these idiots sitting here staring at me just why you don't deserve another shot at the title and prove to everyone in this sweat-house why I am wrestling personified! After tonight's match,Octane, I promise you, the only high-flying you're gonna be doing is going to come from the pain killers your gonna have to be on after I'm done with you! Now, hit my music!
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