 |
Sep 27, 2007 - 09:21 AM |
|
 |
Top Dollar vs. Old People |
|
|
See, it's not that I have respect for any old person living in my vicinity (well, one half of my grandparents decided in a last desperate attempt of wisdom that it would be a good idea to move 200 kilometers away from here). My other grandma does nothing anymore except for being awfully gross. She has a disgusting method to blow her nose, the result for all to see. My mom has ordered my father to, when they are at a restaurant, not to put my grandma opposite to her. My mom couldn't eat otherwise. On my birthday, I dared to make a decent (and I mean DECENT) plea to her to cut us some slack. I assume I'm disinherited now. And don't get me started on the wart she unveiled at last Sunday's dinner. My mother still has nightmares about it.
So, no respect there. It's not that she's disgusting, there are other reasons for it which I may tell some time down the road. The only old person in my family I had respected was my paternal grandpa who is dead for over two years now. So, no points for the living.
The latest chapter unfolded today, when I had my German-English translation course. Sometime during the first 30 minutes, the door opened and - you guessed right - an old women entered asking if she could participate in class as a senior student. The prof said yes, and she sat down next to me. A side note: Y'know I like to draw during classes, it helps me concentrate when there's nothing else to do. So I was drawing a little bit after I had prepared my translation paper due for today. Then, the first remark: "Is that your translation? (giggling)" I yanked my two sheets and said "No - this and this". From now on I was treated to wise-cracking commentaries about the professor's ramblings every two seconds. But I didn't pay attention to it that much because I was afraid of what would come: group work.
We were translating an article about O.J. Simpson, and my prof named several inappropriate translation possibilities for "African American", y'know, "colored" and that sorta thing. That was when she cut right through the professor's monologue, exclaiming:"...or nigger!" Oooooooooooookay.
As expected, the group work was an ordeal: When I suggested the word "shabby" to translate German "heruntergekommen", she said "no, that's when your clothes are all dirty" and twitched on my clothes. Twitched on my clothes! I. Hate. That. During the rest of the class, she was patting my hands at least twice, saying things like "Well done!" When I looked at her one time, she smiled a smile to me that frightingly reminded me of Misses Kersh from Stephen King's "IT". I felt so stupid! Next thing I expected was her giving me a bottle of milk, an apple and my lunchbox.
I had a brief talk with a female student I like after the class. She suggested: "Maybe, she doesn't have any grandchildren" and I replied "Hell, if she paid 100€ to me every birthday and Christmas, I'd gladly be her grandson!" Considering what may come for the rest of the term, I definitely was at least halfway joking.
| Currently Playing: The Cornells '74-'75 |
|
|
|
|
|
