I know. I get it. It's Spring Break.
AND. YOU. DON'T. WANT. TO. THINK. ABOUT. SCHOOL.
AT ALL.
Well, I managed to bring some minor enjoyment into the dreadful IB English class. Or as I like to call it:
The Science of Analyzing the Analyzed Analyzation...and then arguing about it, while throwing in some big words.
It's oh so true, but a few days ago...I think Thursday? Not sure, we played the Ivanhoe Game, and during the process learned from Ms. Fulton (my IB English teacher) how her very husband snickers at the title of the game. How? Giggling and going "hee-hee, I'm a hoe".
WOW. Even at my premature adolescent age, I'm smart enough to know how foolish he sounds at
HIS AGE. Good God.
So, you take a role in critiquing a book, and that's all I could understand. Basically, I was a famous book review critic. Who was I specifically? Well according to my slip of paper saying my job:
A famous literary critic.
Great job Ms. Fulton, you make me proud of your knowledge of renowned literary critics. So, anways, here's my "review" of the Great Gatsby. I think you all will enjoy it. I'm warning you there's some out-of-bounds language here (mainly because I found out halfway through the assignment, that we weren't turning it in). So the first half is clean...-ish...like. Second half? Dirty, dirty, dirty, shit. Not really, but it's somewhat offensive for the weak minded. Here we go:
I know. I get it. It's Spring Break. AND. YOU. DON'T. WANT. TO. THINK. ABOUT. SCHOOL. AT ALL. Well, I managed to bring some min...