ur such a bad influence on me

‘Cause I really could be typing out notes about how The Memoirs and Private Confessions of a Justified Sinner (written, no less, by a man named James Hogg!) is in fact a superb physiological novel displaying the mixed mediums of folklore and the supernatural.

Du duh?

Yup, but what I’m actually do with my time is show you a bit of the homework that I’ve already completed. I was told by James and Mr. Evan had to complete an assignment for Spanish class about his dream date. Well today I’m gonna turn in an assignment about “Mi Ex,” and so y’all all will have to tell me what you think of him.

Mi Ex
por Candace Jones
Antes salía con Ghengis Kahn. Porque el ha vivido una infancia nómada, nunca le gusta quedar en la casa de mis padres. Siempre montaba a mi jardín en un caballo negro, daba una patada a la puerta, y gruñía a mi hermanito. Pero hablaba cortés a mi padre porque lo consideraba un aliado importante.
El me llevaba a cenar y hacer algo (siempre prefería polo o squash a golf!). Cuando íbamos al cine, generalmente estaba inquieto y cada cinco minutos se levantaba a traer las palomitas de maíz.
De vez en cuando me pedía que yo cocine algo especial, y Kahn siempre quería carne fresco, queso de cabra, y café viejo (este consideraba una delicadeza).
Me caía a el porque era generoso, muy leal, y un protector excelente. Una noche yo estaba en pie en la acera mientras Kahn compraba un haggis en una carnicería. Un atracador corrió a mí y me apuntó con una pistola. De repente, Kahn volvió a la calle, lo golpeó el atracador con su bolso (que normalmente tenía dos o tres barras de oro), y me trajo a un café.
Un día pedí Kahn, “¿De dónde eres?” Pero solamente él sonrió y dijo, “Una gitana se le cayo una jaca negra del cielo, pero cuando tocó la arena de Mongolia, se desplomó y se hizo un niño, y el niño era me.”

Found any grammer errors yet? Well too late! It goes in the drop box (or pidgin holes as they are more colourfully called here) in 5 minutes. In case the name peeked your interest I’ll include the translation…

My Ex

I used to go out with Ghengis Kahn. Since he had lived a nomadic childhood, he never liked to stay long in my parents house. He always rode up on a black horse, kicked the door, and growled at my brother. But he spoke courteously to my father since he considered him a valuable ally.
He would take me to eat and do something, and he always preferred bumper cars to golf. When we went to the cinema he was generally restless and got up every five minutes to get popcorn.
Every now and then I asked him if he wanted me to cook him something special and he always asked for fresh meat, goat cheese and old coffee (he thought it was a delicacy).
I liked him because he was generous, very loyal, and an excellent protector. One time I was standing on a street corner while he bought some haggis in a meat market. A mugger ran up and pointed his gun at me and asked me for my bag. In an instant, Kahn flew out to the street, knocked the mugger on the head with his change purse (which generally carried two or three bars of gold), and carried me off to a coffee shop.
I would ask Kahn where he came from and he would smile and say that a gypsy had dropped a little horse out of the sky but when it landed in the sand of Mongolia it tangled itself up and became a boy, and that little boy was him.


Yup, never a dull moment up here. Anywho, we’ll be trucking off on our weekend to London tomorrow, so woopiedootles! I still have to pack when I get home! Later!