Standardized test results show WNC students have strong grasp on baby-mama drama
ASHEVILLE, WEDNESDAY — National testing shows that North Carolina high-school students lead the nation in trailerprep courses that teach the fundamentals of Baby Mama 21st- Century Drama.
“I cannot overstate the importance of our students learning to absolutely not answer the door when the baby mama be on the warpath,” said one Buncombe County drama teacher. “Before they graduate and step into the all-too-real challenges of adult life, they should have the confidence to just let their baby mama cool out and call her tomorrow.”
Many students are entering their senior year with their eyes on the prize — getting that no-good Craig to spend time with Craig Jr., instead of hanging at the club with that wack-ass ho Tina who he also got a baby wit.
“After I graduate high school, I would like to pursue my dream of meeting Tina next time she drop her baby off with my man Craig front of the police station talking ‘let’s get together sometime,’” senior Lisa Hutchinberry said. “As much as I hate to admit my teacher was right, I guess there really is a practical application for ‘Bitch, no you do not.’”
BB&T Building Under Analysis
ASHEVILLE, TUESDAY — Noticing that the BB&T building has lately become sulky and rebellious, Asheville City Council has brought in celebrated building psychiatrist Dr. Kevin Churchill.
“It’s a simple case of sibling rivalry, really,” Churchill explains. “Now that Asheville has a little Ellington bun in the oven, the BB&T is feeling worried over a loss of attention. A building in that state of mind is going to seek out attention in any way possible, not mindful of the idea of negative attention, nor of its consequences.”
Using a combination of rag dolls and the Rankin Street parking garage, the BB&T, under the doctor’s watchful eye, acted out its feelings through role-playing.
Dr. Churchill confirmed his initial findings almost immediately:
“It was clear the troubled building was threatened by The Ellington, especially of its potential ability to totally blot out all sunlight on the planet Earth with its massive stature. Also, the BB&T wants to kill George Cornelius Vanderbilt and then sleep with its own mother.”
“It’s a touchy situation. You can’t just say, ‘Suck it up, whiner, you don’t hear the Flat Iron Building pissing and moaning,’” said Churchill. “You have to sit this building down, even at the risk of crushing hundreds of surrounding structures, and explain that Asheville loves the BB&T very, very much despite its hideous and boring architecture — perhaps not in those words — and then throw in some more blah blah blah while effecting a phony look of concern.”
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I was hiking naked through the Pisgah National Forest recently, packing nothing but my didgeridoo and a headdress, when I was gifted with a flash of awareness: I am more enlightened than you are.
For one thing, I eat grubs straight out of the ground. Also, you wear shoes. I’m just saying.
In case you haven’t noticed, my gender- insignificant life-partner has a headful of ratty dreadlocks. Not natty — ratty. We literally found a rat in her hair last week. It was such a beautiful experience.
I sell grilled cheese sandwiches in parking lots whether there is a concert or not, OK? I introduce myself to people as “Eagle-feather,” even if they’re Native American. Especially if they’re Native American. Who do you think named me “Eagle-feather” in the first place? No, I want you to guess. Wrong. My yoga instructor did. His name is Mikkel. He’s Dutch and can cut one long, continuous fart during yoga class because he’s awesome. It sounds like a bumblebee.
I blow and sell glass, mostly unframeable, uniquely shaped cracked windowpanes. Animals talk to me. In my head. I’m telepathic. They talk to me in my own mental voice so as not to scare me. I’m not scared, my animal friends! I want to spoon with you, too! I took an entire year off to catalog my bootleg Dead tapes. That was just to establish the system I would use to catalog my Phish tapes, which took a year and a half. I have a tattoo of a dolphin on my lower back. I did it myself.
Hippie college girls know how real I am. I’m like the super-kind father they never had who they can have sex with next to waterfalls or in my efficiency apartment. I don’t judge. And yes, we use condoms, and they’re homemade with a hybrid corduroy-hemp blend I’m working on. You probably use massmarket condoms.
I home-school my kids except that I think school is a patriarchal institution, so I really just home my kids. Professionally, I’m a struggling sustenance farmer. I eat Amish Paste tomatoes like you eat apples, bro. I do a little busking on the side, sans the song-and-dance routine. Did I mention that I am in love with love itself? Think about it. Think about it.
Listen, this didge isn’t going to blow itself, so I must bid you aloha. Don’t bump your head while stumbling around in the perpetual darkness of your existence. I’m just saying.