The Stupid Thread 2 (Part 1)

Brilliant.

I still be English teacher, but I be getiin edumcated by everymobody.

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Hey, thank you. That was very kind.

@ correcting spelling. I was teasing, and trying to bury the hatchet.

I make some really atrocious spelling and grammatical errors, and I just don’t care that much, but I know you all have to put up with it. It’s come up before. And I sometimes “correct” profanity when I respond to someone, which hopefully people think is a funny quirk and not an insult.

Degrees in Rippetonian Studies and Single Malt Whiskey Appreciation don’t count.

All good, emotional intelligence, much mo betta,

Rippetonian studies and my thesis on the benefits of Michelob Ultra not included in the three advanced degrees.

But, both of the aforementioned are much more valuable than the Ed, English, and Creative Writing degrees.

Emotional intelligence much mo betta.

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You know I was joking, right? And who the fuck is Michelob Ultra? That’s really advanced shit.

Of course. Love the Rip shit.

Michelob Ultra is a low cal beer here in Murrrica.

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I think its like the new LSD. People use it and think that they’re drinking beer.

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My wife had to take a quiz that supposedly measures emotional intelligence. After she took it (and got irritated), I decided to try it. We both have low emotional intelligence.

I looked at what the “correct” answers were and it appears that having high emotional intelligence would mean living a drama filled life where I tried to intervene and fix everyone’s problems.

I’ll stick with my emotional stupidity.

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I think that’s a good thing. If one of you had a high emotional intelligence, and the other was low, that would be a bad thing.

There are no “correct” answers. I know this will sound woowoo and emo, but you’re perfect bro. You’re perfect for where you are, and it’s all good.

I don’t think high emotional intelligence means living a drama filled life. I think it means being smart enough, mindful enough, to walk away from what doesn’t serve you. If drama is a problem, and you walk away, sorry to say, you have a high emotional intelligence.

I might be wrong, wouldn’t be the first time, but I think emotional intelligence means being in touch with what is good for you. If that means being a fucking meat head, pick things up and put things down, if that serves you, you are emotionally intelligent.

Rock on brother.

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There are only two types of beer; Irish stout, and Irish red ale. If you drink anything else, you may get drunk, but it will not have been achieved with beer.

PSA: Do this in an Irish pub and we have to stab you repeatedly, and bury you in an unmarked grave. Sorry if you don’t like that, but it is the law.

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cf0cQZG-o1s/U73vPQJyVxI/AAAAAAAAApM/bORj9uIEFiE/w530-h707-n-rw/2014-07-09%2B21.11.04.jpg

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I thought the quiz was made for girls. One question asked what you would do if two of your friends were fighting. I selected the answer “ignore it”. I think the “correct” answer was to talk to each of them and try to understand their point of view.

No, thanks. We’re all adults here. I don’t have enough energy to play referee.

Another question asked what you would do if your child threw a fit in the store after you told her she couldn’t have candy. I chose “Ignore her and continue my trip”. The “correct” answer was probably to talk to her about her feelings and why she was upset.

I live that exact circumstance. I know my daughter. There is no reason for her fits. You can’t fix them. You just let her wear herself out and move on. My daughter cries for 20 minutes straight because her socks feel weird. There’s just no way to figure that shit out.

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EQ was a required subject over here for pre-university students around 15 years ago. Then the government realized it was stupid and abolished it lol.

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What you should have written was, “I can’t fix them.”

Ah, yes. I get so used to speaking/typing in generalities instead of personalizing it. But in this case, saying “you can’t fix it” may still be accurate.

What is that? An Irish Car Bomb?

My old favorite was Molson Golden, Bushmills, and a big bag of the sticky bud. Many a good man completely forgot about stabbing me after a few good rounds of those.

That is Guinness mixed with sprite. An affrontery to my nation, good morals, and to the divine logos.

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My Canadian girlfriend approves the Molson. I can’t approve the Bush, I’m a Jameson’s man.

Sprite?!? By all means, do what ever you can to stop that shit!

That actually warrants a punch directly in the balls.
Or ovaries. Or unicorn seeds. Or what ever who ever is doing that has.

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There is a Jamaican mother out there who disagrees.

I’ve got my side of the pond covered, but the crusade needs warriors to succeed.

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