Saturday, November 28, 2009
This is what we call a total disaster ladies - I'm going to ask you to smell your armpits.
That's the smell of failure, and it's stinking up my office.
I'm revoking your tanning privileges for the rest of the semester.
I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this Glee Club successful.
You know, the way you use your mental illness to help these kids is really inspiring.
I'm shocked you're not married.
You're sowing the seeds of destruction.
You know ladies, I learned a lot in Special Forces. I was on the strike team in Panama when we extracted Noriega.
We took out the shepherd, then we went after the sheep.
You need to go after these Glee clubbers one by one.
I want my full budget restored.
I need a fog machine.
Friday, November 27, 2009
We're going to bring this club down from within.
And I'm gonna get my boyfriend back.
I don't care so much about that.
I was at the local library where I read "Cheerleading Today" aloud to blind geriatrics and I came across this little page-turner. Show Choir Rule Book. And it turns out, you need 12 kids to qualify for regionals.
Last I looked, you only had five and a half. Here. Cripple in the wheelchair.
I also took the liberty of highlighting some special ed classes for you. Maybe you could find some recruits.
Because I'm not sure there's anybody else who's gonna want to swim over to your island of misfit toys.