Post by Brett Garth on Nov 21, 2010 19:48:33 GMT -5
The full name's brett michael garth, but most people call me brett. In case you couldn't tell, I'm a crazy mofo. I came into this world kicking and screaming on october the twenty-first, and thirty-three years later, I still haven't stopped. Back then, I lived in chicago. I'm a bosnian dealing with the stress of teaching a freshman art class. I graduated from the university of illinois way back in two-thousand one.
eyes :: ... they're brown. Not sure what else you can say about them. So I will now write an obscenely detailed sentence dedicated entirely to the shading of Brett's iris...
nose :: Just below Brett's eyes, it appears as though someone pinched his nose really, really hard. All of a sudden, it caves in, both on the sides and the bridge. Right after this depression, however, it expands by as much as two-hundred percent. There's also an eeeetty bitty little hook at the end of his nose.
hair :: Brett's hair is not black. I mean, he has dyed it said color before, but naturally, it's not black. It's just really, really, really dark brown. Most days, Brett pays little to no attention to his hair. It's unkempt -- knotted and sticking out from his head at all kinds of odd angles. Also, if left unbrushed, little waves'll form in it. The length of his mane is subject to change about once every six months. He'll crop it to his shoulders, grow it out until it's halfway down his back, then crop it short again.
face :: The first thing an outside observer would notice about Brett's face is its crookedness. There's a break in the middle of his chin. Everything to left of the break appears to have shifted upward. To hide this fact, Brett has grown a beard. He does little to maintain this beard, however, and it practically dominates the lower half of his face. There is a metal crown on his right front tooth, the ends of his eyebrows have a tendency to curl toward his nose, and there are two creases in his forehead from quirking his eyebrow too much.
body :: When standing up straight (which is a rare occurrence indeed), Brett is exactly five feet and ten inches tall. Haha Damon, he beat you by two inches >D. He tips the scale at one-hundred fifty-four pounds. His fingertips are calloused from all the guitar playing he does. Living with Damon, Brett has grown more than a little self-conscious about his figure. He's taken to working out, so he's got himself a nice little pack of abs hiding beneath his t-shirts. During his college days, Brett flirted with the idea of getting a tattoo. Then he realized how horrible that would look when he grew old and wrinkly. To compensate for his lack of tattoo, he often draws patterns on his arms, or splatters them with paint (he is, after all, an art teacher).
likes :: ABUSING THE CAPS-LOCK KEY, twitter, tweeting naked, being naked (though, unfortunately, federal law prevents him from being so in public areas), playing the guitar, playing the violin, cooking, pastries, cooking pastries, art, music, pranking his roommate, casual Fridays
dislikes :: Adhering to MLA's standard rules of grammar, separating from the internet, when his phone battery randomly decides it's okay to die, criticism of the length of his hair (or thickness of his beard, if he has one at the time), shaving, cutting himself shaving, when citrus squirts into said cuts, the school's dress code, students giving him attitudes, fellow teachers giving him attitudes, college
habits :: Abusing his power and assigning detentions to students just because he doesn't like them, cracking jokes (especially when not appropriate), fingering chords on his air guitar, tapping his foot, stroking his beard (again, this is only if he has one at the time), AND TYPING IN CAPS LOCK
flaws :: his immaturity, short attention span, disregard for authority,constantoccasional laziness, AND LOVE OF CAPS LOCK (SERIOUSLY? IT'S ANNOYING FOR ME TO EVEN TYPE THIS SENTENCE!)
positive attributes :: his great sense of humor, friendliness, open mind, creativity, and optimism
secret(s) :: He's deathly afraid of twinkies.
.... don't ask.
pet peeve(s) :: ignoramuses who bother pestering him to cut his hair
personality :: Brett's very outgoing and charismatic. He's also random, ADD, and humorous.
Oh goody. Now I only need six more sentences.
Brett is one of the most open-minded, easy-going people you could ever meet in your life. You could say that people are drawn to him because of the gleam that never fades from his eyes and the smile that (almost) never leaves his lips. He operates smoothly under pressure and has a knack for taking the ball and running with it.
One thing he's not so great at is taking matters seriously. He's incredibly gifted at taking a negative situation and putting a positive spin on it, but present him with emotional baggage, and he shies away. As he's never been forced to cope with serious grief, Brett isn't confident he could, if need be. He's afraid of cracking under pressure, so he hopes to evade grief for as long as possible.
mother :: Maria Garth, sixty-three, retired ballerina of the Chicago Ballet
father :: Arthur Garth, sixty-seven, manager of the local McDonald's
brother(s) :: none
sister(s) :: none
step-relations: :: none
children :: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLno.
other relatives :: He has a roommate named Damon, if that counts.
pets :: .... this is almost as funny as the "children" question...
background check :: He was born. He went to school. He developed a talent for traditional art (drawing, painting, etc.).
During these school years, a tragic thing happened.
A tragic thing that would scar him for the rest of his life.
All children love twinkies. It's inevitable, what with their golden cake and luscious, creamy filling. Growing up, Brett ate like a fat person. His love of twinkies ran deeper than most.
And then came Ms. Henderson.
Divorced, snarl-toothed, had to be weighed on a truck scale, dressed by her grandmother, applied her make-up in the dark.
This was fifth grade, right after that "What are those things down there?" talk in Physical Education, so of course, all the boys had that three letter word that married couples enjoy on the brain. Ms. Henderson had packed a twinkie for lunch. Only, she wasn't consuming it as the average person might. She was sucking on it behind her desk at the front of the classroom while her students slaved over the writing assignment she'd given them.
Mr. Popular, Chad Davis, leaned over to whisper in Brett's ear, "She's practicing."
Brett went home sick that day.
Hasn't had a twinkie since.
He taught himself to play the guitar as a teenager. He also taught himself to bake. A lover of junk food, he wasted that talent making pastries. He went to college. He partied hard. He graduated college and went hunting for a job in the area. He discovered an open teaching position at Lumini High School. They needed a freshman art teacher. He took the job. He met Damon in the teachers' longue one day and the two became fast friends. He wanted to move out of his parents' house, so he moved in with Damon. He pays rent, of course.
^^ that, my friends, is over fifteen sentences. Fear my amazing under-achiever-ness.
fear it.
role play sample ::Never, in all Asher's seventeen years of schooling, had he once been berated as Thorne had just berated him.
First grade level? Um, no.
... he read at a third grade level.
Rather than argue with Mr. Thorne, risking further insult and humiliation, Asher did as the designated god of the classroom suggested and took his seat.
After squinting at the seating chart to identify which desk was his, of course.
Then there was some kind of bitch fight between Skye and some girl Asher didn't recognize. She was pretty, whoever she was, but her hair could use a little work. A couple of tardy partiers entered the room after the bell had rung and Mr. Thorne had begun his spiel, and one of them was another lovely lady. Nice legs, Asher noted. I might like this class.
Next thing he knew, Mr. Thorne was numbering people and splitting them into teams. Shaking himself, Asher turned in to what Mr. Thorne was saying. According to him, Asher was now a proud member of team number one. Beats number two, Asher thought, a childish snicker escaping him. He was still snickering as he leaned against the classroom's left-hand wall (not that classrooms have hands, but you get the point).
Asher's giddiness dissipated when he realized who his team mates were. Putting Asher on a team with Linsee DeJane deserved a major red flag. Why? Because Linsee struck him as the type of person would grow irate if he couldn't answer her definition of an "easy question". Since Asher wasn't exactly student of the month, he'd probably find a grand total of zero questions easy
Apart from Linsee, though, his teammates weren't looking too shabby. There was Skye, who could provide comic relief when necessary, and the dark-haired girl with the nice legs - what was her name... Tessa? - to totally not check out if he happened to tire of educational "fun".
Skye shifted off his shoulder.
Blinking, Asher realized he'd spaced through the directions. Standing up straight, he watched Skye and Cameron in an attempt to determine how the game was played. In shor History God Thorne asked a question, whomever knew the correct answer snatched the marker off the desk and answered, and points were awarded for correct answers. Oh, and Jenna Aiken had entered the room at some point. I need some Minnie Wheats, Asher concluded. Keep me full and focused.
A point was awarded to Team One. How Skye had known something Asher hadn't, he couldn't tell. But he high-fived her anyway, upon her return to "The Wall". Then Damon called for the fours, and Jenna took her seat at the center desk. No one from team two stepped forward.
It took him a second, but Asher figured it out.
"Shit," he swore under his breath. Then he turned to Skye. "I'm a four, aren't I?"
Dragging his feet, he sat with his back to Jenna and awaited the question. Sixteenth president of the United States. Oh... -insert every profanity known to man here -. Asher knew this one. He did. It was that tall guy.... with the tall hat... and the curly beard... Oh god, what was his name?
"Abraham Licoln."
Asher jumped out of his seat. "Yeah, that!"
Jenna.
Had the marker.
Cheeks flushing a hue of red not yet known to man, Asher shoved his hands in his pockets. He bowed his head, tossing his bangs forward to hide the blush.
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hey. my aliases are robin, roberto, robbobin, batman's steward, and bob the tomato, I'm sixteen years old, and I've been slashing for like four years. I heard about you guys through the members, and let me say, NINJA ADMIN LANI FAILED AT BEING A NINJA ADMIN - GOOD THING NINJA ADMIN ELLIE'S GOT HER BACK ( IN SHORT, YOU FAIL AGAIN, LAZY CHEATERS ).
