Medwid's intro
Medwid. Squid. We owe him so much. Undoubtedly entertaining, undoubtedy original, doubtedly sane. Medwid and I's English careers have been intimately intertwined. Our journey began in Ms. Fine's class where were isolated in the back corner of the room accompanied by one of Medwid's favorite people, Courtney. We frequently worked together on group projects and discovered that if we didn't do any work Christine would do it for us (and elaborately so). This year, I am pleased to report, Medwid's writing has risen to an entirely new level (thanks much in part to Scanlon's flawless tutelage as well as my constant grammatical corrections). Medwid has delightedly learned new words such as "quagmire" and, even more impressive, "succumb". He also wowed our class consistently upon reading the masteful pieces his deft mind constructed. Scanlon himself admitted that he should give a significant portion of his paycheck to Medwid as his prowess was so overpoweringly magnificent.
Now I feel it is a necessity to explore the lighter side of Medwid as he is, afterall, quite a character. I remember vividly Scanlon commenting on gender or ethnic equality in class one day. By chance I happened to turn my head in Medwid's direction and beheld a look of absolute consternation etched across his face. Then, of course, there was our brilliant rendition of chapter thirteen of the Odyssey. As I was playing Kirke, Medwid was instructred to come on to me, but took his role a bit too far and repeatedly humped my leg. Now the experience wasn't all that unpleasant, though it was a tad unexpectred. Later in the same play I had the distinct pleasure of beating Medwid with a yardstick (I hit him pretty hard). However, the most entertaining Medwid moment of all-time is the Gobblewhacker incident. Gobblewhacker (as some priveleged individuals already know) is a two-by-four in Medwid's possession. At this point you may be thinking this in itself is not odd, for I know many of us take the time to name our lumber. But the real tale, you see, is how Gobblewhacker was dubbed so. One Saturday morning, as legend has it, Medwid awoke to find a flock of turkeys in his yard. Now as turkeys are the traditional Polish sign of misfortune, he naturally resolved to chase them off in order to maintain the well being of his family (he is quite the sensitive fellow). An hour later (or so it has been approximated) Medwid successfully slayed a turkey with the piece of wood that would henceforth be known as Gobblewhacker and it became a tale of which bards will sing in the hallowed halls of Medieval Times for centuries to come.
It is a sad, sad fact indeed that our time in the presence of The Great Medwid, as he has taken to styling himslef on occasion, is at an end. I hazard to say that none of us shall ever meet another individual of his caliber for however long we walk upon the Earth. Medwid will be attending the University of Conneticut next fall in the hopes of fulfilling his quest to find the mythical "pop shoot" of which he speaks endlessly. Farewell Medwid, my fabulous friend, I wish you much fortune in your endeavor.
Post the one you wrote for me soon.
Now I feel it is a necessity to explore the lighter side of Medwid as he is, afterall, quite a character. I remember vividly Scanlon commenting on gender or ethnic equality in class one day. By chance I happened to turn my head in Medwid's direction and beheld a look of absolute consternation etched across his face. Then, of course, there was our brilliant rendition of chapter thirteen of the Odyssey. As I was playing Kirke, Medwid was instructred to come on to me, but took his role a bit too far and repeatedly humped my leg. Now the experience wasn't all that unpleasant, though it was a tad unexpectred. Later in the same play I had the distinct pleasure of beating Medwid with a yardstick (I hit him pretty hard). However, the most entertaining Medwid moment of all-time is the Gobblewhacker incident. Gobblewhacker (as some priveleged individuals already know) is a two-by-four in Medwid's possession. At this point you may be thinking this in itself is not odd, for I know many of us take the time to name our lumber. But the real tale, you see, is how Gobblewhacker was dubbed so. One Saturday morning, as legend has it, Medwid awoke to find a flock of turkeys in his yard. Now as turkeys are the traditional Polish sign of misfortune, he naturally resolved to chase them off in order to maintain the well being of his family (he is quite the sensitive fellow). An hour later (or so it has been approximated) Medwid successfully slayed a turkey with the piece of wood that would henceforth be known as Gobblewhacker and it became a tale of which bards will sing in the hallowed halls of Medieval Times for centuries to come.
It is a sad, sad fact indeed that our time in the presence of The Great Medwid, as he has taken to styling himslef on occasion, is at an end. I hazard to say that none of us shall ever meet another individual of his caliber for however long we walk upon the Earth. Medwid will be attending the University of Conneticut next fall in the hopes of fulfilling his quest to find the mythical "pop shoot" of which he speaks endlessly. Farewell Medwid, my fabulous friend, I wish you much fortune in your endeavor.
Post the one you wrote for me soon.