These are all our thoughts in word form. Not to be confused with our thoughts in worm form. Those look like this.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Two Actual Assignments I Turned In For ACTUAL Grades That Prove I'm a Dumbass by CK Bond

In honor of the recent graduation of two of our columnists, I decided to take a look back at some of the assignments that made my own graduation possible. I realized three things about myself: I have terrible handwriting, I can’t seem to take anything seriously, and I’m stupid.

Exhibit A
(This first selection was written for an English class after we were assigned to wear our own Scarlet Letters for a day, Hester Pryne style.)
I have battled all my life with sin.  The guilt, like winds long past, has eroded my soul, leaving only an immense chasm where emotion used to dwell.  I commit my greatest sin under no accord of my own, but because some creator has bestowed it upon me.  Every waking day I am cursed with “awesomeness”.  People often become jealous when I tell them of how awesome I am and they sometimes stop speaking to me.  My sin has caused me to be an outsider in society for years.
            On the day of the wearing of the letter, many a students would guess the meanings one another’s symbols.  My cobalt A hung loosely around my neck as I walked into the room and quickly demand the same attention others were receiving for their letters.  My closest friends, in an attempt to pretend not to notice my greatest fault, guessed it stood for words such as “arrogant” and “annoying”.  I am lucky to have such friends but I quickly saw through their vain attempts to comfort me, just as bartenders see through the town drunk’s promise to pay his bar tab, and became all the more self-conscious about my transgression.
            As the day progressed, I became more embarrassed of my awesomeness.  When peers would ask me what my letter stood for, I would, instead of explaining the significance and symbolism of the letter, ignore them.  This was easy for me because that is my usual protocol for dealing with those whose awesome level is not on par with mine.  My plan to avoid being ostracized began to backfire when people turned the tables and started ignoring me.  If I was not successful in reversing my fortune soon, I might be forced to sit in the dreaded enclosed cafeteria.  The wearing of the letter day, which was supposed to help me escape the lower levels of the high school hierarchy, was solidifying my place in them.
            At lunchtime, during my daily routine of standing in the bathroom for thirty minutes so I would not have to sit alone at a table, I had an epiphany.  It was possible others were beginning to ignore me more because I was not being true to myself.  I had to learn to accept myself, even my dreaded awesomeness.
Before the wearing of the letter, I had always felt like Jim Henson.  Everyone knew my of my awesomeness, my Muppets, but few truly knew me.  I barely knew myself, but the letter exercise has helped me to find who I am.  I now realize I have been given the gift of awesomeness not as burden, but as shinning beacon of hope for the less awesome.  I have learnt to accept myself, even my faults which include my awesomeness, my intellectual capacity, and my dashing good looks.


Exhibit B
(I know of no circumstance in which turning in the following assignment would have been a decision let alone a good one. But I do know that I got a 90! Huzzah!)
This is a screenplay:
Guys 1 and 2 are sitting on a couch
Guy 1: Would you rather have octopus tentacles or crab claws?
Guy 2: Claws so I can crush an insurrection.  You?
Guy 1: Tentacles so I can strangle an insurrection!
Guys 1 and 2: Good Answer 5!
R2-D2: Beep Beep Boop
Oh yeah, R2-D2 was there too.  That guy is rad
Guy 1: R2-D2 is right.  We should go get pizza.
Guy 2: Let’s fly there!
Guys 1 and 2, and R2-D2 jump out the window and begin to fly to the pizza store
Guy 2: Hey Guy 1 can you remind me again how we got the ability to fly?
Guy 1: We won it in a game of Would You Rather.  The other choice was a lobotomy so the decision was a no-brainer.
Guy 2: Hahaha.  Whoever wrote that joke is hilarious and probably good looking.
Guy 1: True!
R2-D2: 001010!
Guy 2: Look up ahead Guy 1.  It’s the pizza store.
Guy 1: We should go in and buy pizza.  It’s a no-brainer.
Guy 2: Stop that saying that.
The gang lands and orders a cheese pizza
Guy 1: This is a delicious cheese pizza.
Guy 2: Oxymoron 5!
Guy 1: That’s not an oxymoron.  This is an oxymoron: a cool R2-D2
R2-D2: (depressed) Boop
Guy 2: R2-D2’s self esteem fell faster than the Mets playoff dreams.
Guy 1: Metaphor 5!
Guy 2: Actually it’s a simile because I used the word like.
Later…
Guy 1: Remember when I thought you said a metaphor.
Guy 2: Yeah.
Guy 1: I think that really brought us closer as friends.

(Seriously, what the hell was this for?)

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

My Time As a Janitor by Alexander Pragmar Dorney

            Do you ever really think about the people that have to clean up after you? I didn’t either, until I began my job as a high school janitor. I didn’t even know what I signed up for when I applied for the job. I figured I would be assisting with moving boxes and packing things for the planed renovation. I was wrong. As a student of the custodial sciences, I learned the secrets of how school stays in clean working order and how this job can eat away at your mind.
            The trash that is carelessly thrown out of the car window must be picked up by someone. The papers and debris spread around the school floor, must be picked up by someone. Those fucking trays left behind by rude students in the cafeteria, must be picked up by someone. I am among the poor souls who are left to clean the mess. Now I don’t think that all students are anarchist rebels who want to live in world of squalor and despair, but there are plenty to go around. They poison the otherwise tolerable student body. Those students are like the first skid mark on a clean pair of underwear which keep getting dirtier and dirtier after every taco bell binge. In my opinion, those individuals are on the lowest level of society. They are the criminals of courtesy. In some ways, high school is a lot like life on the outside of these cold concrete walls. The good students are respectful to the authority, and their employers. They do their work, don’t complain, and go home, presumably to enjoy a frozen dinner and watch Cosby Show reruns. They do not cause many problems in the society. Sure, they have a few slip ups, but who doesn’t get satisfaction in not flushing the urinal or clogging the toilet with paper towels? Otherwise, these citizens do not interfere with my job, or the jobs of other school employees. The lowest level of society is something else entirely.
           They make my work a fucking nightmare. They drop deuces on the floor of the bathroom. Have you ever had to serve a tour in the Vietpoo War? I was offered a cash bonus from my coworkers to exterminate an enemy threat in the bathroom deep in the bowels of the school. His name was Turd Ferguson, the baddest piece of shit on this side of the county. Literally. Someone dropped him off right on the wall of a bathroom stall, and splattered on the floor. His only purpose there was to mock me, and cause regurgitation of the 7-11 Cheeseburger Big Bite I ate only moments ago. In the end, I defeated the defecation, making the world a safer place. I then subsequently blew my earnings on cigarettes and alcohol, to try to erase the image of Mr. Ferguson that has been burned into my very essence. So far my efforts have been unsuccessful.

Monday, June 13, 2011

What Happens When I'm Left Unattended by Dillon Minton

So here I am in Amsterdam just wondering around in an inebriated state looking at the stuff in the city. I recently bought a can of 94 spray paint in Paris and never got the chance to use it there, so why not use it in Amsterdam? I didn't really feel like painting during the day because of all the college students being the obnoxious douches they are and all the locals trying to kill me when riding their bikes, so I went out and about until the wee hours of the morning and did what every does here in this city.

 
Window shopping

                Once it got pretty late and most people went back to the hostels or into the pub to drink away their sorrows of buying a whore or back to the red light district to fulfill their need again, I went out with my trusty old can of spray paint. I wondered aimlessly away from my hostel just looking for places that I could put my character up. Mailboxes, babies, drunken tourists or even concrete. I got a few mailboxes, walls, windows and the side of a van.

 
Must be working on the mystery of the green ghost.

            After a bit, it got boring because I only had one color so I felt like doing something I usually don't do. No, not that that you pervert. In Amsterdam there are a lot of canals in case you didn't know. And on the side of all these canals are benches. So I came up with the brilliant idea to make the shit green tone of the water, benches, and bricks pop just a little.
                So I found a good spot where I can see everyone come if someone were to walk or drive towards me so I could get away. I look around, turn my iPod off and pull out my can of spray paint and change the cap on the can to a fat cap all while having super-fast ninja skills to keep my  alert. I start going to town on the bench making it my bitch. PINK! Pink everywhere all over this green bench! I get about a fourth of the way done and all of a sudden the can is ripped out of my hand. In that second, my heart fucking stops.

OHMYGAWD What happens next?