Something Isn't Right

It was a dark night. An occasional car with a faceless driver flew down the street with dim headlights crossing my face. I walk briskly back to my place of residence with my hands tucked under my arms and a stern expression on my wind-beaten face. In an instant, I stumble upon a silver shoe lying beneath a faded streetlight. It was just a single shoe.









How odd, I think to myself. Where did it come from? Where is its matching partner? Then suddenly, an alarm goes off in my mind. "Walk away," I tell myself. "Just walk away."
You see, if there is one thing that I've learned from the thousands of hidden-camera shows I've viewed in my life, it's this: If something seems out of place, leave it alone.
Let's say you push the button for the elevator. The doors open and a man in a turkey leg costume stands in your midst. 

DON'T GO IN THE ELEVATOR. Try not to scream, and simply walk (don't run) away nonchalantly.

I mean, we've all seen the videos haven't we? You don't want to be the embarrassed fool who is videotaped trying to pull a super-glued quarter from the sidewalk, do you?

Of course not. So the next time you see something that seems too perfect (like a free quarter), or something simply out of place, just walk away. Save yourself the embarrassment. I mean who knows what troubles touching that shoe would have caused me...

Nose Goes

One of the most wonderful things I have discovered in recent weeks is the phrase "nose goes." This phase is stated when an unpleasant task needs to be completed, but everyone is avoiding it.
The last person to put their finger on their nose, loses.
The game generally works like this:

It just got me thinking how simple the world would be if everyone played nose goes, and the rules were binding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It could also be applied to fictional situations:

 Even though none of my pictures technically had noses, I trust you get the idea by now.

Group Projects

 

        College is supposed to be hard, and it is. But not for the same reasons that everyone else thinks it is. Everything has been fun up to this moment. The only thorn to my rose, the only bruise to my apple, the only grape juice stain to my crisp white pants so far, has been an evil invention called "group projects."

        Group projects were invented by slackers who, some how, grew up to be educators. Group projects allow for free-loaders to ride on students that actually give a flying flip about school.
        A group containing only slackers is doomed to failure, as not one of them is motivated to accomplish anything substancial. But fate would have it that almost every group contains at least one motivated individual. Heaven forbid there be a group with more than one motivated person.

 

 

Today I was put into a group for an accursed group project. 

For this project we were required to write an essay, yes that's right, one of those things that requires ONE hand to write ONE word at a time on ONE piece of paper. But we were supposed to do it with THREE brains.


       The task was firstly made frustrating because of who I was paired with. The couple was a girl and a guy, the same age, who were so fascinated with eachother, I might as well been invisible. When it started, I suggested that I could be the "scribe" (in other words write the crap out of the essay), but Boy goes "No, let her do it. She's a girl, she has good handwriting."
      I stare at him like, "Do you not understand? I am going to write this essay because I know how to write. It's about content, not calligraphy."


       The problem is, we had a group evaluation form. So I was FORCED to be a friendly, team player.
      
       So instead of screaming "LET ME DOOO IT!!!" like my perfectionist brain told me to, I surrendered and said "Okay, she can write."

        So the essay writing began. It started with me appropriately responding to each question, desparately hoping that Girl would dictate me verbatim. Unfortunately, she followed her thoughts, creating a fluffy story that danced around the first question like a ballerina in a laser maze.

        When Girl finally stopped writing and asked where to go next with her trainwreck, Boy responded with the first words he could possibly pop out of his mouth.
         I sat deliberating about what to say, but when my intelligent lines started flowing, she had already written paragraph upon paragraph of Boy's thoughtless verbal diarrhea.

       Trying to get three brains to write one essay is like trying to fit three heads into the hole of one sweater, the sweater gets ruined, just like our essay.

        But not everyone in the group saw it for what it really was. In fact, the other two liked the essay. They thought it was good! In my mind, I knew that this was the worst piece of paper my name had ever been attached to, but I proceeded to smile and offer them compliments so that Girl and Boy would give me social points on the member evaluation form.

       The morale of the story is that group projects suck. I am a perfectionist and I need to be in control of any work that has my name on it.

  Dear Teachers, DON'T ASSIGN GROUP PROJECTS IF YOU WANT QUALITY WORK. My brain is perfectly capable of creating an essay. And any student who says they can't needs to put on their big-kid undies and grab a pencil because group projects aint goin' fly wit me.