Posts Tagged ‘essay’

10 Reasons you’re not being followed

Monday, October 4th, 2010

Before anybody gets smart, I’m referring to the ever popular social networking website Twitter, a place where a giant popularity contest is underway for the most followers.

Here are 10 reasons people aren’t following you on Twitter, or the ten reasons I unfollow people on twitter.

1. You are constantly tweeting about the mundane including the weather, your hatred of life, or that you spilt coffee on yourself.

2. You RT every idiotic person you follow, adding in a LOL or, even worse, LMFAO.

3. You can’t spell or create grammatically correct sentences.

4. You tweet in relays of 20, filling up your follower’s timeline with garbage.

5. You never tweet at all.

6. You consistently tweet every famous person you follow, filling up everybody else’s entire twitter stream.

Beliebers are addicted to doing this, with tweets like, “@JustinBieber OMB, you’re sooooo hot. Can I be your One Less Lonely Girl?” I’ll be the first to admit Justin Bieber is a catch, that’s why most of us guys are ridiculously jealous of him. If Justin Bieber is the only reason you’re on Twitter, that’s fine, but don’t expect non Bieber fanatics to follow you.

7. You ignore followers who send you @replies.

I understand that many @replies don’t need to be answered or the person is saying something not worth answering, but if people are making decent comments or asking good questions REPLY! This doesn’t mean you should have a ten page long conversation, but at least one reply every now and again to show you care would be nice. If you only have 100 followers, don’t act like you don’t see the one lonely @reply. When you have five million, we’ll talk again.

8. You write an essay over fifteen tweets.

That’s the beauty of twitter. It’s short and to the point. If you want to write something that won’t fit in a 140 character tweet get a blog and tweet a link to your ramblings.

9. You consistently ask what a trending topic means.

There are entire websites dedicated to giving you the answer to this. Even better is browsing through the public tweets and working it out for yourself.

10. You’re so desperate for more followers you read this list.

Stop trying to get followers. If you’re good they’ll come. At least, that’s what people keep telling me. My tweets are life changing and I have less followers than most of the girls tweeting about their teachers wonky eye.

Follow me. Please… 0_o

Marc Williams

College Application

Monday, July 7th, 2008

The next best thingThis is an actual essay written by a college applicant, when applying to NYU where he now attends.

3A. ESSAY IN ORDER FOR THE ADMISSIONS STAFF OF OUR COLLEGE TO GET TO KNOW YOU, THE APPLICANT, BETTER, WE ASK THAT YOU ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTION:

ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS YOU HAVE REALIZED, THAT HAVE HELPED TO DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.

I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello, I was scouted by the Mets, I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I’m bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don’t perspire. I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a travelling centrifugal-force demonstration. I bat, 400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise Lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven. I breed prize winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But I have not yet gone to college.

Why English teachers die young

Tuesday, February 5th, 2008

TeacherEvery year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual similes and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year’s winners.
1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had a eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at
4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River .

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.