Imagine a skinny, little white girl running across campus last night at 11 pm. Not only that, but she was running in flip flops in a blizzard. Do you have the image in your head? Are you wondering what would have brought on such a outward display of nerdiness? Well, it was a result of a poorly misguided girl infected with procrastinate, something quite similar to kryptonite (shoutout to al's blog).
Anyways, it all started earlier that day when this girl decided to sleep in until 9. Not only that, but when she got to school, she decided it was wise to put off doing her five-page report that was due that night to play with wistie. (holler to wistie! thanks for setting up my blog). She decided that she wanted a break. Nay, she deserved a break after everything thing she had gone through the night/week before. So she set up her blog and ate lunch with wistie for three hours because this girl thought that she could finish her report after work. If her grandfather were here, he would say, "That's what you get for doin' your own thinkin'!"
Anyways, so she went to work and had to stay two hours after because there was an order for 400 pork balls the next day. What are pork balls, you might ask. . . well, they're spherish like sausage and eggs mixed together that take form to look and smell like vomit. So naturally she, and her coworkers, quickly nicknamed the pork balls to puke balls and spent the next two hours making them.
After work, this girl started work on her report on media effects on society. She worked and worked and then finally finished seven minutes to 11 pm aka the time it was due. This brings us to the beginning of our blog. This girl ran to make it to the Brimhall building before it would close. She was wearing her brown sweatshirt that said "hershey's milk chocolate" but by the time she made it across the campus, it was completely white with snow. The happy end to this story is that she did indeed make it to the Brimhall building by 10:58 pm and turned in her communications paper. While walking home that night, completely alone, bitterly cold, and slightly frost bitten; she entered her apartment and looked down at her sweatshirt only to realize she looked like white chocolate. She laughed pitifully and then went to bed. the end.
Moral of the story: don't write an entire story in third person. it's just annoying and creepy.
7 years ago