P4: The Pink Ping Pong Ball Story, Part 1

I think it’s time for a story.  This story is a long and mysterious story, and has been passed down my family through the generations.  It is known as the Pink Ping Pong Ball Story.

Once upon a time, there was a family.  This family was a normal family, with a father, mother, and one small child.  The father was a very rich man, as he owned a prosperous importing/exporting company in Rhode Island.  His company imported matches, and exported diapers.

The mother of the child came from a very rich family, so naturally she, along with her husband, lived a very luxurious life and chose to spend their money spoiling their little child.

Their child was everything to the mother and the father, and he was treated with much love.  But one day, two weeks before the child’s seventh birthday, tragedy stuck the family, and the child went missing. 

The mother and father were panic-stricken, and spent a ridiculous amount of money on hiring the best private investigator in the country.  But, to their dismay, the investigator, along with the state police, could not find their son.  An entire week went by without a trace of the child, and then finally, one day before the child’s seventh birthday, the child showed up on the doorstep of his parents’ mansion.  He was perfectly fine, without any physical injuries, wearing the exact same clothes as he was wearing the day he went missing.  He was perfectly clean and fed as he always was.

When the mother and father found their son unharmed, they broke down and hugged and kissed him.  The investigation was called off.  The parents were so relieved to find their child safe that they completely forgot to ask him where he had disappeared to for so many days.

The next day was the child’s birthday party, and the parents, still overjoyed at the safety of their son, said this to him:

“Son, for your seventh birthday, you can have anything you want.  Money is not an issue; name it and it’s yours.”

The child thought for a little, and then replied:

“I want a pink pong ball.”

This story shall be continued through all of my choice blogs.

O4: Fonts

My mother is not what this blog is going to be about.

No no no.  What would put an idea like that in your head?  No, this blog is going to be about

Fonts.

Fonts can do a lot to a writing assignment.  Take right now for example.  This font that I’m using makes the very being of this paragraph seem FUNKY.  It would probably take you by surprise if I said something really morbid, like:

My family all died yesterday.

Fonts can change the whole attitude of a paper.  They can make things seem

Scary, or

Old, or

Like there are locusts everywhere.

Now I’m picturing my voice to be all bubbly when I’m reading.  “Once upon a time there was a bubble who blew bubbles in his bubbly soda.”

Some fonts are completely non-understandable.  These are my favorite types of fonts, because you can type any random crap that you want, and still get credit for it on you blogs.  Gablooey.  Oompa oompa boom.  Oompa oompa loompa boom.  Oompa loompa boom.

 

See, that font made everything seem all alien and weird.  But I like using it because it makes it look like I can speak Martian or something. 

I like this font.  It just makes everything look so intense.  For example:

I only had one shot.

Boom.  Do you see what I mean?  That font just whacks you like a hammer when you read it.  Compare it to this:

I only had one shot.

See?  That was just plain weak.  I only had one shot at what?  Having tea with the bunny?  There’s also this classic one:

Confidential.

Classified.

You are not important enough to read what is inside this suspicious manila envelope.

And that ends my fascinating blog on fonts.  And if you really want to know, my mother is fine.  Thank you.

O1: Currin Event

http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2013/04/14/Police-pull-over-6-year-old-who-was-out-driving-to-get-Chinese-food/UPI-60731365966621/?spt=mps&or=4

For my CURRIN EVENT (ha!) this week, I went to my favorite current event website, and a title immediately caught my eye: ‘Police pull over a 6-year-old who was out driving to get Chinese food’.

How could anyone resist reading that?  I clicked on the link, and the actual article was pretty much summed up by the title, but since I have to write three hundred words, I shall provide you with the rest of the story.  Ahem.

This whole thing happened in Michigan, which is apparently where the Chinese food is REALLY good.  Citizens reported seeing a little boy driving a truck through the village and hitting-and-running a street sign.  The police responded, and surrounded the truck with police cars.  They pulled over the kid, who was only six years old.  The police then got the scoop about what he was actually doing, and you’d think the kid does this every day.  His response: “I was getting Chinese food.”

The police later found out that the truck was his dad’s, who was sleeping the whole time his toddler stole his keys, backed out of the driveway, and went for a Sunday drive into the village.  No one was hurt during the incident, and the kid (whose name was not revealed, which sucks because I want to name my kid after him) admitted that he’d never driven or even sat on his dad’s lap and steered before. 

One thing I found interesting about this article is the way the police pulled the kid over.  Apparently, they reached into the driver side window of the truck and pulled the keys out of the ignition.  Now, I don’t know how fast the truck was going when they did this, but either way, you have to admit that that’s pretty impressive.

Also, if that kid did not receive Chinese food after the whole incident, there is something seriously wrong with this world.

O5: My Writing Process

I think this whole ‘writing process’ tomfoolery is a fallacy.  When I write something, it’s usually right before it’s due.  And when there is no due date, like if I was just writing because writing is swell, then I don’t remember.  The last time I did that, I was in like fourth grade, and it was a story about superheroes or something. 

So to clear things up, I am not aware of any process that I use when I’m writing assignments.  But since I have to write three hundred words, and since I’m desperate because, as I touched on before, I always do my writing on the day it’s due, I will make up a writing process.

Before I do that, though, you must ask yourself why you are reading this blog.  The only possibility is that you want to learn my secrets.  You want to tap into my mind.  You want to BECOME me.  Well let me tell you that as I understand your desires, I possess within me a raw writing talent that cannot be duplicated or mimicked by any human bean.

Now back to my writing process I said I’d do.  First, I find out about what I have to do.  Then I think about how I can make it different than everybody else’s.  Then I usually give up because I can’t think of anything, and go do stuff that has nothing to do with my assignment. 

A day or two before the assignment is due, I have usually made no progress whatsoever on anything.  So I panic, sit down, and my raw writing talent that I mentioned kicks in.  Once that happens, I usually don’t remember anything until the assignment is done.  But I’ve been told that my eyes roll up into the back of my head and I mumble non-English words while rocking back and forth.

That’s how I do it.  Try copying THAT!

O2: Who Needs College?

I didn’t even read the article that came with this blog, because I have decided that I am not going to college.  The reason, you ask?

Well, up until about a minute ago, I was pretty keen on the whole idea of going to college.  I wanted to be a writer for an online newspaper.  But that was back then.  Back when I was young and naïve.  I now realize that if I plan to go to college, I’d have to write a three hundred word blog about it and read some confusing article that confuses me.  I don’t want to do that.  I don’t want to read that article.  So I’ve decided not to go to college.

College is overrated anyways.  I’m pretty sure there’s only one thing that’s more expensive than not going to college, and that’s going to college.  College shmollege.  I for one don’t know what it does for you, and let’s face it, nobody else does either.

Plus, colleges don’t even know what they’re doing.  I recently took a trip to Canisius and found out that their slogan is “Meht etaerc yeht.  Spam esu t’nod srerolpxe laer.”   What the heck kind of a slogan is that?  And it’s not even in a different language.  It’s just a slightly cool sentence that has nothing to do with Canisius, spelled backwards.

But like I said, the main reason I don’t want to go to college is because of the article I would have to read if I decided I did want to go.  There are many choices I could choose should I not decide to go to college.  For example, I could be a janitor for an online newspaper place.  Or I could be a garbage man.  Or, evidently, I could lead North Korea (ba dum, tsss).

My Father Was, My Mother Was

My mother was a caterpillar.  My father was a worm.  But I’m okay with that now.