Oh how I love me some good ol' fashioned SAT. I also love how they expect you to know the quadratic formula, x=(-b±sqrt(b²-4ac))/2a (totally did not copy and paste that from Google), but they still spend ten minutes going over how to fill out the answer sheet bubbles every single time. I know filling in an entire bubble is a hard concept for some of us to grasp but I think we'll manage.
I also enjoy the histrionics behind the #2 pencil. Who has ever even heard of a #1 pencil? 99.9 percent of the world's pencil community are reliable old #2's. Just to spite the teachers, whenever I have a scantron sheet, I use a mechanical pencil. 'Cause I'm bad to the bone. Which brings us to...
The Ways I've Rebelled Against My High School (with great sarcasm):
1. I once did a science lab with open-toed shoes.
2. I chewed gum during marching band . . . for two days in a row.
3. We were supposed to read a book about chemistry over the summer. I didn't.
4. My World Civilizations teacher expressed to our class that if we didn't start studying for the essay test at least a week in advance we would fail. I picked up my notes the night before. I got 100 percent.
How have I not been expelled?
The grammar mistakes the world makes—including myself. In fact, my corrections are probably riddled with grammatical errors:
The less than ten items aisle. It's fewer! Fewer! Fewer! Fewer! Goshdarnit!
"Your stupid." "That's irregardless."
"I could of hit that ball." No, you could have. And no, you couldn't.
"We're all alright. We're all alright. Hello Wisconsin!" You're all all right. All right?
The Terribly Overused:
"Karma's a bitch" — I don't put many of my eggs in the karma basket, but maybe if you were a little nicer it wouldn't be.
That whole "unpopular shy girl gets noticed, befriends, and eventually ends up making out with the popular guy at the last dance of the year" scenario. That doesn't happen in real life, silly.
One of the most annoying things to me are TV pregnancies. The mother can never just go to the hospital when she's in labor and have the baby. She always has to be on the top of the broken ferris wheel, stuck in the hotel during the snowstorm, or—this one was actually hilarious—on the runway at a major runway show during fashion week à la Ugly Betty. Smooth, ordinary births happen, folks. In fact, I've heard it's even—pause for effect—normal.
The term "vintage." If you just bought that last week from the trendy shop downtown, it's not vintage, sweetie.
"Romance is dead" — You're not looking in the right places then, but with that mindset it might as well be.
When a baseball batter hits the ball and the announcer always says, "Get up, baby! Get up! Get up!" in the same way every time with that exact amount of get up's and one unnecessary infant.
And that's then end of my long and rambling, semi-correct soapbox.
I do realize that this makes me seem like a snarky, grammar-correctin' fool, but the meaning of life is to convince as many as possible that you are a lunatic.
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