Tag Archives: writing

A Sixth Grade Girl’s First Month on Facebook

14 Feb

Day 1: Sabrina Johnston joins Facebook.
Comments:
Tanya Goldfarb OMGGGGGGGGG!!!!! Sabrinies finalyyyyyyy got on Faceboooooooook!!!!!!!! Heart u gurrrrrrrrrrl!!!

Day 4: First photo album, entitled “Mittens”. 162 pictures of her cat, Mittens.
Comments:
Jenna Lubavitz LMAO!!!1!! Your cat is totes adorbs bedorbs! Love ya sabrina!

Day 7: New profile picture.
Comments:
Rebecca Christianson Slovensky OMFFFG! This prof pic is gorg! Youre stunning! Work it babe!!!!
Sabrina Johnston Delete this ahora!! I look gross. FML, im so disgusting!!

Day 11: Starts using “Friendly Questions”. Sends approximately 12 notifications daily to friends.

Day 21: Makes fake profile for substitute teacher “Mildred MacCunnen”. First status from fake profile reads, “hi, im mildred and I def pick my nose and sleep during period 2 pre-algebra!”
Comments:
Jenna Lubavitz hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhhhhahaaa 😀 can’t believe u made this! youre so frickin hilarius sabrinie!! 😉

Day 30: Facebook account deleted due to failing grades in 3 classes. Teachers suspect FarmVille.

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Closed Captioning for this Blog Provided By…

13 Feb

Settling down with a delicious Pepsi cola, I began to reflect on marketing in the modern day. Nowadays, popular companies such as Pepsi routinely pay TV shows, movies and writers to market their products with subtlety in their work. You can’t do anything it seems without seeing that distinctive blue can full of creamy, smooth soda stuck right in your face. Does it not seem wrong that your favorite celebrities are drinking that wonderfully cold Pepsi cola as a means of advertising? We need to know whether the people we look up to are actually drinking that wonderful Pepsi on their own accord, or being paid to do so! This constant product placement will soon blur the line between art and economics, and that fabulously refreshing Pepsi cola will be caught right in the middle of it! Darn, I need another Pepsi to cool off.

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You Say Apathy Like it’s a Bad Thing

9 Feb

Sadly, Nickelodeon is reporting big losses this quarter. They have attributed this to a lack of fresh new TV show ideas being made available and it’s true: most of them stink. But luckily, I have an idea to save the industry.

Every single Disney or Nick show has the exact same main character: A perky, likable girl and her close-knit friends who often stand up for each other, who do something together while battling bullies and other teenager things. (Alcohol and teen pregnancies are usually two subjects avoided in this market.)

Clearly, that model isn’t working. That’s why my new character is the least interesting person in the world. A teenage boy, Chuck, with oppressive acne goes to school and hangs out with his teenage friends Paxton, Angus, and Leroy who frequently ridicule each other. He usually goes home afterwards and plays video games, all while maintaining an acerbic relationship with his parents. Here’s a sneak preview.

(Chuck is sitting at home playing video games. The doorbell rings and he goes to get it, only after hearing it play six times. He walks downstairs, delicately fingering a yellow zit on his jaw. He opens the door to find a mailman struggling beneath a large package. Please, keep your mind out of the gutter.)

MAILMAN: One package for Chuck Thrushberry.

CHUCK: Harumph.

(Bending over to pick up the box, Chuck accidentally lifts the mailman. After noticing that the object he has picked up is not cardboard, he sets the postal worker down roughly.)

MAILMAN: Have a nice day!

CHUCK: Don’t tell me what to do.

(After closing the door, Chuck meanders back into the kitchen, where he opens his box. After searching for a box cutter but coming up fruitless, he pulls out a dirty spoon instead. The box is quickly covered in soggy cereal and hours-old milk, but has opened. Chuck reaches in to pull out a large bag of cupcake mix. Though he may come off simple, Chuck does have a secret affinity for the culinary arts. Conveniently, almost as if it were scripted, Mrs. Thrushberry appears, still unaware of her son’s talents with a cake mold.)

MRS. THRUSHBERRY: Aren’t you a little old to be making cupcakes, Chuck?

CHUCK: Aren’t you a little old to be in a onesie?

(Having only seen her face, the audience now learns Mrs. Thrushberry is in fact wearing a onesie, and she quickly leaves the room with no explanation. Turning away, Chuck’s fingers once again return to the yellow zit. Chuck pulls away quickly, remembering that if he coddles his zits, they may never be able to live on their own, and once again hikes upstairs for more video games.)

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Riding the School Bus … to Depression

3 Feb

Recent statistics have shown that kindergarten at Trinity School in Manhattan is more exclusive than Harvard. The question on everyone’s mind is this: How does a school screen kids in pull-up-pants for intelligence? Here’s the admissions process at my ideal kindergarten.

1. Start with a snack. Offer carrots and cookies. Weed out all those who debate their decision. The world leaders of tomorrow need to be decisive.

2. Bathroom break. Everyone that quietly uses the restroom without mention of their genitalia should be instantly removed. We don’t need any stiffs making this kindergarten stodgy.

3. Examine work from pre-k. Does macaroni art show creativity and care? Can they successfully operate a glue stick? Did students actively respond to literature and make connections? (Ex: Harold has a crayon and so do I. I love reading.)

4. Finish off with a game. Can students independently navigate Candyland, or do they need constant assistance? Does the student understand the subtle differences between “duck”, “duck”, and “goose”? Can the student build a block tower up to waist height without kicking it accidentally?

For some, this game was a land of difficulty and confusion.

Apparently these kindergarteners had to take several standardized tests to have their application considered. The fact that they could even sit at a desk for more than six minutes is frightening, and I am forced to wonder if these are actual five-year-olds. The Dominican Republic baseball team has done well by overshooting the age limit by several years, and the possibility that this occurs in kindergarten application pools is not wholly ridiculous. We’ll just need to cut the habit when they start shaving.

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Today’s Random Thought

1 Feb

Boca Raton and Botox share only four letters, but 10,000 foreheads.

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Mitt Romney’s Hair Speaks Out

25 Jan

Dear Mitt,

Most would consider me the luckiest head of hair alive. I am honored to have served for so many years as Mitt Romney’s signature, unwavering fashion statement, and I believe I’ve done the job well. Unfortunately, my current position is not offering me the creative freedom I need in a job, and I’m considering retirement. I am certainly not the kind of hair that can just wake up every day and be sprayed and combed the exact same way! That’s not me!

Perhaps this is best for both of us. Maybe what the Romney 2012 campaign needs is a fresh new do. But, without a serious change I don’t think I can stick around much longer. While you’re content to just have me wrapped up in the same salt ‘n’ pepper coif every day, that’s not how I roll. Mitt Romney’s hair needs to breathe a little. Please give this letter the consideration it deserves. I doubt Restore Our Future is a huge fan of toupees.

Spitefully yours,

Your Hair

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A DIY Primary Victory Speech

21 Jan

As if everything presidential primary nominees say isn’t written for them, I’ve decided to make this fill-in-the-blank victory speech and sell it to nominees for ridiculous prices. The best things in life aren’t free.

“Good [time of day]! We really did it today! Thanks so much to my campaign staff, my family, and most importantly, the great people of [state]! It is my honest opinion that the biggest threat to America today is [current president], and I will not stop until [current president] stops bringing this country down with him! We can beat him! Now, as we look towards [state], [state], and eventually [state], we need to keep working! This is our chance! We can change America for the better! With [domestic problem], [international problem], and threats from [hostile country] challenging our lifestyles every day, we need a president like [speaker]! We can do it everybody! [Speaker] for president, [year]!”

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Wow, it Really is Heavy!

17 Jan

Like many Americans, I tuned in to watch the Golden Globes last week. It seems that though these people spend their whole life memorizing and reciting pre-written scripts, they can’t, for the life of them, remember their acceptance speeches. Here’s mine in case I ever win:

ANNOUNCER:And the winner, for best choreographer in a foreign language, animated, made-for-TV comedy short, is: Charlie!

ME: Oh wow! I totally didn’t expect this at all, I just happened to have a speech in my pocket. Of course, I want to thank my mom and my dad, especially. You see, this is the three year eight week anniversary of my dad getting a mild burn on his pointer finger while plugging a microphone in to record a foreign language, animated, made-for-TV comedy short, and I guess this my little homage to him. I want to thank the cast: Lonnie Tinkletown, Clarice Beauregard, Sylvester Saxenpoo. I want to thank the wonderful crew: Steve up at lighting, Lawrence heading up sound, Jaques Catanois for your wonderful scenery. A special thanks to Horatio at Smile Time Catering. Your popovers were excellent, but I felt the raspberry was a little doughy. Thanks to Mr. Wrenger, my eight grade geometry teacher, and Señorita Marquez, my charanga instructor. Hello to Hector, the custodian on set, Maggie, my cat-sitter, and Bartholomew, our accountant. Thanks so much to Rising Sunset Productions, for being the wind beneath our feet in terms of getting this film to the masses. No, no, stop playing the music, I’m not finished. A huge shout-out to Betty, the bingo-caller at the nursing home we visited. How are the varicose veins treating you? Finally, a massive thank you for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, for giving me the opportunity to get up here, and giving my fans an opportunity to hear what I have to say. See you at the after party!

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Today’s Random Thought

15 Jan

Instead of lullabies, the Tebows probably sang “Don’t Stop Believing” to their son.

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All You Need is Love! And Murder. And Betrayal.

12 Jan

Obviously, I haven’t found the time to update my blog in the last couple days. However, I did find the time to notice One Life to Live was ending after a half-century. In this economy, job security like that can only be dreamt of, so I’ve decided to write my own soap opera. Passion’s Destiny, as it will be called, will bring certain elements from Hispanic soaps, as well as a very dramatic medical motif. Based in the rainy city of Cape Gertrude, Passion’s Destiny  is a “sweeping odyssey of drama, passion, and destiny.” (That’s not a review or anything, using quotes just looks better.)

(In a completely original storyline, Royce and Daffodil are canoodling, and in doing so, are blatantly disobeying their parents. Daffodil leans in for a tender kiss, but Royce shies away.)

ROYCE: No, we can’t.

DAFFODIL: Why not?

ROYCE: My lips are so chapped.

DAFFODIL: That’s horrible.

(Camera turns to a lavish apartment in the up-scale north of Cape Gertrude. Standing next to an ornate mantle is Lola, an elderly women approaching her centennial, but her plastic surgery makes her look no older than 67. However, her plastic surgeon sneezed during the breast augmentation, so one is roughly two inches higher up than the other.)

LOLA (on the telephone): It happened? … No! … They’ll find the secret. … I’ll be right over!

(Faster than a GOP candidate can say fiscal responsibility, Lola throws on a jacket, jacket being used loosely since she’s essentially just wearing a wolf pelt. She calls Basil, her driver, Rumaki, her hairless cat, and Whiskers, her personal chef, and they all climb into the Bentley. Unfortunately, there was a mix-up while entering the vehicle and Rumaki ended up behind the wheel. Needless to say, the gang easily found a parking spot up a telephone pole.)

(Camera finds itself in a hospital room. A fat Italian baker, Tortellini Frederico,is settled on the table, with powdered sugar in his mustache and pain in his eyes. Frederico is actually a mob boss, but chose a bakery as his money laundering location because of his passionate love of cannolis. Beside him is Dr. Austin Calhoun, a man far too handsome to have passed a cutthroat organic chemistry class at the university on his degree. He is consulting a clipboard, but has forgotten the charts, and is furrowing his brow to keep up appearances.)

CALHOUN (to nurse): This man’s gonna need sixty cc’s of colonoscopy, nurse.

FREDERICO: Whats-a wrong-a with me-a?

CALHOUN: Sir, I’ve just diagnosed you with sensitive nipples. Luckily, you’ll be okay.

(Dr. Calhoun could not have been more incorrect at that time. Tortellini was actually suffering from  sfogliatelle-induced heart failure, and had already expired by the time Calhoun made his diagnosis. Calhoun, in customary practice, wrote “natural causes” on the death certificate and went home. Sadly, he missed the two hit men hired by Frederico in his will, now out to get him. Cut to commercial with Calhoun considering offering medical assistance to a wealthy woman and her friends who have just been in an accident, but instead deciding that his appointment with the stylist is far more important.)

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