Three months ago had you asked me what a “beat” was, I would have dropped one right then and there using a pen and a hard surface until a full acoustic session could be developed.
Three months ago had you asked me what a “lede” was, I would have started with something like…
“You see when someone is winning in a race…”
Three months later, I still want to drop beats with the multitude of props surrounding me and begin articles with the word “I.” Here are some “ledes” that I have come up with:
I am starting my article now.
Let us begin.
I have gathered you all here today to discuss (cue article topic)
Start me up, start me up I’ll never stop! (Sorry, I am a big Rolling Stones fan which you will believe once I start drunkenly singing shattered out the window over and over from the passenger seat).
When I try to write an article, the whole world suddenly revolves around me. When I try to write my personal statement, I suddenly resolve around the whole world. Here are some examples of me starting my personal statement:
How bout that Scotland vote eh?
The KC Royals are killin’ it this season right?!
Dear university to which I am applying,
My purpose in life appears to culminate around two general activities, watching Netflix and drinking coffee, both of which I have fulfilled and surpassed in ways you cannot imagine. Wait, you want to know my purpose for applying to your school? That’s easy…desperation.
It is hard to think about your passion for writing when your utilities bill has doubled, your running shoes are giving you painful blisters and your hair is trying this new thing called…sucking.
Do you want to know what I am really passionate about?
Taking hot showers. With our gas turned off, I am convinced that my nipples, goose bumps, and all other bodily cold responses are in general working condition. It is both fight and flight all at the same time.
Heights. I don’t like them. Last weekend I went zip-lining with my brother. Out of our group of 10, I volunteered to go first. Our guide looked at me confused and said, “Was this your idea?” to which I responded, “If I don’t go first, I’m not going at all.” After getting stuck halfway across the zip-line my very first “zip,” I knew it was going to be a long day.
Some guy asked me later if the zipping had helped with my fear of heights and I was like…”No, it just confirmed them. The rumors are true, turns out I really am afraid of heights. Who knew? Oh wait, I did.
What has been going on lately? Amidst the 8-5 grind, I have discovered a few things:
1. I love talking to my roommate Connor in a southern accent. We both work security at the library, so when he tells me to go work the south doors I just repeat phrases like Oh heavens and the South will rise again.
2. Blisters suck. I keep taking my shoe off at work so I can give my poor ankle some breathing room but people give you death glares when you work in an office uni-shoe.
3. You should always give me one extra of whatever I request from you. I prefer my coffee with 2 sugars…and by 2 I mean 3. Napkins, ketchups, candy, compliments…always give me a plus one…so to speak. That does not apply to weddings because lets face it, I am a table for 1 kinda girl these days. In fact, just put me in a room full of girls because I promise I’ll find a way to mention Emma Watson.
Speaking of tables for one…Remember in my last post (see last post) when I said I was going to take a chance….on Chance on chance on chance etcetera. I am not taking a chance on Chance.
Truth be told, I don’t want him anywhere near my heart or my Halloween party. In fact, I want him to go far far away, maybe to somewhere full of poverty like Bangladesh so that when an essay comes up where he has to write about overcoming some sort of adversity in under 500 words, he will fuck approximately 498 words and be all like…dude…Bangladesh. Period.
No one is allowed in my heart unless they pay a ridiculous cover charge like $20, the coat off your back and…your soul. That’s right buddy, hand it over. You want to hear this sick beat and you’re gonna have to give up your soul.
Too bad my heart has reached capacity. I know there’s a long line, but I just don’t have that kind of space. I let you in and I’ve gotta let everyone else in and I’m pretty sure that would violate like 8 1/2 fire safety codes so no can do.
The only chance I will be taking is on myself…on myself on myself on myself…got it?! Good.
Tomorrow I will be job shadowing at a magazine which I am pretty excited about. I am going to throw on my blue dress which has proved time and time again to have magical powers of getting me what I want, curl my hair which holds its own magical powers but only near a pool table and wear my t-strap heels…mostly for the sex appeal. Answer me this, when has anyone ever said no to a girl in t-strap heels? Just ask Bill Clinton.
In fact, I’m just going to put them on and start asking for things.
“Connor can you get our gas turned back on?”
“University, can you give me a degree in journalism for free?”
“Hey you! Can I have all your money?”
Behold the power of the t-strap heels.
Last week my fave bartender Abigail and I discovered the key to solving all the world’s problems. Taking shots.
When you take a shot, everyone just feels this great sense of community. Who cares why we’re drinking as long as we’re doing it together!
Abigail and I imagined a bunch of Congressmen sitting at a bar with their glasses held high!
Cheers to…wait are you a republican or democrat…Who cares? Let’s get snockered!
Sorry it was too difficult for me to imagine a congressmen saying shit-faced, white girl wasted or turnt up. Forget nuclear warfare, healthcare, abortion and any other controversial topic, just start handing out jello shots and I’ll be damned if you don’t see some world peace headed our way.
9 out of 10 dentists recommend leaving a comment on this blog. Don’t trust me, take their word for it!