I just wrote one of the fluffiest of fluffy papers. Sat down and cracked it out like a whiz-bang, squinty-eyed, detached professional essay writer. Give me my $15.
It doesn't make me feel good to do this, but it does feel good to have it done. At times like this, I blame the paper and the assignment that spawned it. If you give a professional chef a bag of marshmallows to work with, this is what you get.
Imagine that I wanted to say,
I read the darn book,
but I typed,
With sincere pleasure I meditatively devoured the latest missive from the brilliant author like a starving jeweler in a gold mine, looking for nuggets of wisdom with which to supplement my pyrite-infested display case.
Bloated marshmallows of sentences are littering my word processor.
4 comments:
I'm not ashamed to say, I intend to steal that paragraph and include it, with certain modifications for the appropriate audience, in some sort of legal brief.
Cheers.
Haha! Modify it as necessary, sir, I've decided to sign that sentence over to the public domain.
Thanks for making me laugh about boring-essay writing.
Hey, pyrite is cool stuff.
@ littlepeace: Stop trying so hard to see the bright side. ;)
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