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56 worst/best analogies of high school students

June 19th, 2007 by admin

Apparently the washingtonpost held a contest in which high school teachers sent in the “worst” analogies they’d encountered in grading their students’ papers over the years. (I place “worst” in quotes because many of these actually strike me as quite witty). The top 25 of these have been circulating around the “Sandra Bullock” (”net”, get it?) recently, but I decided to post all 56 that I was able to find. Here they are, in their order of objective funniness (in my opinion):

1. Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
2. He was as tall as a 6′3″ tree.
3. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
4. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
5. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
6. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
7. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
8. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
9. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
10. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
11. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
12. The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
13. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
14. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
15. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at asolar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
16. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
17. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
18. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.
19. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
20. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
21. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.
22. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
23. Even in his last years, Grand pappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it hadrusted shut.
24. He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that hunts dogs, I suppose.
25. She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
26. She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
27. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
28. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
29. “Oh, Jason, take me!” she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
30. It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
31. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
32. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
33. The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
34. Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
35. Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
36. The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
37. The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
38. She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
39. Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten, actually.
40. Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very often.
41. They were as good friends as the people on “Friends.”
42. Oooo, he smells bad, she thought, as bad as Calvin Klein’s Obsession would smell if it were called Enema and was made from spoiled Spamburgers instead of natural floral fragrances.
43. The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
44. He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry, you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.
45. The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
46. Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in mucus and then held up to catch the light.
47. The baseball player stepped out of the box and spit like a fountain statue of a Greek god that scratches itself a lot and spits brown, rusty tobacco water and refuses to sign autographs for all the little Greek kids unless they pay him lots of drachmas.
48. I felt a nameless dread. Well, there probably is a long German name for it, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but I don’t speak German. Anyway, it’s a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. I don’t know the name for those either.
49. She was as unhappy as when someone puts your cake out in the rain, and all the sweet green icing flows down and then you lose the recipe, and on top of that you can’t sing worth a damn.
50. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.
51. It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.
52. Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake.
53. You know how in “Rocky” he prepares for the fight by punching sides of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he was in.
54. The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
55. Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an inattentive phlebotomist.
56. The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10 percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent black.

Hangin' With Friends

Open My Eyes to See All The Real People Around Me

My mom sent me this blog today - www.bowensheart.com  Not knowing what it was, I casually began flipping through the posts until my eye caught the "Our Story" link.  Drifting through the information, Sanctus Real stood out to me.  What?  Re-reading, I realized this blog is about the lead singer for Sanctus Real, Matt Hammit, and his wife Sarah.  More though, I realized that it had begun in April; 5 months before the birth of their third baby.  This blog is dedicated to Bowen Matthew - Small Victorious One, God's gift. Why this name?  Because Bowen had an underdeveloped heart.  Even in the womb at four months after conception, he was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS).  In normal words, this boils down to the fact that this barely formed baby had a heart that will be forever too small.  The blog was created to keep family and friends updated on the baby's development, and later on, birth.   

Bowen was born on September 10th, 2010.  Already, he has undergone a few surgeries.  But there was one that stuck out to me in particular.  I am going to post, word for word, what Matt and Sarah posted because I can not begin to capture the emotion felt in these words.  First though, I wanted to post a picture of Bowen and the rest of the family so you can see this family's life with faces attached.   

September 14

We want you all to know that Bowen is doing well on life support today. Sarah and I are still processing what we saw and felt last night and aren’t able to put it into words at this point. We are going to spend some time at Bowen’s bedside today and then spend some much needed quality time with our girls. Please know that all your prayers and messages have been a great support to us. We are so grateful for each one of you. We’ll keep you posted on his progress over the next couple days.

September 15

A couple of hours ago, we received a copy of Bowen’s blood tests and vitals.  Sarah and the doctor joked that we should “frame it, because it doesn’t get much better than that.” His body is doing very well off of life support.

Thank you for all your prayers! We ask that you continue to pray for Bowen because we have been told, and have now experienced first hand, that his condition will make for a bumpy road with unexpected turns.

Upon receiving some good news, I feel that it’s easier to share the details of what happened yesterday morning when Bowen crashed. I’ve put together excerpts from my journal and have taken down Sarah’s perspective in hopes of giving you a glimpse of what we actually went through. I have also posted some photos and another song demo that holds new meaning to me. I had to compress the song demo to a low quality for my blog, but I still wanted you to hear it. I also want to warn you that one of the photos may seem shocking to some of you, but we want you to grasp the reality of what we experienced over the past two days…

On the morning of September 14^th, at 2:13 am, Sarah received a phone call from the hospital. Bowen’s nurse exclaimed, “We’re starting compression, please come quickly!”

Sarah yelled for me to get out of bed. I jumped up as fast as I could and we raced to the hospital. We took the elevator to the fifth floor and ran down the hallway to the PCTU. After passing through the double doors to his unit, we turned the corner to see Bowen’s seemingly lifeless body being resuscitated. The nurse had her fingers between the walls of his chest, pumping his little heart, switching her hands every few minutes from fatigue. I was shocked that saving someone’s life could look so violent. They rushed us to his side to be near him in, what could have been, his final moments. All Sarah could do was stare down at the bed sheets, hold Bowen’s toes, and pull his blanket close to her face. I cradled her and wept into the back of her sweatshirt as I held Bowen’s hand and prayed. We were frozen in that moment while people all around us were shouting numbers, calling out orders, and working together  to save Bowen’s life. It was like a scene from a movie. My iPod was still on repeat near his bed from earlier, and was playing loudly through a pair of speakers. As the words “I am restless ‘til I rest in You” washed over us, we knew that God was either ushering Bowen out, or ushering in a miracle. When the song “Restless” began to fade, I reached to put on the song “All of Me” that I posted the lyrics to on August 22^nd. After almost forty minutes had past, Sarah and I were waiting for them to call out a time of death. Instead, they pulled us into another room so they could start the process of putting him on life support. We honestly thought it was a last ditch effort to save his life, and that he was already gone. For the next half-hour, we struggled to accept, and began to grieve, what we thought was the loss of our precious baby boy. At one point, I remember praying, “Father, if this is even a fraction of the pain that you felt when you gave us Your only Son…we thank You for letting Jesus die on the cross. Put into motion the redemptive and healing power of Your Son’s death to spare the life of ours.”

Shortly after we prayed, a nurse entered the room and told us what we never expected to hear.  She said he was alive and he had been successfully placed on life support, or ECMO. Sarah remained in the other room while I returned to where Bowen was. From a distance, I watched as the surgeon reached into my son’s chest to look for what may have gone wrong. After he was finished, he covered Bowen’s chest, looked up at me with smiling eyes and said, “Hey Dad, you still have a kid in there.”

Re-read that post.  A hint of what this family is living right now has been captured in those words.  Imagine your baby, its chest open, with a lady's hand inside the chest cavity, holding a living heart, and pumping it with her fingers to keep your baby alive.  

I think sometimes I miss humanity.  This is humanity.  Utter humanity.  The lead singer of Sanctus Real.  Who knew his name before I told you?  And who knew this about his life?  Probably not most of us.   However, I bet you did know the name of his band, some of the songs, song lyrics and the title of the latest album.  But now knowing what you do about his life, if you re-listen to his newest album Pieces Of A Real Heart, suddenly, you can  connect.  The pain, fear, confusion, yet trust, show through in all of these songs.  The album was not written by a Christian "rockstar."  No, they were written by a daddy, whose only son might die before he can ever even understand that he is alive.  This is the very reason why I miss humanity.  I have no problem assessing a life, and assuming that everything is alright with them; but I want people to know that my life has problems?  If everyone thinks like I do, then we're all gonna miss the big picture.  

This world is not our home.  We were created for something better.  "Hope is born of longsuffering hearts" and how can I hope unless I have something in my life that seem utterly hopeless?  When it seems utterly hopeless, that is when God is strongest and brings the hope for the hopeless.  

Pics

On my way home from work yesterday I couldn't help but stop and get some pics.  Such a beautiful fall afternoon..

Puppies!

Hope Given

Ok I wasn't planning on writing a blog post tonight; however, when I drink super caffeinated coffee at 5:00pm and no one can understand me anymore because my brain is going so fast, my mouth can't keep up..well then a blog post is definitely in order! 

"Therefore, remember that you, once [were] Gentiles in the flesh...having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ."  Ephesians 2:11a,12b-13

 ~~~~~

"Having no hope..."  Hope is a gift.  A gift we can only accept after we have been brought near by the blood of Christ.  I had never {seen} this verse before in its whole context.  How incredible, but very much like God, to withold hope until we had been redeemed. When I sit in my psychology class, and listen to the humanistic, mumbo-jumbo views on essentially coming to grips with yourself and finding an inner settledness from deep within {somewhere} it breaks my heart.  I have what the world is looking for.  HOPE  We as humans need something to live for.  In the secular world of psychology, they have come as far as identifying the basic human needs that Christ has instilled in every human; one being hope, another love, the third joy.  To actually close this circle, and {FEEL} these desires fufilled, the desire to hope for something better, the desire to love and feel love, the desire to feel joy and give joy, a person must be brought near by the blood of Christ.  Without the shedding of His blood on the cross, we would have nothing.  There would be no reason to hope because there would be no forgiveness of our sins.  Love would be null because we would not have had a bleeding demonstration of LOVE.  We would have no joy.  Why feel joy when there is no hope and no love?   

In Christ Jesus, hope is born.  Hope is actualized in trusting that HIS promises will hold true.  Do I trust, as Abraham did, that what He promises, He is {able} and WILLING to perform?  Hope is born during the times when we trust in blind obedience.  How can you rest in an unfulfilled promise except through hope?

~~~~~~

"But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ..." Ephesians 2:4-5

I'll sing with what's left of me...

"I can't find the words to sing, come be my remedy."

How can it be that when we are so easily, so swiftly running forward, during that moment, we fall?  Its as if the fears, the doubts, the discouragements catch up and threaten to drown every inspiration, every dream, every joy, every hope.  This wave draws me to my knees, but even there, there is no relief. 

 This weekend, the waves washed through my heart.  Nothing left.. no energy to continue.  Not even energy to worship.  A wakeup call this afternoon came via the World Wide Web. {How HE loves us}  the title to a blog post by a person I barely know.  This post brought tears to my eyes.... 

The writer talked about waking up each morning and making a conscious point to put their faith in Jesus all over again.  *all over again*.  " We’ve cried and struggled our way through believing that Jesus will keep providing for us the way He has been faithful to do..."  And then, the glimmering diamond of truth, "He’s left little traces of hope along the way to keep us just encouraged enough to do it over again." How precious and sweet!  "He's left little traces of hope along the way to keep us just encouraged enough to do it all over again."  This is Jesus's way.  Sometimes, He comes and sweeps me up in His arms with an overwhelming gift that He has given to me, *just because He loves me.*  I know these gifts are {just because He loves me} gifts because they rarely serve any purpose except to make me feel a rush of love towards Him.  Often, this rush doesn't last, but I savor the gift because He gave it to me knowing that it wasn't a painful, hard to learn lesson that drew me to Him; just a huge pick-me-up.  

On the other hand, I think it is the little "traces of hope" that I miss, but together scream the faithfulness of Jesus.  I sigh, groping in the darkness, feel the bars that trap me in, and sit in the darkness; despairing.  But why?  I miss His everyday love.  The wave of a kind, gray haired stranger, the random email from a friend, the text message, the guy, who I assumed would slam the door in my face like the guy right before him did, doesn't  {standing back, he smiles and hauls open the huge doors that I can never seem to open without them slamming back closed on my shoulder}.  Are these the "traces of hope?"  Maybe.  They sure help.  A stray verse catches my eye.  The random blog post of a friend.  These are the "traces of hope" that bring those little rushes of energy that keep me going, keep reminding me of His faithfulness and LOVE.  

 This is part of faith.  Remembering, "He just knows us to the core of who we are, what we think, how we feel and what we want and need. He knows those things, He remembers them and He loves us in ways that reflect that." How beautiful!  To be reminded that He knows me to the core of who I am, {AND} loves me in a way that reflects that.... it is a lifeline. "He just knows the littlest things that no one else sees and He loves us in ways that speak to those secrets of our heart."  When I stop looking for the things that I {think} I want or need, and start looking at the gifts God HAS given me, I am so reminded that what I *think* I want, and what I really want are two very different things. {AND GOD ALREADY KNOWS THAT!}  He doesn't ride the roller coaster of emotions with me!  He doesn't think, "Oh, today Kristine wants to talk to this person, I'll have them talk to her."  {And tomorrow} "Now Kristine wants to go shopping and replenish her shabby closet.  No, He knows that talking to *that person* isn't going to bless her today, but this person will give her My love in the way that she'll see.  {Tomorrow}  I'll just let her walk around the mall for a while.. she'll come to her senses :)  He is steady. He loves me and {EXPRESSES THAT LOVE} even when I miss it all.  Sometimes being a Christian means training my mind to consciously {remember} His love, hope and faithfulness.  Finding this strength, I can sing with what is left of me...

 ~~~~~

sing it out
take what is left of me
and make it a melody

sing it out
sing out-loud
I can't find the words to sing
you'd be my remedy

My song
My song
I'll sing with what's left of me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flashbacks

~ A camera scans a small, African village.  Black skin glistens in the sun, mingling with the flashing of machetes and the shimmer of fresh blood.  Crying fills the air.  Bodies fall and are cut to pieces by men wielding the machetes.  The men watch this horrible scene, video taped just a few minutes before by a reporter.  Shock and repulsion pour from their mouths as they watch the Genocide of  Rwanda.  One man speaks up with a glimmer of hope in his voice, "How can people watch this and not help but do something to intervene?"  The reporter looks up with tears in his eyes and says this unforgettable statement. "I think that when people turn on their TVs and see this footage, they'll say, "Oh my, that's horrible," and then they'll go back to eating their dinners."'  ~

~ A little boy cries in frustration.  His father is lying in a hospital dying, and he can do nothing about it.  This summer was supposed to be perfect.  What little boy wouldn't want to spend a whole summer with a dad who lives on the beach?  But what little boy, who invested his {everything} heart, soul, love, time {everything} in being with his dad, would want to suddenly find out that his dad is about to die?  As this little boy cries, he works rapidly, alone, to finish the project he had started with his daddy.  If he can get this stained glass window done before his daddy dies, then they can put it back in the Church window, and he can make is dad proud.  Bumping around, breaking glass, he's too short to reach, to small to get anything.  He cries in frustration, anger, pain.~

~Stammering, stuttering, trying to grasp words that are just out of his reach, he stands before a judge, fighting for the custody of his only child.  Does it matter that this man has only the mental capacity of a 7 year old?  He has raised this little girl since the day she was born, now they want to take her away?~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These "rising action" sections in movies call for tears.  The time right before the climax is where the anticipation is almost, almost as high as it can be, but not quite.  During this part in a movie, the characters have developed and usually throw out a witty, humorous, or tear-jerking comment.  Sometimes these lines are used to ease the tension and bring laughter.  Other times, they simply build the tension.  

Why do we love movies?  How can a simple line from a fictitious character that we have only met 1 hour before, and never spoken a word to in our whole life, cause us to well up in tears?  How can watching a genocide that happened 4 years after I was born create such a sense of rage and injustice?  Watching a little boy cry as his father lays in a hospital dying practically made me flood the theater with tears {although I was able to hold them back, much to the delight of those around me}  A man, no less deserving of his child than any other man, cannot keep her.  Why?  Why do we connect to a movie with a strong emotional bond?

Movies speak to every human being {with the exception of some moms =D }   They portray normal people, living normal lives, lives very similar to our own, yet we LOVE to watch them.  How interesting would it be to watch a movie about you?  Not very?  Now how about if only the highlights of your life were shown, music added to epic portions, the parts where you fought with your parents, and any time the sun set?  Now, it might be more interesting.  

We love movies, because they are flashes of real life, without having the "real life" part.  (I know I'm stretching it a bit, but just play with me here)  We never have to watch the kitchen being cleaned up, food being eaten, time taken to sleep, the arguments that are never resolved.. yet we get to see the big picture.  We can see how it ends.  In a movie, you are privy to the ending.  You can watch the subtle, underlying annoyances which are actually there to grow and develop the character without missing the point.  In real life, those pesky people, the people who never seem to want to do what you want, the ones who are always a hindrance, and sometimes {the ones you take for granted} are the people who truly shape you and press you to God.  While watching a movies, it is so easy to yell "Common stupid! Open your eyes... *that* guy likes you and he is totally the one you should marry... not the ditsy one with the flashy hair!"  Or, "Oh my gosh, that person is totally going to help them improve {whatever} because they are just so annoying!"  In real life, we have to live with that person day in and day out. Not quite the same experience. 

Now, this may be a stretch, but I think that movies are so attractive because we all want to see "how life's gonna end" and a movie gives us that chance.  We see how a situation or person influences and changes a person throughout an amount of time.  Sympathy, empathy and an underlying desire to see how life is going to end allows us to watch a movie with a beating heart.  

As Christians, we long for the end of the story.  Sometimes our very spirit groans, cries out for peace.  {For heaven}  The uselessness with living on earth overwhelms us.  What good am I doing living here?  I affect no one, I am affected by no one.  Heaven is where I belong, where I was created to be.  That is where the movie analogy comes in.  Our life, our movie, is short in God's eyes.  He see's perfectly what the ending will be.  He can sit and "watch the show."  Sometimes, we can look back, and suddenly and its an "oh..." moment.  I see.  I understand when I look back, why the things happened which did, the circumstances which were so painful, were meant for something more.  It will happen this way over and over during our lifetime.  We watch our own movie slowly.  

But for now, until the time when we can look back, our hearts cry out for the end of the story.

 "¹ For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. ² For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed with our habitation which is from heaven... ⁴ For we who are in this tent groan, being burdened, not because we want to be unclothed, but further clothed, that mortality may be swallowed up by life. ⁵ Now He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who also has given us the Spirit as a guarantee." 2 Cor 5:1-2,5