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This is an actual essay written by a college applicant, when applying to NYU where he now attends.
I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently. Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing, I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook Thirty-Minute Brownies in twenty minutes. I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.
Using only more...

College is basically a bunch of rooms where you sit for roughly two thousand hours and try to memorize things. The two thousand hours are spread out over four years; you spend the rest of the time sleeping and trying to get dates.
Basically, you learn two kinds of things in college:
1. Things you will need to know in later life (two hours).
2. Things you will not need to know in later life (1,998 hours).
These are the things you learn in classes whose names end in -ology, -osophy, -istry, -ics, and so on. The idea is, you memorize these things, then write them down in little exam books, then forget them. If you fail to forget them, you become a professor and have to stay in college for the rest of your life.
It's very difficult to forget everything. For example, when I was in college, I had to memorize - don't ask me why - the names of three metaphysical poets other than John Donne. I have managed to forget one of them, but I still remember that the other two were more...

Your friends tell you that you have been acting strange lately, and then you hit them several times with a sledgehammer.
Everyone you meet appears to have tentacles growing out of places that you wouldn't expect tentacles to be growing from.
You start out each morning with a 30-minute jog around the bathroom.
You write to your mother in Germany every week, even though she sends you mail from Iowa asking why you never write.
Every time you see a street sign, you have a tremendous urge to relieve yourself on it.
You wear your boxers on your head because you heard it will ward of evil dandruff spirits.
You're always having to apologize to your next door neighbor for setting fire to his lawn decorations.
Every commercial you hear on the radio reminds you of death.
People stay away from you whenever they hear you howl.
Your breath smells more and more like squirrel dung each passing day.
You laugh out loud during funerals.
When your doctor tells more...

Real programmers don't eat quiche. Real programmers don't even know how to spell
Quiche. They like Twinkies, Coke, and palate-scorching Szechwan food.
Real programmers don't write application programs. They program right down to the bare
Application programs are for dullards who can't do system programming.
Real programmers don't write specs. Users should be grateful for whatever they get.
They are lucky to get any program at all.
Real programmers don't comment their code. If it was hard to write, it should be hard to
understand and even harder to modify.
Real programmers don't draw flowcharts. Flowcharts are, after all, the illiterate's form of documentation. Cavemen drew flowcharts; look how much it did for them.
Real programmers don't read manuals. Reliance on a reference is a hallmark of the
novice and the coward.
Real programmers don't use Cobol. Cobol is for wimpy application programmers.
Real programmers don't use more...

Sidney was a 14-year-old boy with an interest in the sciences. One summer day he started his own investigations. With his 12-year-old sister Sophie in tow, he caught a large bull frog in a local pond. Sidney started his experiment with the amphibian, and told Sophie her job was to write down the results of the experiment.

Sidney drew a line in the sand, placed the frog on the line, and prodded the frog with a small twig from the rear and shouted, "Jump, frog!" The frog jumped, and Sidney measured the distance. "12 feet... write that down, Sophie," he said.

Next, he brought the frog back to the starting point and removed the frog's right front leg. Again he prodded the frog and shouted, "Jump, frog!" The frog jumped 10 feet, and on instruction, Sophie wrote it down.

Again the frog was brought back, the left front leg was removed, and again "Jump, frog!" Sidney reported, "Six feet... write it more...

For those of you who question whether you are in love, in lust, or really married, the following descriptions may help to clear things up.
Love - When intercourse is called - making love.
Lust - When intercourse is called - screwing.
Marriage - What's intercourse?
Love - When your eyes meet across a crowded room.
Lust - When your tongues meet across a crowded room.
Marriage - When you lose your child in a crowded room.
Love - When you share everything you own.
Lust - When you steal everything they own.
Marriage - When the bank owns everything.
Love - When it doesn't matter if you don't reach a climax.
Lust - When the relationship ends if you don't reach a climax.
Marriage - What's a climax?
Love - When you phone each other just to say Hi.
Lust - When you phone each other to choose a hotel room.
Marriage - When you phone each other to bitch.
Love - When you write poems about your partner.
Lust - When all you write is more...

Once there was an old couple who went to the doctor for their checkup. They were told that nothing was physically wrong with them, but that they were both suffering from memory loss, and may want to start writing things down.
That night when the couple is at home watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair.
"Where are you going?" the curious wife asks.
"To the kitchen."
"Okay. Can you get me something while you're in there?"
"Sure. What?"
"I'd like some ice cream please."
The man starts to walk into the kitchen. The wife asks, "Shouldn't you write it down?"
"Nah. I don't need to. You want ice cream. I can remember that."
"Wait. I just remembered. I want strawberries on it too. Shouldn't you write it down? I'm not sure you can remember all of that."
"I told you, I've got it. So you want ice cream with strawberries on top?
"Yes. And oh! I'd like some more...