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Kobi · 01-18-2012, 08:51 AM

The local newspaper published an article on "some of the worst analogies written by high school students". These are amusing yet also kind of sad. Hope these kids dont have to take the MAT's.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was room-temperature beef.
The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbarge truck backing up.
The red brick wall was the color of a red brick crayola crayon.
The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.
Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.
It came down the stairs looking much like something no one had ever seen before.
The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10% cyan, 10% magenta, 60%yellow, and 10% black.

http://bethanyamandamiller.wordpress.com

01-18-2012, 08:51 AM	#470
Kobi Infamous Member How Do You Identify?: Biological female. Lesbian. Relationship Status: Happy Join Date: Feb 2010 Location: Hanging out in the Atlantic. Posts: 9,234 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 9,840 Thanked 34,630 Times in 7,640 Posts Rep Power: 21474861	The local newspaper published an article on "some of the worst analogies written by high school students". These are amusing yet also kind of sad. Hope these kids dont have to take the MAT's. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was room-temperature beef. The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbarge truck backing up. The red brick wall was the color of a red brick crayola crayon. The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747. Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. It came down the stairs looking much like something no one had ever seen before. The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 10% cyan, 10% magenta, 60%yellow, and 10% black. http://bethanyamandamiller.wordpress.com