<p>Hey guys, this is an essay supplement for a college where we got to make our own prompt. I'd rather not blatantly state what college it is for safety and plagiarism and such. Anywho, here is the prompt I made and my essay draft. I have a feeling that the essay does not reveal much about me, and that the word choice is rather bleak and uninspired. But if you could help with that, and with the overall concept and stuff, that would be great. Anything is appreciated really! Thank you!</p>
<p>Oh and there's no word limit!</p>
<p>My Prompt:
“President Bush left for Canada today to attend a trade summit. Reportedly, the trade summit got off to an awkward start when the president pulled out his baseball cards.” – Conan O’Brien </p>
<p>Everyone’s had them: Quick eye contact, blushing, giggling, and a need to scurry as far away as possible. That’s right – embarrassing moments. Describe your most uncomfortable, embarrassing, or awkward experience. </p>
<p>My Essay:</p>
<p>Everything is funny after 4 A.M. Right? If you can remember the incident, then yes, probably so. But for those incidents that have no story, those incidents that consist of a random compilation of vague memories from the night before, do they bring laughter? When situations starkly remind you of The Hangover (Without alcohol, Zach Galifianakis, and tigers of course), are the circumstances still funny? In retrospect, they are hilarious.</p>
<p>Since I have no concrete knowledge of the chain of events that occurred, mainly due to my inability to recall events that involve Halo and Call of Duty for hours at a best friend’s house, I guess I should explain what I do know. </p>
<p>At 4:30 P.M. I arrived at the house. It was that time of year again, the time of year where every nerd congregates at Damon’s habitat to celebrate another year of existence. This was an event where chips, soda, and video games reign supreme, along with awkward moments. Having moved only months before, this occasion was my first visit back to Charlottesville, Virginia since my departure. </p>
<p>Elated and ready for a long night ahead, I rushed into the recreational room, greeting my dearest friends and expressing my love for them with manly contact (Bro-hugs, I believe they are called) and high fives, as all boys do. And a few moments later, the video games commence. </p>
<p>“Turn left, you idiot! I said turn left, not right!” Once again, my mind and fingers fail me. Attempt 34: unsuccessful. As my friends assault and abuse me, I should probably make a confession. I love videogames, but as far as skill goes, Damon’s grandmother can beat me (Another confession: she actually did beat me. Please do not tell anyone, it hurts my pride). </p>
<p>Due to my incompetence in video-gaming, I usually distract myself with other activities. Every year, I allocate an hour to helping Damon’s mother and father make mud, quite possibly the greatest item in the universe. Crushed Oreos, whipped cream, brownie mix and water; that’s all it is. Yet, after every spoonful, my mind loses a grip on reality and a flood of fluid flows down my face. But even with my cheeks soaked with tears, I would continue gobbling up this ambrosia.</p>
<p>Later that day, we began preparations for dinner. As a yearly tradition, we all contribute to making dinner. A few nerds assembled to create the spaghetti, a few gathered to make rolls. Others went and mixed up a salad, and still others helped Damon’s father grill the chicken. After our final arrangements, including the retrieval of the all-important barbeque sauce (Let’s be honest, what is grilled chicken without barbeque sauce?), we commenced our dinner. </p>
<p>Oh wait, we forgot to say Grace! “Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster, we are eternally gratified by your sincerity and love for us puny humans. Thank you for your blessings. Amen.” Phew! Close one… Who knows the destruction that would ensue without thanking the almighty Flying Spaghetti Monster?</p>
<p>But anyway, the next thing I remember was heading back to the recreational room for our favorite movie, Mystery Men. We, of course, brought the entire tub of mud (I mean, what if we were hungry at 3 in the morning, we would starve!). After the movie, everything is a blur. All I can recall after the traditional movie-watching was the next morning, and the extremely awkward moments that followed.</p>
<p>“Tyler, where are you? It’s time to go; we have to go to Church!” Mr. Wayne barged into the room to pick up his son. Upon his entrance, he gasped. He stood still. And then he chuckled. “Bharat, Frank, what in the world are you two doing?” At first, I did not really acknowledge his existence when he arrived in the room. But once he mentioned my name, I woke up in a jolt and looked around. I turned to the left of me: nothing. I turned to the right of me: a giant tub of mud, and Frank. We spooned. </p>
<p>Who knows what really happened in the span between the movie and the following morning? I asked all of the other attendants of the festivity; none of them have a clue. Strange things happen in life, and I must admit, out of all of my awkward moments, this definitely pops first into my head. No matter though. I take enjoyment in making others laugh and smile, even at my own expense (What good is life without the people around you being happy and joyous?). Besides, now I can say without a doubt, “I have spooned with a best friend.”</p>