400 word auto biography

I was furious at my mom. She forbid me from playing alpha bonk farm, my favorite Macintosh game, all for jumping off the couch. To spite her I jumped off the couch again landing my head into an umbrella. I had never seen my dad drive so fast. No damage was done, yet I had a lump the size of a golf ball on my head. I fell on my head two more times that year and had been to the emergency room three times before my fifth birthday.

I had determined that I was a hypochondriac. Still living in my house on Oakwood, my stomach twisted and turned as I sat watching TV. The pain was unbearable, and after doing five minutes of research my dad had determined that it was most likely appendicitis. The hospital was a ten minute drive, we arrived in four. As I sat in agony on the hospital bed my pain suddenly eased away. They determined it was a combination of strep throat and gas, how embarrassing.

I was now in fifth grade and living in St Charles, I was miserable. I was diagnosed with insomnia, getting a little over16 hours of sleep a week. I would lie in bed watching terrible paid programming television. After moving back to Wilmette my insomnia grew increasing worse. It five long years and 50 sessions of therapy, I’m still not fully healed.

Skateboarding, my one true passion, came to a sad end as I was told that the cartilage, connecting the ball and joint socket of my knee, had deteriorated due to the hard impact on my knees from skateboarding. I had the choice of stopping skateboarding or not being able to walk by the time I was thirty, I chose the first option, I still regret my decision.

Never having broke a bone in my life I wound up breaking three bones the summer going into my senior year. I broke two bones in my thumb in a bike accident, and I broke my cheek bone in another, bloodier bike accident.

Being the genius that I am, I challenged my 200 pound friend to a fight two weeks ago. I caught an elbow to mouth and a punch to the jaw. Every time I open jaw it cracks a little. Just another story, just another scar. If I was supposed to learn something from these incidents I guess I’m in trouble.

collage part 2

A frequent question is why do you wear tight pants? I’ve thought about this question long and hard and realized the answer was so simple, I like them! Is liking something a crime? They’re comfortable and stylish, what’s the problem?
Shoes tie the whole outfit together. Who doesn’t like shoes? The feeling when I get new shoes is like Christmas. I guess I have a problem when it comes to getting rid of my old shoes though. “Ricky, if you don’t clean out your damn closet and get rid of all those shoes you’re grounded for the weekend,” my mom screeched from down stairs. “Yes mom right away,” I mumbled. I had roughly thirty pairs of shoes in my closet. Most of them were ratty and didn’t fit me but I felt like they represented my childhood. I attempted to clean out my closet but I was more focused on creating a pyramid of old tennis shoes. Every shoe had its own story. Every shoe represented a different part of my life. Lately I’ve been wearing a pair of beat up wrestling shoes. I don’t wrestle but they’re comfortable and I don’t see anyone else wearing them. I guess when it really comes down to it that why I like wearing certain clothing, no one else has it.

Collage Essay

The jackets new to my collection, the black denim is still stiff and starchy. It itches from time to time. I try not to think about it but it gets so damn itchy, why is it so itchy?

Theory 1: It’s a relatively new jacket, it hasn’t been worn many times by the previous owner, and it’s a stiff denim jacket, stop being paranoid.

Theory 2: What if the previous owner had scabies or lice? Maybe I have scabies or lice. Maybe I’m being a hypochondriac. Can you catch scabies? What are scabies? I’ve never really seen scabies, I’ve heard of them in books though. I probably have scabies.

Scabies or not I still like it. I guess you don’t see many guys wearing jean jackets these days, I think it’s cool, most of my friends think it’s cool, I guess it’s not for everyone though.

If you see a guy wearing jeans at New Trier, there’s probably a fifty percent chance they’re made by a brand named nudies. Nudies are jeans made with real indigo and you’re not supposed to wash them for six months. Don’t ask me to tell you why you have to wait six months but people like to. Yes they start to smell and yes they’re gross but they appeal to some people.

Two years ago… “Really Andrew? You’ll trade me your nudies for fifty bucks and an iPod, what a deal.

I wore those pants for about a year without washing them, they were disgusting. I soon realized that nudies were taking over the north shore so I moved on to a nicer brand. Jeans are a big deal for me. They’re my favorite article of clothing and I love researching about them. The ones I have now are very similar to jeans made in the 20s. They retailed for $270, hell if I was going to pay that much.

Internet conversation:

TLCA (Me): So how much are you selling these jeans for?

Please Underestimate: $165, staying firm about the price.

TLCA: Jeez I’m really interested in buying these but I only have $125 and plus I can see a small rip on the back pocket, I can buy them right away, consider them sold!

Please Underestimate: Fine but I can go any lower than $125.

1 day later…

TLCA: Hey I ran into a small problem, I got a ticket yesterday and it was $25, I’m so sorry I can do $100 right now and send the payment through.

Please Underestimate: I can’t believe I’m doing this but I need this sold, fine $100, you got a steal I hope you know that.

I don’t try to be a jerk but in the world of bargaining you do anything to get the lowest price. No I didn’t get a ticket but a lie every once and a while can’t hurt.