When I applied to college, the scholarship application process was daunting and endless. It seemed like I was writing seventeen essays a week about pointless topics. Why do you care who my hero is, and how does that demonstrate that I will be a good college student? So, I rebelled in the lamest way I could think of: I started bull shitting the essays, tanking them on purpose just to show my frustration. Here is one such essay.
“The question I’ve been tasked with answering is ‘What three people from history would you like to have dinner with.’ Too often, people answer these kinds of questions haphazardly. They spout the name of the first three peacemakers that come to mind, with no regard for the dynamic of the dinner. For instance, I bet most of the essays you’ve read have said they would invite Gandhi to their dinner; I can assure that Mahatma Gandhi would not be dining with me. Dude didn’t even eat, why would you waste a dinner invitation on him? Gandhi’s a nice guy, so I feel like he’d order something out of obligation, but he’d probably just get a soup or a salad. We’re eating at a steakhouse (And not some Outback shit. I mean like a legit steakhouse with cloth napkins and white waiters.), so getting just a soup or salad would be a waste. Plus I was hoping we could all order different entrees and share with each other as sort of a bonding thing. I would be pissed, and insulted frankly, when he turned down a bite of my steak for religious reasons. I'm digressing. The point is that the dynamics of the dinner are everything.
The first person I would invite would be Bill Clinton. He is a charismatic leader and he is originally from Arkansas, my home state. He also gets bitches. Tons and tons of bitches. (And I’m not just talking about Monica Lewinsky. Hey-oh!) Seriously, that guy can pull down any tail he wants. Can you imagine rolling into a restaurant with him? Every woman in the place would be drawn to him. And the best part about it is, he only seems to want to have sex with ugly women (Hilary, Paula Jones, et. al.) Hanging with Bill Clinton is the only time where it’s actually better to get the runoff puss. He’s gotta be at my dinner.
The second person I would invite to dinner would be Ben Sanderson, Nic Cage’s character from Leaving Las Vegas. I know he’s not a real person, but this is a completely fictional scenario, so I’m going to roll with it. All I know is that dude was drunk all the time. He is constantly in party mode. When it comes to partying, he is George Michael and everyone else is that other, gayer dude from Wham. (I can’t remember his name. I think it’s Peter Frampton or something like that.) Remember in the movie when he fell through that glass coffee table and he had all those shards sticking out of his back? He just laughed it off and said, ‘I’m a prickly pear!’ That’s so baller. My friends and I are always doing crazy stuff like that. Last weekend we all drank Heaven Hill vodka around a bonfire. SHIT WAS INSANE!!! I must have puked like 11 times, but it didn’t matter. I just drank through it because I finish what I start. By the end of the night, my friend Chocolate Starfish (we call him that because he always wears a backwards cap and he has a soul patch like Fred Durst-- who is an honorable mention for this dinner) was just throwing pizza and buffalo wings at everybody. I had a huge stain on my shirt that I had to try to explain to my mom. Don’t worry, she’s clueless. As we were falling asleep, we talked about what daytime talk show host we would like to have sex with. I said Kelly Ripa. Ronnie shocked everyone by saying Maury Povich. He was just joking though. We don’t get down with any gay shit. I love to get into shenanigans, and Ben Sanderson would be into all that stuff.
The third person I would invite would be Henry David Thoreau. I’ve got four words for you: sick beard, killer bud. Need I say more?
I would like to thank you for your time and consideration as a candidate for a National Merit Scholarship. I would like to leave you with a few words that I believe sum me up as a student and a person: ‘It’s all about the he says she says bull shit/I think you better quit letting shit slip/or you’ll be leaving with a fat lip.’”
Surprisingly, this was one of the few scholarships I got. They said my essay showed that I possessed a truly creative spirit.