Dear Mrs. Porter, I’m disappointed in your disappoinment in me. Bacuase Our report job was to write a paper on the greatest inventor ever. So I chose Flint Lockwood. You gave me a B. and now I KNOW you don’t read my papers, because Flint lockwood isnt a real inventor. He’s the main character of the animated movie ‘Cloudy with a chance of meatballs.’ I always did write the best reports.
So, I’m not any good at this. I look at the website every day in hopes of coming up with something good, and I get nothing. I’m not even sure how to use the word “reports”. I just felt I needed to say something at some point.
Have you ever written reports? From scratch? Not like a pro-forma, tick the box affair. Really written a report, from a blank piece of paper, whereby everything has to tie back to it’s sources.
It’s *dull*. Really dull. Thankless, error prone (if you’re as lazy as most), and it feels pointless – After all, the only thing anyone will ever read is the executive summary.
reports – the bane of a school girl’s existence. there are the essay, the book reports, the critique, the term paper, the research paper. each one is more complicated than the one before, culminating in a huge dissertation that takes months to complete
Write repotts repots. Liek pots, but with leeks in them. I have the sltoe rali . Sltoes are a kind of vegeatable that grow in the Eastern medettierian under pots. In the pots there are sometimes a certain variety of minature cow, approximately 6×4 that mkae miniature milks 1×1. does sarah read my chat logs?
I always hated reports. Book reports, history reports, whatever. I mean, I might have enjoyed the book or loved the history subject, but a report in school more often than not tends to be boring and by the book and so not in depth. It’s just frustrating and doesn’t do what it seems that it’s supposed to.
i hate reports. i had to do a report once on a dead guy. i did mine on Hendrix. we had to act like him and everything. ever since my teacher has thought that i’m a hippy. that makes me happy.
I walked in to my office and sat down in my chair, resigning the next few hours to reading and evaluating numerous reports. Although bored at first, I soon found one that attracted my attention. Written in a messy scrawl but certainty well thought out, this report was truly unique and, though I didn’t realize it then, life changing. I guess sometimes it’s necessary to work our way through the boring and trivial tasks patiently, because it is only then that we can find meaning in what we do.
The reports were in, the lights were off, and everything was looking decent. As Elton left his office, his phone rang in the pocket of his jacket. He took it out of his pocket and read the name on the display: Death.
Reports are often necessary. I like reports on the war, weather, health and situations. daily horoscope reports are nice, too. i’d like to be a reporter one day. may i never stop dreaming.
Reports in the distance indicated the advancement of the clown army. Through the night hair the screams of horns and kazoos issued forth in a cacophany belying our impending doom.
School reports sux, the reports in the news are probably false or leavin out the most important pieces, weather reports are mostly wrong, so y do we rely on them.
the burden of a life of a student. papers is all that is evil in society. Reports are its parents. Teachers spend too much time using this as a cop out.
Reports show that he doesn’t exist. No records of his birth can be found, and nobody can locate his family or anyone that has ever seen him. He is a nobody. He does not exist.
A collection of these on the old man’s desk. He has many, some falling off the desk, some rolled as scrolls, all look old. The chair is old, the desk itself good wood.
I hate having to do reports in class. book reports, movie reports, always haveing to do reports. Not the best thing in the world to do. Report cards. reports from the news. reports of bad incident reports of bad behavior reports always reporting.
Bob reports, “Not much new”. Sue, current official girlfriend & lover listened, knowing he had a twinkle in his eye. How could he not? He’d told her he was on a “guy trip”. She knew he was with his new/old girlfriend of 30 years ago in CA. This would be a long 10 days. So far, he’d texted her that the lake in Nevada was beautiful (no pics) & could she pick up his paycheck? No thank you offered.
“He’s got to be f*ing kidding!”, she thought. This from the man who calls me his “wife” in public? It was almost funny.
Bob didn’t hesitate to revisit past conquests. This would be the 2nd woman in 3 years. Plotting & scheming was apparently a turn on. She thought they’d begun with pardon & a clean slate. To comment on this fling now was unthinkable. The real question was…did she respect herself enough to quietly depart before his return? Could she leave without a scene? She wrote to herself her feelings. (He obviously wouldn’t care & didn’t deserve to know them.) She gave herself love & compassion that she’d offer another.
Her nausea was intense, the trembling took days to pass. Terror awoke her once, the next morning it was Rage. She’d dreamt they’d had a face to face where she’d said, “You want a sex war, you’ve got it!”. Sheez. Hurt so bad. She spent mirror time. Checked out her face, boobs, tail. She was pretty, looked 10 years younger by all standards. She was also bright, educated, sexy, smart, emotional. She worked as a bodyworker. Sometimes hated it. Jealosy drove Bob nuts at times. A fit because someone kissed her cheek in public or looked at her. He never trusted her with a male client. In Michigan, Bob’s home, massage was linked to prostitution. Here is was a licensed career.
Heidi, his new fling, was ALR- Area of Least Resistance. Older, chunkier, a bit saggy & certainly sun wrinkled. Apparently liked to drink & gamble. She must be fun in a way. Sue felt relieved she hadn’t been replaced by a fresher model. This was Bob refucking his College Glory Days.
She knew she didn’t feel good. She didn’t foresee having sex with him again and hoped he wouldn’t call her. She didn’t trust herself. After the last round, she’d transformed into a dominitrix. It took Bob a week to sit comfortably. Now, the attachment broke. Bob was just Bob. She was weary of confusion & longed for tenderness. Honoring. He just wasn’t who she thought he was, or who she needed him to be. She longed for a place of sunbeams, laughter & trust. Today she would find it.
information, truth, and/or hearsay. And? you might say, but how, if one thing is truth can it also be hearsay? legend, like Athena’s legs protruding from her father’s head, what truth is there in that? In short because the truth matters less than those porcelain legs.
i dont like to write reports. I dont like to speak about reports. I like to have an organized report, but dont like to report it. I often think they need to be well put together, neat and clear, as they really should be, but sometimes the pressure is too much and it becomes a hassle, THUS the hating of reports. News reports all sound the same. boring. monotone. meh.
“Sir! They’re in!” Jeremiah Huntz scrambled from the bottom of the stairs to the well-lit office aria. Frazzled, the boy had had zoomed up the stairs in a frenzy. “Sir!”
who dares to report anything these days? nothing is believed truthfully. you can write anything about anyone and if ifs interesting enough you could be the worlds most popular or most hated man. today’s society is just messed up, man.
report to me
report to them
they have stacks on you
they know what you are doing
the sheets tell them everything
they make you ponder how
i wonder now
how they found out
found out about me and you
the man reported that the sky was indeed brown. and all was founded on a small light source made by god himself. this makes no sense to you of course, but you are not this reporter.
How funny that this word comes up. I’m back at school. That means reports, reports, and oh, yeah, a ton of reports. Academics are wonderful. College is a joy. Going to class, doing homework, spending 20 after 20 filling my gas tank.. I love it.
We’d spent months compiling the date, typing up succinct and meaningful reports and then, an hour before the hearing, nobody knew where the reports were.
That’s why you stay in school and get a good job and not one in public service!
No sé que voy a reportar dentro de unos años. Me han reguntado varias veces en donde me quiero encontrar dentro de 10 años. Me han dicho que eso es muy útil para mejorar mi vida. Pero no he sabido contestar esta pregunta. No lo sé. Y todo lo que me invento parece tanto menos de lo que me puede ofrecer la vida misma.
The reports came in. Nervous, I picked them up and stared at the front cover, terrified at what they may hold. I shuffled the papers, trying to calm my trembling hands; alas, nothing could stop the shaking. Not even opening the reports to find that all my fears were in vain, to find that I was worried about nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Never.
No. I said. I don’t want to report to you today. you or anyone else for that matter.
??>>….Why not? It asked.
Becuase my reports are always boring to me. I know what’s going to be in them before i write them. BecAUSE THEY are my reports. I know it. I write it. So why don’t you write the fucking report for a change?
the snow reports estimated that there was going to be a lot of snow. well they were right about that. now i am angry because at this time i should have been done with my midterms, but i had a stupid snow day so NOW i wont be done until tomorrow. i have two midterms left. but once they are done i’ll be a second semester senior. i sure cant wait for that. it is going to be the best time of my life.
grades. school. bad things. good things. people. criminal records. we need more. this is a bad topic. reports make you cry. reports about us. reporters! i’m a reporter. this is fun. reprots
i thought of report cards. school. writing right now makes me think of school, probably because I am in school. right now! weather report. what’s the weather? i hope it’s warm. I am wearing shorts and sandals. I will report back to you.
He reports that he’s not feeling well, to the group. No one cares about his damn pain in his head, his aching teeth, the contents of his sinuses. I just want to scream at him to shut up and let us talk about something more interesting, more important and not so disgusting.
reports. they remind me of offices, of cubicles, of mundane things, of unhappy things. I like writing reports though. It brings a sense of calm and a sense of establishment – something solid that makes sense. There is such a thing as a good report and a bad report. In the important things in life, happiness and love – there is no such distinguish
I hate writing reports. It is exhausting and time consuming. No one enjoys that, especially when the topic is predetermined. Reports make life suck momentarily. I hate writing reports.
I am reporting the failure of the procedure to emancipate the childish rebellion of the hipsters. They are taking over the place, may the reports we are given be a legacy that we tried our best.
filing reports one day
baby is crying
annoyance bug sets in
chew pencil
tag desk nervously
swivel violently in chair
eat own hair
kill baby
filing reports one day.
Dear Mrs. Porter, I’m disappointed in your disappoinment in me. Bacuase Our report job was to write a paper on the greatest inventor ever. So I chose Flint Lockwood. You gave me a B. and now I KNOW you don’t read my papers, because Flint lockwood isnt a real inventor. He’s the main character of the animated movie ‘Cloudy with a chance of meatballs.’ I always did write the best reports.
So, I’m not any good at this. I look at the website every day in hopes of coming up with something good, and I get nothing. I’m not even sure how to use the word “reports”. I just felt I needed to say something at some point.
Have you ever written reports? From scratch? Not like a pro-forma, tick the box affair. Really written a report, from a blank piece of paper, whereby everything has to tie back to it’s sources.
It’s *dull*. Really dull. Thankless, error prone (if you’re as lazy as most), and it feels pointless – After all, the only thing anyone will ever read is the executive summary.
reports – the bane of a school girl’s existence. there are the essay, the book reports, the critique, the term paper, the research paper. each one is more complicated than the one before, culminating in a huge dissertation that takes months to complete
annoying. time consuming. sleepless nights. school. college. writing. paper. computer. late night. not fun. class. professor. questions. research. books. tired. professional. business. procrastinating. done.
Write repotts repots. Liek pots, but with leeks in them. I have the sltoe rali . Sltoes are a kind of vegeatable that grow in the Eastern medettierian under pots. In the pots there are sometimes a certain variety of minature cow, approximately 6×4 that mkae miniature milks 1×1. does sarah read my chat logs?
I always hated reports. Book reports, history reports, whatever. I mean, I might have enjoyed the book or loved the history subject, but a report in school more often than not tends to be boring and by the book and so not in depth. It’s just frustrating and doesn’t do what it seems that it’s supposed to.
i hate reports. i had to do a report once on a dead guy. i did mine on Hendrix. we had to act like him and everything. ever since my teacher has thought that i’m a hippy. that makes me happy.
I walked in to my office and sat down in my chair, resigning the next few hours to reading and evaluating numerous reports. Although bored at first, I soon found one that attracted my attention. Written in a messy scrawl but certainty well thought out, this report was truly unique and, though I didn’t realize it then, life changing. I guess sometimes it’s necessary to work our way through the boring and trivial tasks patiently, because it is only then that we can find meaning in what we do.
The reports were in, the lights were off, and everything was looking decent. As Elton left his office, his phone rang in the pocket of his jacket. He took it out of his pocket and read the name on the display: Death.
Reports are often necessary. I like reports on the war, weather, health and situations. daily horoscope reports are nice, too. i’d like to be a reporter one day. may i never stop dreaming.
Reports in the distance indicated the advancement of the clown army. Through the night hair the screams of horns and kazoos issued forth in a cacophany belying our impending doom.
School reports sux, the reports in the news are probably false or leavin out the most important pieces, weather reports are mostly wrong, so y do we rely on them.
the burden of a life of a student. papers is all that is evil in society. Reports are its parents. Teachers spend too much time using this as a cop out.
Reports show that he doesn’t exist. No records of his birth can be found, and nobody can locate his family or anyone that has ever seen him. He is a nobody. He does not exist.
A collection of these on the old man’s desk. He has many, some falling off the desk, some rolled as scrolls, all look old. The chair is old, the desk itself good wood.
I hate having to do reports in class. book reports, movie reports, always haveing to do reports. Not the best thing in the world to do. Report cards. reports from the news. reports of bad incident reports of bad behavior reports always reporting.
Bob reports, “Not much new”. Sue, current official girlfriend & lover listened, knowing he had a twinkle in his eye. How could he not? He’d told her he was on a “guy trip”. She knew he was with his new/old girlfriend of 30 years ago in CA. This would be a long 10 days. So far, he’d texted her that the lake in Nevada was beautiful (no pics) & could she pick up his paycheck? No thank you offered.
“He’s got to be f*ing kidding!”, she thought. This from the man who calls me his “wife” in public? It was almost funny.
Bob didn’t hesitate to revisit past conquests. This would be the 2nd woman in 3 years. Plotting & scheming was apparently a turn on. She thought they’d begun with pardon & a clean slate. To comment on this fling now was unthinkable. The real question was…did she respect herself enough to quietly depart before his return? Could she leave without a scene? She wrote to herself her feelings. (He obviously wouldn’t care & didn’t deserve to know them.) She gave herself love & compassion that she’d offer another.
Her nausea was intense, the trembling took days to pass. Terror awoke her once, the next morning it was Rage. She’d dreamt they’d had a face to face where she’d said, “You want a sex war, you’ve got it!”. Sheez. Hurt so bad. She spent mirror time. Checked out her face, boobs, tail. She was pretty, looked 10 years younger by all standards. She was also bright, educated, sexy, smart, emotional. She worked as a bodyworker. Sometimes hated it. Jealosy drove Bob nuts at times. A fit because someone kissed her cheek in public or looked at her. He never trusted her with a male client. In Michigan, Bob’s home, massage was linked to prostitution. Here is was a licensed career.
Heidi, his new fling, was ALR- Area of Least Resistance. Older, chunkier, a bit saggy & certainly sun wrinkled. Apparently liked to drink & gamble. She must be fun in a way. Sue felt relieved she hadn’t been replaced by a fresher model. This was Bob refucking his College Glory Days.
She knew she didn’t feel good. She didn’t foresee having sex with him again and hoped he wouldn’t call her. She didn’t trust herself. After the last round, she’d transformed into a dominitrix. It took Bob a week to sit comfortably. Now, the attachment broke. Bob was just Bob. She was weary of confusion & longed for tenderness. Honoring. He just wasn’t who she thought he was, or who she needed him to be. She longed for a place of sunbeams, laughter & trust. Today she would find it.
information, truth, and/or hearsay. And? you might say, but how, if one thing is truth can it also be hearsay? legend, like Athena’s legs protruding from her father’s head, what truth is there in that? In short because the truth matters less than those porcelain legs.
i dont like to write reports. I dont like to speak about reports. I like to have an organized report, but dont like to report it. I often think they need to be well put together, neat and clear, as they really should be, but sometimes the pressure is too much and it becomes a hassle, THUS the hating of reports. News reports all sound the same. boring. monotone. meh.
boring
“Sir! They’re in!” Jeremiah Huntz scrambled from the bottom of the stairs to the well-lit office aria. Frazzled, the boy had had zoomed up the stairs in a frenzy. “Sir!”
who dares to report anything these days? nothing is believed truthfully. you can write anything about anyone and if ifs interesting enough you could be the worlds most popular or most hated man. today’s society is just messed up, man.
report to me
report to them
they have stacks on you
they know what you are doing
the sheets tell them everything
they make you ponder how
i wonder now
how they found out
found out about me and you
the man reported that the sky was indeed brown. and all was founded on a small light source made by god himself. this makes no sense to you of course, but you are not this reporter.
How funny that this word comes up. I’m back at school. That means reports, reports, and oh, yeah, a ton of reports. Academics are wonderful. College is a joy. Going to class, doing homework, spending 20 after 20 filling my gas tank.. I love it.
Reports! Where were the damn reports?!?
We’d spent months compiling the date, typing up succinct and meaningful reports and then, an hour before the hearing, nobody knew where the reports were.
That’s why you stay in school and get a good job and not one in public service!
No sé que voy a reportar dentro de unos años. Me han reguntado varias veces en donde me quiero encontrar dentro de 10 años. Me han dicho que eso es muy útil para mejorar mi vida. Pero no he sabido contestar esta pregunta. No lo sé. Y todo lo que me invento parece tanto menos de lo que me puede ofrecer la vida misma.
The reports came in. Nervous, I picked them up and stared at the front cover, terrified at what they may hold. I shuffled the papers, trying to calm my trembling hands; alas, nothing could stop the shaking. Not even opening the reports to find that all my fears were in vain, to find that I was worried about nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Never.
report report report report.
No. I said. I don’t want to report to you today. you or anyone else for that matter.
??>>….Why not? It asked.
Becuase my reports are always boring to me. I know what’s going to be in them before i write them. BecAUSE THEY are my reports. I know it. I write it. So why don’t you write the fucking report for a change?
Ok. It said. And wrote this.
END OF REPORT.
the snow reports estimated that there was going to be a lot of snow. well they were right about that. now i am angry because at this time i should have been done with my midterms, but i had a stupid snow day so NOW i wont be done until tomorrow. i have two midterms left. but once they are done i’ll be a second semester senior. i sure cant wait for that. it is going to be the best time of my life.
grades. school. bad things. good things. people. criminal records. we need more. this is a bad topic. reports make you cry. reports about us. reporters! i’m a reporter. this is fun. reprots
i thought of report cards. school. writing right now makes me think of school, probably because I am in school. right now! weather report. what’s the weather? i hope it’s warm. I am wearing shorts and sandals. I will report back to you.
He reports that he’s not feeling well, to the group. No one cares about his damn pain in his head, his aching teeth, the contents of his sinuses. I just want to scream at him to shut up and let us talk about something more interesting, more important and not so disgusting.
reports. they remind me of offices, of cubicles, of mundane things, of unhappy things. I like writing reports though. It brings a sense of calm and a sense of establishment – something solid that makes sense. There is such a thing as a good report and a bad report. In the important things in life, happiness and love – there is no such distinguish
How we tire of.
I hate writing reports. It is exhausting and time consuming. No one enjoys that, especially when the topic is predetermined. Reports make life suck momentarily. I hate writing reports.
I am reporting the failure of the procedure to emancipate the childish rebellion of the hipsters. They are taking over the place, may the reports we are given be a legacy that we tried our best.
“Well, the findings are conclusive.” I said, my eye-line just above the page. He squirmed in his seat.
“And?” He asked after the growing silence grew too long.
“It appears I’m stupidly in love with you.” I sighed.
I placed the document back into the folder.
“You really needed to read a report just know that?”
“Yeah. I’m kind of thorough in these little life details.”