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Students' Bad Analogies

When she tried to sing, it sounded like a walrus giving birth to farm equipment.

Her eyes twinkled, like the moustache of a man with a cold.

She was like a magnet: Attractive from the back, repulsive from the front.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room temperature Canadian beef.

She had him like a toenail stuck in a shag carpet.

The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

Her eyes were like the stars, not because they twinkle, but because they were so far apart.

His career was blowing up like a man with a broken metal detector walking through an active minefield.

The sun was below the watery horizon, like a diabetic grandma easing into a warm salt bath.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes at a 7:00 p.m. Instead of 7:30.

It was as easy as taking candy from a diabetic man who no longer wishes to eat candy.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes before it throws up.

Their love burned with the fiery intensity of a urinary tract infection.

It's basically an illusion and no different than if I were to imagine something else, like Batman riding a flying toaster.

If it was any colder, it would be like being in a place that's a little colder than it is here.

Joy fills her heart like a silent but deadly fart fills a room with no windows.

The bird flew gracefully into the air like a man stepping on a landmine in zero gravity.

He felt confused. As confused as a homeless man on house arrest.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.