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Need Obscure Movie References for Schoolwork...


Maxx
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So my writing Professor said to take chances when writing, so I've decided to do just that. Our assignment is to write an autobiography and as my life has not been particularly interesting, I'm pumping it full of events that didn't really happen, just to see how many obscure movie refrences I can fit into a paper.

So I need some suggestions on what events I should mention. Currently I need one involving the ocean, they shouldn't be too totally unbelivable as I also want to see how many people will actually believe this stuff happened to me.

Currently I'm planning on including references to:

The Wizard

The Warriors

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Obviously I need more...

Here's my introduction

It was only until very recently that I could actually call my life interesting.  Then again, I’m not sure I can even call it interesting now.  Recently I came across a string of memories I may well have forgotten, although I can’t really be sure about that.  It’s a recurring theme in my life, confusion, that is.  Never sure which way I wanted to go, more interested in why I couldn’t decide.  Anyways, as earlier stated I can’t be sure these new memories are mine at all, but treating them as anything less seems entirely disrespectful. So I refuse to distinguish between the truths and fallacies that may exist in the following autobiography, no matter how irreverent they may seem.  After all, as far as I know, they’re all real. 
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Steal the scene from the 'End of Evangelion' movie where Shinji masturbates over Asuka's comotose body...

:pinch:

But seriously, I'm intregued - just what or how are you going to steal from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory?!

I can't think of any movies involving the ocean which aren't, y'know, disaster movies...or involving family deaths that might be a little difficult to explain.

Unless, of course, you feel up to befriending a killer whale and leading him to freedom...

Edited by stokeriño
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The Paper:

It was only until very recently that I could actually call my life interesting.  Then again, I’m not sure I can even call it interesting now.  Recently I came across a string of memories I may well have forgotten, although I can’t really be sure about that.  It’s a recurring theme in my life, confusion, that is.  Never sure which way I wanted to go, more interested in why I couldn’t decide.  Anyways, as earlier stated I can’t be sure these new memories are mine at all, but treating them as anything less seems entirely disrespectful. So I refuse to distinguish between the truths and fallacies that may exist in the following autobiography, no matter how irreverent they may seem.  After all, as far as I know, they’re all real. 

To start, I was in born in Westerly, Rhode Island, on Valentines Day, which is of course a celebration of all things love, or if you’re involved in the mob, a good time to murder a rival gang en masse.  My birth was followed by a fairly normal childhood, which involved a brief period of residence in the state of Maine.  It was there I first heard the legends of a hidden treasure of a certain one-eyed pirate.  Finding said treasure became my primary objective for the next several months.  Eventually a group was formed to hunt for the treasure; it was comprised of me and some neighborhood friends.  A thrilling adventure followed and aside for a huge underground cavern, not much was actually found.  We feigned disappointment however, discovering that, as one friend put it, “Even though we came home empty handed, we still have our stories of battle scars, pirate ships and wounded hearts, broken bones and all the best of friendships.”  It’s a quote I found great meaning in and one that I use to sum up my entire experience in Maine.  I left my quaint and happy life in Maine as I entered my teenage years.  The next stop on my journey was the Big Apple itself, New York City. 

Following a job transfer, my father moved the family down the east coast and into a big city lifestyle that was the polar opposite of the one we had just enjoyed.  I suppose I can blame the culture shock for what came next, or maybe it was just the rebellious teenage spirit, either way my actions were quite unusual.  After a few months in New York, I joined a street gang.  It seemed like the best way to say safe on the mean streets, but looking back it was probably one of the more dangerous decisions I’d ever made.  I never had the stomach or the tolerance for the violence that was committed by the other gangs and my fellow Fifth Street Bombers knew it.  I was soon dismissed from the gang, but not before a vicious encounter with a rival gang.  This particular gang were big fans of baseball, as evident by the uniforms they wore and the bats they carried.  My former gang managed to fend them off, but not before one of their bats caught me square in the face.  The broken nose I received was more than enough to convince my parents that it was time for another move.

My father found a new job with the United States Coast Guard Academy and the family was soon moved back to my birthplace of Westerly, Rhode Island.  I was enrolled into the local high school, where I found I had a flair for journalism and began writing for the school paper.  It was probably the same teenage spirit that drove me to join a gang that was responsible for getting me into all sorts of trouble while working for the paper.  Whether it was being kicked out of a school trip to a Chocolate Factory I was covering, for drinking out a river of the stuff or nearly getting my teacher fired for telling the news our principle was unfairly censoring articles, I never had a dull moment on the paper.  As quickly as my high school days began, they seemed to end, as graduation snuck up on me just like it does every high school student.  Of course before I graduated I had to start planning for college.  Although my original transcript was mistaken for someone else’s, I did eventually get accepted to Rhode Island College.  Graduation came and went and beaming with pride I entered my final summer before college.  Although not as exciting as searching for treasure or being caught up in gang violence, the summer still had some great moments.  Where can you find another person who can say they took over an abandoned summer camp with fifty of their closest friends?  No where.

That about concludes the events that helped me become the person I am today.  Looking back I suppose it’s just as interesting of a life as anyone has had.  After all, I’ve got my stories of battle scars, pirate ships and wounded hearts.  I’ve broken bones and had the best of friendships, but I can never say I came up empty handed.

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