Why did I feel the need to put anything I was writing on a clipboard? Is it made official if it can’t fall off its backing? Is it more adult-like if there’s a pen attached? I wonder how ingenious the guy who first thought up the invention felt. Oh, look. I can make this paper easier to write on. So simple, but perfect.
clip board, teachers, first grade, mrs. countryman used to have one and have words in red on the back of her classroom that were words that didn’t sound the same as they were spelled. “the” was one of the words. i got in trouble i that class for coloring a bingo board with orange crayon.
I had my aunts clipboard. She gave it to me when I was working a currier job for her. It had some fill-in sheets on it. I left it in my car. Actually, I guess it was the office clipboard. Anyway. Id don’t have that car anymore.
Her fingernails clacked against the clipboard as she took notes about my face.
“Nose, check, lips, check. What’s wrong with your eyes?”
She looked suddenly inquisitive.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
So I walked around the room with my clipboard, checking off beside each child’s name whether she had or had not done her homework. It was irrelevant, really. By the time I had to give them a grade, I knew, beyond whether they did their homework, if they got it or not.
a clipboard is a very useful office tool and probably one of the most important inventions over the years. It is also one of the most popular and global items that is used anywherr.
So I walked around the room with my clipboard, checking off beside each child’s name whether they had or had not done their homework. It was irrelevant, really. By the time I had to give them a grade, I knew, beyond whether they did their homework, if they got it or not.
A clipboard is where you clip notes, documents, and other things. You can stick tacks into it and stick nails into it. You can use it to display things you never want to lose, such as medals, awards, etc. A clipboard is for memories you want to show off.
lists and lists and lists of items. check this one off, check that one off. there are no items that go unchecked. wait a minute, what’s this one over here. is there a problem with my list? is there a problem with this chart?
The sky was blue, as the small wooden object fell from the sky. The object was not a mean object. It was a clipboard, and had been falling for years. A bird passed, blue of plumage, and white of face. It looked confused. Then the board whacked its head, and that was that.
She quickly tapped her clipboard. She stood disappointed and worried. My eyes ravaged her. her luscious curves, slender figure, blooming bust – I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
My clipboard is stalked full of notes.
Notes of distaste and hatred.
I throw it in disgust.
I organized my dreams only to let them collapse on top of me.
I sure am lucky to live here. This co-op takes such good care of us. My stepdad used to make fun of the president, who ran around in her bathrobe with a stack of papers and a pencil. But she was always there to look out for us. She cared, and in turn, we cared.
She carried a clipboard with her
Everywhere she went
Writing down notes
Joting down lines
Making up stories as she went
She noticed the details
Of every curtain, door, window
She could list off every dress
She had ever worn
And tell you what shoes she wore
Each time
But she could not tell you
What was inside her heart
Or how she would be able
To start again
I am annoyed at the thought of CLIPBOARD. I think I would be annoyed at the thought of anything at this point. Nothing is working and why should it? Why do I think things should work. I am frustrated and it shows in my typing. My coachy friends would say SHIFT and right now, all I can say is.. shut up and let me vent.
Incredibly, I didn’t have a clue as to what i was supposed to do. Usually i just push the blue button and everything just sort of…happens.
A clipboard huh?
This is a new one.
I give it a tentative poke.
Nothing.
Snap the handle up and let it drop back.
Nothing.
“Don’t think about it,” said Wormwood as I had wondered through Hell. “The less you think about it, the better.”
I tried not thinking about ‘it’ but just found that all I could think of was exactly ‘it’.
I tossed it into the corner with the hope that disinterest would spark the Orb to function.
Nothing.
I was stuck again. At least i’m not in Hell anymore.
She starred at the clipboard. WORK. MORE WORK. Work work work work. She’d gotten used to it by now- that was office life. The same old mundane thing everyday- but did she dare to dream? No, it would mean a step out of that comforting routine, and she did not want that, ever. Dreams were for foolish people.
my graddpa gave me a clip board when I was little. I never thought much about it but it was made of wood. I love the different shades of wood next to each other and it is so beautiful to look at. I still have it and I hate to put paper on it!
The dancers look at you disdainfully when you tell them to do anything. The actors run around screaming all the time. The set falls on someone’s head. The lights aren’t working. The director is screaming in your ear.
Oh the life of the Stage Manager with her little useless clipboard.
best invention ever. try writing on paper on some think carpet. sucks doesnt it? well grow a brain and clip that son of a biscuit eater to a clipboard. fascination.
holds you down..
there’s no going back
you only have one chance to make this
to make this last second
last.
there’s no way out
a metal lock
holding you to the ground
no escape.
and you can’t find a way out
because
there is none.
holds you to the ground and there’s
sbsolutely no escape.
there’s no way that you
could ever
find a way to break free from it
and it just holds you there
with a metal stare
and breathes into you.
you are stuck
the
end.
She attached the page to a clipboard that was filled with other similar forms from the endless barrage of people who were hoping to get a chance to be picked
the clipboard lay abanadoned on the small table. the paper on it had been scribbled on enough that it was impossible to see the message that had been inscribed upon it originally. a broken pencil lay next to it, the yellow paint chipped…
I like to go to high school sports games with a clipboard and a D1 college hat. They play harder under pressure.
Why did I feel the need to put anything I was writing on a clipboard? Is it made official if it can’t fall off its backing? Is it more adult-like if there’s a pen attached? I wonder how ingenious the guy who first thought up the invention felt. Oh, look. I can make this paper easier to write on. So simple, but perfect.
clip board, teachers, first grade, mrs. countryman used to have one and have words in red on the back of her classroom that were words that didn’t sound the same as they were spelled. “the” was one of the words. i got in trouble i that class for coloring a bingo board with orange crayon.
words pens ink yellow paper school yuk brow paper warm comforting mood meaning
I had my aunts clipboard. She gave it to me when I was working a currier job for her. It had some fill-in sheets on it. I left it in my car. Actually, I guess it was the office clipboard. Anyway. Id don’t have that car anymore.
Her fingernails clacked against the clipboard as she took notes about my face.
“Nose, check, lips, check. What’s wrong with your eyes?”
She looked suddenly inquisitive.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
So I walked around the room with my clipboard, checking off beside each child’s name whether she had or had not done her homework. It was irrelevant, really. By the time I had to give them a grade, I knew, beyond whether they did their homework, if they got it or not.
a clipboard is a very useful office tool and probably one of the most important inventions over the years. It is also one of the most popular and global items that is used anywherr.
So I walked around the room with my clipboard, checking off beside each child’s name whether they had or had not done their homework. It was irrelevant, really. By the time I had to give them a grade, I knew, beyond whether they did their homework, if they got it or not.
hold papers. cute. happy
A clipboard is where you clip notes, documents, and other things. You can stick tacks into it and stick nails into it. You can use it to display things you never want to lose, such as medals, awards, etc. A clipboard is for memories you want to show off.
lists and lists and lists of items. check this one off, check that one off. there are no items that go unchecked. wait a minute, what’s this one over here. is there a problem with my list? is there a problem with this chart?
uh
The sky was blue, as the small wooden object fell from the sky. The object was not a mean object. It was a clipboard, and had been falling for years. A bird passed, blue of plumage, and white of face. It looked confused. Then the board whacked its head, and that was that.
he threw the clipboard angrilly across the room!!! “WHAT THE FUCK” he screamed, “THIS DATA IS ALL WRONG”!!!!!
She clutched her clipboard to her chest as she looked out at the job site she had to inspect. Just looking at all the men made her sweat.
She quickly tapped her clipboard. She stood disappointed and worried. My eyes ravaged her. her luscious curves, slender figure, blooming bust – I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
What I hold here are thoughts that can’t fly free. What I write is on the hard surface. Loose leafs are too costly and return to air to quickly.
clipped my finger, bleep on my notes.not like them.
My clipboard is stalked full of notes.
Notes of distaste and hatred.
I throw it in disgust.
I organized my dreams only to let them collapse on top of me.
I sure am lucky to live here. This co-op takes such good care of us. My stepdad used to make fun of the president, who ran around in her bathrobe with a stack of papers and a pencil. But she was always there to look out for us. She cared, and in turn, we cared.
She carried a clipboard with her
Everywhere she went
Writing down notes
Joting down lines
Making up stories as she went
She noticed the details
Of every curtain, door, window
She could list off every dress
She had ever worn
And tell you what shoes she wore
Each time
But she could not tell you
What was inside her heart
Or how she would be able
To start again
I am annoyed at the thought of CLIPBOARD. I think I would be annoyed at the thought of anything at this point. Nothing is working and why should it? Why do I think things should work. I am frustrated and it shows in my typing. My coachy friends would say SHIFT and right now, all I can say is.. shut up and let me vent.
Incredibly, I didn’t have a clue as to what i was supposed to do. Usually i just push the blue button and everything just sort of…happens.
A clipboard huh?
This is a new one.
I give it a tentative poke.
Nothing.
Snap the handle up and let it drop back.
Nothing.
“Don’t think about it,” said Wormwood as I had wondered through Hell. “The less you think about it, the better.”
I tried not thinking about ‘it’ but just found that all I could think of was exactly ‘it’.
I tossed it into the corner with the hope that disinterest would spark the Orb to function.
Nothing.
I was stuck again. At least i’m not in Hell anymore.
She starred at the clipboard. WORK. MORE WORK. Work work work work. She’d gotten used to it by now- that was office life. The same old mundane thing everyday- but did she dare to dream? No, it would mean a step out of that comforting routine, and she did not want that, ever. Dreams were for foolish people.
Orihime looked at her husband’s notes on the clipboard. Always busy, she thought as she flipped through the pages.
Underneath a medical report, was a picture of them kissing under a redwood tree.
Orihime swooned, always busy, she thought.
clip boards are nice. clippy and shiny!
When he looked at the clipboard, there it was. The name of the man who he’d always supposed was his father.
But as the clipboard indicated, his father was a prisoner of war for the year leading up to his birth.
Leaving him with the question, ‘Who is my father?’
my graddpa gave me a clip board when I was little. I never thought much about it but it was made of wood. I love the different shades of wood next to each other and it is so beautiful to look at. I still have it and I hate to put paper on it!
he read the names off the clipboard he was holding in his hand and everyone waited to see if they made it.
The dancers look at you disdainfully when you tell them to do anything. The actors run around screaming all the time. The set falls on someone’s head. The lights aren’t working. The director is screaming in your ear.
Oh the life of the Stage Manager with her little useless clipboard.
best invention ever. try writing on paper on some think carpet. sucks doesnt it? well grow a brain and clip that son of a biscuit eater to a clipboard. fascination.
df
holds you down..
there’s no going back
you only have one chance to make this
to make this last second
last.
there’s no way out
a metal lock
holding you to the ground
no escape.
and you can’t find a way out
because
there is none.
paper
keeps you, you. protects you from losing yourself, getting lost and never being grounded or cliped to safety NEVER AGAIN!!!
keeps you, you. protects you from losing yourself, getting lost and never being grounded or cliped to safety NEVER AGAIN!!!
holds you to the ground and there’s
sbsolutely no escape.
there’s no way that you
could ever
find a way to break free from it
and it just holds you there
with a metal stare
and breathes into you.
you are stuck
the
end.
She attached the page to a clipboard that was filled with other similar forms from the endless barrage of people who were hoping to get a chance to be picked
the clipboard lay abanadoned on the small table. the paper on it had been scribbled on enough that it was impossible to see the message that had been inscribed upon it originally. a broken pencil lay next to it, the yellow paint chipped…