Finding a Hobby but Making it a Bigger Deal than it Actually is: Part 2

Colleen Brownley, Editor-in-Chief

In my last part I outlined five hobbies I had sworn to complete within the next installment of the paper, that did not happen. Instead, I procrastinated. A whole lot. I can’t remember if it was months, or perhaps years, since the first volume of ‘Finding a Hobby, But Making It a Bigger Deal Than It Is,’ but either way, it is safe to say that this had been long awaited. Well, maybe not for you guys, but Mrs. Chernow has been waiting a while.

Ping Pong
A few months ago, while traversing the cryptic labyrinth that is Walmart, I came across the most glorious sight known to man, a portable ping pong kit. Instantly a flashback sequence, set to “O Fortuna,” played in my mind. I remembered my father defeating me again and again at this breathtaking sport. I knew what I had to do, so I purchased the kit. I also had a riveting conversation with the cashier about how she used to play ping pong on a scholarship when she was in college back in her home country (I looked it up, America does not offer this wondrous opportunity for ping pong gods such as myself). Then, I rushed home. Once there, I played ping pong with my father over and over again, unrelenting in my insatiable hunger for the game. I beat him many times, settling my score from the past and finding an extremely fun hobby that I have enjoyed immensely since.

Geocaching proved to be more frustrating than I had assumed it would be. Over the course of my journey with this hobby I traveled and scrounged for not one, not two, but three geocaches. And I could not find a single one.I would like to convey to my devoted followers that I did not fail at geocaching, geocaching failed me. To assume otherwise is preposterous and makes you a rather big dumb dumb stupid head. However, despite the pitiful nature of geocaching, I have vowed to myself that this will be my noble quest for the rest of my life. I will find a geocache if it is the last thing I do. And once I do I will place the most prized of treasures inside, the mini-brands version of a Leanardo Ninja Turtle toy pictured above, and claim my own prize from within the box.

In my previous article I explained that I had swam with this particular shark of a hobby before. My baking skills have always been superb and with my equally impressive British accent I could most certainly join, and probably triumph in, The Great British Baking Show. Previously, all the recipes I had tried had involved the three classic c’s of baking: cookies, cake, or cupcakes, so this time I tried something different, Nutella brownies. It’s safe to say that my work was a success, Larry Brownley (who is definitely not my dad and rather a highly sought after food critic) said, “these are the best brownies I’ve ever had in my life Colleen.” Of course as a Michelin star grade chef, this was not the first time I’ve heard such praise, but I try to remain humble about my delectable, perfect creations.
Recipe used:

Now, I know what you’re thinking, Colleen with a knife? Who allowed that? No one, that’s who. In fact, my father, who thinks I will terribly mutilate myself everytime I’m within five feet of a toothpick, only let me perform this task with a very dull knife. Although, I don’t understand this decision because I was a master French swordsman named Jaques in a past life. I complied with it for the sake of the article. I whittled a heart, and as a break in character from this cocky, overconfident facade I have portrayed in this series, I will tell you it is the most ugly, pathetic heart to ever have been whittled. Now, as someone who can normally pick up things fairly quickly this really tickled my whiskers so to speak. There was a great deal of profanity involved in the creation of the shape and a series of events that led to me Googling ‘if woodchips get in your eyes, throat, lungs, and nasal track can you die?’ So, I did not enjoy whittling, but maybe I’ll try it again, and maybe one day I’ll be semi-good at it.

Flower Arranging
From the image pictured above, one can infer I’m exceptional at flower arranging. To find these wonderful plants, I galavanted around the meadow that is the Walmart bouquet selection, mixed and matched a few of the five dollar ones, and with a few flowers from my own backyard, I created a masterpiece. I also, rather unfortunately, do not know what my bouquet means in flower language, but I believe it is the intent behind the bouquet that means the most. And in my version of flower language, this bouquet means ‘Your mom’s ugly.’ Another point about flower arranging is that it is the perfect hobby if you are a person with absolutely no courting ability, or no game in other words. It’s the perfect gift to show someone you care and if you’re competing against another suitor for the hand of the object of your affection, if they bring a bouquet they bought, and you bring one you arranged, who is your love going to choose? I’ll give you a hint, you that’s who. Boom mic, dropped.