This had me laughing out loud.  Here are some excerpts from fiction written by high school students. 

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Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other
sides gently compressed by a thigh master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

He spoke with wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy
who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

She grew on him like E. coli and he was room temperature Canadian
beef.

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

Her vocabulary was as bad, as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six foot three inch tree.

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.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a
bowling ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.

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 on at 7 pm instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped up off the pavement, just like maggots when you
fry them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star crossed lovers raced across a
Grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, on having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that
resemble Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had
also never met.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the
east river.

Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil,
This plan just might work.

"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a
college freshman on $1-a-beer night.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but
a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a landmine
or something.

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

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids with power
tools.

He was deeply in love when she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as
if she were a garbage truck backing up.

She was as easy as the TV guide crossword.

Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in
any pH cleanser.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to
the wall.

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I just wish I could write like that.  Can you imagine a whole novel written in this style?

Bump.  C'mon -- ain't this funny?

They are funny, in context though I think a few of them would work in actual books

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a hefty bag filled
with vegetable soup.

Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only
one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

She was as easy as the TV guide crossword.

But then again I'm into modern and meta literature where sometimes the descriptions are redicilously blunt for style reasons, like books such as The Crying of Lot 49.

On the whole though teenagers are always REALLY heavy with description because their storylines suck and they need something to cover it up.