Do me like a crossword puzzle!
“Ah! My dear Watson! I do believe I’ve solved the riddle of my constant coldness! If you examine the evidence closely (and by “examining the evidence” I mean observing the result I obtained by taking my temperature every 30 minutes over the course of one day) you will see that my internal body temperature never rises above 97.8 degrees! Furthermore, Watson—you sexy beast, you—I have found that this internal temperature dropped below the hypothermia threshold (approximately 96.8 degrees) on twelve separate occasions!
“Now I know what you’re saying, Watson (you man-beef you, I want you in my bed chamber later): ‘Sir, your argument holds little water. I know, as you do, that body temperature varies from person to person. Your body’s average temperature may in fact be a significant amount lower than your peers, therefore rendering this ‘normal’ hypothermia threshold marking irrelevant. However, I do say that this lower temperature has no effect on your sexual urges.’
“Indeed,” I would say in response, “you are correct regarding my sexual urges. However, you fail to provide an adequate argument regarding your other points. I fail to recognize the idea that my body temperature would naturally be low enough to consider such a low temperature of, in one case, 94.7, as ‘normal’ and ‘healthy.’
He: “But sir, you are, as I recall, anemic.”
Me: “No longer! I have conquered the beast that is anemia months ago and it has remained conquered!”
He: “Ah! I see your brilliance now! May I recline now upon your floor and bid you to do what you wish of me!”
Me: “Oh-ho! I see you want more of what you got last night!”
Etc., etc.
So yeah. I’m a freaking hypothermic little weirdo.
El Dorado represented in Gaudy Golden Tree form
Oh my flipping god! I found the coolest tree at Goodwill today. Not kidding. Check it out:
It’s a bit hard to see, but you get the picture (haha).
I think I’ll name it Jesus.
A collage of colleges
Dangit, I’m never going to get off the west coast! And I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in a $200,000 debt (optimistically) by the time I’m 24. At least if I go to the top school in terms of a psychology department.
So I did a little research today (I’ll probably do more later) and came across a list of schools ranked by their psychology Ph.D. programs. Here are the top contenders (at least according to one list):
1. Stanford
2. University of Michigan—Ann Arbor
3. Harvard University
So I went to the Stanford website today and checked out the tuition. I saw the number $11,000 (rounded, of course) and I thought, “oh, that’s not TOO terribly bad.” And then I noticed that they do their thing in QUARTERS, meaning not $22,000 a year but $44,000 a year. Frick. And I don’t think I can get my Ph.D. in a year.
Ah…I’m screwed.
And don’t even ask me about Michigan or Harvard’s tuitions.
If a tree falls in the forest, can we still have sex later?
I was bored today. I mean, more than normal. Here we go with some more tests!
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
Haha, that rocks.
Sweet.
Presidential Pinball
I have come to two realizations over the past two days:
1. I have way too much time on my hands
2. Pinball takes on a whole new dimension of challenges when you’re playing it while embodying dead people.
In this case, as is always the case with me, it was the presidents that I embodied on a two-day quest to discover which ones were the best (and worst) at Pinball. And seeing as how the vast majority of these guys weren’t alive when Pinball was around, I’d say they did rather well.
Two notes, however. First off, I haven’t played Pinball in over three years, thus providing the excu—er, I mean, the answer to the general low scores produced. However, I must emphasize that the scores are still relevant to each other—if I were scoring in the ten millions, for example, Ford would still score just as many points less than Jackson as he did here. Second, no bias was involved in this. Seriously. I mean, did you see where that hack Jackson wound up? Blasphemy!
Well anyway…
Andrew Jackson 3,442,750
Grover Cleveland 3,141,500
James Earl Carter 2,501,500
Millard Fillmore 2,328,500
Martin Van Buren 2,318,500
Ulysses Simpson Grant 2,234,750
William McKinley 2,211,750
James Knox Polk 2,148,750
Benjamin Harrison 2,136,750
Lyndon Baines Johnson 1,855,000
Woodrow Wilson 1,772,500
Harry S Truman 1,757,750
Abraham Lincoln 1,745,250
Theodore Roosevelt 1,717,250
Warren Gamaliel Harding 1,708,500
John Fitzgerald Kennedy 1,700,500
James Madison 1,693,000
James Abram Garfield 1,661,000
William Henry Harrison 1,593,750
George Washington 1,467,500
Ronald Wilson Reagan 1,417,000
Zachary Taylor 1,411,750
William Jefferson Clinton 1,394,500
Calvin Coolidge 1,390,250
Dwight David Eisenhower 1,338,500
John Adams 1,311,500
Richard Milhous Nixon 1,284,750
John Quincy Adams 1,235,750
James Buchanan 1,215,750
Thomas Jefferson 1,198,500
George Herbert Walker Bush 1,056,250
George W. Bush 1,050,000 (ooh! So close, sonny!)
Franklin Delano Roosevelt 1,030,500
Chester Alan Arthur 989,000
John Tyler 849,250
Herbert Clark Hoover 839,750
Franklin Pierce 815,250
William Howard Taft 814,250
Andrew Johnson 806,250
Rutherford Birchard Hayes 782,750
James Monroe 758,500
Gerald Rudolph Ford 698,750
Through the internet, we all of us get to waste time filling out pointless surveys
Another fun little thing I found from a random website.
IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here’s how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
NO CHEATING
Opening Credits: Blizkrieg Bop, The Ramones (good song)
Waking Up: Soak Up the Sun, Sheryl Crow
First Day At School: They’re Coming To Take Me Away, Xiv Napoleon (this would better fit “mental breakdown,” but hey…still applicable)
Falling In Love: Collide, Howie Day
Fight Song: What’s Left of the Flag, Flogging Molly (kick-ass song!)
Breaking Up: It Wasn’t Me, Shaggy (ahahahaha…)
Prom: Away from Here, Mustard Plug (well, I didn’t really want to be there…)
Life’s OK: In The Mood, Glenn Miller
Mental Breakdown: I Want Candy, Bow Wow Wow (woo!)
Driving: Cool, Gwen Stefani
Flashback: Macho Man, Village People (hooray! I’ll have a flashback to being a MAN!)
Getting Back Together: Better Off, Ashlee Simpson
Wedding: Castles in the Sky, Ian Van Dahl & Marsha (funky song)
Birth of Child: Stars, TaTu
Final Battle: I’d Do Anything, Simple Plan
Death Scene: You Raise Me Up, Josh Groban (wow…love this one)
Funeral Song: Photograph, Nickleback
End Credits: Waterloo, ABBA
Argh! (not the pirate kind, either!)
I’m too damn emotional. Emotions are not rational. I like to be rational. I hate being emotional. Screw emotions.
But I’ve realized that no matter how off the charts I am in terms of being irrational with my emotions, I always get the job done.
And I get it done right, dammit.
I hate when I blog like this.
Stupid emotions. Who needs ’em?
Blog number 310: in which I discuss how awfully lame my name is
Today I found this little funky site. You could type in your name and get little doodads for it. Here we go! I just included the main part, cause, well, it’s sad:
You entered: Claudia Marie Mahler
There are 18 letters in your name.
Those 18 letters total to 82.
There are 9 vowels and 9 consonants in your name.
What your first name means:
-Spanish: Lame
-Latin: Lame
-German: Feminine of Claude (which means “intrepid!” Naw, I’m kidding. That would be cruel. It means “lame.”)
-French: A feminine form of Claud, a variant of the Latin Claudium meaning lame.
-English: Feminine of Claude (*cough*whichmeanslame*cough)
-Biblical: Lame
Your number is: 1
The characteristics of #1 are: Initiating action, pioneering, leading, independent, attaining, individual.
The expression or destiny for #1:
A number 1 Expression denotes the skilled executive with keen administrative capabilities. You must develop the capacity to be a fine leader, sales executive, or promoter. You have the tools to become an original person with a creative approach to problem solving, and a penchant for initiating action. Someone may have to follow behind you to handle the details, but you know how to get things going and make things happen. You have a good mind and the ability to use it for your advancement (hooray!). Because of these factors, you have much potential for achievement and financial rewards. Frequently, this expression belongs to one running a business or striving to achieve a level of accomplishment on ones talents and efforts. You have little need for much supervision, preferring to act on your own with little restraint (god, that’s true). You are both ambitious and determined. Self-confident and self-reliant must be yours, as you develop a strong unyielding will and the courage of your convictions.
Although you fear loneliness, you want to be left alone (YES). You fear routine and being in a rut. You often jump the gun because you are afraid of being left behind.
The negative attributes of the 1 Expression are egotism (*cough*) and a self-centered approach to life. This is an aggressive number and if it is over-emphasized it is very hard to live with. You do not have to be overly aggressive to fulfill your destiny. The 1 has a natural instinct to dominate and to be the boss; adhering to the concept of being number One. Again, you do not have to dominate and destroy in order to lead and manage.
So basically, I could be God if I try hard enough and get people named Matthew and Mark and such to write a book about me. Sweet.
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, I just did the Fandango (nearly killed me, too!)
My MySpace profile song…this is causing me about as much anguish as the font I use on MSN Messenger. “Why?” you say as you frantically check my profile page to see what strange song I have up today. “It’s just a song.”
Just a song? Just a song? No, my dear friends. It is not just a song. When you visit someone’s page and the song doesn’t appeal to you, do you mute it? I do. What if it’s just one of those mainstream pieces of crap? Muuuuuuuute.
I personally think that a profile song should be an extension of the person’s being. Don’t you?
So sue me if I can’t stay with a constant song. I have yet to find one on MySpace that matches with my personality.
Sure, if they had the Butt Song or KC & the Sunshine Band’s “Shake Your Booty” on there, hell yes, I’d have a song!
But they don’t.
So I’m stuck.
Waiter! There’s a quadriplegic in my Jazzercise class!
What’s up with me and the quadriplegic/paraplegic jokes? Anyway, down to business!*
*none of this should be taken seriously. Seriously.
An Exposition on Paleontology In Which Several Points Must Be Made
Point 1: In Which Is Written A Strongly-Worded Letter To Jack London
Dear Mr. London,
Having just read your short story “To Build a Fire,” I have several questions regarding the coldness of the territory in which your character, “the man,” was wandering about.
Repeated six times in 11 pages is some variation of the phrase, “it was cold.” Your exact words are:
“It certainly was cold, he concluded”,
“Once in a while the thought reiterated itself that it was very cold”,
“It certainly was cold”,
“It certainly was cold, was his thought”,
“There was no mistake about it, it was cold”, and
“It certainly was cold, was his thought”.
On completion of this story I found that there might be some confusion over whether or not it was cold in this Alaskan territory. Other readers and I would benefit greatly if you were to state clearly—on multiple occasions, perhaps, even repeating yourself—how cold it actually was (that is, if it was cold at all).
Thank you in advance,
Sir Isaac Newton (not that one, a different one).
Point 2: In Which The Riddle Of The Double-Dream-Marriage To William Shatner Is Discussed
Dear Brain,
It has come to my attention that you, on more occasions than one, have found it rather humorous to have me marry William Shatner in my dreams. This has occurred now both in the months of February and March.
While William Shatner is indeed a dignified character, and while we both share several similar activities and hobbies, such as appearing in Kellog’s All-Bran cereal commercials on the side (thank you, Wikipedia), I do feel it is time for a change.
I would appreciate it, my dear Brain, if you would delve into the past a bit, and conjure up images of Voltaire, Descartes, or Locke. Seeing as how Voltaire is the only man who dared show a smirk in his portraits, I would prefer him.
Oh Brain, how I wish for Voltaire in my dreams tonight.
Thank you in advance,
Me (you know me, don’t you?).
Point 3: In Which My Severe Aversion To Romanticism And My Longing To Return To The Study Of The Enlightenment Is Discussed
Dear English Department,
While I realize how necessary it is to delve into all forms and time periods of English literature, I do strongly recommend that we return to the study of the Enlightenment. It is so much more intriguing and enchanting than Romanticism. While Frankenstein’s creation and Rousseau’s raunchy “Confessions” do it for some, others, like myself, prefer the wit of Voltaire and the steady reasoning logic of Descartes.
Please see Point 2 above, disregarding the first part about Mr. Shatner.
Thank you in advance,
Some Random Student.
Book? Sale! (this is boring and short. Why waste your time? Read yesterday’s blog instead!)
Today I got a hardback, three paperbacks (one was the DSM-IV-R, which is huge), and three audio books for a total of $7. Then I bought a lottery ticket for $3 and won $15. Total net gain: $5. I feel special.
Not much else, today.
Possibly the most unintentionally sexually-answered survey ever. Seriously.
A little fun survey I found! Read on if you…just read on.
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question.
NO CHEATING…
1. What does next year have in store for me?
“Only Time” by Enya (haha…that’s pretty funny, seeing as how next year is basically measured by time…wait, does this imply free time? And that I’ll have even more of it! Dear god! How will the world survive?)
2. What does my love life look like?
“Cuckoo in the Heart of the Woods” by Camille Saint-Saens (hahahaha…..aaaaaahahahaha…haha…wow. That’s sad.)
3. What do I say when life gets hard?
“It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi (semi-accurate, actually)
4. What do I think when I get up in the morning?
“Never Had a Dream Come True” by S Club 7 (I’ve never had a dream come true cause my damn alarm clock wakes me up just before the good part, which usually involves me marrying William Shatner/killing people through Millard Fillmore/becoming a man)
5. What song will I dance to at my wedding?
“Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot (oh dear god!)
6. What do you want as a career?
“Frontier Psychiatrist” by The Avalanches (seriously, I got this one! My Shuffle called it!)
7. What’s your favorite saying?
“Give Up The Funk (Tear the Roof off the Sucker) by Parliament (I swear to god I got this. This is the most hilarious thing ever. I’m laughing my butt off at the moment)
8. Favorite place?
“Dancing Queen” by ABBA (well, I DO enjoy dancing, even though I’m horrible at it
9. What do you think of your parents?
“What’s Love Got To Do with It” (haha)
10. Where would you go on a first date?
“MmmBop” by Hanson (no, I’m not ashamed I have this song! I can take the criticism! Plus, this “MmmBop” might be some sort of sexual thing, and that would leave me better off than if I got, say, “Copacabana” or something. So take that!)
11. Drug of choice?
“Lose My Breath” by Destiny’s Child (so…strangulation/choking/eating too many marshmallows at once/something really sexual? Are those drugs?)
12. Describe yourself:
“I Get Around” by the Beach Boys (hahahaha…)
13. What is the thing you like doing most?
“Youth of the Nation” by P.O.D. (OMG pedophilia!)
14. The song that best describes the president?
“Stupid Girls” by Pink (oh man…this may be the funniest and most accurate (except for question above) survey I’ve ever taken…)
15. What is my state of mind like at the moment?
“Whenever, Wherever” by Shakira (more sexual innuendo!)
16. How will I die?
“Love in an Elevator” by Aerosmith (most accurate yet, I’d say)
Oh man…I’m laughing so hard I think I’m going to have a seizure. Best. Survey. Ever.
Overcompensating with two anniversaries at once due to a miscount
Now we’re up to nine months of this. The years’ll just fly by, won’t they? Wait…
May-June: 1 month
June-July: 2 months
July-August: 3 months
August-September: 4 months
September-October: 5 months
October-November: 6 months
November-December: 7 months
December-January: 8 months
January-February: 9 months…
February-March: 10? 10 Months?
Dammit! I miscounted somewhere! It’s the 10th month now! 10 months of this! Where the hell did I miscount?!
Give me a second here (this is a live blog!)…
-I had eight months written for February…that’s wrong.
-January: “I’m not even keeping track anymore, dangit.” (Liar!)
-December: 7. Ha! That’s correct!
Stupid January had me messed up. But I’m not going back to change it cause that’s just the way it is. I’m changing the title to “Overcompensating with Two Anniversaries at Once Due to a Miscount.” Or I could just title it as “Florida does Blogging” but I feel that is too subtle for many. Is that too subtle?
10 months yay.
“We have reached critical mass, captain!”
What’s up with this? Everything’s coming to a milestone lately. “Lately” meaning in the last week, especially today. Here’s a little timeline for y’all:
-I reach 300 blog posts (February 24th)
-I reach 100 (101, actually) wall posts on Aneel’s Facebook (February 25th)
-I reach 100 wall posts on my Facebook (yesterday, thanks Matt!)
-I reach 1,000 profile views (today)
-I reach 3,000 blog views (today, and right now we’re at 3,012)
-I reach 1,000 songs on my iPod (today)
-I reach my 9-month MySpace anniversary (tomorrow, assuming I don’t die in the meantime)
Like I said, what’s up with this? It’s like some cosmic syzygy, only on earth and without planets lining up.
Or something like that.
Waiter! There’s a Creationist in my Primordial Soup!
I don’t know what’s up with the presidents lately. Must be a new phase. Anyway, here’s this thing with the zodiacs, assassination attempts, and why Aquarians are basically screwed if they become president. I’ve done this before, but I don’t think I’ve ever put out an entire list of the presidents and their zodiac signs. So pick either your favorite presidents or your zodiac sign, and get to it! Damn you Capricorns for taking Millard Fillmore!
Assassination Key of Fun!
* Assassination attempt
** Successful assassination
George Washington: Pisces
John Adams: Scorpio
Thomas Jefferson: Aries
James Madison: Pisces
James Monroe: Taurus
John Quincy Adams: Cancer
Andrew Jackson: Pisces*
Martin Van Buren: Sagittarius
William Henry Harrison: Aquarius
John Tyler: Aries
James K Polk: Scorpio
Zachary Taylor: Sagittarius
Millard Fillmore: Capricorn
Franklin Pierce: Sagittarius
James Buchanan: Taurus
Abraham Lincoln: Aquarius**
Andrew Johnson: Capricorn
Ulysses S Grant: Taurus
Rutherford B Hayes: Libra
James A Garfield: Scorpio**
Chester A Arthur: Libra
Grover Cleveland: Pisces
Benjamin Harrison: Leo
William McKinley: Aquarius**
Theodore Roosevelt: Scorpio*
William Howard Taft: Virgo
Woodrow Wilson: Capricorn
Warren G Harding: Scorpio
Calvin Coolidge: Cancer
Herbert Hoover: Leo
Franklin D Roosevelt: Aquarius*
Harry S Truman: Taurus*
Dwight D Eisenhower: Libra
John F Kennedy: Gemini* *
Lyndon B Johnson: Virgo
Richard M Nixon: Capricorn
Gerald R Ford: Cancer* *
Ronald Reagan: Aquarius*
George Bush: Gemini*
Bill Clinton: Leo* *
Of those that were assassinated/almost assassinated, there was/were:
1 Taurus
2 Geminis
2 Cancers
1 Leo
1 Libra
2 Scorpios
4 Aquarians (WTF??)
1 Pisces
I love how there were no assassination attempts until Jackson came along. I also love how all Aquarians were assassinated/almost assassinated save one (William Henry Harrison, but honestly, who gives a crap about William Henry Harrison?).
Just a bit of fun for you all.
MySpace AND Facebook profiles updated!
Here ya go. I haven’t touched either one in quite some time (meaning, I haven’t changed things around). Have some fun. Comment on my blogs, please. I like that. A lot.
The Ranking of the Presidents!
HAHA! I’m actually doing this within a week of President’s Day. And for my 301st blog post. Pretty damn good, if you ask me.
Here is my official ranking of the Presidents, according to my own dorky opinion.
It basically goes: best presidents à presidents who didn’t do anything à bad presidents à really crappy presidents à Bush
Enjoy!
Millard Fillmore
Hell yes! Of COURSE Millard Fillmore, “The American Lois Philippe,” tops my list. Wow, M.F. rocks my world. He totally owned the Compromise of 1850 and preserved peace for a little longer in order to delay war. Wow…Millard Fillmore, you can manifest my destiny any day.
George Washington
When I was younger, I used to have a thing for George Washington. I don’t really know why. He was basically like the first waffl—before the first waffle (bear with me, here: it’s crappy analogy time), no one knew quite how to make waffles, or how to go about eating them. The first waffle, however, proved as a template for all future waffles, in both the process of making them and eating them. America watched as George Washington was made, and then ate him.
Or something like that.
It worked out in my head.
But yeah. Go George!
Thomas Jefferson
Thomas Jefferson rocks. He just rocks. He doubled the size of the United States with the Louisiana Purchase, advocated the separation of church and state (he got this from Locke, I believe), and he was basically a total Renaissance man. Plus, he flippin’ DRAFTED THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. I love you, Thomas Jefferson.
Theodore Roosevelt
Woo! Roosevelt! This awesome guy gets an automatic fourth from me, just cause the documentary I saw on him was very interesting and he seemed like a very cool guy. Truly an excellent, excellent president. Where’s this guy when we need him today?
Abraham Lincoln
Woo! Lincoln! Oregon voted for him! He did a rather spiffy job of dealing with the Civil War, both during and after. Too bad he didn’t hear that the play got bad reviews.
Harry S. Truman
Poor Truman. He gets stuck with the bomb. Then the Soviet Union. I feel sorry for this dude…no one liked him until his terms were over. WTF, United States? WTF. Alaska and Hawaii are blameless.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Hurrah for the New Deal! Hurrah for the liberal judge packing of the Supreme Court! Hurrah for the dealing with of Pearl Harbor, save the internment camps! I like this guy. He did pretty well in his dealings with the Depression. Too bad his middle name wasn’t “Delanor” instead of “Delano” though, cause then we’d have an “Eleanor Delanor Roosevelt” and that would be awesome.
Ulysses S. Grant
Ah, I love Grant. He’s a man’s man. He smoked like hell, fought a bunch of guys in the Civil War (not to mention he accepted Lee’s surrender at Appomattox), and enjoyed scandals in office (Whiskey Ring fun!). Proof that, if you gain power, you should not select your moron friends to be your cohorts.
Thomas Woodrow Wilson
You’ve gotta watch the hell out for a guy whose nickname is “Schoolmaster in Politics.” He was all, “No child labor, bitch!” and “No more Manifest Destiny fun! Get your butts in line, America!” and “Oh damn, a war.” He proposed a League of Nations, which failed, but got the Nobel Peace Prize for it, anyway. He was rather productive. An ‘A’ for you, W. Wilson.
William Howard Taft
Taft had to follow Teddy Roosevelt—not an easy task. He did rather well, though, and I don’t think he ever got caught in the bathtub for too long. Have you seen this guy? A school bus! His nickname was “Big Lub,” which is enough right there to push him higher on my list.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy
Ugh, I’m gonna stay away from this one due to sheer fear that I’m going to insult someone (I mean, even more so than normal. This presidency’s like a loaded canon). I will say one thing though—I find it rather funny that Lee Harvey Oswald gets a big “oh no you DIDN’T” in prison by being shot by Jack Ruby. I guess little Ruby thought, “hey, I’m already in prison, and this guy shot the prez!”
William Jefferson Clinton
Lemme tell you something…for all the crap Clinton’s gotten for the whole Monica Lewinsky thing, he’s been the one break in this Republican insanity that my peers and I have been experiencing for our entire lives (mid- to late-Reagan administration to Bush II now). Yes, his personal life sucked, but he was a good president. And I find it sad that we’ve decided to judge him almost solely on his personal life.
James Knox Polk
“Who is James K. Polk?” Apparently, that’s what everyone was asking back in 1844, because that was what his campaign slogan was. Way to go with the question-asking, Polk, you got people’s attention. If he were alive today, I’m sure thousands of us on Facebook would be getting Poked by Polk. It would be like an hourly thing. Anyway, Polk gave us a butt-load of territory but also divided the country even greater over the issue of slavery. Plus, he basically retired from the presidency, took a little buggy ride home, and died.
Stephen Grover Cleveland
First, points must be deducted for his using “Grover” instead of “Stephen.” Second, points must be added because this guy was somehow able to serve two nonconsecutive terms (with that little weirdo Harrison in between). Third, Idaho voted for the Populist’s candidate when they first become a state. What the hell? Who the crap was Weaver? Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah. Cleveland. More points go to him cause Aneel lives on Cleveland St.
Chester Alan Arthur
You wanna talk mutton chops? No? Okay, I’ll review Chester Alan Arthur instead. This guy’s hilarious. First off, the quote at the top of this page about him reads, “I may be president of the United States, but my private life is nobody’s damned business!” Plus, one of his allies, upon hearing he won, said, “Chet Arthur? President of the United States? Good God!” He pretty much ignored everybody and did things his own way. It was a short little run, but hey…we can call it a sprint.
John Adams
This poor guy—he had to follow George and he didn’t really want to be in the position of mediating between the Federalists and the Democratic-Republicans in the first place. Plus, I don’t think Jefferson liked him very much. Hamilton didn’t either. Same with all the anti-French. I want to hug him.
Gerald Rudolph Ford
This guy was the first non-elected vice AND non-elected president, which makes him basically go “Oh shi—” when getting the presidency. He pardons Nixon, works to restore the economy, and attends the Helsinki conference, all to end up with America still disliking him enough not to reelect him. How’s that for a shot in the butt?
Ronald Wilson Reagan
Oh noes! Reagan! Minnesota hated him, and for a good reason—after ever major even in Reagan’s life (even before he became President) was followed relatively closely by a world problem: Reagan’s born; WWI begins. Reagan begins acting career; WWII begins. Reagan marries; Pearl Harbor gets bombed. Reagan gets divorced; North Korea invades South Korea. This is tragic, but really damn hilarious. He moves up on the list just because of this.
James Monroe
This guy kicked Quincy Adams’ butt in the election of 1820—231 electoral votes to 1. It must have been nice to be president during the “Era of Good Feelings.” Hey, it got him “Era-of-Good-Feeling President” as a nickname! His only real issue was kind of ignoring slavery with hopes that it would just go away.
James Madison
I love the fact that his two nicknames are, like, polar opposites of each other: the big, strong, important-sounding one, “Father of the Constitution,” and this one: “Little Jemmy.” It’s also kind of strange that he was a Federalist but didn’t really want a central U.S. government power. I don’t quite know what to think of little Mr. Madison—should I like him or hate him?
James Buchanan
He seemed rather reasonable and responsible, but yet the Confederate states began to secede from the Union while he was president. Poor Jamesy-James. Have you seen pictures of this guy? He looks like a hard-ass. I’m surprised he didn’t keep S.C. in line with a slap or two. “I’m James Buchanan, bitch!”
William McKinley
Apparently, his nickname was “Idol of Ohio.” I would’ve made it “Willy McKin’ey” cause that sounds a whole lot better. He was the first person Idaho voted for when it became a state. I think this guy needed some balls. Badly. “Oh no, I’m getting pressured by the media…I guess I’ll invade Spain, but I’ll do it hesitatingly and with a crumpet in my hand…” And what’s up with the tariffs, McKinley? Seriously…what is up?
Zachary Taylor
Good ol’ “Rough and Ready” apparently wasn’t rough enough to live for more than a year serving as president. But hey, that’s okay—you know why? MILLARD FILLMORE TOOK OVER FOR HIM!! WOOOO!!!
William Henry Harrison
This guy made the longest inaugural speech ever. This was his undoing, for he died of pneumonia a month later. I will honor his memory with a nice short ranking.
John Calvin Coolidge
He is considered one of the lesser presidents. Why? He didn’t really do anything. He sat in his little chair for six years and didn’t really get the whole concept of these “farm” things that were all across the country. He did do that thing with the Federal Radio Commission, though, but he failed to acknowledge the skyrocketing stock market, which was one of the main reasons the Depression occurred. Hm…the “stock market.” Must be farmer jargon or something.
Rutherford Birchard Hays
Ah, what would the United States have done without Rutherford Birchard Hays? Wait…who was Rutherford Birchard Hays? I dunno, but his nickname was “His Fraudulency.” Nobody liked him, probably because he was honest. He had to reign in crazy Grant’s administration’s work! Plus, he only won by one electoral vote and lost the popular…sound familiar?
Franklin Pierce
Haha…”Handsome Frank” has got to be the best nickname in the universe. Although Pierce really didn’t do anything. Nothing. His whole presidency can be summed up in one sentence: “The Compromise of 1850 rocked, at least until those new states showed up—I’m just gonna sign this act and then fade into obscurity, okay?”
Benjamin Harrison
Another president who really didn’t do anything—no scandals, even! That’s…scandalous! I think he just sat there day after day on the porch, occasionally saying, “I think I’d like some lemonade” or “I have to take a poo.” Seriously, his life was basically womb to Indianapolis to D.C. to Indianapolis to grave. Wee.
John Tyler
Mr. Tyler was the first to become president without being elected to the post. He kinda screwed up in the beginning by creating a Bank of the United States, which caused all but one of his cabinet members to resign. He did help with Texas…oh wait.
Dwight David Eisenhower
Truman felt he lacked a backbone, Nixon loved the hell out of him (not literally, though). He was a segregationist, which knocks him down a few pegs, but he also brought in the troops to help stop the blocked desegregation of Central High in Little Rock, so that brings him back up a few. How do you get “Ike” out of “Dwight David Eisenhower,” though? Back down a peg.
James Abram Garfield
Ah, Garfield—with your tabby hair and fondness for lasagna. How Jon puts up with you is a mystery. What would the daily paper be without your antics? You’re the best cat in the world.
Oh wait.
James Earl Carter
Carter’s been put in the bottom 10 for most of these presidential ranking things, so just because of that, he’s my 11th bottom. Haha. He brought integrity and simplicity to the White House, but he also had that whole thing with the hostage crisis in Iran. And that whole Soviet Union thing.
Lyndon Baines Johnson
Kennedy is assassinated. This guy steps in as president. He attempted the Great Society and ended up with failing in the Vietnam War. He did have a couple civil discussions with MLK Jr., though.
Herbert Clark Hoover
This guy did not like war veterans…he seemed to be allergic to them. This guy handled the Depression like an eggshell handles a brick. This guy basically was pessimism embedded in a president. Basically, he sucked (haha, get it? Hoover vacuums? Hahaha…).
John Quincy Adams
This guy had the future in mind when he became president. However, he basically failed at everything he did. He had no social skills, no loyal supporters, and died on the floor of the House (that musta sucked). But we must cut him some slack; he was only number six, guys…we had to wait until number 13 (Millard Fillmore) to get the art of the presidency down.
Martin Van Buren
This is one weird-looking fellow. What the crap did he do? “Rose from obscurity…uh-huh…no qualms about supporting slave-holding states…uh-huh…”Martin Van Ruin”…haha…avoided war over Canada…damn…” Interesting. I don’t know if I approve of you, Van the Man…
Warren Gamaliel Harding
Nice! Another president upon whose street we’ve lived on! Harding invented the term “normalcy” and apparently the word “scandal”—he was involved in about six million during his presidency—Teapot Dome, anyone? Damn you, Interior Secretary Albert Fall, damn you!
Richard Milhous Nixon
Aahahaha …the nose…no nickname…Watergate…this guy should have been a comedian. But instead, we got this non-crook, ex-lawyer, SALT-I promoting Pinocchio as a president. Good times back in the 1960s…good times.
Andrew Johnson
Oh, snap! Impeachment! Misunderstanding, or pure jackassery? I’d say the latter, though it all could’ve been based on looks. This guy looks like Buddy Hackett on heroine. Seriously.
George Herbert Walker Bush
Ah, the lesser of two evils—the way the first third-degree burn is better than the second one. Wait, this guy passed the Clean Air Act?! WTF? Ah, well. I honestly don’t remember this guy being president. Sure, I was 1-5 years old during his term, but I remember my first sippy cup, and I don’t think I got that at age six. Anyway, his nickname was “Poppy,” and I can only conclude with laughter as I imagine the nicknames certain parts of his body must’ve had…
Andrew Jackson
How this guy got on the $20 bill, I don’t know. He vetoed the hell out of everything and basically used his power to block Congress if he thought it was wrong. Plus, he was a total ass to the Native Americans (not really an unusual thing back then, but hey…he was a real jerk). He did all this after promising the opposite in his inaugural address, by the way.
George Walker Bush
How this hobo got elected twice is beyond me. I guess it just shows the true stupidity of at least half this country. I don’t have much more to say…you all know THIS story.
WOO! BLOG NUMBER 300!
HAPPY 300th BLOG POST TO ME!!!
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(Yeah. That’s a blog train.)
E’raina gets it!
Poor E’raina…she asked for it! She got a myriad of wall posts from me a few days ago. This is what boredom does to me (almost comparable to that “Seuss on the Loose” poem thingy):
This story tells of my marriage to Peter and explains the reasons why I’m being fired from my job as dictator of Montana.
It was a sunny day in mid-June. I was being my usual masculine self and sipping brandy from a flask while watching my beautiful wife Nell (read: “Aneel”) bounce around playing tennis in my vast expanses of tennis courts. I, being very wealthy, owned seventeen tennis courts. And a small island off of China that had been given the name of “Japan” by the natives.
Around noon, I called to Nell to come in for tea. She skipped over to me, saying, “Oh my dear, what a wonderful life we lead. I do hope it goes on forever and ever.”
I reply: “Quite.”
She answers back with: “Indeed.”
About this time, a small fluttering of wings in the birdbath took my attention, and I, being pompous and full of brandy, swaggered over to the bath with an air of superiority to birds that all men—I feel—should possess. Upon reaching the birdbath my eyes struck a familiar sight—it was not your common, average bird; rather, it was a Montana Zipper-Back Dingle West from the state of a similar name (minus the Zipper-Back Dingle West) adjacent to us. With haste, I scooped the MZBDW into my hands. I had heard legends from the “Japanese” natives that these birds, when sung to by a beautiful woman, would lay eggs of pure gold. I had had the beautiful woman for years—and now, in my clutches, was the bird!
“My dear Nell!” I called, stumbling towards her over a hose and a servant. “Do you see what I have here? A Montana Zipper-Back Dingle West! My god! Do you know what this means?” As I rambled on about the unique properties of the bird, Nell was so kind to point out to me that the Japanese, being from Japan and not from Montana, would probably know little about a MZBDW, seeing as how they are not native to Japan nor do they have the flying capacity to cross oceans to get there.
I explained to the feeble-minded soul the idea that a Montanian, feeling a desperate need for a companion of a higher species than bovine, sailed to Japan in search of a woman, unknowingly with a MZBDW hidden within his trousers. Nell replied that this was certainly plausible, praised my reasoning and logistical skills, and promptly wished for me to come away to bed with her. I refused—the first time in my life!—and told her that more important things must be done.
I whisked her away, with the MZBDW in my hand, to the piano room, where 57 grand pianos stood waiting to be played. I knew not how to play the piano; nor did Nell. However, a servant named Chris (not to be confused with Nell’s late husband Christ) could peck out a rather charming little ditty he liked to call “Turkey in the Straw.” After summoning him, and after he warmed up with a few romps around the tennis courts, he sat to play. Nell, her voice soaring, began singing. I watched with eager eyes as the MZBDW surveyed the scene.
Now, unknown to me was the gender of this little bird—I had automatically assumed it being female, due, most likely, to my extreme want of golden eggs. However, as I came to find in a matter of minutes, this bird was in fact a male. The males of this species, as told to me by the Japanese natives, are said to, when sung to, have the ability to raise the dead. Not knowing the gender, as I stated before, I encouraged the little bird to flourish and to absorb Nell’s beautiful words with all its might!
It is difficult to say exactly what happened next. A flurry of feathers, a gust of wind, and a sudden break in Nell’s singing—what? you’ve stopped?—and a shriek from Chris so bone-rattling that I felt I’d just heard President Bush stumble yet again over the word “nuclear.”
At once I felt a sharp shove at my back—the breath knocked out of me, I staggered forward, nearly falling over Chris, who was terrified beyond all belief and white as a sheet. I turned to my assailant with mind to confront him, and at the moment my mind registered who he was, Nell shrieked at the top of her lungs, “Christ!”
It was indeed Christ. Nell’s late husband, dead at 30, hovered above me with eyes blank as steel and aura cold as ice. My thoughts flew not to myself, not to Nell, but to the little MZBDW—where was he? My eyes scanned the gusty room and focused in on the golden sphere of shuttering feathers on the piano. I felt one thing needed to be done, and one thing only.
“Christ!” said I, stepping with all my might into the gusts of winds emitting from his presence. “Do what you want with me…I have seen Nell, I have had Nell, she has served me well. Take her if you must. But please, Christ…spare this little bird. It does no harm, and it was my doing that caused him to summon you! Do what you wish of us humans, but spare that dear little Zipper-Back. That is all that I ask.”
Within moments, the gusting stopped. I had recoiled into a ball under a piano bench near to me, and failed to look up again until all had passed and the room stood quiet. Slowly, very slowly, I crept from beneath the bench. Nell was safe…she stood naked in the corner, weeping quietly, but with a metronome in her hands.
Chris had taken refuge in an old bass guitar case, his body now wedged within so tightly that he failed to be removed (such was his demise…but that is unimportant). I, not taking into account a minor injury to my shoulder, stood unhurt. Fearing the worst, I glanced at the piano on which I had last seen the MZBDW. It was not there. There was, however, in its place, a small piece of paper. I walked cautiously toward it. With a shaking hand, I picked it up and read it.
“To Japan.”
What transpired next was what was expected. Nell married Chris, I became an Atheist, and none of us ever played the piano again (save the gardener–we found him on several occasions dabbling with Mozart on the oldest piano in the room). The moral of this story is quite clear, and I feel it is in my best interest, as well as the interests of those involved, not to outrightly state it. If you know me, and if you know Nell, you will know the moral.
I know not how this story contributes to the explanation of my losing dictatorship of Montana or my marriage to one Peter. I know not why it is an important story, and I know not why I felt the need to tell it. And I fail to recognize, after all my years, the importance of geometric proofs.
But I leave you now, not as a simple man with simple pleasures and a simple wife, but as an owner of an MZBDW, owner of Japan, and proprietor of a small southwestern section of land in Montana I like to call “Outback Steakhouse.”
~The End~
Just don’t ask.
Ah, the wonders of a camera phone…
So after losing and rediscovering my cell phone YET AGAIN, I decided to look through all the crap from high school I’d had saved on it. Here are some of the things I found:
~Aneel with barrettes in his hair
~E’raina’s butt (there were quite a lot of these…)
~Alan’s butt/crotch/him coming after me
~E’raina’s Ramen hair!
~Amy’s boobies
~E’raina and Amy gettin’ down dirty on the floor (with my encouragement)
~Hunter’s crotch
~A video of Amy and me dirty dancing in front of my physics classroom
~A video of me being chased by Amy and randomly stopping to strip (me stripping, not Amy, unfortunately)
~A video of Aneel’s glasses case and me stealing it from him
~A video of me groping Hunter
~A video of me grinding on Hunter
~A video of me grinding on Aneel (actually, there are about three of these)
~A video of Aneel drinking soda, him accusing me of wanting to cause harm to him, and me saying, “No, I don’t! I’m taking pictures of your crotch!”
I miss these days. It’s a wonder I never got detention/suspended/shot for this crap.
And here are a few more reasons why I hate you all
I have fucking had it with this residence hall and all the people in it (save, maybe, two). For some reason, they all feel it is necessary to keep at least one of their moronic selves in the hallway at all hours of the day, and this person must be ready to stare at anyone who dares enter the hallway. What, is it illegal to walk in the hallways now? They love especially to stare at me, cause I’m “weird” and “quiet.” Well, excuse me if I don’t want to converse with you idiots. From what I’ve heard from your constant screaming and hollering in the hallways at all hours of the night, all your conversations consist of are talking about articles in “People Magazine” and “Cosmo,” trying to dance with really crappy music blaring out for all the world to hear, and people making really stupid, annoying, and repetitive monkey noises. Why this all seems entertaining more than once is far beyond me.
Also, I do not think you have the right to come and bother me in my room when I don’t show up to hall meetings. Fuck your hall meetings. I went to the first one, which was scheduled to last fifteen minutes and ended up lasting three hours, and I’d firmly made up my mind by minute 30 of that meeting that I was not going to participate in meetings that lacked organization, a reasonable clip, and intelligent conversation. Hall meetings, from what I’ve gathered, are optional. You should not—I repeat, should NOT—come to my door every Monday night and ask me to come to the meetings. I won’t. I’m busy, okay? I’ve got better things to do with my time than waste it with you idiots. Unlike you people, I am not here at college to gain friends and to have a blossoming social life. I am here to learn and to get the hell out. So do not get in my way.
To my suitemate: turn the damn radio down, learn how to sing if you’re going to, and stay the fuck out of my room. I know you’ve been in here multiple times when I’ve been at home for the weekend, I have concrete evidence of it, and I am sick of you leaving tracks across my carpet of whatever nasty substances you have coating the floor of your room. You have ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT to be in here, and if you do it again, I’ll take hold of the situation. You do not want that.
Okay, that’s about it for now. I’m definitely going to try to get into a “quiet hall” next year, cause this is ridiculous. Plus a hall of all girls has way too much estrogen in it to be healthy for anyone.
Sit down, shut up, and regurgitate!
Shazbutt! Here I am again, with new plans for summer (now that I’ve changed things around again):
English 210: May 14-June 22, 11:30-1:20
English 208: May 14-June 22, 1:30-3:20
That’s all, cause some genius decided to make it so that the second section of the summer sessions OVERLAPS with the first by about 10 days, so that if the classes you want to take in the second session are, say, from 1:30-3:20, YOU CAN’T TAKE THEM!!
Poor Aneel (sequel to “30 short reasons why I need a life”)
Haha, I did it again. Here are more fun posts for Aneel to ponder!
Claudia Mahler wrote
Why would you ever think I post on your wall too much?
I just don’t understand…
Claudia Mahler wrote
Haha, I’m glad you like my insane posting habits. I’ll bet it annoys everyone else who posts, though.
But that’s my appeal. (Note: Claudia’s appeal costs $50/hour. Cash only. Small bills preferred.)
Claudia Mahler wrote
Haha…drafting overdose.
At least it’s not heroin or something.
Unless “drafting” has become some sort of hip new word for “heroin.”
You’d better check yourself into rehab, young man!
Claudia Mahler wrote
I just realized that I start most of my wall posts with the phrase “haha” (or some variation of it). WTF?
Claudia Mahler wrote
Ahoy-hoy! Here is a birthday present for you! I almost picked the fancy undies, but I figured you already had a pair. So I chose the whipped cream/cherry. Kinky, eh? Happy birthday!
Claudia Mahler wrote
Wow…I haven’t written on your wall for, what, 48 hours? What the hell?! I’m slipping!
Claudia Mahler wrote
Must..
.maintain…wall…dominance…
Claudia Mahler wrote
Must…refrain…from…overusing…ellipses…
Claudia Mahler wrote
Must…get…a…date…
Claudia Mahler wrote
Or…at least…a rubberband…with personality…
Claudia Mahler wrote
Must…distract you…from…last…post…
Claudia Mahler wrote
I grow tired of these games! It’s high time we sat down to a good old-fashioned MSN Messenger conversation in which you abandon your computer for a good hour while I feverishly peck out some 18th-century oriented conversation about zodiac signs, gynecologists, and row-row-row your boat!
…I think this is the most meaningful message I’ve ever left you.
Claudia Mahler wrote
Did you know 3 out of 3 doctors recommend me for a good boredom cure?
Claudia Mahler wrote
Did you also know that I have been shown in clinical studies to prevent herpes?
Claudia Mahler wrote
I think doctors need to re-evaluate their clinical studies. It’s like those toothbrushes. Who’s that one doctor who EVERY DAMN TIME says, “hell no! I won’t recommend this product! I’m a sourpuss and I want the world to know it! I’ve got a horse chestnut up my butt and it’s making me cranky! I’m Rube Goldberg!”
Claudia Mahler wrote
Did you ever stop to think that your whole life could be put on stage one day in the future? Who do you think would play you?
Claudia Mahler wrote
I think William Shatner would play me.
Claudia Mahler wrote
I <3 William Shatner.
Claudia Mahler wrote
I think MySpace Tom would play you.
No offense, or anything.
Claudia Mahler wrote
I think I need some serious psychiatric help. I may perform self-analysis once I’m certified.
I’ll analyze you for free, of course.
With “free” being read as “$200/hr, $50 extra every time you say the word “cars.”
Claudia Mahler wrote
I know someone who hasn’t written on my wall since the 27th…
His name starts with an “A” and ends with a “neel”…
And no, it’s not Alfred Berneel.
Claudia Mahler wrote
Hooray!
Okay, now I promise not to mass-comment on your wall until…hm…the 20th.
P-p-p-presidents!
Happy President’s Day, people! If I weren’t so lazy, I’d give you all a ranking of the presidents, but hey…I’m lazy. So a big shout out to my man, Millard Fillmore.
Why isn’t President’s Day on your birthday?
Oh, and then there’s this…wow…okay…I think this is proof I’ve been watching way too much Boston Legal lately…
I had a dream last night that William Shatner and I got married. In a green church. With us both wearing green. It was like some sort of St. Patrick’s Day Wedding of Sex, or something.
But the strange thing is, I kind of liked it.
Do I have a problem?
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