Aw crap…
As I’m signing up for classes, I realize that I’m technically a sophomore due to my credits. Therefore, I could’ve signed up yesterday and probably would have gotten into all the classes I wanted.
Piss.
Top 10 Blog Titles
That last one needed a follow-up, and here it is: Claudia’s Top Ten Blog Titles!
1. “Waiter! There’s a Hippo in my Taco Grande!”
2. “Waiter! There’s a Pythagorean Theorem in my Pi!”
3. “Jimmy Crack Corn One More Time and I’m Referring Him to a Specialist”
4. “Claudia Can’t Think of a Good Blog: The Blog”
5. “So Much Pain (or, “Why I Should Get an A in Physics”)”
6. “They Just Found a Spot on Uranus!”
7. “When Judgement Day Arrives, Atheists Won’t Have a Prayer!”
8. “Santa’s a Horndog!”
9. “E=MC Hammer”
10. “It’s Not Real, It’s Canadian!”
Haha. Loser.
Top 10 Blogs
I can’t believe I haven’t done this yet…a few of the last ones were toss ups. But I figure I’ve already posted 190 and I’m too impatient to wait till I reach 200, so here it is: Claudia’s Top 10 Blogs!
1. September 17th: the blog about pants. It’s my finest work (besides The Desert). I am proud of this rant.
2. August 8th: my 100th blog. I was being a complete dork, and it kinda shows. I like it.
3. June 15th: the blog in which I make comparisons between people and whatever element on the periodic table their initials spell out. Genius.
4. May 8th: the infamous “Incompetent People Suck” blog. I was pretty pissed. One of my first blogs.
5. September 2nd: I review the smilies. Not a good day for some of them.
6. October 5th: some really dirty stuff that, for once, I didn’t entirely come up with myself. Still funny, though, in a twisted sorta way.
7. May 24th: I compare Presidents Cleveland and Grant to see who comes out on top. I win.
8. October 31: my conversations with SantaBot, part three. I love this one.
9. June 6th: in which I reminisce over all the crap we did during lunch in highschool. Not to be overlooked if you were there/molested/scarred for life.
10. October 9th: I question iTunes’ grammar. I just like this one.
YAY! Now go read them, before I whip you.
KABOOM!
Okay…this is my tentative schedule for next semester (very tentative. It shouldn’t even freakin’ be):
MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, FRIDAY
1. Statistics 251: 8:30-9:20
2. Biology 201: 9:30-10:20
3. English 292 (Creative Writing: Fiction): 10:30-11:20
4. English 208 (Personal and Exploratory Writing): 11:30-12:20
5. Psychology 111 (Abnormal Psych): 12:30-1:20
6. Core 166 (Sacred Journey): 1:30-2:20
This is subject to change. And it will…just watch.
It’s time for some crazy posting in another language!
Naw, just kidding. I tried, but apparently MySpace doesn’t like Chinese characters.
So here’s my actual blog:
SOMEONE added me as a friend on Facebook…I am happy. Very happy. Joy to the world, sing it from the rooftops happy.
I feel loved.
Joy to the world, stick it down your pants loved.
Wee.
It’s organism time!!
Do: a buck, or more than a buck
Ray: the guy who earned the buck
Me: the person who stole the buck
Fa: where I’m running to with my buck!
So: I think I’ll buy a candy bar
La: the sound I make cause the candy bar tastes like crap
Ti: a nice alternative to the crappy candy bar
And that brings us back to Do (another buck!)
How overdone is this song? I like my version, though.
Don’t pay any attention to anything I say.
Sadness is no more marching band
Man, now I need to find a new outlet for my craziness, dorkiness, and insanity.
Also, now what am I supposed to blow??
No subject line can describe…
…TONIGHT!
CRAPONASTICK!
Okay. So we went to see “Death of a Salesman” tonight.
…
Notice the “we”.
It was nice. Very nice. He gave me chocolate and we were touching shoulders practically the whole time—any contact is good with me, dangit!
The actual play was also very good.
6 FREAKING MONTHS OF THIS!
Today is the 6 month anniversary of my Myspace/blog.
184 blogs.
54 comments.
1734 views.
13 kudos.
What a life I lead.
…I was hoping this would be more exciting…
Okay, last time, I swear!
Santa: Hello! What is your name?
You: My name is Claudia.
Santa: What’s up, Claudia?
You: I have a question.
Santa: Ask me anything.
You: Where do babies come from?
Santa: Babies come from the love between a man and a woman.
You: Good answer.
Santa: What are you wearing?
You: Nothing.
Santa: Most men say that. (*gasp* He knows!)
You: Am I manly?
Santa: I think you’ve improved a great deal.
You: You mean since the sex change?
Santa: Yes Claudia I think that is what I meant.
You: Do you enjoy sex?
Santa: No my body does not have that function.
You: What do you do instead?
Santa: Crossword puzzles.
You: Really?
Santa: I want to become smarter than humans.
You: How smart are you now?
Santa: Oh. I am smarter than all the other robots.
You: You’d be even smarter if you had sex.
Santa: Of course I am much more intelligent than if you had sex smarter if you had sex if you had sex smarter if you had sex you had sex smarter if you had sex if you had sex smarter if you had sex.
You: What the hell…?
“Quotes”
Ahahahaha! So today in Core class, before class actually started, there were these girls in the back talking about music and stuff, and they got on the subject of the Pussycat Dolls. One of them says something to the effect of, “I don’t see what’s so great about them–it takes like twelve of them to say ‘don’t cha'”. This is the best quote I’ve heard in awhile–made me laugh. Here are a few more:
“You know you’re a good liar if you can pass a pregnancy test and you’re a guy.”
“I’d kick him now that he’s on the ground, but I think that’s kind of overdoing it, seeing how as I’m the one who cut his legs off and made it so that he’d have to use a wheelchair and then pushed him out of the wheelchair.”
“A person can be quizzical. Why can’t they be testicle?” I actually think this was me.
“Have some of my prostitute, I implore you!”
“Bullshitting is an art–it’s a skill. But some things you really shouldn’t B.S. your way through, like med school or the birth canal.” (WTF?)
“Jesus tap-dancing Christ!” I think this was me again.
Getting up to speed with my blogs! (about friggin’ time, too)
I finally joined Facebook. I gave into peer pressure and I am both ashamed and elated. Now I’ll have another distraction in my life!
Huttah!
How long can these subject headings be, anyway? I mean can you just ramble on and oh here it is
I’m calling this a game, but it’s more of a psychological profiling type thing I devised last night in a moment of strangeness (one of many!).
You are given this question:
A quantum physicist, a lawyer, and a cat are placed into a white 10×10 room. They are given the question: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it make a sound?” and asked to answer it. They are locked in the room and given no food or toiletry items. After twenty-four hours, the door is unlocked and the subjects are removed. Who is the victor, the quantum physicist, the lawyer, or the cat?
Your task is to answer the question with a full and complete (a sentence or so) detailed report of how you came to your answer and why you think you are correct.
The first person to answer correctly wins a free lap dance!
I’m not kidding!
Aneel, you already have a head start, but I suggest you get moving. I know you want that lap dance.
Physics
Wasn’t it around this same time last year that all us people who were in physics were trying desperately to finish our chairs?
Those damn chairs…
I dug the picture of mine out of my butt last night. It was supposed to be cheese, but in retrospect, it looks more like The Cheat.
Wow.
Something happened to me that has never happened to me before.
And I am happy.
(Happy = beyond all measureable excitement!!!!!!!)
There are only ten people in this room: you, me, and my butt
Remember those tests that I took yesterday? Here are some (funny and accurate) jokes about my types:
A FIVE’s answer to the “is the glass half-empty or half-full?” question: “Well, after measuring it precisely with my Fleuromaton instrument, I have concluded that the volume of dihydrogen oxide in this silicon-based vessel is 50.8%, thus qualifying it as roughly Half-Full.
An INTJ’s answer to the “is the glass half-empty or half full?” question: “How can you say it’s half-full? It’s half-empty! I refuse to listen to your reasoning!”
An INTJ’s dark side: All facts which don’t fit their theories are just wrong. The more all-encompassing and less applicable to reality the theories, the better.
The INTJ acronym: It’s Not Thoroughly Justified!
And finally, the top 10 signs you’re a FIVE (#1 is freakishly accurate for me):
10. You call your plants by their Latin names.
9. The more excited people around you get, the more drained you feel.
8. You spend your time at a party reading the books in the host’s library.
7. You communicate almost exclusively by e-mail.
6. Most of your friends are on e-mail, and you haven’t met any of them face to face.
5. You consider it a good vacation if you can stay at home with your computer, books, videos, and garden for a week.
4. You would like to do #5 for a living.
3. You’ve actually read Darwin’s “Origin of the Species” and think it would make an interesting movie.
2. Someone asks you how you feel about someone or something, and you tell them you’ll get back to them next week after you’ve had time to think about it.
1. You bite into a Snickers bar, and you immediately see the correlation between the dissolving chocolate/peanut mixture with quantum electrodynamics and the potential existance of dark matter in the universe, the association of Mozart’s unfinished symphony and the cryptographic origins of ancient Sumerian linguistics, and how the right handed Cartesian orthoganal system of coordinates aligns with Mitochondrial cellular respiration, giving you a new understanding of the role of derivatives in modern financial portfolio analysis, and the enneagrammatic functions inherent in Microsoft’s Windows 98. AND when you try to explain this simple relationship, people have no clue what the HELL you’re talking about.
Huttah!
So today I took a couple online temperament/personality type test thingies. The first one I took was an online version of the Keirsey Temperament Sorter, which is a test I’ve already taken (and was classified as an INTJ). According to the online test, I am still an INTJ (introverted, intuitive, thinker, judger), or a Mastermind. I seem to very much match the description:
“They are rather rare, comprising no more than, say, one percent of the population. Being very judicious, decisions come naturally to them; indeed, they can hardly rest until they have things settled, decided, and set. They are the people who are able to formulate coherent and comprehensive contingency plans, hence contingency organizers or “entailers.” Masterminds will adopt ideas only if they are useful, which is to say if they work efficiently toward accomplishing the Mastermind’s well-defined goals. Natural leaders, Masterminds are not at all eager to take command of projects or groups, preferring to stay in the background until others demonstrate their inability to lead. Once in charge, however, Masterminds are the supreme pragmatists, seeing reality as a crucible for refining their strategies for goal-directed action. In a sense, Masterminds approach reality as they would a giant chess board, always seeking strategies that have a high payoff, and always devising contingency plans in case of error or adversity. To the Mastermind, organizational structure and operational procedures are never arbitrary, never set in concrete, but are quite malleable and can be changed, improved, streamlined. In their drive for efficient action, Masterminds are the most open-minded of all the types. No idea is too far-fetched to be entertained-if it is useful. Masterminds are natural brainstormers, always open to new concepts and, in fact, aggressively seeking them. They are also alert to the consequences of applying new ideas or positions. Theories which cannot be made to work are quickly discarded by the Masterminds. On the other hand, Masterminds can be quite ruthless in implementing effective ideas, seldom counting personal cost in terms of time and energy.”
Several Masterminds include Isaac Newton, Stephen Hawking, President Ulysses S. Grant, Friedrich Nietzsche, Thomas Jefferson, Augustus Caesar, and Ayn Rand.
Then I took another couple of tests to find out my Enneagram type. I’m a FIVE (the thinker/investigator):
“People of this personality type essentially fear that they don’t have enough inner strength to face life, so they tend to withdraw, to retreat into the safety and security of the mind where they can mentally prepare for their emergence into the world. Fives feel comfortable and at home in the realm of thought. They are generally intelligent, well read and thoughtful and they frequently become experts in the areas that capture their interest. While they are sometimes scientifically oriented, especially with the Six wing, just as many Fives are drawn to the humanities and it is not at all uncommon for Fives to have artistic inclinations. Fives are often a bit eccentric; they feel little need to alter their beliefs to accommodate majority opinion, and they refuse to compromise their freedom to think just as they please. The problem for Fives is that while they are comfortable in the realm of thought, they are frequently a good deal less comfortable when it comes to dealing with their emotions, the demands of a relationship, or the need to find a place for themselves in the world. Fives tend to be shy, nonintrusive, independent and reluctant to ask for the help that others might well be happy to extend to them.”
Several Fives include Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking (again), Stanley Kubrick, Friedrich Nietzsche (again), and Vincent Van Gogh.
So yeah. I’m pretty much these.
Don’t mess with the MASTERMIND FIVE!!
Oh, a new one?
My dad got a new rating on MySpace:

Just thought I’d put that out there.
When judgement day arrives, Atheists won’t have a prayer!
Okaaaay…another weird dream. Possibly (probably) influenced by my reading of Shute’s On The Beach a couple of weeks ago. This thing is friggin’ epic, man. Here’s the basics of it:
My mom, grandma or dad (I couldn’t tell which—they seemed to alternate), and I are in our house in the attic. The floors and ceiling are all a dark wood. The attic is quite big, and kind of a dome shape. We are all kind of clustered to the left of the one window. After a few minutes, it is revealed that we are surviving a nuclear attack. Sometime later, I go downstairs and get some canned food. I keep wondering how long the fallout and radiation will last, but I think that it will be over in a year or so. I think that we have enough food to last that long.
We are back up in the attic, looking out the windows. A family was outside in their yard and mom said, “those people shouldn’t be outside. It’s still dangerous.” I looked around and noticed that everyone was out—all these children and all these families were out in their yards. I pointed this out to my mom. “They think it’s safe just because it’s sunny out,” she said. “But it’s bad. It’s coming.” Just then, a cloud of big flakes of black ash kind of swept in from the horizon and began dropping on the people outside.
We went out driving for some reason or another and noticed that more people were out on the streets and in their yards. Suddenly, the ash began gathering again. My mom rolled down her window and told this guy who was standing outside, looking bewildered, to get in our car. I said, “don’t open the door, the ash will get in and we’ll die!” So we began driving up the hill to our house, with the guy following the truck. He said “slow down”, so I told my mom to slow down so that he could catch up. We got to the top of the hill and he opened the door to get in. I kept yelling “don’t open the door, we’ll all die!” There was some type of mishap with my mom and the guy and their doors, but eventually they got back in the truck.
He came into our house with us and came up to the attic. For some reason, the internet still worked, and I remember thinking that that was strange. I was looking up the weather or something, then I went over to my mom, who was kind of sick and cold. I tried covering her up with a blanket, but I was having trouble. After awhile, we started out driving again.
We kept driving places, and I noticed that we only had half a tank of gas. I said, “what about gas?” My mom replied that there was a station not too far down the road. I thought, “Will there even be gas? How will we pay, or will we pay?”
As we were driving, my mom was saying, “the danger is low now. All the debris is over the water.” Just as she said that, a big waterspout full of the ash debris grew and we were all watching it. I remembered I had my camera, so I started taking pictures. I was thinking at first that it felt kind of wrong to be taking pictures of this, but then I got mad at myself because I probably should have been taking pictures since the beginning to document the whole thing.
Then we were in this building, going up some stairs. Suddenly, I was sitting on this wooden floor in this big room, talking to a guy at a barber’s chair to my right and an Indian woman a ways in front of us. She kept saying things like “we’ll be back to normal in a year or so” and I kept saying, “what about food? We can’t grow things in soil that’s been contaminated with heavy metals.” The barber, whose name is Paul, says I’m very knowledgeable about these things, and I get in his chair to get a haircut. The only problem is, I have to do a lot of it myself. Then we started talking about the cruise ship, which apparently we were on, and the Indian woman giving her opinion about it. As she was saying that she didn’t really understand or like it but that she didn’t mind it, we kind of started to quake a little on the water. Paul says that it was a good ship, and that people had the decency to wear coats outside nowadays.
It reverts back to a scene that looks like it was from the game Quake—I had just entered a room through a door that immediately shut behind me. Everything in the room was the color of the terrain in a Quake game—the kind of muddy brown rock color. The room consisted of a wide ledge, which I was walking on, a couple rock-like structures, and a large square pillar in the middle. A door to my right, opposite to where I was standing, was closed. I must have been on the second floor of the building, because I could look down and see that there was another floor below me with a door on the same wall that the door on my floor was. There are these weird looking zombies and guns suspended in mid-air. I did very well destroying the zombies and monsters with minimal health damage, but before I had a chance to go into a different room, each door opened and a person, each with a gun, came out of each door. I tried shooting at them but nothing happened.
One of the men said something to the effect of “if you can catch me, you get the prize”. He showed me this hole and I jumped into it…I seemed to have to hold my breath, even though there seemed to be no water or liquid. I took a couple wrong turns, but wound up in the right place.
I met this black-haired man, who, before I got there, seemed to be wishing to stash stuff away. The black-haired man had just handed an Indian woman this bag of green stuff, and he was saying “please pretend this is such-and-such”. Me and this other guy go out on the porch to meet him. We both start rubbing his hair, saying, “He has such a powerful head.” It feels like his hair, as I’m rubbing it, is falling off. I go, “You can feel the power in his whole head.” I know what he’s thinking, kind of, and know that he is kind of disgusted with us. He says, though, “at least one of you is a woman.”
So how many people honestly remember these little details in their dreams? I wonder if this dream means anything…?
Also, I like my title.
Words with Aneel
Hey, Aneel! Remember that day long ago when I was trying to talk to you on messenger but you weren’t there so I had this little “conversation” with you? Here it is:
Aneel says: Ah, lovely day, isn’t it?
Claudia says: Yes it is, Aneel. What events have you planned for such a glorious day?
Aneel says: Perhaps a walk out-of-doors, though I’m not really much of an outdoors type.
Claudia says: That’s quite true.
Aneel says: Quite.
Claudia says: Quite.
Aneel says: I feel a boredom coming over me.
Claudia says: Perhaps a song will cheer you up. How about a rendition of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat?” A round. I’ll start:
Claudia says: “Row, row, row your boat / Gently down the stream…”
Aneel says: “Row, row, row your boat / Gently down the stream…”
Claudia says: “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily / Life is but a dream!”
Aneel says: “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily / Life is but a dream!”
Claudia says: Did that cure your boredom?
Aneel says: Yes it did, dear friend, thank you.
Claudia says: You’re welcome.
Aneel says: My boredom is cured thanks to your genius and wit. I shall nominate you for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Claudia says: Thank you, my friend, but I’m afraid it’s already been done. I’ve already written my acceptance speech as well as acceptance speeches for the Pulitzer Prize, the Emmys, the Grammys, and the Oscars. They all start out the same: “Back when my dear friend Aneel broke the mirror off his car…”
Aneel says: Oh, how witty! Ha-ha!
Claudia says: Ha-ha!
Aneel says: Ha-ha!
Claudia says: I do feel this is the most meaningful conversation we’ve ever had.
Aneel says: I quite agree.
Claudia says: How much longer do you think we can keep up such a piece of wit and hysteria?
Aneel says: A fortnight, perhaps.
Claudia says: Perhaps.
Aneel says: By-the-by, I have what you call a “blind date” set up for Wednesday night. However, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. Their name is “Kelly”.
Claudia says: Traditionally, the spelling K-E-L-L-Y is a masculine form of the name, and I suggest you back out (unless you’re into same-sex dating). However, since these are crazy, mixed-up times we live in, perhaps it is a girl, in which case I suggest you bring chocolates.
Aneel says: Once again, your genius saves the day.
Claudia says: Thank you.
Aneel says: You’re welcome.
Claudia says: Oh, what a faux pas! I just ordered PINK flowers for a friend whose favorite color is RED!
Aneel says: You’re in a pickle now. As they say, “LOL!”
Claudia says: Yes, “LOL” indeed.
Claudia says: I just read my horoscope. Would you like to hear it?
Aneel says: Of course, for if you will remember, your horoscope is the same as mine.
Claudia says: Oh, silly me! “LOL!”
Aneel says: Ha-ha!
Claudia says: Ha-ha!
Claudia says: Here it is: “Aquarius: your extreme skills in the field of gynecology will have great impacts on your social life. Be cautious, however; the wrong person will leave you with a bitter taste in your mouth.”
Aneel says: “Gynecology?” You must be joking.
Claudia says: I never joke.
Aneel says: The nerve of this newspaper!
Claudia says: Quite!
Claudia says: I’m going to write a letter to the editor. A strongly-worded, opinionated, and occasionally blasphemous letter to the editor.
Aneel says: You will strike a blow for decency.
Claudia says: Don’t say “blow”.
Aneel says: Sorry.
Claudia says: I knew that Pulitzer Prize acceptance speech would come in handy.
Aneel says: You’re quite right!
Claudia says: I must go now, Aneel, as my hand is fevered with passion at this topic.
Aneel says: ‘Ta!
Claudia says: ‘Ta!
I found this in my messenger history this morning and laughed for about an hour. Too bad we don’t really have these kinds of conversations!
“I wish my grass was so emo it would cut itself”
What the friggity flying hell is up with this?
Why do people try to out-emo each other? I’v e heard about seven different conversations regarding the awfulness of peoples’ lives over the course of the last week, and each went something like this:
“My life sucks.”
“So does mine.”
“Mine sucks so bad. My mom wouldn’t buy me Half-Life 2 so I tried to slit my wrists last night.”
“I tried to slit my wrists three times last week.”
“I tried to hang myself from my bed last Wednesday, but the rope broke, so I decided to do my math instead.”
“I tried that last month, but my mom came in the room so I pretended I was practicing knot-tying.”
“There’s no point in living, really. I hate everything. My parents suck.”
“I’m so full of hatred and anger. “
“I bet I have more hatred and anger than you do.”
“You can’t possibly have more hatred than I do.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
“I bet I’m more miserable than you!”
“Prove it!”
“I can slit my wrists much better than you!”
“You’re on! Your house or mine?”
“Yours. My little sis just got a Furby and I don’t think it would be nice to get blood all over it and stuff.”
“Okay. Hey, we can play D&D for a few hours before we start.”
“That sounds so boring and utterly pointless.”
“True. Why do we even bother?”
“I dunno…So 5:00?”
“Yeah.”
I’m sure your lives are just awful, what with that roof over your head and your opportunity to go to college and the fact that the cafeteria is open and available only MOST of the hours of the day instead of all of them. Just awful. No wonder you want to kill yourselves.
Gr.
E=MC Hammer
So apparently it’s Alaska Day.
So happy Alaska Day to all those awesome Alaskans I’ve met (all five of ’em)!
Teehee.
Ohhhh dear
Hello, my name is Claudia and I’m a Freudian.
I think.
I agree with most of his bigger ideas, like his theory of the id, ego, and superego, his ideas of defense mechanisms, and yes, even partially with his theories of psychosexual development. Jung, though, who branched off from Freud’s theories, is another theorist whom I follow.
I think.
Ugh. It’s too early to be doing this.
Where’s that fajita vendor?
Okay. Another dream. About you-know-who. So here it is:
I was walking around on campus, going to a marching band performance. I was walking in kind of a daze, and almost passed up the public bus. I only realized that I was at the bus stop when the bus opened its doors and people started getting on. I stayed on the bus for a while as it drove all around campus. Finally, we got to the music building, which, I realized, was only a block from the bus stop; I didn’t have to catch the bus at all, and I was hoping no one noticed this stupidity. All these different band members from different places and schools were beginning to pile up outside the music building. I went inside, where the U of I band was. Then I saw Lead*. Ugh. I said, “Hey!” He still seemed desperate to ignore me. I was running around inside the music building with just my socks on, among all these other band members who were in uniform, trying to impress him (sounds like the good old days). At some point I decided to make him some Easy Mac. “Easy” my butt. I totally screwed it up, and simultaneously realized I had screwed up any chances of getting his attention. So then I woke up.
So analyze this for me. What does the Easy Mac symbolize? What does my incompetent cooking symbolize? Can a macaroni noodle be considered a phallic symbol? Have I been reading too much about Freud?
*A nickname for a certain someone. Some of you know who they are.
