Oh my god, I want a Subway tuna sandwich so bad right now. It’s 3 in the morning, but hell, that’s when I usually have dinner anyway. Too bad the closest Subway is like 3 miles away (and is probably closed).
GOD, DELIVER UNTO ME A SUBWAY TUNA SANDWICH.
IT’S BEEN THREE MINUTES. I HAVE NO SUBWAY TUNA SANDWICH. ERGO, THERE IS NO GOD.
(Sorry, I’m really hyper tonight.)
Also, you know you’ve been watching too much Food Network when you have a dream in which Guy Fieri breaks into your house, chugs the entirety of your salt shaker’s contents, and then blasts through the roof using his salt-powered rocket feet. Not rocket shoes, rocket feet.
Edit: holy crap, Guy is 47? He doesn’t look that old. Must be the salt.
I am in a WEIRD MOOD, so you get a WEIRD BLOG
- I’m getting back into OK Go ever since we went to the concert.
- It’s getting harder and harder to wait to read that Newton biography. Though I’m going to read it over the summer! And of course read Leibniz’ bio around the beginning of July, because that’s tradition now.
- I miss my old band friends.
- I miss my old high school friends, too. I wonder where everybody is and what they’re all doing now (I’m pretty sure none of them read my blog anymore, haha).
- UGH, this blog of mine. It’s the most annoying thing on the internet sometimes, huh?
- Okay, I’m done.
Is this the April List? WHO KNOWS?!!?!?!
(I’m not on drugs, I swear)
When I get super sleep deprived, I tend to make/write/blog things I don’t remember making/writing/blogging about. For example, I found this thing on my USB this morning. Its “date modified” is last night (this morning?) at 3:43 AM.
THIS IS NOT FUNNY ON ANY LEVEL
THAT’S NOT EVEN HOW YOU PRONOUNCE “OREGON”
GOD DAMMIT, BRAIN
What would happen if famous books were really all about statistics?
- The Trial would become The Bernoulli Trial
- The Count of Monte Cristo would become The Count of Monte Carlo
- Great Expectations would become Great Expected Values
- The Old Man and the Sea would become The Old Man and the C-Test
- The Wonderful Wizard of Oz would become The Wonderful Wizard of Odds
- The Bell Jar would become The Bell Curve…though of course, there already is a book called The Bell Curve, so how about this: For Whom the Bell Tolls would become For Whom the Bell Curves
- The Kite Runner would become The Code Runner
- The Sun Also Rises would become The Sum Also Rises
- One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich would become One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is Not a Large Enough Sample Size to Allow Us to Make Claims About the Average Day of Ivan Denisovich.
MAKE IT HAPPEN!
(Sorry, I’m super nervous for tomorrow and thus am making zero sense today.)
Idea: someone should make a pirate-themed R how-to book and call it R Matey. There would be a little cartoon parrot throughout giving little hints and tricks.
*squawk* “Close your brackets! Close your brackets!” *squawk*
Sleep deprivation is fun.
Today I shall show you how to go walking in the snow/rain when you’re an idiot like me and live in Canada but haven’t bought boots yet.
- Two plastic bags (or two large Ziplock baggies)
- Pair of knee-high socks
- Pair of knee-high socks that you don’t mind stretching a bit
- Feet (not pictured).
Step 1: insert feet into pair of knee-high socks.
Step 2: put baggies over socks as shown.
Step 3: put other pair of knee-high socks over baggied feet.
Step 3.5: MAXIMUM CANKLE
Step 4: put on pants and shoes.
Step 5: ???
Step 6: PROFIT! Or go walking, either one.
What I lack in common sense I make up for in…um…interesting ways to compensate for my lack of common sense.
EDIT: WELL THAT WAS A SUCKY WALK. Even with plastic protection, I was NOT going to walk through five blocks of flooded sidewalk. Nope nope nope. Also my iPod pedometer app had a flip-out moment so I lost half my mileage.
I’m frustrated now.
Stupid crap I think about while driving in the rain:
- Do windshield wipers have standard speeds, or is that not a thing that’s regulated?
- Are certain windshield wiper patterns more common than others? By “pattern” I mean the way the wipers go across the glass—like do they both go from right to left and back, or do they open from the middle, that type of thing.
Stupid crap I look up when I get home:
- Okay, it doesn’t look like there are any U.S.-wide standards on what speeds are necessary.
- But windshield wiper geometry is most definitely a thing.
For some reason, that makes me very happy.
The closer I get to this calc final, the more math puns I want to make.
The closer I get to the edge of my chair, the more I want to fall off.
The closer I get to removing all semblance of sanity from my blogs, the more my readers are thinking, “dear god, why did I decide to follow this inanity?”
HAR HAR HAR RED BULL TIME IT’S NOT LIKE I NEED IT BUT WHATEVS!
JEEBUS TAKE THE WHEEL!
Also, my hair’s long enough to braid now. Woo!
Idea: some company should make a type of gnocchi and call it Fibonocchi. The box would have to have some sort of mechanism where it would only dispense the gnocchi in quantities of Fibonacci numbers. Like if you shake it five times you get 0 + 1 + 1 + 2 + 3 = 7 gnocchi.
And it could only be served with rabbit.
I think I need to sleep.
Imagine a creation story where the Cosmos gives us two brother gods: Integration and Differentiation. They are responsible for two components of the Universe.
Integration—”The Great Summer”—is in charge of unity and space (well, area, but let’s just go with space). He wields integral symbols as weapons and lives in the sky.
Differentiation—”The Great Changer”—is in charge of division and, of course, change. He’s able to take the smallest components of the universe (hence the “division” aspect) and create a degree of change in it*. He has armor made out of barbs tangent to his skin and lives in the earth.
Something to draw, maybe…?
*Yes, I know taking the derivative of a function does not cause the change measured. Just work with me here.
HAHA TRICK QUESTION I’M INSANE
Does that read like a movie poster headline to anyone else?
DSM-V, The Movie: Let No One Escape Diagnosis!
I can see the plot now: “Tim Feltcher’s new job lands him in the town of DSM-V, a quirky little settlement amid dozens of other settlements across the American Midwest.
Upon settling down and living in the town for a few days, however, Tim notices there’s something odd about it. His office mate spends an obscene amount of time in the bathroom washing his hands. His neighbor shouts at imaginary passers-by and often warns him of bats flying through the neighborhood, even though there are never any to be found. His new girlfriend, Becky, stutters incessantly; his boss is too afraid to come out of his office for board meetings.
Tim wonders how he could feel out of place in a town so full of strange and different people. Then one night, just before he drifts off to sleep, it hits him: he is normal.
It isn’t long before Tim is contacted by Steve, a masochist who claimed that he escaped the town because “he no longer fit the manual.” Curious, Tim breaks into Town Hall late one night and discovers, under the floorboards of the mayor’s office, a large book. After strategically dodging the sleepwalking mayor, Tim gets away with the book and meets up with Steve.
It turns out that the people of the town live by the book—that every individual who resides there must be diagnosed with at least one disorder mentioned. The disorders are inflicted upon people by telling them they’re exhibiting problematic symptoms and then placing them on a series of placebo vaccines that help create the illusion that they truly are sick and require treatment. Steve recalls that the book has been revised multiple times, and that back when DSM-III became DSM-IV, he was able to escape between the time that his old diagnosis had been removed and a new one had been put in its place.
Tim decides right then and there that he has to get out of DSM-V. However, the next day he is brought to the mayor’s office and told that he’s been showing signs of post-traumatic stress disorder and that he must be given vaccines to help combat the further “infection” of the illness. Upon looking for the book, the Mayor discovers it missing! Tim jumps out of the office window [insert overly dramatic movie scene here], sprints back to his apartment, grabs the book, and rendezvous with Steve on the outskirts of town.”
OH GOD, IT’S A CLIFFHANGER PLOT, HOW WILL THEY SAVE THE TOWNSPEOPLE?!
Haven’t thought about that part yet. Maybe they burn the manual.
Hey, at least I didn’t make a poster. A possible NaNo, but no poster.
Today’s song: Raise Your Hands by Bon Jovi
(I’m hyped up on about 30 apple Jolly Ranchers at the moment (screw moderation!)—asking for forgiveness in advance)
A Survey I Want All of You Weirdos To Fill Out In Your Glorious Comments To This Blog
1. Claudia has a Flash project that is underway as this is being typed. It is a teaser/trailer for a possible upcoming Flash entitled, “Manifest Destiny: The Story of the Presidents.” Does this intrigue you?
[ ] Mightily!
[ ] Indeed!
[ ] Wait, what?
[ ] stfu u dont kno falsh lol!!!11
2. It is stated in the above question that this is either a “teaser,” meaning that the longer Flash stated in it will not be made, or a “trailer,” indicating that the longer Flash will be made, eventually. Which do you prefer?
[ ] Teaser. Claudia needs to focus on her schoolwork and 22+ credits next semester.
[ ] Trailer. Claudia needs to entertain her friends before they revolt and realize that all she’s good for is typing random surveys in her blogs and making them fill them out.
[ ] Ballroom dance!
3. The best-fitting definition of a “Claudia” is:
[ ] God
[ ] An appletini
[ ] A being of unsurpassable awesomeness
[ ] A being that uses C6H12O6 + 6O2 to make 6CO2, 6H20, and crazy-ass Flash animations
That is all. Please write on the top of your survey your student ID and favorite pair of underwear.
This blog is destined not to make any sense (this is good to know, you hooligans!)
I’ve set the scene for an interrogation. You are a D-cup bra. In the seat next to you is a potted plant (of the cactus variety). You and Mr. Prickles (the cactus) caused quite a commotion at a local nightclub last night. However you, being a bra, can’t remember a single thing. And Mr. Prickles isn’t talking. It is up to you and your razor sharp negotiation skills to persuade Mr. Prickles to confess to both you and the heavily-cologned officer across the table the goings on of last night. The tools at your disposal include:
-a book of matches
-three copies of War and Peace (unabridged)
-a piece of wedding cake
The egg timer on the table is set at 56 minutes. It is ticking down. Quickly, my bra-like friend, what do you do?!
a) I quickly grab the book of matches and begin threatening Mr. Prickles with a burning match whilst distracting the officer by giving him a copy of War and Peace to read and entertaining Dr. Phil with the tasty slice of cake.
b) I enlist Dr. Phil to counsel Mr. Prickles into speaking, while the officer and I share the piece of cake after propping it up on the three copies of War and Peace.
c) I set the three copies of War and Peace on fire while all of us share the piece of cake and dance around the bon fire of glory.
d) I watch in amazement as Mr. Prickles constructs an elaborate escape using just three matches and Dr. Phil’s tie. I then pummel the officer with copy after copy of War and Peace as Mr. Prickles and I escape to the roof.
e) Dr. Phil threatens us with a lighted match until we all promise to stop making fun of his accent.
f) I act as a priest, reading out the wedding ceremony from a copy of War and Peace while the officer and Mr. Prickles realize their love for each other and get married, thus putting the wedding cake to good use.
g) I cough up a lung and Mr. Prickles and I take a cab to downtown New York.
You must choose! All of you!
And yes, I did have a bit of sugar tonight, how could you tell?