Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Elephants and Such

I don't feel like writing my research essay, as it involves research, so instead I will draw you a picture of myself.







riding an elephant.



















a purple elephant.

















and there is confetti. 
















And that is a good way to waste seventeen minutes.


P.S.

This wonderful piece of art (^Up Here^) was inspired by an essay I wrote in the third grade. I will show you this essay, but it will have to be later because I am bored now and I want to go look at funny pictures of cats.


:D


Thursday, November 24, 2011

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Thanksgiving.


A time when families come together.

And take weird pictures of their pets.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

The Life of an AP student (or maybe just me...)

I was drugged.
This is the only possible explanation as to why I was coaxed into taking not only AP biology (which is two hours a day, every day) but AP calculus as well.

My senior year of highschool.
Due to my extreme case of senioritis, I have encountered a lack of all motivation to do anything.

Ever.


All the time.


The amount of effort I put into doing my homework is comparable to the size of one fourth of a baby carrot. And not even a normal baby carrot. The tiny, shriveled, runt baby carrot at the bottom of the bag that no one will eat.


So my life really sucks the night before I have a biology/calculus test. I basically get home from school, walk to my room, and shut the door. I emerge seven hours later, after having completed all the homework and all of the book reading that was supposed to be done over a span of three and a half weeks. This usually gets me a 75 or so, and I rejoice to the heavens and then go back to doing nothing again.  
My method usually works out, but this is when I only have one test at a time.
Once or twice a year fate will decide to punish me for my laziness and bad study habits, and there will be two AP tests on the same day.
This EXTRA sucks, because that means I have fourteen hours of studying instead of the usual seven.
Fourteen hours of studying means getting home from school at 3:30 in the afternoon, starting right away, and studying until 5:30 the next morning. 
Yes. This really, really EXTRA sucks.


***




So it is 5:30 in the morning.


At this point I down an entire pot of coffee.
Literally an entire pot.
Twelve cups.


After twelve cups of coffee, I feel like fucking Rocky. I blast music really loud and start punching the air and screaming things like “YEAH LETS GO, BITCH! I GOT THIS! I GOT THIS! YOU STUPID FUCKING CHROMOSOMES! YOU STUPID FUCKING DERIVATIVES! IMMA KEEELLLLLLL YOU!! HERE THAT?? IMMA KILL YOU.



After an all-nighter + two and a half hours of dancing and screaming, I am ready for this god forsaken day of the devil.


(the devil can't use correct punctuation apparently.)






I go.
I struggle.
I struggle some more.
I get up and pretend to blow my nose but really I’m comparing the amount of questions I’ve finished with everyone else’s.
I struggle even more.
I finish.
I pass out on the way to my car.
I wake up.
I drive home.
I sit on the couch, trying to remember how I got home.
I pass out before I come to an answer.
I wake up.
I go back to doing nothing again.


***





Saturday, November 19, 2011

English Teacher gave me an F. That Bitch.

Remember my essay about time travelling? In case you forgot to read the title of this post, English Teacher gave me an F.  Literally a letter grade of an F. And we don’t even use letter grades in this district…
I guess she was tired of my creative writing shenanigans and wanted to show me who’s boss. So good for her for having some balls. But she is also a dumbass.

You want to know what some of the other kids in our class wrote about?
“How to Paint your Nails”
“How to Prepare Grilled Cheese”
“How to Raise Chickens” (<-- this chick is a little weird…)
“How to Play Football”
This is supposed to be a college level English course, and yet Teacher gives us the same writing prompts we had in THIRD FUCKING GRADE. GOD DAMMIT she just pisses me off. The last thing we need in this world in more un-entertaining, worthless writers and this is exactly how they spawn.
So in order to meet her STUPID FUCKING requirements I shall rewrite my paper and change the topic to “How to Make Chocolate Chip Cookies.”  
IS THAT BETTER, YOU FUCKING BITCH? WILL THAT BE EASIER FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND? I DON’T SEE YOU HOLDING A FUCKING PULITIZER PRIZE, GENIOUS.
Anyways, I felt I needed to share with you all the epitome of retarted teachers.

Now on a side note…
I have found a comic that perfectly describes my feelings for Miracle Whip:
(Courtesy of The Oatmeal)


And on another side note, I have drawn a picture for you:



I did totally bull shit that last essay but that's not the point! The point of writing is to be entertaining. You know what's not entertaining? STUPID FUCKING PROCESS ESSAYS.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

I welcome you to a show...

Instead of writing my essays, I decided to watch Keeping up with the Kardashians. I was only slightly amused, because although their family is huge and noisy, mine is way more ridiculous. My family consists of three daughters (me being the youngest), a mother and a father who live to hate each other, and an adorable miniature poodle name lily (who also goes by the names of “nini”, “noodles”, “chicken nugget”,“rottenteeth”, and “smelly”).(Actually she has many more names; I usually make a new one up every time I see her. She must be entirely confused.) Anyways, to show you a glimpse of my family, I will portray the last conversation we had. I will do this in script form, in case you would like to reenact it with your friends. (I don’t know why you would do this, but who am I to say what you can and cannot do in your spare time.)

To protect their identities, I have changed the names of my family members. I will refer to my mom and dad as “mom” and “dad”. My oldest sister shall be called “Oldie”. My other sister shall be called “Raging Bitch.” My poodle will have a different name depending on who is talking to her; this might seem confusing, but I’m sure you can figure it out.
*note: to help you understand this, I shall provide you with ages of my family members. Mom-50, Dad-56, Sisters-29, 25, Dog-7
Scene: Kitchen Table
Mom and Dad have just gotten home from Boston, as they were at my 81 year old second cousin’s wedding. My Dad is outside trying to fix the pool filter because he asked me to clean out the leaves every day while they were gone and I forgot. Unlike him, my list of “fun things to do” does not include cleaning the pool. Oldie is sucking down a bottle of wine preparing for what she knows is about to take place, and Raging Bitch is stuffing her face with cold pasta whilst wearing biker shorts, leopard print ballet flats,  and a shirt that says “talk nerdy to me.” She doesn’t do anything remotely athletic by the way. She wears biker shorts for funzies.
Mom: “Oh no! I left my jacket on the plane!”
Me: “Sucks for you!”
Oldie: “Here we go…” She poors another glass of wine.
Mom : “Why is the kitchen so dirty!? I gave you a thirty minute warning call! I told you to have it cleaned up by the time we got home from the airport! Why are there shoes here!? Did you go to the grocery store!? There is no toilet paper in this god damn house! RAWR RAWR RAWR RAWR. What were you doing when I called and told you to clean this house up!?”
Me: “I uh..sdhfjsa…?”
Mom: “GOD DAMMIT I LEFT MY JACKET ON THE PLANE!!!!!!!!!”
Raging Bitch: “It’s all claire’s fault! She doesn’t do anything and I have to do everything!! WAHHH. Also she broke your favorite glass last week and she doesn’t push in the bathroom drawer and I hurt my leg all the time WAHHHHH!!! She continues to list every bad thing I’ve done over the past 17 years.
Me: “Please change your outfit, Raging Bitch. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
At this point I pick up baddywaddydongdong and tango with her to the beat of “Makes Me Wonder” by Maroon Five, which is playing in the kitchen.
Enter dad from outside.
Mom:  (to dad) “I left my coat on the plannnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeee. Why didn’t you grab ittttttttttt.”
Dad: ignores mom. “claire, what the hell. why didn’t you clean the pool filter!?”
Me: “I forgot. I was too busy volunteering  and donating blood and studying for my AP classes…”
Dad: “Whatever.”
Raging Bitch: “claire didn’t clean the kitchen! WAHHHHHHH.” She starts picking her nose and then burps loudly.
Dad: “Who’s underwear is hanging on the lamp? “
Me: “Oh yeah I forgot about those…”
Raging Bitch: “claire IS SO FUCKING LAZY WAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!” She turns to the dog. “Come here needles! I need to pick out your eye boogers!”
Me: “no I’m not you fucking bitch. go fuck your biker shorts.”
Mom: “STOP THE FUCKING”
Me: “Hehehehe”
dad hands me the underwear and I put it on my head just cuz.
Mom: “I LEFT MY JACKET ON THE PLANE.”
Oldie puts on a Wicked CD and starts dramatically singing to show tunes. Mom starts to sing along, and so does Raging Bitch. Before we know it everyone is dancing to Girl Talk and Raging Bitch is wearing my mom’s wedding dress. Oldie pretends she is teaching a dance class and shouts “and one two three four to the left two three four and spin pop your hip and turn!” My mother pretends to follow along but has the dancing abilities of a retarded person and fails. I sit in the corner and braid Chilidog’s hair and she licks my nose and then sneezes right in my face. I am mad for a second but then I secretly wipe Raging Bitch’s phone on Boggalodoog’s asshole and it make me feel better.
I wake up the next morning with underwear on my head. I go downstairs to make some coffee and mom has left me a note that says “Left my jacket on the airplane last night…L. Have a good day at school!” Raging Bitch is at the kitchen table, sniffing her phone.
Raging Bitch: “Why does my phone smell like shit…?”
AND SCENE!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

MOST INTERESTING POST EVER MADE

just kidding.




that is all.

Angry Letters

Dear person-that-always-shows-me-lame-You-Tube-videos,
                You have a warped sense of human emotion, my friend, because the “FRIGGIN AWESOME” and “HA-LARIOUS” You Tube videos you bombard me with on a daily basis are not at all awesome or funny. I am too nice to tell you this in person, so I just nod my head and smile as you point to your hand-held video playing device and say things like “OK HERE IT IS! HERE IT IS! ARE YOU PAYING ATTENTION?? WAIT…WAIT..oh wait is this part or is it…hold on…OH THERE IT IS HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA WASN’T THAT SO AWESOME OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO AWESOME.”  
     I am telling you now, friend, that Justin Bieber is not that awesome. Neither is that video of Rebecca Black or those videos with the talking orange. So please stop. To illustrate my point, I will supply examples of videos that are awesome/funny, and videos that are not awesome/funny.
awesome/funny videos:

awesome--

funny--

funny--

awesome (but in a gross way)--

NOT awesome/funny videos:

In fact this scares the shit out of me more than anything...^^

and
any video that includes a morbidly obese person dancing and/or singing. (ex:numa numa) (it is more sad than anything else...)


Do you understand what I’m saying, person-that-always-shows-me-lame-you-tube-videos?
Also if you show me one more god damn picture of your ugly cat, I’m going to punch you in the face.
I hate cats.
Except when they are doing something funny.
Like this:
The end.

love,
claire.


Sunday, November 6, 2011

Movie Reviews/Funny-cat-maker

I have been trying to write this god forsaken research paper since the beginning of the semester. Every time I sit down to write the paper I end up watching a movie. This is unfortunate, because the paper is due next week and I still have all five pages to write/not write.
But.
I get to watch a lot of movies.
So it’s ok.
I must say that while searching for movies to watch I had to read some movie reviews.
I hate movie reviews.
You know why?
Here are a few reviews for the movie Bad Teacher:
1.     “A frustrating mix of smart flash and smirking impudence.”
2.     “…hard-partying school teacher transformed by his students into a paragon of pedagogical awesomeness…”
3.     “Provided you're in the mood for salacious fare, this titillating teensploit does deliver the requisite number of raunchy rib ticklers…”
4.     “ena biastiko kai xiliopathmeno trabhgmeno sxoini kwmikoy romantzoy, panw sto opoio prepei na balei prwtagwnistria kai yposthriktikoys ermhneytes na kanoyn akrobatika gia na gemisei h eytyxws syntomh diarkeia toy panhgyrioy toy

Note to these reviewers:

How many Harvard PhDs do you think want to go see Bad Teacher? NONE. So stop writing as if that’s who is READING YOUR FUCKING MOVIE REVIEWS. Instead you should write reviews for the general public to contemplate. I have rewritten your reviews as to exemplify the most helpful writing style:



1.       “Ehh. It was ok.”
2.      “It was awesome!’
3.      “It was funny J
4.      (and because I don’t know what language the last one is I am going to assume it says “claire’s blog is awesome so you should tell all of your friends so she can become famous and make lots of money.”)

Anyways, my friends, I have prepared a few reviews of my own as to help you on your own search for movies to watch.

Bad Teacher:

“cameron diaz is bad ass and smokes a lot of pot in this movie. I laughed when she was being dry-humped by justin timberlake, as they have dated before in real life and it must have been really awkward. I liked it.”

Thor:

“THOR IS SO FUCKING HOT.”

Transformers 3:

“I fast-forwarded through most of it, as two and a half hours watching big metal things making loud noises was too much.”

Captain America

“It was good. It was also funny.”

What’s your number?

“It sucked big hairy balls. But chris evans is hot.”

Crazy Stupid Love

“I liked this movie J You should watch it.”



I will start a website. I will call it “moviereviewsbyclaire.com” and everyone will visit my website and thank me for my good movie reviews. I will become famous and maybe when a Pulitzer Prize.





Also guess what guys. I made my own funny cat picture! I did not know you could do that. It is exciting. I am still an amateur, but one day I might become a professional funny-cat-picture-maker.

It's not that funny.

I will get there, though.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Process Essay (or...How to Bull Shit an Essay)

When will English Teacher learn not to assign such generic essays!? Honestly, she should have seen this one coming from me...


Prompt: Write a Process Essay/Analysis explaining how to do something.
Ex: celebrate a birthday, wedding, holiday, etc., how to make a good impression, how to study for an exam, play a sport, instument, etc.




How to Time Travel
by claire

          As a human, you are bound to make a decision at some point in your life which you will regret. Maybe you will say something you wish you hadn’t, or maybe you will do something that you shouldn’t have done. It seems you could amend your regret by simply re-making the decisions that caused you problems. The idea of time travel has been around for ages, surrounded by perplexing theories of the space-time continuum and twisted paradoxes of physics.Time travel is a fathomable idea with completely unfathomable explanations and an innumerable amount of possibilities. Some say it is impossible, and some say even the thought will end with wary consequences. Yet, the unexplainable seems to occur every day. So if you were ever desperate enough to attempt the cabalistic feat of time travel, the limitless capability of human creativity suggests there are many ways in which to do so. In order to change positions on the earth-space timeline, one must use a "doorway", or some sort of tangible oject for transport. The four main methods of time travel include passage by vessel, portal, magical necklace, and mailbox.
            Passage by vessel, or so called "time machine", seems the most common route to alternate dimensions of time. Although it is highly unlikely he will be around, Dr. Emmett Brown of Hill Valley, California might be able to help you. A passionate “student of all sciences” and inventor of the Flux Capacitor, Doc. Brown created the first time machine out of sports car, named  The DeLorean,  in 1985. With an ample supply of plutonium and speeds reaching exactly eighty-eight miles per hour, the DeLorean is a sure-fire way to time travel.  In order to use this method of wayfaring, you must first find the DeLorean; this presents quite a challenge. Because it is a time traveling vehicle, it could be anywhere on the timeline of human history, from the past, to the future. The only way to find it, it seems, would be to search the planet aimlessly for the rest your life, in hopes that one day you will stumble upon its return to the present.   You could instead try to find Doc. Brown himself, but this might present a challenge as well. Born in 1914, Doctor Emmett Brown would today be close to one hundred years old. Based on this fact he could be dead. If laws of aging do not apply when traveling time, he could still be very much alive and well; in fact, probability would point to the location of the DeLorean and Doc. Brown to be the same. Although finding the Doctor and his time machine seems like a longshot, it still presents itself as a viable option. If you do in fact find yourself in the midst of such vessel, simply sit in the driver’s seat, type into the keypad the date and time to which you would like to travel, and gun it to eighty-eight.
            Time travel by portal is another very common route to alternate dimensions, including those of magical worlds, proxy universes, and of course, time. Although portals can vary by size and location, those commonly associated with time travel disguise themselves in the pleasurable currents of hot tubs. It is very rare to find a hot tub time machine, though it is said that if a certain powerful, illegal Russian energy drink spills on the hot tub controls when you are not paying attention, the reaction between the electricity and probably lethal chemicals rips a hole in the time-space continuum. Therefore, when you enter the hot tub to soak in its warm, bubbly goodness you are inadvertently thrust into an alternate dimension. Unlike with vessels, time travel by portal is more arbitrary; you do not necessarily have a choice in your destination. In most cases, you are sent to the past. Usually, you will end up at a significant time in your life, for example the day you met your spouse. When venturing into the past, it is important to make decisions carefully, for any number of instances can change the outcome of your future.
            Schools of witchcraft and wizardry are well hidden and extremely hard to come by, but if you ever find yourself within the walls of one, pay a visit to the Headmaster.  If all goes well, a small device called a time turner could be yours. A time turner looks like a small stopwatch on a gold chain, and they are very hard to come by. You must be in the in the best graces of the Headmaster to get one, so I recommend having delicious cookies on hand. By wearing the necklace when you turn the clock, you are able to stay in your current state of time while everything else around you rewinds or fast forwards. It is especially important to steer clear of your “other self”, as confrontation will have detrimental effects.
            If you ever come upon an abandoned lake house, you should check the mailbox. If you are lucky, the mailbox will be a passage to the future or past, depending on your relative whereabouts on the earth-space timeline. Although you will not be able to physically fit through the mailbox, you will be able to write letters in hopes that someone on “the other side” will read them. This is not as fun as the other time traveling methods, but it has its benefits.
            The idea of time travelling is still very enigmatic and uncontrolled. One must be careful when messing with time, because the effects are unknown and could be detrimental. Though the main methods of time travel include vessels, portals, magical necklaces, and mailboxes, there are many others, some still undiscovered. The chance to travel time is extraordinarily rare, for now at least. If you ever get the chance, use it wisely. And if you ever do go back in time, do me a favor and tell “past me” to stop watching TV and to start studying for the SAT’s .






(P.S. I know this was a long one, so to thank you for your perserverence I will leave you with this...)


Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Adventures of a Hypochondriac

Remember when I said I was an eternal optimist? Well that’s usually true…but not when it has to do with sickness. Which means I’m not really an eternal optimist. Actually, after reading this you will realize that I am quite the opposite of an eternal optimist.
But that’s ok.

Let me explain something to you here. On a futile whim many years ago I found myself at the hands of a maniacal psychic. She looked like this…
Yes. Just like this.
Drunk with giddiness and curiosity, I asked her how I was going to die. She rubbed her grungy, cocaine-laden palms over her crystal ball (which was an upside down fishbowl with a wad of Christmas lights in the middle and a scarf around the bottom) and told me that I would contract a horribly painful disease and die a slow, agonizing death. I concurred this death would be either A. necrotizing fasciitis or B. Ebola, as they are both horribly painful diseases. I realized later she had not said anything about bacteria viciously eating my flesh away, so I just had to assume she was talking about Ebola…or one of the bazillion other  lethal diseases out there.

Ever since then I have been a complete hypochondriac, meaning I freak out every time I don’t feel good. To you, a stomachache means you ate one too many chimichangas. To me, it’s the beginning of the end.
I don’t like to take over-the-counter medicine for fear that my immune system will not be able to destroy basic antigens without outside force, so I like to find other ways  to cure my sicknesses. For example, the other day when I had a sore throat…
Mom: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Making a Wicken concoction of sage, lemongrass, crow feet, and cayenne pepper in hopes that it will cure the debilitating disease I probably have.”
Mom: “Oh.”

Also, every time something even remotely harmful happens, I prepare myself for death.
Mom: “How was work?”
Me: “I scratched myself on an old, rusty nail on by accident. I probably contracted tetanus. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to wake up tomorrow morning.”
Mom: “Oh.”

I usually have to make something up in order for my mother to pay for a doctor’s appointment. Like when I have a stuffy nose (the first symptom of swine/bird flu) I pretend like am in excruciating pain so she will give me her insurance card. From there, I rush to doctor's and demand blood tests, CAT scans, MRI’s, and multiple examinations. They usually tell me to go home and take a Benadryl.
Me: “What is it Doc!? Swine flu??“
Doctor: *puts hand to forehead* "claire, you do not have swine flu. You have allergies. Please go home."
Me: “Thanks for all of your help, bitch.”  *stomps away in frustration*

Thankfully, I am yet to die of Ebola.
Also, I’m beginning to think that I dreamt the part about the psychic.
But that’s ok.

*On a side note, I have a present for you:



YES.