An astute observation.

The computer lab in Benton Hall is often quite warm, to say the least. The hvac system in Benton is screwed up anyway, and having 50 computers running at any given time in a medium-sized room with 2 interior walls and two cement block walls is not going to be comfortable anyway. I'd say it's about 85 degrees Farenheit in here right now.
Someone has written on the small dry erase board by the computer lab attendant (though they don't hand out little towels (to mop off the sweat) like a restroom attendant, sigh) "Benton Hell".

I'd tend to agree.

Letters part 2

Dear smelly person in the computer lab,
Your cologne is WAAAAY too strong. Now, I like to smell good too. But please refrain from bathing in your toilet water (I shit you not, I was just looking for a synonym for cologne in MS Word, and toilet water was one. From now on, I only wear toilet water, not “eau de toilette” which means the same thing, but something is lost in that translation) in the future, unless you are going to stay outside all day. You’re giving me a headache.
Blowing kisses (I don’t want to get to close to you, I’ll die of scent saturation),
Chloe

Dear iPod,
Why do you have to be so damn sexy?
No, why?
I keep trying to convince myself that other mp3 players have more features and better sound quality, and sometimes it works.
Then I look at you again, and I think to myself, “But the iPod is soooo sexy.”
I mean, the design. The size. Have you seen the nano? It’s ittle-bittle. It’s itsy-bitsy. They’ll have to make up a new cutesy rhyming term to describe how little, and yet ever-so-sexy it is.
And really, will I use those features on the “other” mp3 players? I rarely listen to the radio anyway. And the iPod has GAMES! I’d use that. Oh yeah. So the one thing I really want…
Why can’t you have recording features, iPod? Why?
Damn you to hell, Steve Jobs. Damn you and your sexy iPod.
Kisses for the sexy,
Chloe
P.S… may I please have one? I don’t want to buy one, just give me one… please?
Fine. Bitches.

Dear Mathcad,
I fucking hate your guts. Who designed you? I’m going to find them and eat their soul.
No love & no kisses,
Chloe

Dear Cologne guy,
No, I’m serious. Go to the bathroom and wash it off. HEADACHE. That shit has got to be giving you a headache too.
Not blowing kisses,
Chloe

Dear e.e. cummings,

if o

und

so
m

epo e

ms ofyo

urs

and thought them confusing

They were about leaves. And I think the poem was supposed to mimic falling leaves, but I just don’t think it was that inspired, though an interesting concept.
Just an observation,
Chloe

Dear Blogger,
Why is that photo of me always grainy and freakish looking on my screen, but looks okay on the monitors at school? They’re all lcd, though I think the school ones are 15 inches and mine is a 17 inch. That’s no excuse. Clear it up, post haste.

Also, fix it so you can have different alignments from one line to the next without having to edit the html by hand. That ee cummings thing took way too long to do.
Thankee muchee,
Chloe

Dear Stinky,
Okay, that’s it. No more letters. Your stench has killed my ability to write.
--Chloe

Thoughts

Currently:
3 UMSL baseball players were arrested about a shoplifting ring from Dick's Sporting Goods (hee... "Dick"). The ring stole a total of about $15000 worth of merchandise. That's a lot of those little rock-climbing clippy-things, am I right?
I hope UMSL keeps the metrolink passes next semester. There is no way I'm paying for parking.
This sandwich isn't very good.
Why do I say "Boy Howdy"? It is adorably down-home country-ish. But, I already live in the midwest, maybe I should distance myself from the down-home country stuff. Boy Howdy. That's a real pre-dickle-ment. (Hee... "dickle")
Why does my cat always sit his bony ass right on my mouse cord?
Song Lyric: "You open your mooouth *bum bum bumbum* you open your mouth and your miiind, you open your mouth and I know what you're going to saaaaaaay"

Conversations with a chemistry professor.

The chemistry professor glowers.
“I AM THE GREAT AND ALL-POWERFUL OZ. BOW BEFORE ME.”
“Um, yes, sir.” (I meekly bow).
“I have a question about my homework question. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to find the solution, but—”
“AH, YOUR PUNY LITTLE BRAIN PROBABLY CAN’T HANDLE THIS RATHER SIMPLE MATERIAL. GIVE IT HERE, THEN. I’M SURE IT WILL ONLY TAKE BUT A PORTION OF A SECOND FOR MY MIGHTY INTELLECT TO DICERN WHAT YOU COULDN’T POSSIBLY COMPREHEND.”
“Uh, sure. Here you go.”
“HMMM… WELL CLEARLY YOU DIDN’T INTEGRATE HERE.”
“Well, sir, actually I did. It didn’t work. I got this as the answer, and that isn’t feasible.”
“OH, RIGHT. OF COURSE NOT.”
“AH HA, HERE THEN. LOOK AT THIS FORMULA—WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?”
“From the textbook, sir. See, it’s right here on page 73. It says it’s for adiabatic compression of an ideal gas, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“OH, RIGHT. YEAH, I KNEW THAT. I WAS JUST TESTING YOU. AH HEM.”
“Of course, sir.”
“WELL, LET ME TAKE ANOTHER LOOK THEN.”
“Uh huh.”
*time passes*
*more time passes*
“Oh, wait a minute! Right here, I accidentally typed this in wrong; the R constant should be on the top!”
“OH…. YES, I NOTICED THAT RIGHT AWAY. I DIDN’T MENTION IT TO YOU BECAUSE… UH… I FIGURED IT OUT IN MY HEAD AND THAT DIDN’T SOLVE THE PROBLEM.”
“Right… well, at least let me fix it real quick.”
*typity type type*
“There we go—hey! That’s the right answer!”
“YES, I GUESS MY MENTAL CALCULATIONS MUST HAVE BEEN OFF BY A TINY FRACTION. I AM THE GREAT AND ALL POWERFUL OZ. DO NOT DARE TO QUESTION MY ALMIGHTY BRAIN.”
“Yes, right sir. Thanks for your help.”
“IT IS MY HUMBLE DUTY, TO ASSIST SIMPLE-MINDED CHEMISTRY STUDENTS LIKE YOU WITH THEIR IMBICILIC PROBLEMS. NOW I MUST GO AND DO FAR MORE IMPORTANT THINGS.”
“Errr… right. Thanks again.”

Ah hem… not that I’m trying to say that some chemistry teachers are arrogant or anything. I’d never say something like that. That would be rude. This may have been slightly exaggerated for comic effect. While most of this conversation is gleaned from a real one, I don't believe he ever said he was "the Great and All-Powerful Oz", for example.

Fingers crossed that this will go... blogger is running like a snail today. Ooh, discussing blogger in a blog-- how meta!

New Age Mumbo-Jumbo.

Okay, I've given myself five minutes to write this blog (crazy tests are coming up, yo), and one minute is already gone, so without further ado:
On Friday, I was working returns at my crummy retail job.
Doing the normal, robotic, "Hi, how are you today? And is there anything wrong with this? Do you have your receipt with you?"
(Yes leads to, "May I see it, please?"
No leads to, "Okay... *type type type*, and could I see your driver's license, please?")
I helped a guy who had gotten the wrong color of... something or another. It was very heavy and in a medium-large box. I think it may have been base trim stuff, but I could be completely wrong. He seemed pretty normal, I finished him up (rowr!) and sent him on his merry way. He said, "Thank you," very sincerely, which is not especially noticable, it happens pretty frequently, but I noticed it all the same.
We were very busy, so I don't know how long it was exactly, but about 10-15 minutes later Brenda tapped me on the shoulder and told me there was someone holding on the phone for me. Pretty unusual, since people don't normally call me from the outside world at work.
I'm in the middle of a transaction with a customer, but I walk over, grab the phone and continue working with her (there really isn't a verb for returning merchandise... if I were cashiering, I would be checking her out... but anyway!)
"Hi, this is Chloe.
*Sorry, ma'am... your total is $17.64*"
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, I know you're busy, but I just wanted to tell you something."
"Oh, okay.
*Here's your cash, ma'am... and would you sign here, please?*"
"Um, you just handled my return a little while ago, and I really want to tell you something."
"Uh huh...
*and here's your receipt ma'am, have a great day!*
Okay, um, what is it?"
"Well, I kind of feel I should qualify this by telling you I'm a psychotherapist."
(Me: expecting something like, You are really fucking crazy, I needed to tell you that you need therapy immediately and I am going to offer you a discounted rate before you kill us all)
but instead I just say, "Oh, really? That's got to be interesting."
Him: "Yeah... um, I just wanted to say that you have a really positive energy, and you should do whatever you can during your life to stay that way. You're really making the world a better place. I just wanted to tell you that."
Me... very confused: "Oh, why thank you! What a nice thing to say."
"Well, I just wanted to let you know."
"Well, thanks so much!"
"Okay, I'll let you return to work now."
"Okay, thanks! Bye."
"Bye bye."
I know, retail is full of crazy-ass people. But this was really memorable to me, because crazy people don't normally go to this much trouble.

I mean, he called back. Which means he found the phone number for my store, called it, and asked to speak to me after he had already left (after purchasing the correct color of whatever-it-was, apparently).
He did ask how I pronounced my name, but that happens all day long. For the record: Clo-eeee (like Glow-ie, kind of). Yay.

What does him being a pyschotherapist have to do with me "making the world a better place?" (Cue in Mary Tyler Moore theme song...
"She can turn the world on with her smiiiiile *doo doo doo doo DOO DOO*
She can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile;
Well it's you girl and you should know it, with each glance and every little movement you show it!"
... by the way, using the Mary Tyler Moore theme song to apply to me is intended to be sarcastic. Also, it shows I watched way too much Mary Tyler Moore when I was 11, if I still know the entire song. Though I am sparing you the rest of it.)

Positive energy? Excuse me, I must go cleanse my aura now. Who says "positive energy"?
Apparently, psychotherapists.

And this entry really isn't funny, which was the intent. I don't have time to make it more humorous, and I've already gone over the aforementioned five minutes.
Err, just try reading it aloud in goofy-ass voices.
There you go. Now it's funny! Yay.

David Hasselhoff, he's so dreamy! + additional blah blah blah.

Please tell me you've already seen this:



If so, how could you possibly not tell me about it?! It's the most awesome thing ever. Like I told Courtney, it gives me the urge to get a tattoo of the Hoff. Possibly on my vagina. The man wears fur overalls with impudence! Impudence I say! That takes some huge balls.

Also, orangish pancake makeup and horrifying cheap blue-screen usage? P-U-R-E genius.

Alright, on we go.

In my easiest class this semester (a little thing I call Senior Seminar, ahem. UMSL calls it that too, but I'm sure that's just coincidence), we have two speeches we have to do. One is a ten minute speech on anything we want; the other is a 35-40 minute speech about chemistry. That's right, my easiest class this semester still features giving a forty minute speech about chemistry. A reminder: only idiots become chemistry majors.

In fact, one of the other students' ten minute speech is going to be about why NOT to be a chemistry major-- in front of a Ph.d in chemistry. That's how much it blows.

Ahem, so where was that point I was aiming towards again? I know it's around here somewhere... *pokes around chair*

Oh yeah! I'm doing my ten-minute speech on "How to Write a Blog". Like I have any fucking idea, just because I've done it for...**goes back to diaryland to see when my first entry was**... about 3 and a half years.

I decided to use powerpoint for the speech (I intend to do it for my long speech, so that way I can just read the shit off the screen like my P. Chem teacher does every fucking class; also I've never used powerpoint before), and one thing my seminar teacher cautioned us about was using too busy a background, so I immediately decided to use the most visually obnoxious background possible.

Unfortunately, I was sitting with my friend Chris while I was trying to find the worst background that powerpoint had, so I made a joke about using still shots of porn footage as the background image. He found this amusing, I dunno why. Then we started joking about going through each shot as quickly as possible for a flip-book moving background effect, and it all went downhill from there.

Then, while we're sitting in class listening to the Seminar teacher talk about graduate studies at UMSL, he leans over and says to someone else about my powerpoint presentation...well, lets just say I didn't start it this time, and it involved that fateful word "cumshot". I was taking a sip of soda at the time, but luckily managed to refrain from reproducing one across the back of someone's head.

I think maybe we should start calling it Senior Semen-ar.

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That was a really bad pun, I'm sorry.

Oops, nevermind. No, I'm not. You knew when you came here that there was a risk of puns. At least this one involved semen.