Every super hero should have a nemesis. And since I consider myself at least quasi-super, I have selected an archrival for the year: The UCSD Division of Biological Sciences.

Of course, I also have issues with (also known as a passionate hatred for) our communication department, but since I am clearly not at my full super hero potential (as denoted by the fact that I don’t have a penchant for wearing capes), I feel the need to pace myself. So I’m just going to devote every waking hour to actively plotting the downfall of the biology department. Major requirements be damned — I want the bio people to burn in hell before I graduate.

Good thing I’m not pissed off, right?

It all started over the summer, when I was doing what every studious, responsible, intelligent, soon-to-be-senior does: sitting on my ass. But since I can multitask (my mom always did say I was gifted), this can also entail a number of other activities as well, such as checking e-mail, chatting on AOL Instant Messenger, watching TV and counting the number of holes in my ceiling.

Once I had established that there were in fact 27 holes in my direct line of sight, I decided to check my school e-mail — you know, just for kicks. I received the following notice, which I’m sure everyone gets at least once while attending UCSD:

“”It has come to our attention that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your fall schedule. To rectify this situation, the Division of Biological Sciences has generously decided to drop the class for which you registered. We hope this change will completely fuck up not only your schedule, but also your life and sanity. No need to thank us — all in a day’s work.””

Well, you can imagine how surprised I was by the fact that those biology bitches were actually able to screw me during the summer, when, theoretically, their powers of evil should be somewhat diminished. But OK. I didn’t panic. (Actually, I did, but the story sounds much more suave this way.)

I hauled my ass down to the registrar’s office (because WebReg isn’t operational during summer school, despite the fact that you can still be kicked out of classes online) and I signed up for a communication class held at the same time.

As I’m sure you can imagine, I was just all kinds of cool. UCSD tried to make me its bitch, but I stood my ground. I raised my fist defiantly and cried, “”No! I will not go quietly into summer school because you dropped my class! I will fight for my right to take the classes I need! I will graduate!””

I swear, it was “”Braveheart”” meets “”Revenge of the Nerds.”” It was beautiful.

Of course, I should have known better than to think I was going to get off that easy. Hell no.

The first day of school, I walked into that communication class (which, keep in mind, was supposed to be a biology class) feeling like pretty hot stuff. Then the professor started to talk.

“”As a fun little surprise for you guys, the communication department decided not to mention that to pass this class, you’re going to have to do at least — and that will only get you a C, people — five hours of internship work off campus every week. So if you have other classes, a job or any kind of life at all, you don’t get to stay in the class!””

It has probably come to the attention of some of you readers that I work for the Guardian, which has a cultish tendency to take over your life. Therefore, there is no way in hell (or any other satanic location) I’m going to be able to take that class.

So I’m back to being screwed. Again.

Fine. I walked out and headed straight to the registrar. Of course, halfway there I turned around and walked back to the communication department, because they have to stamp my drop card first. I have to have their permission not to take one of their classes.

After waiting in a line that would do Disneyland proud, I’m out of the comm class. But now what am I supposed to do?

Try to add another biology class, of course.

So I go to the class, sit through a really stressful lecture about DNA, then run up to the professor and cajole her into signing my add card. Yes! I am on the verge of again thwarting UCSD’s attempts to make my life (or at least my quarter) completely miserable. The only thing standing in my way now was a department stamp.

So, with a spring in my step, I wandered around Revelle College until I found the biology building. (As a communication major, Revelle really is like a completely different planet, so that took about three hours.)

I walked up to the counter, all smiles, and presented my add card.

“”We don’t do add cards.””

Well, I don’t sit behind a counter for a living, so I guess we’re both cool, right lady?

Of course, I didn’t actually say that. I said, “”Well my professor told me to bring this to you so I could get in her class.””

“”You have to register online on Oct. 5. It’s first-come, first-serve, so you should probably wake up at 7 a.m. and register when WebReg opens.””

For those of you who don’t have calendars, Oct. 5 is this Saturday. If I don’t get into that class, I have not only wasted my time sitting there for a week, but it’s also too late for me to try to get into another class because everyone smart enough not to mess with the biology department is already in them.

And I’m back to being screwed.

So basically, I may not have a cool outfit, sidekick or cape, but I am quasi-super Carrie Elizabeth, and I will not rest until the biology department goes down. It’s not like I have anything else to do — those bio bitches will never let me graduate.