Forget MBTI, Which Buldak Are You?

Hello larpers and tryhards,

Have you ever wondered which flavor of Buldak ramen you are? No? Well, you are thinking about it now. Is your life mildly spicy? Twice as spicy? Creamy? Mysteriously black bean flavored? Take this completely scientifically accurate quiz to find your match.

1. You wake up for school at 6:30 a.m. What is your first thought?

1. “I have plenty of time.” You get ready normally, eat breakfast, and arrive at school looking completely fine. You even have time to say hi to your friends.
2. “I have plenty of time.” You close your eyes for five minutes and wake up at 7:42 a.m.
3. “Wait. Did I have homework?” You ponder while eating your second breakfast of the day.
4. You have actually already been awake for an hour, finished your homework, and eaten breakfast. You have probably also gone on a run. Honestly, stop.
5. You wake up and immediately text someone at 6:31 a.m. about something completely nonsensical. They will respond at 4:18 pm with “bro what.”

2. It is 11:59 p.m., and you suddenly remember an assignment due tonight. What happens next?

1. You submit it at 12:38 a.m. and immediately email the teacher explaining the circumstances. The circumstances are that you forgot.
2. You begin questioning every decision that has led you to this moment. Why did you spend two hours scrolling? Why did you reorganize your Spotify playlists? Why did you decide to rewatch Go Go Squid! at 10:47 p.m.?
3. You submit something that technically qualifies as an answer. 
4. You have already submitted it. In fact, you submitted it three hours ago and have been peacefully watching Netflix ever since.
5. You submit it at 12:14 a.m., go to sleep, and wake up at 3:18 a.m. just to watch unfunny reels.

3. It is lunchtime. What are you eating?

1. Whatever you brought from home. You eat, clean up, and still have time to walk around the building with a friend.
2. You forgot to eat because you were doing homework. You realize this when your friend asks why you’re staring at their sandwich.
3. Whatever you brought from home, whatever you bought, and whatever your friend doesn’t finish. You have eaten three meals today, and it is 1:14 p.m. You are already planning your fourth.
4. An entire five-course meal you somehow managed to pack into your lunchbox. You’ll complain about how your lobster is too buttery and how your steak is too juicy before you pull out your (also five-course) backup lunch.
5. Something that probably violates at least one school safety policy. Nobody asks where it came from. We are too scared.

4. Your teacher says, “This assignment should only take about 20 minutes.” What do you do?

1. You do it within a reasonable time period. It takes 21 minutes and 47 seconds. You submit it and move on with your life.
2. You start it at 11:37 p.m. and discover that it is, in fact, not a 20-minute assignment.
3. You ask, “Is this graded?” before even opening the document.
4. You finish it in 15.38 minutes, reread it twice, correct one comma, and still have enough time left over to work on another homework assignment.
5. You open Google Classroom, stare at the assignment, decide that it is a problem for tomorrow, close Google Classroom, and immediately open Instagram.

5. You receive a 98 on a test. What is your reaction?

1. “Nice.” You put the test in your folder and move on.
2. “How can this be?!” You have a mental breakdown later in the day in your guidance counselor’s office.
3. You wink at the friend you cheated off of.
4. “I got a 98? That’s weird. I barely studied.”
5. You pass $20 to the teacher on your way out.

6. A random classmate didn’t do the homework and asks if they can copy yours. What do you do?

1. “Just thug it out.” You have already put your homework away.
2. “Wait… there was homework?”
3. You discreetly pull it out and hand it over after the classmate bribes you with a half-eaten, fun-sized Doritos bag.
4. You politely tell them you don’t want to do that. You are not risking your grade, your teacher’s trust, or your future career as a neurosurgeon over a worksheet.
5. You don’t respond. These creatures are beneath you.

Your Results

Mostly A’s: Original

You are Original. 

You are the standard Stuyvesant student.

Not spectacularly organized, not particularly chaotic. You do your homework most of the time, go to bed at a reasonable hour most school nights, and occasionally refresh Jupiter for absolutely no reason. You are the control group.

You have probably said “I’m cooked” at least once this week and then proceeded to get a 94 on the test anyway.

You are functioning, my child.

Barely, perhaps, but functioning.

Mostly B’s: 2X Spicy

You have evolved.

You were once Original. You were once capable of going to school, coming home, doing your homework, and sleeping at a reasonable hour.

Then junior year happened.

Now your life is on fire, just like your taste buds after the 2X Spicy noodles.

You survive mainly on caffeine, academic validation, and the vague hope that everything will somehow work out by graduation. 

You have said “I’m actually cooked” so many times that the phrase has lost all meaning. You flinch whenever someone says “SAT.” You flinch harder when someone says “college applications.”

You are what happens when Original is left in Stuyvesant for too long.

Mostly C’s: Cheese

You are Cheese.

You always have food.

Always.

You could be halfway through AP Chemistry and casually pull out a granola bar, a bag of chips, a sandwich, and an entire second lunch.

The first thing you say to a new teacher is probably “Can I eat in your class?” The teacher hasn’t even begun introducing themselves yet, by the way.

You complain that school lunch sucks, yet somehow eat it three times a day.

Mostly D’s: Carbonara

You are Carbonara.

Everyone likes you.

Unfortunately, you are also extremely competent.

You get eight hours of sleep. You finish your homework on time. You’re involved in at least three respectable clubs, but aren’t annoying about it.

You walk into school looking awake. 

You leave school looking awake. 

Nobody has anything bad to say about you. 

People are happy when you succeed instead of secretly wishing for your downfall.

And that is exactly why we don’t trust you.

If you got mostly D’s but Carbonara doesn’t feel right: Taco

You are Taco.

You are basically Carbonara, but worse.

You get eight hours of sleep. You’re academically strong. You’re involved in three respectable extracurriculars. You look suspiciously good in the morning. 

You probably have a color-coded calendar. You probably also use it. 

You are the type of person to say, “Wait, there was homework?” and then pull a completed worksheet out of your backpack. 

Like yes, bro. 

We get it. 

You’re doing great. 

You somehow have everything Carbonara has, except Carbonara makes people happy for her.

You make people want to throw their textbooks at you. 

So congratulations, I guess.

Mostly E’s: Habanero Lime

You are Habanero Lime.

We don’t really know what happened to you.

Your texts arrive at completely random times. You don’t sleep. Your hair is a different color every few weeks, and we’re beginning to suspect your eye color is changing too.

Your music taste is not controversial. It is simply bad.

And yet, despite everything, you’re still one of the funniest people I know. 

We don’t understand you. 

We’re not sure if even you understand you, but at this point, we’re too afraid to ask.

If your answers were somehow all over the place: Jjajang.

You are Jjajang.

Nobody knows what you are.

You don’t fit into any of the other categories, which is exactly what Jjajang would want.

Nobody knows what you do after school. Nobody knows if you studied for the test. Nobody knows if you did the homework. Nobody even knows what grade you got.

You have somehow remained completely unclassifiable in a school where everyone can usually be sorted into at least three overlapping academic stereotypes.

You are mysterious. You are unknowable. 

You are probably doing something right now. 

We just don’t know what.

At the end of the day, we are all just Stuy students eating instant noodles and pretending we have our lives together.

Some of us are thriving. 

Some of us are barely functioning. 

Some of us haven’t showered since last year. 

Some of us are eating three lunches. 

And some of us are Carbonara.