For some reason I was reminded of this story yesterday, and since I have nothing else to say I'll relate it to you now for your reading pleasure.
Most semesters I have assistants who sign up to help me teach in exchange for college credit, and the hopes of getting a letter of recommendation when it comes time for them to apply for medical/dental/graduate school. About a year ago I had assistants for every section I taught, which is usually a very good thing. It saves me a lot of time from grading quizzes and such, but during this semester I had a guy who really got on my nerves. We'll go ahead and call him The Most Annoying Human Being on the Planet.
As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to deal with The Most Annoying Human Being on the Planet once a week, he was constantly bothering me to help me out with my research, all with the intent of being able to say he had research experience so that he could get into medical school (not that he has a chance in hell of that happening) and not because he's interested in doing research. I kept telling him that I didn't have anything for him to do, I even flat out told him that I would not be hiring him to help me under any circumstances, but it didn't stop him from asking. The truth is, I'd put more faith in a monkey to get my work done right than I would with this guy. In addition to all of this, he had a monster crush on one of the girls who had signed up to assist me in a different section, but she was too nice to tell him to bugger off (She's not British, I just wanted to use that phrase).
One of the responsibilities of these assistants is that they have to pick a day that they are going to cover the lecture, so she wanted to come to one of my earlier labs on the day she was supposed to teach so that she could get a feel for how to structure her presentation. It just so happened that she could only make it to the section where The Most Annoying Human Being on the Planet was going to be at, but she decided just to grit her teeth and make it through it just so she wouldn't feel so unprepared when it was her turn.
When she showed up that morning, The Most Annoying Human Being on the Planet and I were setting up for that day's lab, and she sat down and talked to us while we did. After sitting there for a few minutes she looked at me and said, "You really smell nice today. What are you wearing?" The problem was that I wasn't wearing anything, it was The Most Annoying Human Being on the Planet's cologne that she liked, and he began beaming with pride that she liked the way he smelled. She was mortified because she figured that had only fueled his crush on her, and she was probably right.
So of course, I had to make fun of her for the rest of the semester for coming on to The Most Annoying Human Being on the Planet. I even told a few of her friends about it so that they could tease her as well. In fact, as soon as I thought of the story yesterday I sent her an email about it, even though it's the first contact we've had in five or six months. I'm such a jerk.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
When the last king of Hollywood shatters his glass on the floor
With the number of people working in Hollywood, you wouldn't think it would be too much to ask for more of the movies that come out to actually be worth watching, but apparently it is. I've seen a couple of good movies recently, but there hasn't been much else worth watching.
In fact, it's gotten so bad that last weekend, when I was trying to distract myself from dwelling on the disaster that was my comps, I couldn't even find a movie to go see. That's saying a LOT because when I'm in that kind of mood I'm kind of like the drunk guy around closing time who is willing to hit on the ugly girl just to avoid going home alone.
These were my choices:
Crossover - the scene they seem to be most proud of is two people dunking the same alley-oop pass, plus there are dunks over motorcycles. No thank you.
Flyboys - a movie about WWI flying aces which is criticized by some as being less realistic than Snoopy's fights with the Red Baron.
Jackass 2 - stupid people going to watch a movie about stupider people doing stupid things.
Gridiron Gang - same as every other sports movie ever made, except this time starring the Rock.
The Covenant - boy witches (warlocks?) driving H2s over cliffs, and then reappearing seconds later unharmed. That sounds, like, totally awesome dude.
Crank - just like Speed, except the bus is a guy.
School for Scoundrels - Napolean Dynamite fights Billy Bob Thornton for a girl, that's not Angelina Jolie. Pass!
And there aren't very many good ones on the horizon either:
The Guardian - I have yet to see a very good movie starring Ashton Kucher.
Open Season - see above
Employee of the Month - Sorry, but Dane Cook isn't that funny. He's getting way too much publicity these days. Plus, Jessica Simpson sucks.
Man of the Year - Robin Williams isn't that funny either, and if the best this movie can offer is to have him dress up like he's in colonial times for his inauguration speech, or crack jokes playing on quotes from past presidents that really aren't that relevant anymore, then I'm not going to pay to see the movie.
Come on Hollywood. Get your shit together and ENTERTAIN ME!!!
In fact, it's gotten so bad that last weekend, when I was trying to distract myself from dwelling on the disaster that was my comps, I couldn't even find a movie to go see. That's saying a LOT because when I'm in that kind of mood I'm kind of like the drunk guy around closing time who is willing to hit on the ugly girl just to avoid going home alone.
These were my choices:
Crossover - the scene they seem to be most proud of is two people dunking the same alley-oop pass, plus there are dunks over motorcycles. No thank you.
Flyboys - a movie about WWI flying aces which is criticized by some as being less realistic than Snoopy's fights with the Red Baron.
Jackass 2 - stupid people going to watch a movie about stupider people doing stupid things.
Gridiron Gang - same as every other sports movie ever made, except this time starring the Rock.
The Covenant - boy witches (warlocks?) driving H2s over cliffs, and then reappearing seconds later unharmed. That sounds, like, totally awesome dude.
Crank - just like Speed, except the bus is a guy.
School for Scoundrels - Napolean Dynamite fights Billy Bob Thornton for a girl, that's not Angelina Jolie. Pass!
And there aren't very many good ones on the horizon either:
The Guardian - I have yet to see a very good movie starring Ashton Kucher.
Open Season - see above
Employee of the Month - Sorry, but Dane Cook isn't that funny. He's getting way too much publicity these days. Plus, Jessica Simpson sucks.
Man of the Year - Robin Williams isn't that funny either, and if the best this movie can offer is to have him dress up like he's in colonial times for his inauguration speech, or crack jokes playing on quotes from past presidents that really aren't that relevant anymore, then I'm not going to pay to see the movie.
Come on Hollywood. Get your shit together and ENTERTAIN ME!!!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
I went out with some of my friends to watch Monday Night Football the other night. Near the end of the game a group of girls walked in and sat down. One of my friends expressed disappointment that it wasn't a group of guys for her to ogle.
My friend got up to visit the restroom, which was bad timing because she missed the re-enactment of one of the scenes from Dodgeball by this group of girls. It wasn't very funny in the movie, and it certainly wasn't funny when re-enacted by drunk people (in fact, few things in life are).
Her (upon returning from the restroom): "What do you guys think of those girls over there?"
Me: "Eh, they don't really do much for me." I then pointed at my friend and said, "and he thinks they're stupid."
Her: "Really? What makes you think that?"
Friend 1: "You can just tell by looking at them."
Her: "No really, how can you tell?"
Friend 2: "The two X chromosomes are a dead giveaway."
My friend got up to visit the restroom, which was bad timing because she missed the re-enactment of one of the scenes from Dodgeball by this group of girls. It wasn't very funny in the movie, and it certainly wasn't funny when re-enacted by drunk people (in fact, few things in life are).
Her (upon returning from the restroom): "What do you guys think of those girls over there?"
Me: "Eh, they don't really do much for me." I then pointed at my friend and said, "and he thinks they're stupid."
Her: "Really? What makes you think that?"
Friend 1: "You can just tell by looking at them."
Her: "No really, how can you tell?"
Friend 2: "The two X chromosomes are a dead giveaway."
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
How much is that doggy in the window?
My ex-wife is moving again. It's only going to be a few houses down the street so the kids don't have to switch schools, but they're tired of fighting with the landlord to try and get him to take care of maintenance requests. The furnace has been out since May. It was red-tagged, so technically he shouldn't have been renting to them in the first place, but he still won't fix it. It's a big problem now that it's cooling off, and since he hasn't bothered to do anything about it in 5 months they've decided to move. I can't say I blame them.
One problem they have is that they aren't allowed to have pets in the new place, so they have to get rid of their two dogs. She's going to take them to they Humane Society, but she's quite sad about it. The puppy should find a new home pretty easily, but she's certain that the older dog is going to end up being put to sleep. She called me yesterday to see if I knew anyone who would be willing to take him. I don't.
My youngest son is taking it pretty hard. He's pretty attached to both dogs, and probably doesn't understand why they can't keep them. He said to my ex, "But Mom, they're both good puppies. You're breaking my heart."
I'm pretty sure that about broke hers.
One problem they have is that they aren't allowed to have pets in the new place, so they have to get rid of their two dogs. She's going to take them to they Humane Society, but she's quite sad about it. The puppy should find a new home pretty easily, but she's certain that the older dog is going to end up being put to sleep. She called me yesterday to see if I knew anyone who would be willing to take him. I don't.
My youngest son is taking it pretty hard. He's pretty attached to both dogs, and probably doesn't understand why they can't keep them. He said to my ex, "But Mom, they're both good puppies. You're breaking my heart."
I'm pretty sure that about broke hers.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Everybody knows that world is full of stupid people so meet me at the mission at midnight we'll settle up then
If I see another commercial that says something along the lines of "because what goes on the belly isn't what's important, but what goes in the belly is," implying that you should care more about what your (young) kids eat than what they want to wear, and that commercial is for McDonald's, I'm going to gouge my eyes out with an ice cream scoop.
Let's get this straight, McDonald's is NOT health food. Everyone knows that. I don't care if you can get milk and apple chips instead of french fries and soda with a happy meal, the happy meal itself is still not healthy! If you want to feed your kids fast food that's fine, just don't try and tell me that you're feeding them a healthy diet if you do.
The thing that irritates me is that McDonald's is trying to give the impression that they are a healthy place to eat. Even after Super Size Me (actually, it's probably because of Super Size Me). Even worse than that is there are people who are stupid enough to see that commercial and buy into it.
Hypothetical Stupid Person: "Hey look at that, McDonald's is healthy and if I really cared about my kids I would feed them lunch there every day."
Me: "That's not true, you're just stupid."
If you're that stupid, you probably shouldn't be reproducing. Unfortunately, most of the people who are reproducing shouldn't be.
Man I hate stupid people.
(I will now go get a vasectomy)
Let's get this straight, McDonald's is NOT health food. Everyone knows that. I don't care if you can get milk and apple chips instead of french fries and soda with a happy meal, the happy meal itself is still not healthy! If you want to feed your kids fast food that's fine, just don't try and tell me that you're feeding them a healthy diet if you do.
The thing that irritates me is that McDonald's is trying to give the impression that they are a healthy place to eat. Even after Super Size Me (actually, it's probably because of Super Size Me). Even worse than that is there are people who are stupid enough to see that commercial and buy into it.
Hypothetical Stupid Person: "Hey look at that, McDonald's is healthy and if I really cared about my kids I would feed them lunch there every day."
Me: "That's not true, you're just stupid."
If you're that stupid, you probably shouldn't be reproducing. Unfortunately, most of the people who are reproducing shouldn't be.
Man I hate stupid people.
(I will now go get a vasectomy)
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Lying on my back staring up at heaven, hoping that Jesus might save a place for me, but I'm not askin'
I went camping last night. We went to the Valley of Fire again, but this time there were fewer people and no fireworks (oh wait, we didn't do that last time either, because that would be wrong). I figured it might be a good way to take my mind off things, and it was, for a while. We got there later than we'd planned because traffic was bad. Something big was going on at the Las Vegas Speedway and I'm guessing it was Nascar related (I've never understood why people can stand to watch that stuff, but now that it's been proven that I'm stupid, maybe I should give it a try). It took us over two hours to get there when it's normally only about a 40 minute drive. Even so, we lucked into getting the last available site at the campground, and were able to get everything set up before dark, so things turned out fine.
We got a nice fire going, and grilled some garden burgers and sausages (what a combination, eh?) and had a good time just sitting and talking. A couple of my friends had a better time than the rest of us though. They downed an entire bottle of whiskey between the two of them, but I'm sure they regretted downing said bottle of whiskey when they woke up this morning. As usual, I was offered my share, but declined. I'm still not ready to take up drinking, but I guarantee that if I did, I could get all my drinks free for at least a month.
Sometime after midnight I had the job of making sure everyone got to bed safely, then turned in myself. I was out fairly quickly, but unfortunately that only lasted until around 3 a.m. Then I got to lie there for the next 3 hours just staring at the sky. The stars were beautiful, but I would have preferred to sleep. I decided then that it would sure be easier to take my mind off things if I just had a pretty girl to make out with. I saw a few shooting stars, and kept wishing for Scarlett Johansson to appear so I could do just that, but she didn't (she was on t.v. when I got home though, I wonder if it's a sign). I eventually drifted off again, but only made it until the sun came up. I had a headache (and still do), but I'm sure it's not as bad as what at least two of my friends had.
We packed up camp and headed back to town, but this time the freeway was completely shut down. Traffic was stopped for as far as we could see, so we had to turn around and go the super long way home. This time it took us over three hours. I don't know what was going on, but I'm hoping that God decided to smite the Nascar fans that were at the speedway, and ended up damaging the freeway in the process. Oh wait, no, He wouldn't do that, not to some of his biggest fans.
Don't worry, I'm almost done moping around.
We got a nice fire going, and grilled some garden burgers and sausages (what a combination, eh?) and had a good time just sitting and talking. A couple of my friends had a better time than the rest of us though. They downed an entire bottle of whiskey between the two of them, but I'm sure they regretted downing said bottle of whiskey when they woke up this morning. As usual, I was offered my share, but declined. I'm still not ready to take up drinking, but I guarantee that if I did, I could get all my drinks free for at least a month.
Sometime after midnight I had the job of making sure everyone got to bed safely, then turned in myself. I was out fairly quickly, but unfortunately that only lasted until around 3 a.m. Then I got to lie there for the next 3 hours just staring at the sky. The stars were beautiful, but I would have preferred to sleep. I decided then that it would sure be easier to take my mind off things if I just had a pretty girl to make out with. I saw a few shooting stars, and kept wishing for Scarlett Johansson to appear so I could do just that, but she didn't (she was on t.v. when I got home though, I wonder if it's a sign). I eventually drifted off again, but only made it until the sun came up. I had a headache (and still do), but I'm sure it's not as bad as what at least two of my friends had.
We packed up camp and headed back to town, but this time the freeway was completely shut down. Traffic was stopped for as far as we could see, so we had to turn around and go the super long way home. This time it took us over three hours. I don't know what was going on, but I'm hoping that God decided to smite the Nascar fans that were at the speedway, and ended up damaging the freeway in the process. Oh wait, no, He wouldn't do that, not to some of his biggest fans.
Don't worry, I'm almost done moping around.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
A fifth of vodka and a bottle of pills and some cheap thrills to keep me wonderin' how I'm still afloat
Ok, so the image thing is finally working again. Here's my idea, so Johnson & Johnson, if you're reading this let me know what you think. I think it could be a big seller.
Oh, and here's a text message my daughter just sent me:
Tag! You're mine! Today is national CLAIM A RETARD DAY and you're my retard!
Thanks kiddo. I needed that.
Oh, and here's a text message my daughter just sent me:
Tag! You're mine! Today is national CLAIM A RETARD DAY and you're my retard!
Thanks kiddo. I needed that.
Give in to the failure that's inside you
For those of you who haven't been checking in, or don't read the comments, I didn't pass my comps. Of course, they're too nice to come out and say that I "failed." Instead, they're putting their decision "in suspension" until I revise everything and we meet again in a few months, but that's just a nice way of saying "you're a dumbfuck." So much for my earlier statement that "one way or another it's going to be over with tomorrow." Obviously I'm upset about it. Not upset enough to go suck on a shotgun lollipop (I learned a long time ago that I wouldn't have the balls to end it all even if I wanted to), but upset enough that I'm posting this at an ungodly hour because I've got nothing else to do but sleep, and that's just not going to happen. Not right now anyway.
One thing that really bothers me about it is that I did know the answers to some of the questions they were asking, it's just that I couldn't think of them when they were asking them. It's a problem with me. I'm never very good at reacting to things when I'm put on the spot because my brain just kind of shuts down any time I demand information from it. (I go through the same thing when playing at trivia night. Sure, I can sing you all the lyrics to a Skid Row song that I haven't heard since I was 14 (and frankly, am quite embarrassed that I ever listened to such crappy music), but if you ask me the title of the album, and need to know it RIGHT THEN, I'm not the guy to come through.) In fact, it occurred to me that I was more nervous standing in front of my committee trying to answer questions than I was the time I was trespassing in northern Nevada and a guy came out with a loaded shotgun in one hand and a beer in the other.
The other thing that kills me is my pride. I didn't go to work yesterday, and probably won't on Monday. Everyone knows that I took my comps, so that means that everyone's going to be asking me how it went, and I'm going to have to explain to them that I'm the only fucking grad student in the recent history of our department to not pass his comprehensive exams. And that says a LOT because there are some really stupid people around here (note - if you're reading this, you're probably not included in that statement). I just didn't think I was one of them until now.
On another note, one of my friends was coming down with a cold the other day, so on our way back to the office from lunch he asked if I'd mind stopping at CVS so he could buy some cold medicine. Since all it required was that I turn into a parking lot right then I did, because I'm cool like that.
When we walked in the door he said "I'll take one of all the ingredients necessary to make meth."
Me: "Well, I guarantee at least one person in this store would be able to tell you what those are."
Just then a woman with greasy hair, sunken cheeks, and sores all over her face walked by.
Me: "In fact, just look in that lady's basket and buy one of everything that she's getting. That ought to do it."
Why am I bringing this up? Because, in the event that this whole Ph D thing doesn't work out (a prospect that's looking more and more likely as time goes on) I've devised a back up plan that should make me filthy rich. I'm going to start marketing the tweaker-on-the-go meth pack, just grab one box off the shelf for all your meth cooking needs.
(It's my way of heeding the words of King Missile "Failure doesn't want to fuck you. Failure wants you to fuck it.")
(Unfortunately, the site is acting up again, so you'll have to wait until it's working properly to see a picture of my new idea)
One thing that really bothers me about it is that I did know the answers to some of the questions they were asking, it's just that I couldn't think of them when they were asking them. It's a problem with me. I'm never very good at reacting to things when I'm put on the spot because my brain just kind of shuts down any time I demand information from it. (I go through the same thing when playing at trivia night. Sure, I can sing you all the lyrics to a Skid Row song that I haven't heard since I was 14 (and frankly, am quite embarrassed that I ever listened to such crappy music), but if you ask me the title of the album, and need to know it RIGHT THEN, I'm not the guy to come through.) In fact, it occurred to me that I was more nervous standing in front of my committee trying to answer questions than I was the time I was trespassing in northern Nevada and a guy came out with a loaded shotgun in one hand and a beer in the other.
The other thing that kills me is my pride. I didn't go to work yesterday, and probably won't on Monday. Everyone knows that I took my comps, so that means that everyone's going to be asking me how it went, and I'm going to have to explain to them that I'm the only fucking grad student in the recent history of our department to not pass his comprehensive exams. And that says a LOT because there are some really stupid people around here (note - if you're reading this, you're probably not included in that statement). I just didn't think I was one of them until now.
On another note, one of my friends was coming down with a cold the other day, so on our way back to the office from lunch he asked if I'd mind stopping at CVS so he could buy some cold medicine. Since all it required was that I turn into a parking lot right then I did, because I'm cool like that.
When we walked in the door he said "I'll take one of all the ingredients necessary to make meth."
Me: "Well, I guarantee at least one person in this store would be able to tell you what those are."
Just then a woman with greasy hair, sunken cheeks, and sores all over her face walked by.
Me: "In fact, just look in that lady's basket and buy one of everything that she's getting. That ought to do it."
Why am I bringing this up? Because, in the event that this whole Ph D thing doesn't work out (a prospect that's looking more and more likely as time goes on) I've devised a back up plan that should make me filthy rich. I'm going to start marketing the tweaker-on-the-go meth pack, just grab one box off the shelf for all your meth cooking needs.
(It's my way of heeding the words of King Missile "Failure doesn't want to fuck you. Failure wants you to fuck it.")
(Unfortunately, the site is acting up again, so you'll have to wait until it's working properly to see a picture of my new idea)
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
All we ask of you is to break both his legs
Tomorrow is the moment of truth. I have to go in for 'the beatdown,' otherwise known as my comprehensive examination. It ought to be a great time. My nerves have been getting worse and worse all day long, and I'm sure that's not going to improve over the next 15 hours. The good thing is that one way or another it's going to be over with tomorrow.
All I ask is that when you see me on the street in the ghetto that you leave some money in my cup. Who knows, by that time maybe I could even tell you where to score some rocks.
All I ask is that when you see me on the street in the ghetto that you leave some money in my cup. Who knows, by that time maybe I could even tell you where to score some rocks.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Bitches ain't shit but hos and tricks
A couple of nights ago I was having dinner with some friends, and one of them kept accidentally bumping my leg with her foot under the table. I told her if she was trying to get fresh all she had to do was ask.
Later I tried to pretend like I was trying to play footsies with her, except I couldn't reach her leg. Finally I looked under the table, and found out why. She had both of them propped up on a chair.
Me: "No wonder I can't find her feet, she's got her legs up, as usual."
Apparently girls don't like it when you say things that imply that they are sluts.
Later I tried to pretend like I was trying to play footsies with her, except I couldn't reach her leg. Finally I looked under the table, and found out why. She had both of them propped up on a chair.
Me: "No wonder I can't find her feet, she's got her legs up, as usual."
Apparently girls don't like it when you say things that imply that they are sluts.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Fly like an eagle
The next time I decide to blow off studying so that I can watch my favorite NFL team play, the least they could do is WIN THE GAME!!!
Especially when they are already up 24-7 and have sacked the opposing team's QB eight times.
You guys ever hear of closing out?
Especially when they are already up 24-7 and have sacked the opposing team's QB eight times.
You guys ever hear of closing out?
Saturday, September 16, 2006
'Cause a little bird never tells me anything I want to know, she's my best friend, she's a sparrow
One of the great things about being a biologist is that if anyone ever gets mad at you because they overhear a conversation in which you're talking about great tits, you can always say this:
"I was talking about the bird, silly. Get your mind out of the gutter."
(The same thing goes for when you're doing a google image search)
"I was talking about the bird, silly. Get your mind out of the gutter."
(The same thing goes for when you're doing a google image search)
Friday, September 15, 2006
Box full of letters - 3
To the woman who was sitting at the table next to us and kept farting, loudly, while we were trying to eat lunch:
Please try to keep your bodily functions under control while you're sitting in a crowded eating establishment. It was very difficult to finish my meal when it sounded like there was a Harley Davidson idling at the next table over.
Sincerely,
Native Minnow
p. s. Unless of course you subscribe to the following philosophy. If you do, then by all means proceed with your five second rumbles.
Please try to keep your bodily functions under control while you're sitting in a crowded eating establishment. It was very difficult to finish my meal when it sounded like there was a Harley Davidson idling at the next table over.
Sincerely,
Native Minnow
p. s. Unless of course you subscribe to the following philosophy. If you do, then by all means proceed with your five second rumbles.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Boy that Mama can cook
I'm one of the best procrastinators in the world. I've got the biggest day of my graduate student career (so far) coming up a week from tomorrow. I should be spending every waking moment reading journal articles and such.
Instead, I decided to bake a zucchini cake.
The recipe called for one half cup of sour milk. Since the milk in my refrigerator is fresh, I had to call my mom to see what to do. The last time I made this cake I had to do the same thing. I remembered her trick of adding vinegar to the milk, but couldn't remember how much vinegar to put in. Luckily she was home so I could finish the cake.
We talked for a while as I was mixing stuff together, and then I got to the point where I had to grate the zucchini, but I couldn't find my grater.
Me: "I hate it when the . . ."
Mom: "What's that?"
Me: "Oh, I was going to say something, but you probably don't want to hear it."
Mom: "What?"
Me: "I was going to say that I hate it when the maid service comes because they always put stuff away in the wrong place and I can never find it."
I don't think my Mom felt too sorry for me.
Instead, I decided to bake a zucchini cake.
The recipe called for one half cup of sour milk. Since the milk in my refrigerator is fresh, I had to call my mom to see what to do. The last time I made this cake I had to do the same thing. I remembered her trick of adding vinegar to the milk, but couldn't remember how much vinegar to put in. Luckily she was home so I could finish the cake.
We talked for a while as I was mixing stuff together, and then I got to the point where I had to grate the zucchini, but I couldn't find my grater.
Me: "I hate it when the . . ."
Mom: "What's that?"
Me: "Oh, I was going to say something, but you probably don't want to hear it."
Mom: "What?"
Me: "I was going to say that I hate it when the maid service comes because they always put stuff away in the wrong place and I can never find it."
I don't think my Mom felt too sorry for me.
Labels:
cooking tips,
desserts,
family,
phone conversations
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Pretty Vegas
You know you're from Vegas when:
- You get excited when it's 95 degrees outside because it's finally starting to cool off.
- You think nothing of walking through a smoke filled casino on your way to watch a movie.
- You think it's normal to walk into a gas station and see a row of slot machines, complete with people playing them, even when it's 7 a.m.
- You find it strange when a business is closed at 10 p.m.
- You don't know how to drive when it rains, let alone the one time a year it snows.
- You ask someone politely to stop flicking their cigarette ashes on your leg, and they look at you like you're the one who is being rude.
- You see so many advertisements with scantily clad women on them that when you see one with a fully clothed woman it seems out of place (and it kind of pisses you off).
- The ice cream truck each night plays don't believe the hype.
- You can look out your office window and see 12 cops chasing someone with guns drawn (the guy is lucky he didn't get shot in the back).
Monday, September 11, 2006
Morning comes twice a day or not at all
Over the past few days I've been reading a lot about extinctions, specifically those that occurred in North America at the end of the last ice age. Any time I think about this the woolly mammoth comes to mind. I remember several years ago when researchers discovered a mammoth that had been frozen in ice in Siberia. At the time there was talk about trying to clone a mammoth by transplanting a nucleus from a mammoth cell into an elephant's egg. I'm assuming this never went anywhere, at least not with any success, being as we haven't heard anything about it since then.
I had a friend who talked about how cool it would be if they were able to successfully clone a mammoth ,and about how funny it would be if they just started reproducing like crazy and their numbers got out of control.
In his words:
"It'd be cool at first, but wouldn't it be funny if they eventually just became a nuisance. They'd be getting into your garbage cans during the night and knocking them over. Every time they did it would wake you up and you'd think 'there's those damn mammoths again, why'd they have to bring those stupid things back' before you rolled back over and went back to sleep."
Maybe we should all be glad that the cloning attempts haven't been successful.
I had a friend who talked about how cool it would be if they were able to successfully clone a mammoth ,and about how funny it would be if they just started reproducing like crazy and their numbers got out of control.
In his words:
"It'd be cool at first, but wouldn't it be funny if they eventually just became a nuisance. They'd be getting into your garbage cans during the night and knocking them over. Every time they did it would wake you up and you'd think 'there's those damn mammoths again, why'd they have to bring those stupid things back' before you rolled back over and went back to sleep."
Maybe we should all be glad that the cloning attempts haven't been successful.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
You bring the razor blade, I'll bring the speed
Last weekend when we were celebrating my friend's birthday we went to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants (and by our, I mean my entire group of friends, not just he and I). When we had finished eating, we began talking about where the next stop was going to be. One of our friends announced that she and her boyfriend wouldn't be staying with us for the next stop:
Her: "We'd love to stay, but we have to get up early to catch a flight, and we haven't even packed yet."
Me: "So you're leaving?"
Her: "Yeah, we're tired and we've got to get some sleep."
Me: "It's like a five hour flight, just snort a line of coke off a stripper's ass and sleep on the plane."
They left anyway, but with it being Vegas and all I doubt we would have had trouble finding them a stripper, although the coke may have been a little more difficult to come by.
Her: "We'd love to stay, but we have to get up early to catch a flight, and we haven't even packed yet."
Me: "So you're leaving?"
Her: "Yeah, we're tired and we've got to get some sleep."
Me: "It's like a five hour flight, just snort a line of coke off a stripper's ass and sleep on the plane."
They left anyway, but with it being Vegas and all I doubt we would have had trouble finding them a stripper, although the coke may have been a little more difficult to come by.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
She's got a bottle of tequila, a bottle of gin, and if I bring a little music I could fit right in
Yesterday I went to lunch at a Mexican restaurant. It must have been a good Mexican restaurant because they were only playing the most authentic spanish music.
Me: "La Cucharacha? Isn't that like Mexico's national anthem or something?"
My Friend: "You know, I don't really think it is."
Me: "Well, it should be."
My Friend: "I'll tell Felipe Calderon you said that."
Me: "You do that. I bet he'll change it for me."
He probably wouldn't though, even if my friend did call him to tell him that.
I realized when I was done with my meal that I'm probably the only person in the world who orders chicken soup and then eats everything but the chicken.
When we left we didn't tip the waiter as much as normal because he didn't give us any white chocolate tamales. That jerk!
Me: "La Cucharacha? Isn't that like Mexico's national anthem or something?"
My Friend: "You know, I don't really think it is."
Me: "Well, it should be."
My Friend: "I'll tell Felipe Calderon you said that."
Me: "You do that. I bet he'll change it for me."
He probably wouldn't though, even if my friend did call him to tell him that.
I realized when I was done with my meal that I'm probably the only person in the world who orders chicken soup and then eats everything but the chicken.
When we left we didn't tip the waiter as much as normal because he didn't give us any white chocolate tamales. That jerk!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
This fire is out of control, we're gonna burn this city
Yesterday students started a fire in my lab not once, but twice. Even after repeated warnings about how ethanol is very volatile and should not be placed next to the Bunsen burners. I'm glad they listen to the things I'm saying when I teach, especially the stuff that pertains to their personal safety.
On a related note, soaking your jeans in ethanol and standing next to a Bunsen burner is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants!
On a related note, soaking your jeans in ethanol and standing next to a Bunsen burner is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants!
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
. . . you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey and you smell like one too
There is a recurring joke among my circle of friends where every time someone has reason to celebrate (birthdays, anniversaries, Fridays, etc.) they'll get asked about which strip club we'll be going to in order to do so. And it's usually me that does the asking. It never gets old. Never!
A friend of mine had a birthday last week, and sent out an email to those whom he wanted to join in on the celebration. He wanted people to dress for the occasion so he ended it with, "make sure you wear your drinking shoes."
I talked to him about it the day before:
Me (being facetious): "What exactly do you mean by 'wear your drinking shoes?' Does that mean shoes we don't care if they get drinks spilled on them, or are you trying to get us to dress up a little bit?"
Him: "I'm trying to get you to dress up a little bit ("Duh, you retard!" was only implied). After all, I only get to turn 30 once."
Me: "You mean I'm going to have to wear pants tomorrow, even though it's 105 degrees outside? That's practically going to kill me."
Him: "Hey, you don't have to go to a strip club, if we go to a strip club, when we go to the strip club if you don't want to go to the strip club."
That sure cleared things up.
A friend of mine had a birthday last week, and sent out an email to those whom he wanted to join in on the celebration. He wanted people to dress for the occasion so he ended it with, "make sure you wear your drinking shoes."
I talked to him about it the day before:
Me (being facetious): "What exactly do you mean by 'wear your drinking shoes?' Does that mean shoes we don't care if they get drinks spilled on them, or are you trying to get us to dress up a little bit?"
Him: "I'm trying to get you to dress up a little bit ("Duh, you retard!" was only implied). After all, I only get to turn 30 once."
Me: "You mean I'm going to have to wear pants tomorrow, even though it's 105 degrees outside? That's practically going to kill me."
Him: "Hey, you don't have to go to a strip club, if we go to a strip club, when we go to the strip club if you don't want to go to the strip club."
That sure cleared things up.
Labels:
conversations,
friends,
parties,
strippers,
Vegas
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Every breath you take, every move you make
The other day someone mentioned something to me about stalkers. Specifically, they mentioned something about how they were going to start stalking me. I'm pretty sure they were joking, after all, a real stalker wouldn't come out and tell you they were going to do it, right?
Now I don't know about you, but every time I think about stalkers, I think about someone hiding in the bushes with a piano string. Which brings up the following questions: Where does one buy the piano string without looking suspicious? I'm sure that there are people out there who build or repair pianos for a living, but it doesn't seem like that would be a very large proportion of the population. I'm sure that these people would have no problem getting a piano string, but what about your average Joe who wants to start stalking someone? Is there a store he could go to, or would he have to convince one of these 'piano men' to sell him one under the table? If it's the former, are there obligations for the store clerk to notify the police if a suspicious looking person purchases a single piano string (as opposed to an entire set)? If it's the latter, how do you find a crooked piano builder who is willing to sell you some of his precious string? Also, is there an optimal size of string that should be used? If you go too thin will it break? Too thick and it won't actually slit a throat? Or is the main goal asphyxiation instead?
This is why I wouldn't make a good stalker. A good stalker would know the answers to these questions.
Now I don't know about you, but every time I think about stalkers, I think about someone hiding in the bushes with a piano string. Which brings up the following questions: Where does one buy the piano string without looking suspicious? I'm sure that there are people out there who build or repair pianos for a living, but it doesn't seem like that would be a very large proportion of the population. I'm sure that these people would have no problem getting a piano string, but what about your average Joe who wants to start stalking someone? Is there a store he could go to, or would he have to convince one of these 'piano men' to sell him one under the table? If it's the former, are there obligations for the store clerk to notify the police if a suspicious looking person purchases a single piano string (as opposed to an entire set)? If it's the latter, how do you find a crooked piano builder who is willing to sell you some of his precious string? Also, is there an optimal size of string that should be used? If you go too thin will it break? Too thick and it won't actually slit a throat? Or is the main goal asphyxiation instead?
This is why I wouldn't make a good stalker. A good stalker would know the answers to these questions.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Their names are called, they raise a paw - Part 3
In honor of school starting up this week I'm giving you some more useless information to remember:
Raising an empty scotch glass toward the sun in order to concentrate the rays on your crotch is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants.
Raising an empty scotch glass toward the sun in order to concentrate the rays on your crotch is not the proper way to start a fire in your pants.
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