Black dog beside me

Friend: I drove by the park today and it was packed.

Me: Was there some big event there or something?

Friend: No. Just all kinds of people out enjoying the nice weather and walking their dogs and stuff. I guess I would be too.

Me: If you had a dog. But you don't.

Friend: Two words: Chick magnet.

Me: True. But only for chicks who love dogs. And do you really want one of those? I'm not sure I do.

Friend: But, you've got it all wrong. You don't have to take them home. You just wait for them to bend down to pet your dog, and that's when you put it in.


Maybe it's time to start borrowing my roommate's dog.

Gideon, what have you told us at all?

This was supposed to be a post for earlier in the week, but I kind of got sidetracked. Anyway, here's a list of things everybody should give up for Lent, religious or not:

- Smoking crack
- Stomping on the heads of rabbits
- Punching homeless men in the face
- Slipping roofies into girls' drinks
- Strangling hookers
- Fondling young boys

I'm pretty sure if at least one of my readers quits doing at least one of those things, it'll be enough to qualify me for sainthood. Or something like that.

I'm going down down down down down down down to Pussytown

[Disclaimer: If you are any member of my family, you may not want to read this post as it contains what you would consider to be pornographic images. Unless, of course, you're my brother, in which case you're going to want to see this. Heh.]

Are they gone yet? Good.

I'm going to share with you a letter I received earlier this week. Well, it's not exactly a letter per se, but it was in an envelope in my office mailbox.

I grabbed a thick envelope with my name scrawled across it out of my box. Normally I don't receive letters at work, and things that people place in my box are usually in manila envelopes. Not this one. It was just in a regular old white envelope. And did I mention it was thick?

I opened it, and inside was a sheet of paper all folded up with something inside it. It looked like one of those notes you'd get in third grade. You know the kind:



It took quite the effort to open the paper as whoever had given it to me had it all taped shut. Nevertheless, I prevailed, and unfolded the note. What was wrapped up inside it? Why nothing other than about thirty-five advertisements for strippers and escorts (aka, those cards they hand out on the Las Vegas Strip) of course!

I've picked the "tame" ones to show you here (believe me, some of them were a lot more risqué).








The note itself just said:


I have no idea who collected all those cards and wrote the note. It's not exactly the sort of thing you'd expect to be delivered at the office. But, I think it's time I went and gave "Honey" a call.

I am trying to break your heart

[And now, once again, it's time for some relationship advice from the last person in the world who ought to be dispensing relationship advice.]


Things not to say to your significant other*:

- I'm sorry. I wanted so much more, but instead I settled for you.
- I've never, not once, found you attractive.
- Your voice grates on my nerves.
- I'm only with you because I felt sorry for you.
- What do I see in her? Well, for starters, she's pretty.
- Go ahead, do it, and I'll break your fucking head open.








*Unless you want the relationship to end right then.

They deftly maneuver and muscle for rank

As long as I've been driving, I've been aware that there are some drivers out there who believe that they are better than everyone else. They think that their time is more important, and therefore they are justified in cutting people off, weaving in and out of traffic, waiting until the last possible second before merging when a lane ends, driving on the shoulder or in the turning lane for extended periods, etc.

Recently, I've conducted an observational study on Las Vegas traffic patterns in order to determine the types of people who behave in such a way. I've made mental notes* about the types of vehicles that I most commonly see doing any of the aforementioned things. To determine if there is a financial component to such behavior, I assigned vehicle type to one of four categories: Sport Car/Luxury Vehicle, Sport Utility Vehicle, Practical Cars (e.g., Honda Accord, Toyota Camry, etc.), and Old Cars (e.g., Ford Tempo, Geo Metro, etc.).

Results showed that there was no significant** difference between erratic drivers in Sport/Luxury Cars and those in SUVs (p=0.4556). However, there was a significant difference in bad driving between both those groups and drivers in practical cars, as well as drivers in old cars (p<0.0001).



These findings are even more astounding when one considers the proportion of each of these vehicle categories with respect to the total number of vehicles on the road. While Sport/Luxury Cars only make up a small percentage of the number of vehicles on the road, the number of observed instances where those drivers behaved badly was high. Moreover, even though the proportion of SUVs and practical cars on the road was approximately the same, SUV drivers were one and a half times as likely to drive badly.



Since Sport/Luxury Cars and SUVs are far more expensive than practical (and old) cars tend to be, I am left with the conclusion that rich people are assholes.








*This study is based strictly on anecdotal evidence.

**All statistics are fabricated.

Lazy fish crisscrossing endless seas will lay their golden eggs right in your hand

If the economy was better, and if I had a job lined up for after I graduate, and if I didn't have too much other crap to have to pay for, I would so buy a bunch of these.

They're certainly not very classy, but perfect for a guy like me. I may end up buying them anyway.

If it was ugly it's uglier now

Friend: Nice coochie cutters.

Me (excitedly): Where?

Friend: Right there.

I look over and see a guy wearing short shorts.

Me: You idiot. Those aren't coochie cutters. They're nut-huggers.

Friend: So they are.

Me: What a disappointment. You really had my hopes up.

I'm turning Japanese I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so

During this week's trivia contest, Trivia Guy asked a question about where a flag with a white Bauhinia blakeana flower on a red background would fly. The obvious answer is a flagpole, but we knew that wasn't what he was looking for, so we took a guess at what countries had recently become sovereign.

I'm not sure what our final answer was, but I think it was one of the 'new' eastern European countries.

We were wrong. It was Hong Kong.


Asian Girl on our Team(after hearing the answer): Oh. I saw that flag all over the place when I was there.

Me: Wait. You've seen that flag and we still missed the question?

Girl: I thought it was a red flower on a white background. Maybe I was getting it confused with Japan. Isn't their flag a red circle on a white background?

Me: Yeah.

Girl: What is that red circle supposed to be anyway?

Me: Um. The sun.

Girl: Really?

Me: Yeah. Because of the whole 'Land of the Rising Sun' thing.

Girl: What?

Me: Japan is known as the Land of the Rising Sun. You've never heard that before?

Girl: No.

Me: You are the worst Asian ever.

Girl: But . . .

Me (interrupting): Worst. Asian. Ever.

Double talkin' jive get the money motherfucker 'cause I got no more patience

I mentioned once before that I unintentionally masterminded a criminal operation during my employment at a certain shipping company. (What can brown do for you? Give you back problems for life. That's what.) For some reason, I've been reminded of that a lot lately. Probably because I've been seeing a lot of big brown trucks on the road, but I digress.

When I moved to Vegas to start work on my Ph D, I transferred to a center in Vegas. I'd worked for Big Brown for a long time already, so had moved up the pay scale enough to make it worth it. (Or so I thought. That was before needing back surgery. Nothing's worth that.) The thing that sucked was that everything in that company is based on seniority, and once you transfer to a new location, you lose all of it and have to start back at the bottom of the list. That part I didn't mind either. At least not at first. I'd always said I preferred doing the grunt work where you were just paid to move as fast as possible, without being responsible for making anything neat and orderly. The stress level was much lower that way. However, I was good at the other stuff. Loading trucks (as opposed to unloading) and making everything fit. So, while I lost my seniority, and spent the first few weeks at the new building doing the less stressful stuff, it didn't take long for management to figure out that I was better utilized elsewhere. They assigned me to fill in for anyone who was on vacation, injured, or sick. The sick calls were the worst because if someone was going on vacation they would usually try to give you a day working with that person so he/she could try to show you where things went. Regardless, it was tough being in a different part of the warehouse every day, with no time to really learn the specific areas/trucks that I was loading. But, I did get to know many of the different people around the building. And I got to see many different parts of the operation.

So, after bouncing around for a while (before I eventually got sick of it and gave them an ultimatum: give me regular trucks or I'm going to quit), I was assigned to fill in for a guy who'd broken his leg in a car accident. I loaded his trucks for the entire time his leg was healing, so got to know some of the people in that area pretty well. At least on a superficial level. One day they were talking about how much merchandise got moved through the building on any given day, and how they wished you could just pick a package to take home with you once a month or so. It was something the employees would often joke about, even before I transferred, so I didn't think much of it, but I did say that if given the option you could really do well for yourself if you just learned what to pick and choose. Knowing the businesses that are on the routes you loaded for would definitely help decide what to pick. You know, if given the option. Jewelers, auto shops (especially those that deal with expensive rims), electronics stores, etc. would all get packages that you could take and sell for profit, even if you sold the stuff at a much reduced price. It's the idea behind every pawn shop, right?

Anyway, a few of the guys started talking about how it's just too bad that you couldn't do it and get away with it. I mentioned that I didn't think it'd be that hard*, and it really wouldn't have been. They asked me to elaborate, so I did. I told them exactly what I'd do and how I'd do it.

Fast forward to about six to nine months later. One day four people didn't show up to work. Rumor was that they'd been arrested for stealing from the company. It turned out, they'd taken my "advice" and set up an operation where they were regularly stealing packages. They got caught because they got sloppy (and greedy). Rumor was that the police found them in a storage unit with an estimated $60,000 worth of stolen merchandise that they were trying to move. It's probably a good thing they never clued me in nor offered to pay me my cut.






*For my entire life I've been convinced that I could do anything I wanted to and get away with it. As long as I put a lot of thought into it and as long as it was just one time. I still believe that. After all, our system is set up to catch stupid people and repeat offenders. If you're smart about a crime, and only do it once, you don't give the police anything else to work on. Again, it has to be well thought out, and you have to avoid bad luck while executing your plan, but you get my point.

One day it'll take and they'll start to make shirts that fit right

Tortellini: Thanks for the shirt, Dad.

Me: You're welcome. I shouldn't have spent so much, but I like to spend money when I'm depressed. So basically, you're the beneficiary of my depression.

Tortellini: Yay!

Peanut butter jelly time

Friend: I finally got the rest of my home theater set up. I bought some towers to go in front, so I moved those other speakers behind.

Me: That's cool. So now you and your cat can cuddle up and watch a movie together for Valentine's Day.

Friend: Oh, we already celebrated.

Me: Yeah?

Friend: Yeah. I packed my butthole with peanut butter and made my cat lick it out.


Can you believe that? Peanut butter? I mean, doesn't he even care if his cat gets Salmonella?

Public pervert

Last night Tortellini spent the night at a friend's house. This morning she called me to see if I could pick her and another girl up and take them home. She started to give me directions, but I didn't have anything to write with, so I just told her to meet me by the middle school in the neighborhood because I knew how to get there.

I pulled up to a four way stop right by the school, then saw Tortellini and two of her friends sitting on the sidewalk. I pulled up real slow, and looked over at them hoping that Tortellini would see me. Her friend saw me first, and thought I was checking them out instead.

Friend: Gross. That guy's a perv.

Tortellini: That's my dad.

I think they were both right.

Yeah that's right, I'm the egg man

The other day I was standing in line at the post office so I could send off a lab mates' samples since he had to leave town suddenly. There was a family with four kids under the age of six standing in front of me. (I thought, "What is this? Utah?")They were there to get passports.

I crinkled the padded envelope in my hand, and one of the little girls (probably about 5) asked "What is that?"

"Um. Actually, they're DNA samples."

"I'm allergic to eggs."

"You are?"

"Yeah."

Her dad chimed in with "Are you really allergic to eggs? Or do you just not like them?"

She answered, "I'm just allergic to raw ones. But I can eat them if they're in cookies."

It's good to know she can have cookies. I can't even imagine how deprived my childhood would've been without cookies.

Call it education it was somewhere in between

Thursday night. Last lab of the day. Most of the students are gone, but the diligent ones are making sure they've seen everything. As they're nearing the end of it, one group starts talking about going out for drinks afterward since apparently nobody has classes on Friday anymore.

Student 1: [Minnow] do you want to come out with us tonight?

Me: No.

Student 1: Why?

Me: For one, you're my students. But even if you weren't, I need to get up early tomorrow so I'm going to go home and go to bed.

Student 2 (who earlier had been talking about how he'd been dumped by his girlfriend of five years: Are there going to be women where you're going tonight?

Student 3: Why are you asking that? You of all people should know that women are nothing but trouble anyway.

Student 2: That's true.

Student 4: I know. We really are trouble. I don't even know what you guys see in us.

Student 1: I know what we see in you.

Student 4: There is that.

Student 2: No, I don't need that. I can take care of that myself.

Me: Alrighty then. How about we change to a new subject?

Student 5 (pointing to her lab manual): Yes, let's change the subject. So, getting back to lab stuff, I was wondering if you could help me answer this question.

[The Question: Most ferns are monoecious, having antheridia and archegonia on the same gametophyte. How might a plant like this avoid self fertilization?]

Me: I thought we were going to change the subject.

Your menstruating heart

Yesterday in lab after I answered some questions for a group of students:

Student 1: My uncle's a doctor, which is kind of weird, because he says to come see him for my check-ups, but he's a gynecologist.

Student 2: Really? I need him to give me some pills.

Student 1: Do you have any idea how bad that sounded?

Student 2: Not like that. I just need some birth control. Right now I'm on the shot, but my flow is really heavy.

Me: Something tells me that I don't need to be here for this conversation.

Student 2: I'm serious. Don't ever get a depo prevera shot.

Me (walking away): I promise you I won't.

Smoke a cigarette and smile

Every morning when I drop Tortellini off at school there are groups of kids standing on the street and smoking. As I pulled up to the curb this morning we passed by one of these groups.

Me: Should I have dropped you off with the smoker kids?

Tortellini: No.

Me: Are you sure? That one guy looked kinda hot.

Tortellini: Yeah. And he's gay.

Someone, somewhere, so help me settle what is on my mind

Me: It's not often you see an Asian girl with blonde hair.

Friend: Or dressed like that.

Me: I'd do bad things to her.

Friend: If anything, I'm guessing she'd do bad things to you.

Me: I'd be ok with that.

And I hops in my ride to make a quick run

Funny, I thought it was spelled differently.

He said "the soapmakers and we are workin' workin'"

THIS is one of the many reasons why I hate sharing a bathroom.



On the bright side, at least I don't have to share the soap.

My friends are talkin' and they're tellin' you, "Just leave him alone 'cause the boy's bad news."

Saturday night I saw Eagles of Death Metal play at the Hard Rock. They weren't the main draw of the night. No, that would be Motley Crue who were closing out The Joint, and filling the casino with butt rockers as they did so. We were on the other side of the casino, with the cool kids. By cool kids, I mean me and my friend who came to town for the show.

If you've never heard of Eagles of Death Metal, these pictures should tell you just about everything you need to know.




They're ridiculous, but they embrace their ridiculousness. This is obvious when you listen to some of their lyrics. Things such as "I want you so hard, I want you so good", "I can raz-a-ma-taz you honey if you want me to", "I used to didn't dance too good", "I'll tell you anything baby except the truth", "I can be your daddy, be your rock 'n rolla', you can be my baby be my cherry cola", "shit goddamn I'm a man I'm a man", and my personal favorite "guitar like a monkey gonna lick your brain".

To be honest, I didn't really feel like going to the show based on recent events, but I'm glad I did. I think they're better live than they are on their albums. Besides, it helped me not think of rejection for a few hours. Always a plus.

Some highlights of the evening

- We thought we were late for the concert, but then walked right past the lead singer on the casino floor.

- Text messaging SilentKid:
Me: [Friend] wants to find some fat chicks to make out with*.
SilentKid: You guys suck.
Me: On fat chicks.

- Seeing the band take the stage with one of them wearing a shirt that read "68: you blow me and I'll owe you one."

- The lead singer breaking out a comb and running it through his ridiculous mustache while giving the crowd a seductive look.

- Standing next to a hot Asian chick with red hair for most of the show. We almost had a real audible connection.

- Seeing the lead singer accidentally hit the other guitar player in the face with his guitar.

- A fat chick** in the audience started a fight with another woman. It could well be the best thing I've ever witnessed***.

- After messing up on one of the songs, the lead singer asked the crowd, "If I fuck up the words, will you promise not to hold it against me as long as I promise to shake my dick just right?"











*SilentKid and my other friend came to Vegas for a weekend when I first moved here. I've seen SilentKid many times since then, but this was the first I'd seen my other friend. That weekend he made me and SilentKid wait on The Strip until 1 a.m. so he could go to a casino that offered $1 margaritas. His plan was to get five for $5 and slam them one after the other. He carried out the plan, but the margaritas were so small, it was really only like pounding one. Talk about anti-climactic. The only thing that made it worth it to the rest of us was that we got flashed by a woman in a taxi cab while walking to the casino. You've got to love Vegas. He's also the guy that inadvertently started my infatuation with Asian women, but that's a story for another time. All throughout the weekend he kept saying how he wanted to "get drunk and find some fat chicks to make out with." He didn't remember that when I reminded him of it, and said that was one reason why it was good that he quit drinking.

**I didn't make out with her, nor did my friend.

***A little hyperbole there for you.

Don't want you to fall in love now so please don't start

What you don't want to hear when you finally let your guard down and tell someone how you feel.

Me: I think I've fallen in love with you.

Her: Oh no!

Grandma take me home

Two days ago was my grandmother's 92nd birthday. I'm a horrible grandson, and never call, but figured I'd better because you never know how many more chances you'll get. Normally I run out of things to say to her after about five minutes, but this conversation lasted almost a half hour. Here's an excerpt:

Grandma: Do you have a girlfriend?

Me: Well, there's a girl I've been dating, but I don't really know what to call her at this point. I can't really call her my girlfriend because we haven't had that conversation yet, even though we've been seeing each other off and on for about a year and a half.

Grandma: Well, it doesn't really matter what you call her as long as you like to spend time together.

Me: Yeah, we do.

Grandma: And if it ever gets to the point where you ask her, don't do it like [Grandpa] did with me.

Me: How was that?

Grandma: One day he asked me, "What would you say if I asked you to marry me?" I just said, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Me: That's funny.

Grandma: Well, I just thought it was a stupid thing to ask a girl. He didn't deserve to get a straight answer if he was going to ask like that.

Leave him alone 'cause the boy's bad news

Me: Have you seen Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog? If not, you should watch it.

Friend: No. What is it?

Me: It's a project that Neil Patrick Harris and a few others did during the writer's strike. It's about 45 minutes long.

Friend: Okay, I will watch during lunch. However, [Boss] is coming back to town and I have to be on my best behavior at work now.

Me: Neil Patrick Harris plays a character named Dr. Horrible who is trying to gain acceptance into the Evil League of Evil, and he's in love with a girl, and it's a musical, and it's very bizarre, and hilarious.

Friend: It sounds lame, are you SURE its funny?

Me: Yes.

Friend: And are you SURE you aren't gay?


This would be the time when I would normally say "Yes, I'm sure I'm not gay. Bring your sister over and I'll prove it." Luckily, I caught myself and remembered that my friend's sister died a few years ago. That would've been as bad as the time I used a "your mom" joke on a friend whose parents died when he was young.

And if you see Johnny football hero in the hall, tell him he played a great game

While driving to Salt Lake City on Saturday I talked to Epitome-of-Sweetness on the phone. She asked who I wanted to win the Superbowl and said she was rooting for the Cardinals. I said I didn't really care who won. I don't like either team, but when it all comes down to it, I'd rather see the team who hasn't had a lot of success through the years. That tipped the scale in favor of the Cardinals*.

She said she wanted the Cardinals to win because she really liked Kurt Warner.

I said he'd be a reason for me to want the Cardinals to lose.

She was shocked. How could I not like a guy who has done so many good things? After all, he married a woman who had disabled kids. He used to bag groceries. He does charity work for disabled kids. You've heard all the stories. That's exactly why I'm sick of him. I don't care if he helps raise money to help disabled kids. He does it for self-serving reasons. Do you think he'd be actively doing that if he didn't have disabled kids of his own? I doubt it. I hate hearing about him. I especially hate hearing from him. Did you know that God helped Kurt and his team beat the Eagles in the NFC championship game? It's true! Kurt Warner said so.

I hate hearing athletes talk about God. I have news for them. You play a game. For a living. You get paid more than anybody probably should be paid to play a game. I get that. I'd do the same thing if I had the ability, but still, it's a game. God doesn't care whether you win or lose. In fact, if I had to wager on it, God would probably be pissed off that you play it on Sundays. That's not exactly keeping the Sabbath day holy as He commanded in The Bible, is it Mr. Warner?

What does God do when there are people who believe in him on both teams? Does He push the most faithful team to victory? Oh, that's right. He doesn't do anything. The outcome depends on talent, making good plays, and catching a few lucky bounces throughout the game. To presume otherwise is sheer arrogance. We won because God likes us better? The following quote by Jeff Stilson comes to mind:

" I'm trying to wean myself off sports, it's too time consuming. I don't watch football anymore, I gave that up. I got tired of the interviews after the games, because the winning players always give credit to God, and the losers blame themselves. You know, just once I'd like to hear a player say, 'Yeah, we were in the game—until Jesus made me fumble. He hates our team.'"

It's the same type of thinking for people who survive a tragedy to believe they're meant to do something special in life because God spared them. So isn't that about the same as saying that the people who died did because they were somehow unworthy? Seems that way to me. People need to get over themselves.

Epitome-of-Sweetness seemed taken aback by my rant. She said that maybe I was the Anti-Christ. She said that at her old job people always said that about her, but she was thinking it applied more to me. Then she gave me a quote that I'll adopt as my own personal slogan: I'm not anti-Christ, I'm just anti-stupid-people.









*It wasn't meant to be. Maybe God doesn't like Kurt Warner as much as Kurt Warner would like to think. The end of the game was fairly entertaining, which is about all I'd hoped for.

The black book you took was permanently diversified

You know what I absolutely love? Besides candy that is. And boobs. No? Well, let me tell you. I absolutely love document delivery services (aka, interlibrary loan).

Sure, you're supposed to only use document delivery services if you've searched the library catalog without finding the book/chapter/article/document you're looking for. But you know what? If you're lazy (like me), you can request something without doing that first. If the library doesn't have it, they'll find it somewhere and email a pdf to you within a few days. If they do have it, they'll send you an email telling you that they have it and also tell you where to go find it. In other words, they do all the work.

Now, if I could just get one of them to write and defend my dissertation.

Hey monkey, when you open up your blue eyes I don't know if I'm wide awake or dreaming

During one of the Superbowl commercials:

Me: That's gross. I'd never kiss a monkey.

Flieswithoutwings: Never?

Me: Wait. I take that back. If they paid me the amount of money they paid that guy to be in their commercial, I'd totally kiss a monkey.

Flieswithoutwings: I think you'd probably kiss a monkey for a couple hundred dollars.