Party, party with the animals, party

Nooooooo!!! This just ruined my day. If not my life.

If ever there was a time for a bail-out, now would be it.

Cocaine and sushi on the lower east side

In case you're wondering what graduate students do all day, here's a small taste of what goes on in academia.

Our department has an email listserv that sends emails out to everyone simultaneously when someone posts to it. Usually these emails consist of boring stuff, like announcements for the next snoozefest seminar, but it was put to good use yesterday. Two nights ago a storm passed through, so yesterday the air was very crisp and clear (unusual for this city). One of the professors went to the top of the parking garage and photographed the surrounding view. He sent them out for anyone who wanted to use them(I doubt he meant for my blog, but whatever). Here are some of the pictures he took:





His initial email started a flurry of other emails, talking about whether or not we could use these pictures for the department's web page. Without going into all the details of those, the result was two brilliantly photoshopped pictures put together by two different graduate students (at the suggestion of another professor). Here are those pictures:




As far as I'm concerned, you can never have too many pictures of oversized, fire-breathing rodents attacking Las Vegas casinos.

Happy hours, golden showers, on a cruise to freak you out

I'm house-sitting for a couple that I'm friends with this week while they're playing in the snow at Lake Tahoe. I'm jealous. They told me I should come up for a few days, and I'd like to, but I can't travel that far anyway. Before they left they had me come over so they could show me where everything was, how to change the cats' litter box, etc. As they were showing me around, we had the following conversation:

Her: [One of Three Cats] likes to go with you when you go to the bathroom. He likes to watch. But he doesn't like golden showers, so don't even think about it.

Me: Gross. I wouldn't. Even if it was a really hot girl who wanted me to, I wouldn't do that.

Her: Not even for a million dollars?

Me: Oh, for a million dollars I would. I'd do anything for a million dollars.

Her: What if it was for a jellyfish sting?

Me: Then I probably would, but that's different.

Him: What does that mean?

Me: What? A jellyfish sting?

Him: Yeah. I don't know what that means.

Me: We're talking about an actual jellyfish sting. It's not a euphemism for anything.

I'm guessing that means I throw out euphemisms a little too often since he automatically assumes that's what I'm talking about. However, with the jellyfish sting, I'm thinking it could work as one. Just give me a little time to think about it.

Yeah, they've come to snuff the rooster . . . No he ain't gonna die

The holidays are much less stressful for me these days than they used to be. The semester just ended, and while I still have some grading to do, I'll be finished with everything by Tuesday. Of course, that just opens up a bunch of time to work on other things, like manuscripts that need to be written, but I'll be free from other distractions (except blogging of course) and should be able to make some progress in that area.

However, such was not always the case. When I was going to school in Utah, I worked part time for a major shipping company. The job sucked, but it paid better than most part time jobs, plus I got full medical ad dental benefits so I stuck with it. I got up in the wee hours of the morning to go load delivery trucks and was finished with my shift by 8:00 or 9:00 a.m. This made it relatively easy to register for classes every semester since I didn't have to block out a chunk of my day for work (I did, just not when classes were being offered), another reason why I stuck with the job.

During this period of my life, the holidays were my most stressful time of year. First of all, I'd have finals week to get through, but once that was over, instead of getting a break like many students, I had to work the craziest time of the year at the part time job. The hours would always increase with the extra Christmas volume because it provided us with different opportunities to pick up extra hours (which was actually kind of nice because it helped pay for Christmas). One of the ways to get extra hours was to go out with the drivers during the day and run packages to the door while they sorted through the rest of their deliveries.

One day I was out helping one of the drivers whose truck I loaded, and saw one of the funniest things I've ever seen in my life. She delivered in a somewhat rural area, and one of the houses we had a package for was out by itself down a dirt road. She pulled up to the house and handed me the package to run to the door. The yard was filled with various farm animals. I remember there being goats, ducks, chickens, geese, dogs, cats and small pigs. There may have been others, but that's beside the point.

I should probably take the time to point out that since this was in Utah, and it was Christmas time, there was ice and snow everywhere, including on the sidewalk that led up to this house. I carefully ran up to the front door, and as I did so, the farm animals scattered. They probably weren't used to sudden movements and thought I was attacking them or something, but as they tried to get away from the menacing figure coming at them, they were running in various directions. A few of the chickens, being as stupid as they are, ran straight toward me, but then one of them saw me and hurriedly tried to change direction. It was then that it happened, this chicken slipped and fell on the ice and squawked as feathers flew.

Ladies and Gentlemen, you haven't truly lived until you've seen a chicken slip and fall on the ice. I urge you to find a henhouse and try it for yourself this winter.

Cat scratch fever

Son: That is a mean cat!
Me: Why?
Son: Because, it attacks.
Me: Really?
Son: It attacks humans.
Me: Which humans?
Son: We're humans.

Speak for yourself kiddo. I'm a God.

I've got a bad idea tonight, I've got a Halloweenhead

Trick-or-Treater: Hey Mister, what are you supposed to be?
Me: A bear in a suit, kid. I'm just a bear in a suit.

In case you're wondering what goes on in a day of the life of a bear in a suit, well, you're in luck. It pretty much consists of what you'd expect from a bear. You know, the usual stuff, like scratching:



Blogging:


Teaching:


Playing video poker:


Shooting pool:


And of course, shedding some light onto an age old question:

It makes no difference to me what you leave behind

Today I was approached by a man who wanted to wash the windows on my car for a dollar. I told him no. Then, he asked if he could have a dollar so that he could buy some water. I just kept walking because I'm a bastard and have no regard for humanity. When I got to my car, my friend and I got into a conversation about other ways the guy could get water for free. My suggestion was that he go to a public building and use the water fountain. My friend said that if he wasn't too proud to approach people and ask them for money, then he shouldn't be too proud to try and fill up a cup from a sprinklerhead or something.

I know I drank from a garden hose as a kid, and I'm sure almost everyone has, but as my friend and I were talking about it I had to concede that it might not be the smartest thing to do in case the water wasn't treated and you ended up catching something.

Friend: There aren't a lot of cattle where I come from, so we didn't have to worry about getting Giardia.
Me: It doesn't have to be cattle. I think it can be any mammal. I think beavers are the worst.
Friend: Yeah, well we didn't have a lot of beavers either.
Me: Fine, maybe you could have gotten it from armadillos. You can't guarantee that no armadillo got into your well.
Friend: In that case, I would have caught leprosy.
Me: Really? You can get leprosy just from touching an armadillo?
Friend: I don't think you can get it just from touching them. I'm not sure exactly how it's transferred.
Me: My guess is sexually. So, you probably don't want to have sex with an armadillo.
Friend: Thanks. I'll try to keep that in mind.

While we're on the subject can we change the subject now?

One last thing about my trip to British Columbia, and then I'll move on to other things. I swear. I don't know if it's because of the lower speed limit (100 km/hr = 62 mi/hr) or what, but it seemed to me that there was a lot less road kill along their highways. That said, I'd sure hate to be the person who hit the moose I saw dead on the side of the road. I'm pretty sure that could mess up your vehicle. Oddly enough, that was the only moose I saw the entire trip. I figured I'd see some because they have these signs posted everywhere.

I know the signs had me on extra alert, but obviously it didn't work for whoever hit the dead one. Maybe it's because he saw one of the newer, artsy moose crossing signs instead.

Of course, that doesn't really look like a moose, so maybe the person didn't see the moose standing in the road because they were on the lookout for one of these instead.

One thing I find interesting is the different animal crossing signs you see in different parts of North America. I saw a caribou crossing sign in B. C., but didn't take a picture of it since it was dark and I figured I'd see more (I didn't). I know they have armadillo crossing signs in Texas and Oklahoma, but I'm not sure anything is quite as odd as the ones they have in southern California.

If you tell me that you'll wait for me I'll say I won't be here

I'm leaving for Canada first thing in the morning. I'll be running around British Columbia for the next two weeks. I'm not going to have a computer with me, nor will I be in areas where I expect there to be easy internet access anyway, so obviously I won't be posting during that time. Try not to miss me too much.

I'm going to need you to keep an eye on the internet for me while I'm away. If you can promise to do that, I'll promise to do my best not to get eaten by a bear.

Deal?

Deal!

See you when I get back.

No one will survive - part deux

And now there's an evil dog who is out to get me.

'Cause no one will survive the end of love

I must be a warmonger. How does one know if one is a warmonger you ask? Well, I think it's a telling sign when one gets attacked by a dove. That's right, when something that symbolizes peace has it out for you, it must mean that you're an enemy of peace.

It happened a few months ago when I was walking to my office, minding my own business, when all of a sudden a dove flew up behind me and tried to take me out at the neck. Luckily my ninja-like skills kicked in and I was able to duck its talons (by mere inches) and live to see another day.

At first I thought that maybe it was because it had a nest close by and it was trying to protect its young, being as it was springtime and all. But now it's August, any young should have left the nest long ago, yet it happened again the other day at lunch with a different dove. This time it wasn't such a close call, but it was coming at me straight on instead of trying a sneak attack from behind, thus giving me more time to react.

Stupid doves, they'll be sorry when I launch the nukes.

I wanna be consequence free

One of the benefits of being a three year old boy is that you can go in and out of the house using the doggie door.

One of the drawbacks is that sometimes the dog's not willing to wait for you while you ham it up for the camera.

The first day that my kids were here, my youngest went through the doggie door into the back yard, but couldn't get back in because the door was locked, and didn't want to crawl back through. I went and opened the door and told him to come in the house, but he wouldn't.

Me: "Come on inside, it's too hot out there."

Him: "I can't. I peed my poop."

He's potty trained, but apparently that doesn't count when you're running around in the back yard acting like you're a puppy. It was pretty gross to clean up.

They're just pets

Today as I was walking to grab a bite to eat I saw a woman pulling a stroller out of the trunk of her car. Since I grew up in Utah, this is not an uncommon thing to see. What was uncommon, was that after she unfolded the stroller, she put her poodle in it and started pushing. It got me thinking about how ridiculous some people are when it comes to their pets. Here are a few more examples:

A few months ago I saw a woman I work with, and she did not look happy. I asked her if there was anything wrong and she told me that her cat had died a week prior. I can understand being attached to a pet that you've had around for a while, but it shouldn't affect your ability to function in your daily life. She burst into tears just telling me about it, and said "My friends all tell me to get over it, that it was just a cat, but cats are better than friends. People will always let you down, but not cats, they're always there for you." It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes and saying "Get over it, it was just a cat."

Another guy I know had a dog that should have been put down long before it actually died. He was 14 years old (the dog, not the guy) and had lost the use of his back legs. When he would take him out for walks, the dog would often fall over on its side and start peeing all over himself and anyone else who got in the way. At that point, it's more cruel to keep the dog alive than it is to have it put down, and not doing so is an act of selfishness. When his dog died he couldn't talk to anyone for about a week, even though he had to have seen it coming (we all did).

One girl I know just had to bring her dog in to the office every day because she couldn't just leave it at her apartment. Nevermind the fact that her apartment was approximately 50 steps away from the front door to the office. I use the past tense here only because she would still be doing it if it weren't for a campus wide ban on all animals that weren't aiding the handicapped or police. This ban actually led to a professor in my department cancelling all his classes one day because he couldn't leave his dog home alone for that long.

Now, I've never really had pets that I've become that attached to, partly because my oldest brother was allergic, and having a dog or cat in the house would trigger an asthma attack. We still had pets, they just had to stay outside so they never really became part of the family. But still, all things considered, they're animals, not kids. They don't need to be pushed in strollers. They'll be ok if you leave them alone for a day, if you're worried about it get a doggie door and leave out plenty of food and water, but don't skip work. When they die you can be sad, but not sad enough that you have to take time off work, or can't bring yourself to talk to anyone for a week or two. Some people need to get a grip.

Where was Peter Cottontail?

I was on the phone with my daughter about how their Easter was going. She told me that she got a bunch of candy and a new shirt in her basket. I told her that the Easter Bunny didn't make it to my house so I wondered what happened.

She said "He's probably still mad at you because you killed one of his friends." She was referring to a time when we were visiting my parents and had gone with them to visit my grandparents. I was driving their car on the way back when a rabbit ran out in front of the car and I ran it over. I didn't feel too bad about it other than the fact that my kids thought it was gross (after all, it happens all the time).

A few months later I saw my parents' car was missing a big chunk of plastic from the bottom part of the front bumper. I asked my mom what had happened there, and she said it was from when I hit the rabbit. Then I felt bad.

Now I feel even worse, since the Easter Bunny is boycotting my house because of it.

Almost

Some of my friends are ornithologists. A couple of them just got back from a 3 week trip to Panama where they were collecting specimens for the museum they work for. They said that the trip was good, and that they were able to get most of the birds they were after, including some Trogons - the group that one of them studies (pictured).

He mentioned that he wasn't looking forward to preparing the Trogons for the museum because they are some of the hardest birds to skin without pulling all their feathers out. One guy they work with always jokes about how Trogons lose half their feathers when you shoot them, and the other half when they hit the ground.

This prompted one of my other friends to say, "It's almost like birds weren't meant to be shot . . . almost."