Exactly how does our species continue to reproduce?!?

April 29, 2009 at 7:39 pm (animal behavior, boobs., crafts, focus of my ire)

I’m a very nice person, people. Any time someone needs help, I will nearly fall over myself to get you what you need. That’s just who I am. Today, a guy walked up to me and asked where the bus stop for the bus going in the opposite direction was. I smiled nicely and told him he’d have to walk all the way around the block, that bus didn’t even go down this street, but if he took this shortcut…etc. What did he do? Did he do the polite, “normal” thing most humans do when they are helped out?

NO! The fucker said, “Oh wow, wanna hang out?”

I admit, I was confused for a moment, because that was way not what I was expecting. My response was, “Um, no, I’m married.”

Cool guy’s reply? “You’ve got some great breasts.”

Fan-fucking-tastic. I think I said something like “Yeah, I know” and fortunately the bus pulled up just then so I could escape…except cool guy followed me on to the bus, stammering “oh, I didn’t mean that, I’m just stressed from school and stuff…” I made sure to sit at the back of the bus, where there were basically no seats…and he followed me, so he could ask the ever important question, “Hey, do you have any friends I could hang out with?”

WHAT THE FUCK???

Ever the polite Texas girl when stressed, I think I laughed awkwardly and said “no, I’m basically a nerd.” Cool guy still didn’t get it- he then said “hey, we could hang out and play chess! You could just wear a blanket! You seem really interesting, you know, not just because of your tits!”

Thank GOODNESS he then had to get off the bus (but not without first giving me his myspace page! How classy!). I don’t know how long I could hold back my flabbergastery* and rage. What the hell?? Do those lines work? From what I hear, they must, because apparently there are no classy guys out there. Well, maybe Kurt.  Um, or not. E and I are going to give up on men altogether and get a house in which we can live as sexy spinsters and have sexy-but-mute cabana boys bring us big pretty drinks in our hammocks while we knit while listening to audiobooks and watching the cats play. Suck it, men. If you, as a gender, do not get your shit together and learn how to talk to people as normal adults are supposed to, you are losing two freaking sexy and, most importantly, incredibly smart and talented ladies to a world you will not even be allowed to glimpse (unless you are our cabana boy. Who instead of being mute is actually a student of either neurobiology or physiology and very smart and knows just how fucking annoying it is to hear about our damn tits all the time). The sadest part about this event is that I probably will experience many more situations in this vein as a teacher. Specifically as a teacher with breasts. I can only hope the male teachers I work with will at least be civil- the ones I’ve met from my program so far are really cool, so perhaps there is hope for the male gender and the species as a whole.

I was going to come home and craft something with really big, sharp, stupid-boy-crushing teeth, but I’m tired. I’m in the middle of another major insomnia run and it is starting to kick my ass. It’s totally a result of both how excited I am about my new career** and how freaked out I am when I actually realize that, oh, crap, I’m going to be teaching. Teaching students. Students who will basically only stare at my breasts and when they fail and I have to have conferences with their parents about it, their parents will either yell at me and make me cry or just stare at my breasts. Or a combination of the two. GAH.

Anyway, earlier in the week I embroidered something that fits my mood very well right now, based on a pattern I found on an amazing artist’s site:

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Don’t fuck with this angry pegasus, man, he will tromp all over you. And there will probably be pony poo involved. Grrr…

In a related side note, I just want to mention how much I love embroidery…it’s like tracing and/or coloring, but with needles…

FIN!

*I’m totally claiming this is a real word.

**Only 4 more weeks of lab left!!

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sock goblins!

April 24, 2009 at 9:36 pm (crafts, monsters)

I recruited some outside help to assist with my tree curses. Meet the sock goblin!

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Sock goblins eat tree curses for breakfast, and then nap. Next time I should probably make recruit a goblin that’s also a masseur, my neck still hurts like hell and I’m almost out of vidocin…

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More tree monsters!

April 23, 2009 at 10:39 am (monsters, reality is not for me, weirdness abounds)

I discovered another scary tree yesterday, and this one was worse than the jabberwocky tree because it turns out it lives on the campus where I work! Not only that but I’ve been standing at the bus stop in front of it for years and until yesterday always turned a blind eye to the evil that lurked so close by.*

This particular breed of tree monster is especially heinous, as it can affect people who come near it and learn its secret! Case in point- I am home from work today, hoped up on vicodin from a busted back muscle, all because I care about you people and want to warn you about the dangers of monster trees. But no tree monster will keep me from telling you about…the angry radish tree!
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For those without the blessing/curse of monster vision:

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This monster tree is a particularly angry breed, as it has to sit and watch all day while college kids throw frisbees at it, make out under it, and/or throw up from too much beer around it, and all the monster tree can do is sit and fume because it has such tiny, useless legs. Overtime, it has developed a way to shoot curse lasers out of its crazy eyes, as you can see clearly depicted above. So this guy just sits and wiggles his tiny, useless arms and legs all day while shooting curse lasers at anyone who gets too close- like poor, unsuspecting me. The curses take time to set it but apparently manifest as pulled shoulder/neck muscles that you don’t feel until you wake up, at which point you can barely move and Dr. FianceeHusband has to wash your hair for you because you can’t move your arms up that high, and then you take a vicodin left over from when you were in the hospital last year because you think it is a muscle relaxant and it turns out it totally isn’t,  but who cares because even though you are still in pain, you feel awesome about it. Side effects of the curse (or possibly the vicodin) include moments of severe clarity and madness sprinkled between serious space out periods, aka cat-like behavior.

So this tree may sort of look like a radish at first, but if you dare to look close enough you can actually see that it is much more serious than that. It is actually a pecan tree that grew up out of a live oak trunk, deforming both in the process. No wonder it is so evil. But also seriously a cool example of biology in action!
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And we all know that the live oak part must be the evil part, as scientific evidence has shown** that pecan always makes things awesome, not evil.

I think my vicodin has worn off because my awesomeness has decreased drastically and my pain is starting to matter again. Stupid tree curse!

*Unintentional rhymage is all part of the curse. Or the vicodin.
** Scientific evidence= me growing up in Austin, pecan-central. Mmm…

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Dear Funk: Fu*k you

April 21, 2009 at 5:01 pm (dear universe)

I am so over you, funk. You tried to beat me down, and succeeded for a while, but this girl cannot be stopped. I have way too much stuff to do what with quitting and not having a job this summer and learning how to teach, on top of crafting my freakin’ ass off to get all the crazy out of my head. I’ve always hated those stories about the girl who is just slightly not strong enough to handle stuff, so she has to wait and have someone rescue her. Well, f-that, buddy. I’m tired of waiting and I’ve always assumed that “holding out for a hero” song that I love so much was more about someone holding out so that I could come rescue them, rather than me waiting around for life to turn around. I look freakin’ hot in a cape, people. So no more wah-wah, poor me, poo poo crap, time to tie on the cape and get on to the ass-kicking. I think my lovely E was right when she said my current job was giving me Stockholm syndrome. Well, screw that, my head already has enough wrong with it as is. My coworkers don’t give a crap about me? Well, I don’t care, I’m leaving them all anyway. I’m going to go somewhere where I’m not just needed, but a hero to people that I will see everyday. I’m going to have to make capes to go with all my outfits…

Hiiiiiii-yaaaaa!

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I got nothing. This post is boring.

April 21, 2009 at 11:03 am (boring)

That’s not entirely true, I have 422 unread blog posts waiting for me in my google reader. Gah! But, I have no coherent, blog-length piece of interest, so instead here’s a bunch of little things that have been floating around in my head.

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I’m worried that when I become a teacher I’m going to get all boring. See, it’s already starting ’cause I don’t even know how to flush that out into a full, sarcastic piece of awesomeness. I blame it on how lonely and depressing my current job is.

*******
This is what I had to put up with while studying for my mad teaching test:
img_1166bPeaking over my computer (on which I was actually trying to concentrate, because I was on a conference “webinar” about how to prepare for the scary test) is Cockzilla. I met Cockzilla back in college Chemistry I, when Dr. FianceeHusband and I were past the “oooo, naked!” phase and in that “ok, penises are actually pretty funny” phase. Dr. FianceeHusband liked drawing crazy things on my notes when we had classes together, and one day Cockzilla was born. I don’t think I have any old pictures of him any more, but back in Chemistry Cockzilla would terrorize cities all over my notes. He’s the size of a skyscraper, you see, and could spew fire and possibly other things. Since we haven’t had any classes period in over two years, I hadn’t seen much of Cockzilla in a while, but as I was asking a question over the phone to the person who would eventually become my mentor in this teaching program, I looked up and there he was, peaking over my screen. Also I think it’s pretty funny how there’s a guy parachuting away from Cockzilla on Dr. FianceeHusband’s shirt. Awesome.

*******

Kiwi is ready to run for president.
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See, he’s already hiding documents (under his furry butt) and being bribed with toys. And his face just screams “would I lie to you? Oh yes, I would, but it’s cool, I’m a good ‘ol Texan politician!” Kinda like LBJ, but furry.

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“No pictures! I did not steal that food! What is your definition of the words ‘barfing up hairballs?’ I’ve never even been to an airport bathroom!” See, he’s totally ready.

*******

I have finally decided what my favorite food is. I know, that’s sorta weird but hey, consider the source, people. I love tomato bisque. Holy crap, I could and have lived on it. Dr. FianceeHusband hates it, but he’s going on his yearly field season trip in a few weeks, during which time I plan to buy a huge loaf of french bread, several jars of my favorite bisque, and lock myself in my apartmennt with the cats and old x-files episodes. If I had a prostate, it would be the healtiest prostate in the damn world. It would make all my other, non-lycopene needing organs jealous.

*******

I am supposed to be off in a dungeon of a lab, stuffing estrogen into tubes for a lab that doesn’t even like us and yells at us a lot. Instead I’m blogging and having a mild panic attack about the enormity of what I have gotten myself into with the whole teaching thing. I’m suppposed to interview for jobs before I’ve even started learning how to teach?? What the frick?!? Scary, scary, scary…

*******
Thus concludes this boring post. Sorry, readers. At least you got to meet Cockzilla…

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Having gotten her scores, our heroine prepares for the weekend

April 17, 2009 at 9:13 am (teach this!)

But will she be drinking in celebration, or in self pity?

CELEBRATION, BITCHES!!!*

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*Bitches being the nay-saying voices in my head. Well, they can suck it ’cause this girl, who works in a fancy pants high tech laboratory, knows her high school science.

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insults and injuries

April 15, 2009 at 11:13 am (rants)

There are days when I worry that I won’t be able to leave my lab when the time comes, because I’m so invested in so many of the experiments, and going to be published on at least three more papers, and I just feel like my leaving will disrupt the already fragile ecosystem that is in place here, not to mention pontentially bankrupt the budget when they pay out all my built up comp and vacation time.

Then there are days like today, when people around me assume I know nothing about the experiment I have been developing for over a year, when they haven’t been involved in it at all. They dismiss everything that I have been working very hard on and assume they know everything. They don’t bother asking me about it or discussing what could be developed further (which I love to do, by the way, I’m not a big stubborn jerk about that sort of thing), they actually just totally go around me and assume they have to start from scratch. My work has been for naught, apparently. So, if I leave, it’ll be ok! No one needs me now anyway!

Awesome. I’m writing my resignation letter.

Rant over. Otherwise I’m totally hanging in there, everybody, thanks for the nice comments. I should get my test score today, by Friday at the latest, so I’ll let you know how that turns out…

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an honest opinion

April 13, 2009 at 8:09 am (crap)

I just finished my teaching test and here is how I feel about it:

BLEEEEEEEH.

Sigh. I’ll get my results in 48 hours, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be retaking this test…stupid high school science, stupid me knowing too much about one subject and not enough about others.

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conversations with myself

April 10, 2009 at 11:57 am (life in general)

procrastinating me: I really need to catch up on my blog reading and write some posts and…
rational me: You have a massive test on Monday! Not to mention the fact that you haven’t been to work since last Tuesday!
procrastinating me: Yeah, but the boss knows I needed a break, so there ya go.
rational me: And the studying? How’s that going? Are you ready for the test?
procrastinating me: Hey, I have all weekend to go back through everything one last time, plenty of time! Plus I’m halfway through my chemistry review, that’s like, you know, good, right?
rational me: Sigh.
procrastinating me: Also, I want to go out! It’s nice outside! I can study when I get back…
rational me: you are hopeless and let’s just hope the test is biased towards biology and plate tectonics.
procrastinating me: the fact that plate tectonics wasn’t excepted accepted until the year my parents were born blows my mind!
rational me: I can’t believe you still get accepted and excepted wrong when you write, and you want to teach kids.
procrastinating me: Science, I want to teach them science. Not boring stuff like grammar and english and stuff.
rational me: …
procrastinating me: Oh! I can go to the bookstore while I’m out and get a book on words that I suck at! Also, look, something shiny!
rational me: and away we go… maybe there will be some less nonsensical posts next week.

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numbers

April 6, 2009 at 9:25 am (life in general, thoughts and musings)

I like numbers. They do what the are supposed to and don’t get passive aggresive or poop or anything.

Number of hours I’ve work in the last two weeks: 120
Number of hours I will work this and next week: 110, at least
Number of hours I slept when I got home Saturday night: 12
Numbers of weeks I thought I had left until this job was over: 6
Number of weeks I actually have left: 8
Percentage I am disappointed by this: 100%

Days until my teaching test: 7
Days I need to feel confident I know everything that is covered on the test: 30
Actual number of days I will spend studying this week, probably: 3
Number of stress pimples I will probably develop as a result: 3-5

Percentage, on a low self-esteem day, that I feel like I’m making a mistake about switching careers: 50%
Percentage, on a good day, that I feel like I’m totally doing the right thing about my career: 100%

Number of people that I think will be disappointed by my hiding of my cleavage post: 18,3478,430,923
Probable actual number: 2

Number of cups of coffee that it will probably take for me to get through today: 12
Number I’ve had so far: 1
Probability I’ll be working at a coffee shop all day: 100%
Probability that I’ll spend most of the day watching hipsters pontificate about random crap instead of working: 100%
Probability that the coffee shop I’ll decide to work at will be the one where the guy living next door to it is super hot and walks around his backyard half naked: 150%

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