Oh my moly. Things are a-happenin’!
-I finally left the lab- woohoo!! No more rats and disgruntled grad students for me!! Unfortunately this also means no more income…
-I started my teaching certificate program- it is simultaneously incredibly frustrating and exciting. It’s frustrating because so much emphasis is put on this rule system that the program is based on, rather than the ins and outs of how to teach, which is what I really need to know. Additionally, apparently some of the people in the program are catty bi-oches*, because it’s only the second day of the program and I’ve already basically been told someone is talking crap about me. Awesome. Can’t get enough. Bring it, fools, you’re just jealous of my mad science background.
-I start teaching for real next Wednesday. Sure, it’s “student teaching,” but I’m actually teaching the lesson, making lesson plans, directing labs, grading, etc, so the only difference I see is that I’ll be under supervision the whole time. Plus I’m so excited about teaching that I keep volunteering for things when I should be just sitting back and watching. But this is good, right? ‘Cause no one will ever forget who I am this way…of course, they’ll all think I’m a nutcase, but at least they’ll never forget me…
In other news, we have a new addition to our household:
Chomsky! The incredibly intense bearded dragon! My friend is moving out of the country and wanted Chomksy to go to a good home rather than being sold back to the pet store, so he became ours. I was worried the cats would freak him out, but since the second day he’s been here, he’s basically just ignored him. They cats, on the other hand, can’t get enough of him, especially during “daylight” hours when the heat lamp is on and he’s up and moving around.
That’s big ol’ Kiwi, showing some love by sleeping on top of poor Chomsky’s terrarium, even though I’ve chased him off of there 248952720 times already. Little bastard. Cute, but still a bastard.
I had more pictures to post, of shops shaped like cupcakes and giant teddy bear statues that must induce nightmares (both of these things I saw in town recently…) but I am tired and I still have to write a syllabus and lesson plans and read some case studies and this and that and…
*i don’t know how you actually spell this word but I think my point still gets across so I’m comfortable in my ignorance in this area.
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I’m so bad about writing these days! And I don’t know why, my head is just as full of crazy as it always has been, so somewhere along the line I should be pouring that crazy onto my keyboard and thus into the interwebs. Instead, whenever I go to my blog I just mess around with backgrounds and themes and such. I admit, I can be a bit of a wanker sometimes*. But hopefully I’m an anonymous wanker now! Go ahead, new readers, just try and figure out who I am! Except don’t, that’ll ruin the mystery…also that assumes that I get new readers. I had a boss in high school, when I gloriously worked at the bowling alley across the street from my parents’ house and got hit on by 50+ year old men every night, who loved saying “you know what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of you and me.” To which I always thought, Good one, Aesop, now shut up and let me go finish spraying the dirty shoes that are stacking up on the counter. But I was meek and polite so usually I just apologized for assuming that costumers who told me that they had their own bowling shoes were totally lying when I could see that they were, in fact, just wearing sneakers. But enough about my recurring nightmares…
Hey, what the heck happened to my font?!?
Yesterday Dr. FianceeHusband and I were at a “restaurant” and I watched a guy pull up at the drive through and order through his back window, rather than the driver side, normal window. Then we debated whether or not he did this because he was such a cool, low rider guy and his seat was just that far back (which it was, actually), or because his front window didn’t work. His car was very shiny and pretty, with rims and everything, so I’m guessing its’ the “cool guy” thing.
Two more weeks of work! Woot! Except then I won’t have an income or insurance! Shit!
I saw the new Star Trek movie and liked it, except that we saw it at the IMAX and it was TOO BIG to take in, which was annoying. Also, seriously, J.J. Abrams, what’s with the jerky camera motion? Come on, relax buddy, and get your camerapeople some freaking tripods. The only thing that kept me from horking was the fact that new Kirk was so pretty. Pretty even when the IMAX made his face so big that I could see right down into his soul through his pores during close ups. But, you know, not in a creepy way.
I start student teaching in three weeks- eep. I am worried that despite all my buster and preparedness, I’m going to get up there in front of the kids and just go totally blank. Or my nipples will, um, stand at attention. When I was a TA in grad school, there was a day when I was leading a discussion section** and I watched as all eyes suddenly, as one, moved from my face to my chest. Apparently I was very excited about mitosis… From then on I wore a hoodie to class, no matter how hot it got. And there were days when I would be 100+ degrees outside, but sweating was a small price to pay for invisible nipples. Also on those hot days less students showed up at office hours in my cramped, un-air conditioned office. Hmm… Now I have to dress “pretty” though so I think a hoodie is no longer an option, though I have thought about sweaters- but do you know how much those damn things cost?!? Maybe I’ll try to get away with wearing hoodies with my dresses…
This weird font size change is pissing me off, and I can’t figure out how to fix it!
Our car is trying to make me crazy. It has decided that now that I will actually need it on a daily basis, rather than just once a week when we buy groceries or go to “restaurants,” it will die on us repeatedly. We can’t figure out what its problem is, so Dr. FianceeHusband is finally breaking down and taking it to the shop. See, we have a volvo, in a we-used-to-have-a-cool-old-volvo-and-now-we-have-a-soccermomish-new-one-shut-up kind of way. Volvos are awesome because you can drive the hell out of them, by which I mean you can put 1845893578923489 miles on them, but when they break you can’t just run to Autozone to get a new part since they are all Swedish/German-y. So, there’s one really good Volvo shop in town, and they are so good and there are so many Volvos in Austin that you can’t just drive up and say “hey, my car’s broke!” and they’ll fix it, you have to make an appointment. So it could take a while to get the car into and out of the shop, which is bad because 1). I need it, and soon and 2). Dr. FianceeHusband is leaving town for two weeks this weekend, which means I’ll have to deal with the mechanics and I’m not good with confrontations when I don’t have all the facts. What if they tell me that the harmonic balancer*** needs to be replaced? Or that it’s time to replace the unicorn oil****? I’ll be powerless to tell them to shove it, and we’ll end up
getting charged $28248312.
My word count on this post is creepily stuck on 911…what does that mean? Even though I keep writing, it won’t change. Do you need assistance, WordPress?!? Maybe I’ll just stop writing now…but just in case, here is a tiny goat:
You just never know when you might need a tiny goat.
*I have been shamelessly watching BBC shows. Swoon!
**Translation: lecturing because none of the students could understand the prof
***This is a real part in Volvos!! They are from the future or space or something! Also can you believe that WordPress doesn’t think “balancer” is a real word?
****I bet Volvos do run on unicorn oil…
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1. Going to a teacher’s job fair in May when all you have is a probationary teaching certificate is way pointless and pretty damn frustrating. Chance to network my butt, the principals are not interested in chitchatting with you about your teaching strategies, they want to meet teachers with 248927 years experience. Whatever.
2. I should never go the Pecan Street Festival by myself when I am on a budget, especially a you-just-put-in-your-resignation-and-have-no-summer-income budget. But there were so many pretty things (though this pic does not do this mobile justice):
3. Girls with chubby thighs that may or may not be me should not go to street fairs for hours in the heat when wearing a skirt.
4. Having a desk covered in crafting supplies is not conducive to filling out teaching applications, organizing a neat resume, etc.
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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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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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Things I should be doing:
1. Preparing for my teaching test (bleh)
2. Cleaning (bleeeeh)
3. Planning experiments (meh)
4. Writing protocols for my eventual departure from the lab (BLEEEH)
What I am actually doing:
1). Reading Lucy Knisley’s comics. I followed a link about her on BoingBoing because she has the same last name as my best friend from middle school (Hello, Annick? Hello?) but now I am hooked, she is crazy amazing. And her assessment of the Twilight “books” are spot on.
2). Watching Spaced. Best. Show. Ever.
3). Thinking about how to design my wedding dress. But wait! It’s going to be a long She-ra dress with a rip away skirt so that I am left with a mini skirt bottom in case monsters attack or I need to dance! It’s going to be kickass.
4). Assessing the pros and cons of taking a nap so late in the day.
Gah! Must study!!
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Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce… Turtle Opera.
No, I have no idea what he/she* is doing, but my guess is opera because it isn’t turtle mating season yet. You can tell some of the turtles on campus want to be ninja turtles when they grow up, though:
He/she’s totally working his/her biceps.
And I stick by my theory that too much of anything gets a little creepy, aka swarms are gross and too many turtles start to look disturbingly like bugs:
which is probably why this guy/gal decided to make a break for it:
This is how I imagine these turtles are interacting:
Big turtle: Noooo! Take me with you!
Little turtle: Screw you, I need to be free! Also you don’t share your algae/fish/french fries/whatever turtles eat with me! Goodbye forever! Or at least until I chicken out and jump back into the water!
The best thing about red-eared slider turtles? This:
Turtle smile!
*short of cutting it open, I have no idea how to sex a turtle unless I am watching them mate**.
**I probably need to clarify that I mean watching it mate with another turtle. You crazy readers…***
***I should probably further clarify that I am not some crazy who goes around watching turtles mate on purpose, I just see it at zoos or on TV or in the above turtle population sometimes and if you have never seen a turtle couple getting it on, you should google it because that shit is HILARIOUS. ****
****”that shit is hilarious” is totally a scientific phrase. Also, there’s this:
Interesting street art is almost as cool as crazy opera turtles in my book.
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I love factoids, almost as I love a good, random list. I already did the 25 things about me list on Facebook, so for the two of you readers who read that (and thus know my secret identity!) I’m going to make a list of 25 extremely strange and random things about me*. Why? ‘Cause I’ve been stuck in a dark closet with my face glued to a microscope for several days now and I feel like sharing some silly things with the masses instead of stabbing myself in the eye with a slide. You know, typical Meg stuff.
1). I have a weird form of synesthesia where if I touch my eyeball, I taste powdered donuts.
2). When I was in high school I worked at the bowling alley around the corner from my house. I still have nightmares about working there, that I’ll end up having to go back because all my other career options failed. Oddly I never have science-related nightmares, but I still have bowling alley-related ones.
3). When Dr. FianceHusband and I were freshmen in high school, we basically hated each other. We were both the “smart kid” in our biology class, and there’s no room for two smart kids. I made him write in my yearbook and he wrote a big thing about how our torrid affair must end because the circus was calling to him.It was basically a big sarcastic way of saying “I don’t know who you are and I don’t like you.” I totally forgot about him for a year after that.
4). Many of my life choices were made on a whim. For example, when I was a junior in high school I decided I could relate my “love life” to the type of snack I was enjoying- I had been eating poptarts and they were starting to bore me, and really I wanted a Twix. In my teenage brain, this equated to how I was tired of my old, smokey boyfriend and needed to find myself a new, fresh, perhaps caramelly new crush. I looked around my pre-cal class room and settled my eyes on the cutest guy in the room and decided, “Yup, that’s the one.” That guy was Dr. FianceHusband. He didn’t stand a chance.
5). One of the worst experiences I had in grad school involved having to help clean out a “carcass containment freezer” which was where bodies of big marine animals were “stored” until the naturalist at the school where I went had a chance to look at them. He totally never bothered looking at them, though, and eventually I was drafted to help him clean it out. So, one hot summer day in South Texas, I helped haul the dead and quickly-thawing bodies of sea turtles, dolphins, sharks, and birds into what was basically a mass grave. It was horrible and I had to throw out the three pairs of shoes I wore through that experience because so much goo and ick got into them. Let’s not talk about those nightmares. Nothing screams horror like carcass after carcass of animals that have been rotting on a beach before being thrown in a freezer, that then start to thaw…
6). All of my expensive shoes totally smell like rotting turtle carcasses even though I bought them way after that experience. I don’t know what is up with that.
7). I get asked “what’s your favorite movie” a lot and I am always hard pressed to come up with answer, but I think I’ve finally narrowed it down to Monty Python’s Holy Grail and Beetlejuice
8 ). I am going to go see Spamalot tonight and I am very, very excited. This will be the first Broadway/off Broadway/traveling Broadway/whatever show I’ve ever seen.
9). My brain feels like it’s split into two parts- the thinky part and the back part, which is always either continuously playing some song or telling me horrible things like “i hate kids” that the thinky part then has to shout over.
10). Sometimes the song stuck in my head (the back part, see #9) is so loud that I can’t think.
11). I am totally going to make my own wedding dress and it is basically going to be a long version of a She-ra costume. By which I mean AWESOME.
12). The back, grumpy part of my head doesn’t like people at all but when I ignore it and do go hang with my friends I realize that there is something to the whole “socializing with your peers” thing…
13). I secretly wish I could take my cat with me everywhere. Ok, not so secretly. I totally, openly wish I could take Kiwi with me to work.
14). I talk to myself a lot. I think it might be because the thinky part of my brain thinks the back, grumpy part of my brain is a big jerk who plays her music too loud so they don’t talk. Damn kids. And brain parts.
15). I love cartoons. Not the crap cartoons of my youth, really, but the snarky sarcastic ones of today, such as Flapjack and Venture Brothers and Frisky Dingo. I only wish there were more…
16). When I was a kid my grandpa gave me the soundtrack to the Phantom of the Opera** and I loved the crap out of it. I never actually saw the musical, so I basically made it up in my head to go along with the music. I used to sing it at the top of my lungs on my playground. Needless to say, when I finally saw the movie version I was totally unimpressed- it totally did not live up to the version in my head.
17). I really like watching operas. Most ballets bore the crap out of me. Symphonies make me jealous because I’m not playing in them, unless they have bassoons and then I’m just pissed because bassoons get all the good parts that would otherwise go to the bass clarinets. Suck, double reeds!
18 ). In almost all situations, I’d rather be reading a book. Outside in a hammock, preferably. With a cat on me.
19). Dr. FianceHusband and I have plans to write a series of graphic novels together. Because we are nerds, but creative nerds.
20). Following up on the nerd factor, I totally want our honeymoon*** to be at the San Diego Comicon.
21). The main reason I want to be able to buy a house is so that I can have a yard in which to put a hammock. See #18 for reference.
22). Technically, my name is Megan. Everyone on the planet who is not my dad or brother is supposed to call me that, according to the grumpy part of my brain- my dad and brother call me Meg, and I always refer to myself as Meg. However, the front, thinky part of brain who is not a jerk always tells people that either is fine. Whenever non-my-dad-or-brother people call me Meg, I think it sounds all crazy and weird and both parts of my brain are in agreement that we don’t like it, and yet I never correct anyone. Obviously, I am a crazy freak in this regard.
23). I finally have to deal with the fact that I am, sadly, lactose intolerant. This sucks because I could eat cheese forever. Fortunately there is Lactaid! Unfortunately I discovered that I really am lactose intolerant after making homemade cheese with a friend. Holy crap it was good, but I felt like I was dying a few hours later.
24). Sometimes I get so distracted with all the crap I have to do at work that I forget to go to the bathroom, for, like, 8 hours at a time. I’m always surprised as to why my bladder hurts so much.
25). I might be the only formally trained marine biologist in the universe who basically is terrified of going in the ocean. Not because of sharks or other fish or anything else like that, but because of all the gross, disgusting, neurotoxic micro-organisms that I know live there. Did you know that there is a species of dinoflagellate (a small, single celled alga) that releases a neurotoxin that makes you forget how to read?? That is some serious shit, people. Also, sushi terrifies me because I once saw a talk at a national meeting about all the parasites that live in fish, so screw that. Also I think sushi is slimy. I know that officially makes me uncool but I don’t care. If you need me I’ll be reading a book while you eat your possibly parasite infested, slimy fish.
*some of the things on this list and the original might overlap because I am too lazy to be bothered to go read what I wrote on the other one.
**He gave it to me as a joke, actually, because I would tease him about listening to opera.
***HA! Like we’ll ever take a honeymoon…
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Oh moly.
Happy almost Mardi Gras, everyone! Or are we in Mardi Gras right now? Being all non-Christian as I am, I honestly have no idea- did it start this weekend? I know tomorrow is Fat Tuesday, right? Then Ash-on-forehead Day and weeks of lots of fish specials. Right?!?
Um, anyway, I know that there were serious crawfish specials at the restaurant we always go to in order to celebrate my mom’s birthday, and that is what really matters. The purple, gold and green decorations were really the only thing that reminded me that oh, that’s right, Mardi Gras is always around Mom’s birthday. Anyway, the point is that on Friday night I had what felt like my weight in mudbugs, washing it down with rudely named but beautifully colorful alcoholic drinks. Mmmm! And then I succumbed to a crawfish induced coma for two days. If only my mom could see me now…
So, because I felt like a serious fatty after eating several pounds of crustaceans, which had either been deep fried or smothered in a creamy bisque, I thought that I should probably start working out. This morning, I pulled my bike out of the closet and decided to ride it to work. Go me! Bike riding has always been one of my favorite ways to exercise, second only to hiking. Plus, it’s easy! Or it was when I last rode my bike, back in my first year of college. Can’t be that hard now, right? That was only a few (wow, 8 ) years ago…
HA!!! I made it about four blocks before deciding that the best plan was to lie down on the sidewalk and dry heave for a while.
See, I am not in the best of shape. I have what I like to think of as a sexy nerd physique. That is influenced by cake and hotpockets. I can bust my butt intellectually and look sexy doing it, but apparently that’s about it. Also, I always sorta believed stretching was a conspiracy but in retrospect I have much more respect for it. Back when I was biking last, as a freshman in college, I had just come out of high school where I was a vigorous marching band nerd. I didn’t realize it at the time but marching band kept us in shape! Since then, the most exercise I do on a regular basis involves walking to the bus stop. Sure, it’s two blocks away and I have to dodge hookers, but it’s not really that strenuous. The life of a lab tech, at least in my field, doesn’t involve a lot of leg work. You should see my pipetting thumb, though, it is ripped!
So, I jumped on my bike, assuming that if that old aphorism* of “it’s like riding a bike” was true when it comes to balancing on a bike, it should also apply to actually riding the bike. Ok, in truth, I didn’t think at all, I just jumped on my bike and took off. I honestly thought the worst that would happen is that someone would pull out of their parking spot too fast and smash me. Imagine my surprise when I survive my parking lot, but then feel like dying a few blocks later! I even pushed on through the crappiness, figuring it would go away, right? HA!! again. So I sat down for a while, realizing that 1) I’m heavier now than when I was in college, making it hard to move the bike, 2) my bike seat totally hurts my ass, probably as a result of #1 up there, and 3) I might throw up and pass out at any second. Fortunately Dr. FianceHusband called right then to see if I had died, and while I had planned to be all, “it’s cool, I’m just resting,” instead I pathetically said, “can you come get me?” even though I was only 4 blocks from my apartment. I am awesome. By which I mean pathetic and stupid. Fortunately when I say Dr. FianceHusband is awesome, I mean he really is awesome, even though he did give me the “you are pathetic” sigh when he hung up. See, he’s been riding his bike to work for a while now- the whole 6 miles. He enjoys lording this over me.
Anyway, I came home feeling like crap because I am super not smart when it comes to exercising, and decided to work from home/call in sick today.
All in all, this is a very boring post but I don’t care, I’m posting it anyway as a way to show that I did, at one point, try to exercise, it just kicked my ass because I didn’t sneak up on it by stretching first. That is what I am going to go by, anyway. Now I’d like to go pass out for a bit but people from work keep sending emails that piss me off** so instead I will go make clay representations of stuff that pisses me off and then smash them. I will probably photograph this and post it later.
*big word!
** grad student 1: we need to inventory this freezer, it hasn’t been done the whole time Meg’s been here
me: no, I keep it inventoried at all times
grad student 2: I agree, and I’ll do it tomorrow but Meg has to help
me: No, I already have it done.
boss: yes, inventorying is a good idea, Meg please drop everything you have planned and do this***
me: AAAAUUUUGGGGGHHHH I HATE YOU ALL!!!
***she hasn’t said this yet, but she will. She always does. She’s already flip flopped back and forth on an upcoming experiment.
Boss: do it this way- lots of samples, lots of overtime, but lots of data
Me: ok
Boss, after getting my protocol: Why are you doing it that way? Do it this way: small, no usable data
Me: But you wanted to do it this way (lots of samples, lots of data) originally
Boss: Yes, that is a good idea, do it that way instead
Me: ok
Boss, next day, after being cc’d on a planning email from me to a couple students: Why are you doing it that way?
Repeat.
Pull out hair.
Work hard to get a teaching job.
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These thoughts have been fluttering through my mind recently. Obviously it’s time to consider a lobotomy.
-I’m going to start calling the boy Dr. FianceHusband on this blog, because I’ve been reading other blogs where “the boy” refers to a kid and it creeps me out that people who write stuff on those blogs might read this blog and think I enjoy making out with or throwing things at children. GROSS. Except the throwing stuff at kids part, and then only when they really deserve it, like when they kick you in the shins first. Also calling him Dr. FianceHusband makes me thing of Dr. Girlfriend from The Venture Brothers which we all know is super awesome. Dr. FianceHusband isn’t actually a doctor of anything but he’s way smarter than me which means he is light years ahead of some doctoral students I know, and on a completely different planet, intellectually, than some premed students I know so I consider it close enough. Also he is Dr. FianceHusband because we’ve been engaged for three years now, with no wedding day in sight, but in Texas if you declare you are married to someone for six months than it becomes true. I don’t know how I feel about that, hence me awkwardly calling him fiance, husband, boyfriend, or that guy, depending on my mood.
-I just found out there is an application for my phone that turns it into a vibrator. Gross and dumb. That thing goes on your head, people, as in very close to your nose. And there are way cheaper “toys” (because technically vibrators are illegal in Texas! Because this state is awesome! By which I mean sorta dumb!) out there. But the real lesson here? Never buy a used version of my phone!
-I keep being involved in conversations in which someone inevitably ends up saying something along the lines of “what do they want, some dumb blonde with big tits?” As in, “my brother only dates dumb girls, but I don’t need some blonde with big tits” or “everyone is always surprised that I’m a pole dancer, I guess they expect them all to be ditzy blondes with big tits.” PEOPLE! I am blonde and have a massive rack! And yet, apparently against all evidence out there, I am not dumb and/or ditzy! So suck it! Stop the stereotyping! I happen to know many blonde ladies with breasts who are all super smart. This may come as a shock, but we don’t think with our breasts and hair color actually has nothing to do with intelligence. Also, seriously, can you not see me when we are having these conversations? Also, whenever people say stuff like that I automatically assume they have tiny, frightened sex organs.*
-Since when did it become ok to spell it “blond” and not “blonde?”
-I often wonder if people think I am trying to grope them when I reach over them to pull the cord on the bus. I also wonder if people fart on their seats just as they get up, knowing that I’m on my way to claim their recently vacated spot.
-People who don’t understand the endocrine system make me giggle. For example: Gary Busey said, and I quote, “I’ll pull your endocrine system out of your body.” That is awesome and completely impossible because the “system” in not actually connected, that’s sorta the point of hormones. Perhaps he meant reproductive system? Or perhaps he is simply bat shit crazy?
-I wonder where the term “bat shit crazy” came from. Does it have something to do with parasites in guano? That would make sense, but I’m too lazy to google it.
-Two pairs of my jeans now have worn patches (holes!) in the left knee. This is from me sitting cross legged in my chair at work and being too cheap to buy “good” (read: not so thin and crappy that holes pop into existence when you sit cross legged in them) jeans. I’m worried, though, that people will assume it’s from something dirty that involves being on my knees (or rather, knee, since the right one is not holey. What’s up with that?), an assumption that is not helped by the fact that I am blonde with gargantuan breasts (but see above, please). I think I need to wear a sign that says “hey! that hole in my jeans is from sitting weirdly in my chair at work! Not what you’re thinking!” except that probably no one else thinks like I think they think but then they’d see the sign and be suspicious.
These thoughts keep me up at night, people. Unless I’ve taken several antihistamines, in which case I fall asleep so hard that I don’t even notice when one of cats jumps on my face so violently that I end up with an awesomely huge scratch right across the bridge of my nose.**
*That’s called irony, people. Or something. Whatever, suck it. Also I totally know the people who say stuff like that are totally jealous.
**I totally have a massively huge scratch on the bridge of my nose right now.
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dasyatis returns 