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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follow up!

February 20, 2009 at 12:39 am (cats, insomnia, jinxing myself, monsters)

So, I wanted to follow up on my “where did the phrase ‘bat shit crazy’ come from” from the last post- this enigma was solved by Dr. FianceHusband!! He did a minor stint of bat field work, and one of the guys working with him told him that guano, since it is super good fertilizer, actually attracts a specific fungus that releases neurotoxins into the air that make you act all sorts of crazy. Hence, “bat shit crazy!” Everything is right with the world…ok maybe not but I do feel slightly more complete having not only solved that mystery but blogging about it as well. Ah, I love etymology…entomology is lovely too, but something completely different.

Also I’d like to point out, also in reference to my last post, that just because I push for treating blondes as real people does not mean that I don’t also respect people with other hair colors (or breast sizes). Seriously, I’m sorta not good at telling hair color anyway. I could’ve sworn that for most of my childhood my mom had red hair, when in actuality she only had red hair for a little while, while I was super young, then let it go brunette again. Still, every time I’d describe my mom she was always a red head in my brain. Imprinting is an amazing psychological thing, people!

In other news*, I think the spawn of the jabberwocky tree I saw last weekend have moved into the “attic” space above my apartment. We’re on the top floor, so I can’t hope that the crazy scrabbling noises that I hear coming from just a few feet above my head are being generated by a neighbor’s cat. Moon, who heard the monsters move in a couple weeks ago and kept trying to tell me by staring fixedly at a spot on the ceiling for hours, has totally been shooting me withering¬† “I told you so” glances all day. Or she’s just being her normal cat self. I seem to barely recall hearing the same noises for a while last year, but I take a lot of meds so memories are fuzzy things for me and tend to be highly influenced by whatever cartoon I just watched. And I certainly hope it’s jabberwocky spawn because if it is rats I’ll die of allergies (thank you very much, work!), and if it’s possum I will die of puking at the grossness. Raccoons I can handle. Monster spawn? I’d have to look into how to deal with them on an individual species basis. Personally I’m going to hope** it’s a family of obamacorns.

Technically I should be sleeping, since it’s a Thursday and all, but screw technicalities because I’m off tomorrow! I took the day off because tomorrow is my mom’s birthday (she would’ve been 52), and it’s a good thing ’cause I’ll need to spend it preparing for a TEACHING INTERVIEW!! After attending a career fair a couple weeks ago at my university (where I was the oldest “potential employee” and people kept asking me when I’d be graduating- jerks) I learned about this accelerated teaching certificate program, where you spend the summer cramming like mad about how to teach and deal with kids (I think there is a section on how to use flamethrowers), then you start teaching in the fall! Holy crap! On a whim I applied to it, which involved writing annoying essays which reminded me of high school which made me rethink wanting to be a teacher, even on a whim. Anyway the application went in and now I have to go teach other applicants something “age appropriate” which I have no idea what is. When I was in high school, age appropriate biology lessons involved making up answers for my biology worksheet because everyone knew that Coach Smith, who “taught” the class, had a volleyball game the night before and a rehearsal for his Christian folk band***, so there was no way he would actually be grading our work seriously. This was seriously my only biology class in high school, and yet I became a biologist. I always figured that being a scientist was way glamorous, but I am totally wrong. And you know what? Teaching pays WAY more than being a science tech. Also? No more begging for money worrying about funding cycles and grant renewals. And in all honesty, I actually really like teaching biology. Also I would totally be the hot but bat shit crazy teacher that everyone remembers forever, when they are off being doctors and real scientists and living in places that are not infested with monsters. Which by the way the cats are totally not interested in any more, which makes me think that the cats and the monsters have made a deal of some sort involving the monsters coming in and eating me in my sleep, as long as they are quiet and don’t wake up the cats****. Good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow! ‘Cause I’ll be staying up all night now, awaiting my monster-induced demise!

*HA! See, Kurt, “other news” stories are important!

**Haha, I was funny with out meaning to be!

***On days when we were supposed to be learning real science that made Coach Smith uncomfortable, like reproduction or evolution, he’d play us tapes of his Christian folk band rehearsals instead. How the hell did I become a biologist?!? The only piece of information that I remember “learning” from that guy was completely wrong- right before he turned on one of his rehearsal tapes, he told us “all you need to know about reproduction is that Y is dominant” with a stupid I’m-a-coach-not-a-real-teacher look on his face. This is wrong on so very many levels, people. Ethically, socially, but most importantly biologically. If you think that the Y chromosome is dominant I’ll let you blame it on a bad biology teacher but know now that this is a classic case in biology of there being no absolutes. Other than there being absolutely no people alive with only a Y and no X chromosome. Suck it, Coach Smith!

**** I told Dr. FianceHusband this theory and he reassuringly said “don’t worry, Moon wouldn’t let them eat me. She loves me.” True. However, I’m totally screwed. Kiwi loves me but is crazy dumb so he’d probably either pee on my laundry again or bring the monsters his toy, thinking we were playing a fun game and it was totally his turn to play. Or he’d just jump on my face.

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