<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336</id><updated>2012-01-15T20:53:53.853-06:00</updated><category term='Freki'/><category term='LB'/><category term='me'/><category term='A'/><category term='logic'/><category term='Book Blog'/><category term='life or something like it'/><category term='random'/><category term='store'/><category term='Milo'/><category term='bisexual awareness'/><category term='geeks'/><category term='Max Power'/><category term='gaming'/><category term='publishing'/><category term='hardcore science'/><category term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category term='BSG'/><category term='food'/><category term='grad school trials'/><category term='family'/><category term='gardening'/><category term='political'/><category term='Free Association Friday'/><category term='mentors'/><category term='idiots'/><category term='BWCA'/><category term='fun'/><category term='sexual assault awareness'/><title type='text'>Random Sample</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>104</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7524538339440147667</id><published>2012-01-15T19:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T19:27:09.390-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><title type='text'>Fashion trends I cannot endorse</title><content type='html'>I work at a primarily undergraduate institution, which affords me great fashion ideas.&amp;nbsp; There are, however, some trends I cannot understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been seeing low-volume ankle-height, flat, tan leather oxfords, people.&amp;nbsp; And not ones with wing-tips or patterns.&amp;nbsp; No.&amp;nbsp; I am seeing shoes on 20 year olds that remind me precipitously of shoes I once sold, orthopedic shoes targeted at, shall we say, twilight women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shown below are the Frye shoes I've been seeing and, for comparison, the SAS - yes that's right, San Antonio Shoes - that I am familiar with.&amp;nbsp; If you can't tell the difference I won't tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://thmb.inkfrog.com/thumbn/shanlin/ws893b.jpg=450" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" src="http://thmb.inkfrog.com/thumbn/shanlin/ws893b.jpg=450" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://coprahbedes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/0697e__41XTmA8v9OL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="193" src="http://coprahbedes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/0697e__41XTmA8v9OL.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&amp;nbsp; Just, no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(However if anyone wants to buy me &lt;a href="http://couture.zappos.com/n/p/p/7836291/c/314.html?channel=152&amp;amp;mr:referralID=NA&amp;amp;mr:trackingCode=29932ADA-23D3-E011-AC9E-001B2163195C" target="_blank"&gt;these &lt;/a&gt;in 6.5, I would love you forever)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7524538339440147667?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7524538339440147667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7524538339440147667&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7524538339440147667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7524538339440147667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2012/01/fashion-trends-i-cannot-endorse.html' title='Fashion trends I cannot endorse'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5629576274459747106</id><published>2011-11-18T18:01:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T18:01:31.693-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='logic'/><title type='text'>Oh this is just funny as hell.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote class="tr_bq"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Breastfeeding is a private, intimate moment between mother and baby.&lt;/em&gt; And dinner is a private, intimate moment between me and my cheeseburger."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/11/17/extreme-debate-makeover-public-breastfeeding-edition/" target="_blank"&gt;Go read it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt; Humor + logic + feminism = QR has a happy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5629576274459747106?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5629576274459747106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5629576274459747106&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5629576274459747106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5629576274459747106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2011/11/oh-this-is-just-funny-as-hell.html' title='Oh this is just funny as hell.'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5532304376893547271</id><published>2011-05-16T17:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T17:57:18.156-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idiots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>OMG the Fundies were right about something!</title><content type='html'>May 21, 2011 is &lt;a href="http://www.ebiblefellowship.com/outreach/tracts/may21/"&gt;Judgement Day&lt;/a&gt;, apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which just so happens to be the day that my degree is officially conferred and I walk/get hooded.&amp;nbsp; The world begins to end, when I get my Ph.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For myself and my classmates, it really &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; judgement day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2011/05/16/countdown-to-may-21-2011/#comments"&gt;via &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5532304376893547271?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5532304376893547271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5532304376893547271&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5532304376893547271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5532304376893547271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2011/05/omg-fundies-were-right-about-something.html' title='OMG the Fundies were right about something!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-882322087403477890</id><published>2011-04-06T13:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T13:45:12.924-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hardcore science'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>I pass!  I pass!  I pass!  I don't fail!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQA2gOb9JEwMhE18qpiHDxy6xO4AusivGjMgXcdjW0rPTITWsLg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQA2gOb9JEwMhE18qpiHDxy6xO4AusivGjMgXcdjW0rPTITWsLg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah that's right.&amp;nbsp; I defended my thesis yesterday.&amp;nbsp; I kicked its ass.&amp;nbsp; They were throwing tough questions at me right and left (ohai, I work on brain cancer and development, yeah throw those primary cilium basic biology questions my way), and I slammed 'em right into the outfield.&amp;nbsp; There was laughing and joking during the exam.&amp;nbsp; My corrections are very minimal; the department chair didn't even have any corrections for me.&amp;nbsp; I should be able to finish them in less than a week, which means 3 weeks of vacation time for me!&amp;nbsp; Booyah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can now call me Dr. Queenrandom.&amp;nbsp; Oh yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-882322087403477890?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/882322087403477890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=882322087403477890&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/882322087403477890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/882322087403477890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-pass-i-pass-i-pass-i-dont-fail.html' title='I pass!  I pass!  I pass!  I don&apos;t fail!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3588975201886550191</id><published>2011-02-12T11:45:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-12T11:45:57.196-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hardcore science'/><title type='text'>How you know you're a transfection guru</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am here on a lonely Saturday making some (GFP-expressing) adenovirus so I can get revisions done in time for my committee to let me graduate so I can walk this year.&amp;nbsp; I was worried because some of my transfections this week have been shit, but I did trash the reagent and get a new tube for this experiment.&amp;nbsp; Behold my reward when I pelleted my cells:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ty23tVe0D9M/TVbG7kkyYZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/cKDvLnAVgYA/s1600/IMAG0041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ty23tVe0D9M/TVbG7kkyYZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/cKDvLnAVgYA/s400/IMAG0041.jpg" width="266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;That thar be some GFP.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Methinks this batch will have a very high titer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3588975201886550191?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3588975201886550191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3588975201886550191&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3588975201886550191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3588975201886550191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2011/02/how-you-know-youre-transfection-guru.html' title='How you know you&apos;re a transfection guru'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ty23tVe0D9M/TVbG7kkyYZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/cKDvLnAVgYA/s72-c/IMAG0041.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8176901549856929678</id><published>2011-01-31T16:19:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T16:19:57.432-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idiots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexual assault awareness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='logic'/><title type='text'>Someone sure is confused, but it ain't who you think it is, KK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.startribune.com/opinion/commentary/114835264.html?elr=KArksc8P:Pc:Ug8P:Pc:UiD3aPc:_Yyc:aULPQL7PQLanchO7DiUr"&gt;Apparently Katherine Kersten's poor widdwe bwain is aww confused - she just can't undewstand that consensual sex and rape are different things.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advice, honey: don't presume our young men are as confused as you are, that's insulting to men.&amp;nbsp; These students knew exactly what they were saying, and prettymuch every adult other than you understands the difference between "yes" and "no."&amp;nbsp; Hint: their definitions are in the dictionary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8176901549856929678?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8176901549856929678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8176901549856929678&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8176901549856929678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8176901549856929678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2011/01/someone-sure-is-confused-but-it-might.html' title='Someone sure is confused, but it ain&apos;t who you think it is, KK'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1883908394402319073</id><published>2011-01-28T14:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T14:13:25.709-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Flattery will get you everywhere</title><content type='html'>Our rotating student thought I was a postdoc ("because you're so knowledgeable!") :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which begs the question, "WHEN WILL THEY LET ME GRADUATE ALREADY?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW: Got a postdoc lined up.&amp;nbsp; I'm very excited - the city is great, the area I'll live in is great (got that lined up too), the PI and I get along well (we're both grumpy old men, except I'm 30 and female...details), the project is something completely different that what I do, or what I thought I'd be doing, but it's very exciting.&amp;nbsp; I am so ready to be done with this grad school bullshit.&amp;nbsp; Hopefully my committee lets me set a date at my meeting next week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1883908394402319073?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1883908394402319073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1883908394402319073&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1883908394402319073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1883908394402319073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2011/01/flattery-will-get-you-everywhere.html' title='Flattery will get you everywhere'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7418919452048565005</id><published>2010-11-08T16:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T16:37:47.316-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idiots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hardcore science'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='publishing'/><title type='text'>Where I have been -or- Learning to love your reviewers</title><content type='html'>So yeah.&amp;nbsp; Submitted manuscript in late July.&amp;nbsp; 1 day under 6 weeks later, we get reviewer comments (I think you can guess the review deadline for this journal).&amp;nbsp; Good news: they didn't reject it and there are improvements to be made.&amp;nbsp; Bad news: I immediately wanted to stab reviewer #2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reviewer #1 asked for, by far, the most time-consuming experiment (in addition to several other things that could be addressed entirely in writing).&amp;nbsp; But, Reviewer #1 was very positive about the findings, the experiments and the impact.&amp;nbsp; Even though s/he asked for the big guns, I was happy to address them because A) the reviewer likes my science and that's always a nice ego stroke and B) they are, logically, the next step of my project.&amp;nbsp; It was an insightful review, and I appreciated both the comments and the professionality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reviewer #2 sounded like s/he just returned from a colonoscopy.&amp;nbsp; Said some pretty unflattering things about the novelty of my work that, frankly, sounded as if they came from someone completely unfamiliar with the field.&amp;nbsp; Asked for some nit-picky redos.&amp;nbsp; Asked some questions that made me wonder if s/he even read the text or attended a science class, like, ever.&amp;nbsp; Asked for a particular pet method that is less accurate than the one I used for a particular experiment (yeah, you bet we argued that one).&amp;nbsp; Didn't like my controls and asked for ones that I personally think are less informative.&amp;nbsp; So, of course, I immediately decided the person was an idiot.&amp;nbsp; But now, in my wisened 2.5 months out from receiving the decision and having resubmitted earlier today, my attitude has changed slightly.&amp;nbsp; I still disagree about the usefulness of the particular control, but I did it, and I am glad I did it.&amp;nbsp; Because the experiment should have been straightforward, but it hit some kinks.&amp;nbsp; These kinks were unrelated to the validity of my conclusions, however they did relate to the efficiency of my method.&amp;nbsp; This forced me to re-evaluate a few early steps of my protocol and when I got the final readout, it was obvious that this new and improved method made my data much cleaner than they had been before, so I went back and redid all the experiments done on this particular protocol and got prettier results.&amp;nbsp; So &lt;i&gt;even if&lt;/i&gt; I don't think the particular control I performed to please the reviewer improved my paper in an appreciable way, the comment still did improve my paper immensely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And about those questions I deemed dumb?&amp;nbsp; When I sat down to answer them, it forced me to really, really think about my field as a whole.&amp;nbsp; About the validity of using cancer cell lines and mouse models to study human cancers; I thought this had been pretty damn obvious since the cancer I study happens in the brains of toddlers.&amp;nbsp; But being forced to put it down in writing in a way that both was supported by published evidence and not snarky made me a better scientist, if only in a small way.&amp;nbsp; It challenged me to question my assumptions and to be able to defend what is generally unquestioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, looking back, even though I still think Reviewer #2 is a cranky jerk, I am now starting to think that rather than being stupid, s/he was stupid like a fox.&amp;nbsp; In a way, at this point, I appreciate Reviewer #2 more than the nice Reviewer #1 (not that I am asking future reviewers to be mean to me!).&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; While I need the enthusiasm of people like Reviewer #1 if I ever hope to be published, ultimately, the comments from Reviewer #2 improved my science more, both in the short term and the long term.&amp;nbsp; That's really what it's all about, isn't it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7418919452048565005?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7418919452048565005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7418919452048565005&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7418919452048565005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7418919452048565005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/11/where-i-have-been-or-learning-to-love.html' title='Where I have been -or- Learning to love your reviewers'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2606954708310533476</id><published>2010-09-03T16:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T16:28:43.325-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>O PI Where Art Thou</title><content type='html'>Trying to talk to my PI all day about exciting new data (last set of ChIP PCR finally worked!&amp;nbsp; Figure complete!&amp;nbsp; Hooray, lower annealing temp and Q Solution!) and hoping for advice on job search.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always in a conversation with someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep checking on office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Left early for holiday weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CRAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big question: Will I still remember what I wanted to talk about on Tuesday?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2606954708310533476?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2606954708310533476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2606954708310533476&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2606954708310533476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2606954708310533476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/09/o-pi-where-art-thou.html' title='O PI Where Art Thou'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7608003182814620660</id><published>2010-08-09T10:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T10:38:18.411-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hardcore science'/><title type='text'>Improving Your Scientific Communication: Presentations</title><content type='html'>I believe firmly in the philosophy that one is an eternal student, always learning, and one should therefore always be open to improvement.&amp;nbsp; This is particularly true of presenting your data to the scientific community.&amp;nbsp; After all, your data may be awesome, but if it's presented shittily, it will be less well received, or maybe even looked over.&amp;nbsp; Some of my student colleagues may disagree - they think that their presentations are "good enough" and the data will stand for itself.&amp;nbsp; Bollux!&amp;nbsp; I, for one, am not going to stand at a poster for 20 minutes trying to puzzle out which band is which and wonder what the hypothesis even is, if the poster is not clear.&amp;nbsp; Furthermore, a good presentation will jump out and grab viewers by the gonads, exciting them in your work and further engaging them in your science.&amp;nbsp; A poster that is boring or hard to follow won't get stopped at as much, and a presentation that is bland or overly complex won't elicit the types of engaging questions the presenter might want - after all, who wants to spend their 5 alloted minutes for questioning rehashing their presentation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also wonder how many scientists have any sort of formal training in oral or poster presentations.&amp;nbsp; I am willing to bet the large majority does not, and instead relies on apprenticeship to gain presenting skills.&amp;nbsp; This is great if your mentors are good presenters, but this is terrible if your mentors are horseshit presenters.&amp;nbsp; I'd argue that even if your mentors were good presenters, there are still improvements that can be made.&amp;nbsp; First, your mentor's style, while it can inform yours, can't be your style; you need to find your own voice, early and often. Second, I have noticed many faculty present in the style that was popular when they were in school or doing their postdocs, leading to an overwhelming amount of comic sans, complexly arrowed diagrams, too much text, and design that is incredibly red-green colorblindess unfriendly.&amp;nbsp; Hell, I first learned to do my presentations in the late 90's-early 00's and am guilty of many of these mistakes.&amp;nbsp; Relying on outdated methods/styles should be avoided at all costs, as it reflects complacency and a lack of refinement of personal skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my quest for presentation skill knowledge, I recently came across two incredibly helpful blogs: &lt;a href="http://betterposters.blogspot.com/"&gt;Better Posters&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.powerpointninja.com/"&gt;PowerPoint Ninja&lt;/a&gt;, both of which have gads of presentation style pointers as well as technical advice.&amp;nbsp; Aside from my #1 rule of thumb - never say in text what you can say with graphics* - there isn't really much more advice I can add to the subject than has been covered there, so my advice is to get your ass over to those blogs and play around for a few hours.&amp;nbsp; They're pure awesomeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discovered via &lt;a href="http://ambivalentacademic.blogspot.com/2010/07/learn-it-love-it-use-it.html"&gt;Ambivalent Academic&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Let's be real: NO ONE reads the text after the section/slide title. You can test this by inserting jokes into your poster figure legends (or, as a student colleague did, into the footnotes of your thesis - only her student reviewers noticed).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7608003182814620660?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7608003182814620660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7608003182814620660&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7608003182814620660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7608003182814620660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-believe-firmly-in-philosophy-that-one.html' title='Improving Your Scientific Communication: Presentations'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8659198409950741988</id><published>2010-08-07T14:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T14:59:31.108-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>The horse says, doctorate denied!</title><content type='html'>If you're contemplating grad school, or perhaps preparing for your thesis defense as I am, this episode of Futurama is obligatory viewing. (Note to self: do not show up to thesis defense sans clothes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="360" width="669"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.megavideo.com/v/UL1ONPFX256563acdeb9b67526804f32b4fd60b0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.megavideo.com/v/UL1ONPFX256563acdeb9b67526804f32b4fd60b0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="669" height="360"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8659198409950741988?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8659198409950741988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8659198409950741988&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8659198409950741988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8659198409950741988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/08/horse-says-doctorate-denied.html' title='The horse says, doctorate denied!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6570254957965329144</id><published>2010-07-28T10:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T10:25:54.730-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Getting Thesis Committes to Work for the Student: A Modest Proposal by a Student who's Been There and Back Again</title><content type='html'>I have often said that I like to live my life in clusterfuck: the week I got married, I decided to adopt my first pet and buy my first car; in a 2 year period I started grad school, bought a house, and bought a business.&amp;nbsp; You get the idea.&amp;nbsp; But lately, I'm starting to think maybe I just live my life in coincidence.&amp;nbsp; I have recently become part of a coalition of grad students at my institution fighting to get the school to take our career development seriously.&amp;nbsp; It hasn't been an easy fight, but we also have our allies among the faculty.&amp;nbsp; Our idea is to get some sort of centralized aid for students to learn about their options as scientists, to improve their scientific communications, to connect with potential employers/mentors, to learn what steps they can start taking to make themselves attractive for future grants, institutions, etc.&amp;nbsp; Students weren't being asked to review papers or grants, or encouraged  to network at meetings, or guided with how to get a PI position, and  worse, they were well aware of the bottleneck in positions as one climbs  the academic ladder.&amp;nbsp; So, because a coalition of students doesn't  necessarily have the power to force PIs to help their mentees with their  careers, some students and myself have been working on an end  run-around, to get our fellow students the development they need from  the school if they can't get it from their mentors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, one might say - and many have - that this is the job of the thesis mentor and, to a lesser extent, the committee members.&amp;nbsp; Well the problem is, to be perfectly frank, the mentors just aren't cutting it, and committees don't care*.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Coincidentally, the same week I presented at a faculty meeting about this subject, there was a post on Drug Monkey discussing another job of mentors and committees gone awry: &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/drugmonkey/2010/07/the_thesis_committee_is_there.php#more"&gt;keeping the students' time to graduation appropriate&lt;/a&gt;. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Now, there are a number of things students can do to minimize risk of a bad mentor, which &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/hindsight-or-choosing-research-mentor.html"&gt;I've covered before&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; The choice of committee members is almost as important as the choice in mentor.&amp;nbsp; Assuming a 5-member committee structure where one member is the mentor, I would advise choosing at least one member who is more senior than your mentor, one member who is more junior, one who is an expert in what you are doing, and one who does something completely different.&amp;nbsp; The caveat I'd add to the first, is that the member who is senior to your mentor is not going to take over and dictate your project (yes, I've seen this happen multiple times).&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I would also advise that it is even more important to have at least one committee member besides your mentor that you are comfortable going to in a time of crisis, personal or professional, and at least one member besides your mentor that is very active with and supportive of students.&amp;nbsp; The former is because from what I have witnessed, a slight majority of students have some sort of crisis during the 4-6 years they are in grad school: abusive mentors, data being stolen/tampered with, divorce, a parent becoming critically ill, unexpected pregnancy - these are all things that have happened to my fellow students and friends during school.&amp;nbsp; You need supportive committee members to help get you through tough times and to help you set reasonable goals for yourself during them.&amp;nbsp; The latter committee member mentioned above - one that is active with students, such as a dean or director of education, or someone who is involved with multiple graduate courses - is because a person who is constantly in contact with students has a little better grip on the reality and needs of studentship than a faculty member who isn't as involved.&amp;nbsp; Furthermore, they are more likely to be interested and engaged in your development as a scientist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, in the end, all a student can do is minimize risk; students do not have the power to prevent bad behavior on the part of committees or mentors.&amp;nbsp; There are, of course, routes of action to pursue if something does go wrong: committee members can be replaced, deans can be consulted, HR can even be employed.&amp;nbsp; Of course, none of these routes are without politics or drama, but sometimes rocking the boat is necessary for one's sanity.&amp;nbsp; Trust me, I've been there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To widen this discourse, however, I'd like to talk about what can be done to prevent mentors from abusing their students and committees from shirking their duties.&amp;nbsp; And I've borrowed a concept from every other employer in the world: OVERSIGHT.&amp;nbsp; At all of the institutions I've worked for/been a student at, there is little to no oversight in the mentorship aspect of a faculty member; annual reviews are largely based on grantsmanship and publications, with a little bit of teaching thrown in for posterity.&amp;nbsp; But there is little accountability for mentorship.&amp;nbsp; I propose that the eligibility of faculty members for acquiring students should be partially based on continued evaluation of their mentorship and stewardship on committees.&amp;nbsp; These evaluations should be done by the education arm of the graduate program, rather than through their department head, where their usual annual review originates, and faculty mentors should be required to do an annual self-evaluation of mentorship as well.&amp;nbsp; While feedback/exit interviews from all lab members should be taken into account, it is also important to protect trainees from any sort of reprisal that might occur if a faculty member ferrets out who said what.&amp;nbsp; As you can see, I'm not entirely sure of the logistics, however I think making faculty members accountable for the quality of their mentorship/committee membership in a tangible way - that is, ability to recruit students - will both encourage faculty to improve themselves and perhaps discourage those faculty who might naturally abuse students from taking on mentees.&amp;nbsp; The old system of rumors of who is good and who isn't, leaving students to traverse the murky waters themselves and figure out the old boys networks while doing good science is archaic and gives the faculty too much power relative to trainees; it's got to go, and I think centralized, fact-not-rumor-based evaluation and accountability is the way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*At least, this is what I am hearing from my student colleagues; my interest in  this subject piqued because my mentor was doing a good job in this  department, and conversations with my fellow students revealed that they  weren't getting the kind of development I was.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6570254957965329144?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6570254957965329144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6570254957965329144&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6570254957965329144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6570254957965329144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/07/getting-thesis-committes-to-work-for.html' title='Getting Thesis Committes to Work for the Student: A Modest Proposal by a Student who&apos;s Been There and Back Again'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2157157720296282270</id><published>2010-07-16T11:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T11:52:17.634-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Attention!</title><content type='html'>QR is in manuscript writing hell!&amp;nbsp; Including delays caused by: a computer virus, my mentor moving, jury duty, and weddings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping for a return to normalcy soon.&amp;nbsp; So I can do super fun things like try to find a job and write a thesis chapter by the end of the month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wish you were me.&amp;nbsp; Admit it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2157157720296282270?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2157157720296282270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2157157720296282270&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2157157720296282270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2157157720296282270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/07/attention.html' title='Attention!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7278367676289332374</id><published>2010-07-09T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T10:39:13.838-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bisexual awareness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political'/><title type='text'>Yes!</title><content type='html'>Although the ruling has its limitations, we're &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/07/08/massachusetts.gay.marriage/index.html?hpt=T2"&gt;one step closer&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, I'm proud to say I've learned my own state representative has introduced a bill to remove gender-specificity from state marriage laws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's a good day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7278367676289332374?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7278367676289332374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7278367676289332374&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7278367676289332374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7278367676289332374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/07/yes.html' title='Yes!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3407862218983779549</id><published>2010-06-25T22:38:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-03T19:16:25.053-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hardcore science'/><title type='text'>The Queen Random Cancer Institute</title><content type='html'>If I were Queen of the Universe and not just Queen of my house, I would create the ultimate cancer institute, hereby dubbed the Queen Random Cancer Institute (QRCI).&amp;nbsp; The QRCI's mission would focus broadly on cancer research (basic, translational and clinical - maybe a little more basic because it is dear to my heart) with an emphasis on training and education, and would be located, hmm, just outside a major city so there's somewhere fun to go, clinics and institutions for collaborations, but housing costs don't bleed trainees dry.&amp;nbsp; Maybe outside Seattle?&amp;nbsp; I do love Seattle.&amp;nbsp; The QRCI would be well funded (I think maybe suddenly becoming the richest person on the planet so I can fund this cool place) and would feature the following scientific resources:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Core facilities: DNA synthesis, Microscopy (and I'd hire people whose only job is making sure the confocals are CLEAN), Spectrometry, Mouse Husbandry and Genetics, Flow Cytommetry,&amp;nbsp; Tissue Processing, Model Organisms (pick your favorite - we'll have a core!) I'm sure there's more that I'm forgetting at the moment.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;PIs, trainees and students would have free access to and be encouraged to use consultants for grant writing, manuscript writing, scientific librarians and statistical analysis.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Collaboration would be encouraged across basic, translational and clinical research through interdepartmental funding initiatives, in-house conferences and interdepartmental seminars.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A tissue bank of patient samples, obtained with express consent.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not forgetting the most important resource in research - the people! - the QRCI would have the following employee benefits:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Employees would enjoy free lunches at the cafeteria - and they'd be GOOD.&amp;nbsp; Healthy options would not be limited to salad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Free on-site gym for employees.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grad student stipends and benefits would be fully paid for by the institution, and would be set at NIH+25%.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Students would get the same benefits as employees.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;50% of postdoc stipends and benefits would be paid for by the institution and would be set at NIH+25%.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Career development training would be available and encouraged throughout the scientific career from just out of undergrad tech to established PI, including scientific skills, help identifying how to obtain jobs and career goals, leadership, lab management, and scientific communication.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Comprehensive health care including vision and dental.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;6 months paid parental leave for the birth or adoption of a child.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On-site subsidized daycare for ALL employees, trainees and students including private nursing suites.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Help for spouses of employees/trainees/students to find jobs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Help for employees/trainees/students to find housing if they have to relocate to join the QRCI.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, the QRCI would also be focused on outreach:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Realistically prorated healthcare for clinic patients including free clinics.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Employees, trainees and students will be expected to volunteer in the community for a minimum 2 weeks a year (this can be spread out for a total of 80 hours/year).&amp;nbsp; Their normal salary/stipend will persist during this 2 weeks, with an option to volunteer more for a total of 120 hours of salary for volunteering.&amp;nbsp; The institute will help arrange volunteer opportunities with the local community.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Public education - I'm not sure how to go about this, but I'd like a public education campaign focused on promoting science education for all ages with a focus on life sciences and cancer treatment.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;This post is a part of Scientiae's &lt;a href="http://scientiae-carnival.blogspot.com/2010/07/carnival-posted-fantasy-institute.html"&gt;July installation&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;a href="http://what-was-i-doing.blogspot.com/2010/07/fantasy-institutes-unveiled-scientiae.html"&gt;Fantasy  Institute&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3407862218983779549?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3407862218983779549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3407862218983779549&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3407862218983779549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3407862218983779549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/06/queen-random-cancer-institute.html' title='The Queen Random Cancer Institute'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8551878797260659081</id><published>2010-06-20T16:18:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T22:48:20.438-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bisexual awareness'/><title type='text'>Bisexuality and Heterosexual Privilege</title><content type='html'>Happy &lt;a href="http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/265200/june_is_gay_and_lesbian_pride_month.html?cat=47"&gt;Pride Month!&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; For once I remember an awareness day/week/month ON TIME!&amp;nbsp; Wooohoo!&amp;nbsp; Yeah I realize I totally missed SAAM this year :/&amp;nbsp; I'll try to make up for that somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway!&amp;nbsp; Back on topic!&amp;nbsp; Today, folks, we're going to talk about the intersection of biinvisibility and heterosexual privilege*&amp;nbsp; You see, sometimes bisexuals pose a weirdness to LG safe spaces, because some of us - many of us - are in dual-sex relationships and appear to the world at large as heterosexual.&amp;nbsp; We are told that in order to participate, we have to acknowledge our &lt;a href="http://www.cs.earlham.edu/%7Ehyrax/personal/files/student_res/straightprivilege.htm"&gt;straight privilege&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I think with bisexual activism in the 00's this has gotten much better, and we have been much more accepted in the LGBT community, but I still hear it from time to time and every time I feel like I have no place to call home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's true; as a bisexual woman in a dual-sex relationship, I tacitly and explicitly receive the benefits of much of straight privilege.&amp;nbsp; I could marry the person I loved (er, still love, not like that part is in the past), giving me a huge amount of legal privilege.&amp;nbsp; Because most people assume I am straight, I don't have to face the daily challenges to my sanity that a person in a same-sex relationship faces.&amp;nbsp; I get it: I understand how when I am bestowed, and/or take advantage of (depending on the situation), straight privilege, I appear as not capable of contributing to safe spaces because I am benefitting from a system that oppresses homosexuals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it isn't as simple as receiving and taking advantage of heterosexual privilege: "&lt;a href="http://www.byz.org/%7Esev/sexuality/bi/hetpriv2.html"&gt;We don't  have to take it, we're given it by default,  and we can't give it up  -- at least, not all of it.&lt;/a&gt;"&amp;nbsp; When I benefit from heterosexual privilege, I am also benefiting from a system that is oppressive to bisexuals, a system that is ultimately oppressive to myself.&amp;nbsp; In order to receive most of the benefits of heterosexual privilege, we have to be &lt;i&gt;closeted&lt;/i&gt;.&amp;nbsp; In fact, I can't count the number of times that my sexuality has been brushed off because I am in a dual-sex relationship: even when I speak up, even when I make my sexuality blatantly apparent, I am shoved back into the closet without my assent (although usually not without a few perfunctory offensive questions about the nature of my relationship first, of course).&amp;nbsp; So many people who I've told of my bisexuality manage to deal with it by shoving it aside and pretending I'm straight, because it is easier for them to do so than to deal with their own biphobia and homophobia, because if a bisexual person is in a dual-sex relationship, we're seen as passing for straight**.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is because of homophobia and biinvisibility: when someone sees a man and a woman in a relationship, it is automatically assumed that both parties are straight, and they are treated as such; conversely, when someone sees two people of the same sex in a relationship, both parties are assumed to be homosexual.&amp;nbsp; Either way as a bisexual person in a relationship, we're shoved into a box that doesn't fit us, whether we protest or not (and some of us just get tired of protesting, since it doesn't really change the outcome anyway).&amp;nbsp; This is the definition of biinvisibility: no matter what (or who) we're doing, we're assumed*** to be someone who we're not; our true sexuality is erased and made invisible. For bisexuals in a dual-sex relationship, straight privilege is a double-edged sword: on the one hand, if we are currently in a dual-sex relationship we receive the benefits of straight privilege, but on the other hand we're closeted  without our assent. And that privilege is out the door the second we're in a same-sex relationship.&amp;nbsp; Further, no mater what kind of relationship we're in, same-sex or dual-sex, we are hit with biphobic attacks and biinvisibility from all sides.&amp;nbsp; This is why it isn't fair to talk about bisexuality in terms of straight privilege: because it is so fucking much more complex than that, and reducing the multifaceted system of oppression that bisexuals live to heterosexuality erases our existence and experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe this speaks for the need for continued bisexual activism and a formation of a robust bisexual community of its own, with its own safe spaces.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I am truly grateful for allies in the LGBT community and the visibility the LGBT has lent to bisexual oppression, but honey, we bisexuals have to continue to step up and make our voices heard, because only bisexuals can really understand and make visible our unique  set of oppressions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I seriously need to learn that it's spelled "privilege" not "priviledge".&amp;nbsp; I always want to spell it how my midwestern accent pronounces it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Some bisexuals enjoy and take advantage of passing, but I see that as a further sign of the effect of biphobia on the lives and happiness of bisexuals: in order to be left alone and be happy, we have to play the part of straight, even if it doesn't fit us.&amp;nbsp; If that's how a bisexual person makes it through this world sane, if that's how s/he survives biphobia and homophobia, I can't get too mad at him/her (after all, it is internalized homophobia and biphobia that creates this internal conflict).&amp;nbsp; I get mad at the system of heterosexual rule that forces us into that sort of a decision in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***Remember folks, when you assume, you make an ass of yourself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8551878797260659081?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8551878797260659081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8551878797260659081&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8551878797260659081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8551878797260659081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/06/bisexuality-and-heterosexual-privilege.html' title='Bisexuality and Heterosexual Privilege'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1766959175533013771</id><published>2010-06-04T15:06:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T15:06:32.545-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Exhaling</title><content type='html'>I just got the official committee OK to go ahead and start writing my dissertation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOOOOOOOOO!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I WILL GRADUATE BEFORE I TURN 30!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to find a postdoc.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1766959175533013771?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1766959175533013771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1766959175533013771&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1766959175533013771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1766959175533013771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/06/exhaling.html' title='Exhaling'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6305125918634860367</id><published>2010-05-30T10:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T10:40:51.053-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Bronte-Saurus!  RAWR</title><content type='html'>This prettymuch made my week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="505" width="640"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-NKXNThJ610&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-NKXNThJ610&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2010/05/29/saturday-video-pick-me-up/"&gt;Via&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6305125918634860367?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6305125918634860367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6305125918634860367&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6305125918634860367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6305125918634860367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/05/bronte-saurus-rawr.html' title='Bronte-Saurus!  RAWR'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5119748357751989659</id><published>2010-05-14T16:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T16:46:54.919-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Ways to set off my bullshit meter in less than 5 seconds</title><content type='html'>Sending me, a student, an email addressed to Dr. Queenrandom with the opening phrase "Due to your stature in the oncology field...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5119748357751989659?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5119748357751989659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5119748357751989659&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5119748357751989659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5119748357751989659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/05/ways-to-set-off-my-bullshit-meter-in.html' title='Ways to set off my bullshit meter in less than 5 seconds'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2717572496804133676</id><published>2010-05-13T18:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T16:49:50.644-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><title type='text'>Permanent Spousal Record: Recent Conversations</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;The Inexplicable &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB: "I should have figured you'd be into kyaking; lesbians &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love &lt;/span&gt;kyaking."*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Dastardly&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Setting: QR is diligently, distractedly writing a manuscript on the couch whilst LB watches a hockey game.&lt;br /&gt;LB:&amp;nbsp; "Can I have your Cookie Dough Ice Cream in the freezer?"&lt;br /&gt;QR: "Yeah sure whatever....." commence 10 second pause while I tippity-type away... "Wait...What?&amp;nbsp; NO!"&lt;br /&gt;LB: "Too late!&amp;nbsp; AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;We Love Each Other, I Swear&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In response to me sending him this ecard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bluntcard.com/images/1266621322fake.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="201" src="http://bluntcard.com/images/1266621322fake.gif" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;He sent me this one:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bluntcard.com/images/1270602692shittyday.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="201" src="http://www.bluntcard.com/images/1270602692shittyday.gif" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would that it were not &lt;i&gt;so true.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;*Said completely without a sense of irony.&amp;nbsp; I'm glad my husband is comfortable enough with my sexuality to make seminonsensical jokes about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2717572496804133676?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2717572496804133676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2717572496804133676&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2717572496804133676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2717572496804133676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/05/permanent-spousal-record-recent.html' title='Permanent Spousal Record: Recent Conversations'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8483163812094465005</id><published>2010-05-10T22:15:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T22:30:07.979-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gardening'/><title type='text'>Spring Cleaning</title><content type='html'>I thought I would be much less busy when I got back from a week long conference.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought horribly wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now Filled! With! Ideas!&amp;nbsp; in addition to having to finish up long-planned experiments and write my manuscript.&amp;nbsp; Oh and put together a journal club presentation, help plan and implement a career development series for the fellow's association, spend a day escorting around an invited speaker, and other various seminars.&amp;nbsp; April has been a bitch and May doesn't look much better.&amp;nbsp; I might not get any relief until my &lt;strike&gt;fucking&lt;/strike&gt; cherished civil service of jury duty in July (apparently "I'm writing a goddamn dissertation and trying to find a job you fuckwits" is not a valid excuse for getting out of jury duty). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also trying to fill out all the forms to transfer labs - my mentor is changing institutions and the plan is for me to go to a similar lab here to finish up the last few months of my training - and making sure supplies &amp;amp; such are in order for me to do so without too much disruption to my research.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To give you an idea of how busy I am, witness the current shameful, shameful state of my lab desk, which is the worst it has been....ever in my life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHiKjaFcI/AAAAAAAAAJA/DpjnxKnnkYA/s1600/IMG00096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHiKjaFcI/AAAAAAAAAJA/DpjnxKnnkYA/s320/IMG00096.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;The computer area with recyclables which I have no time to walk &lt;i&gt;all the way &lt;/i&gt;across the building to the lunchroom to recycle, pens, lip gloss, paper napkins, schedules, and pathway idea sketches.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHpY1XEDI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/5XZMXeGSHNk/s1600/IMG00094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHpY1XEDI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/5XZMXeGSHNk/s320/IMG00094.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Papers, books, journals to read in addition to data sheets and forms to fill/file.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHmE6bMYI/AAAAAAAAAJI/d9xqvGUWD3M/s1600/IMG00095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHmE6bMYI/AAAAAAAAAJI/d9xqvGUWD3M/s320/IMG00095.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Miscellaneous, including lunch, conference materials, old copies of Science that haven't been filed, and a computer that hasn't worked properly in the better part of a year.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHq-_jgdI/AAAAAAAAAJY/J7Wm0rgpxQw/s1600/IMG00093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHq-_jgdI/AAAAAAAAAJY/J7Wm0rgpxQw/s320/IMG00093.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Those recyclables, again, because the utter mess needs to be fully appreciated (gold star goes to the person who first correctly enumerates the empty vessels).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep intending to clean my desk, but somehow other things keep taking precedence.&amp;nbsp; At any rate, it will have to be cleaned out in a month when I move to my new digs in a super new building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In less depressing and more getting-things-doneidness news, I started this year's garden, which will expand upon last year's timid experimental foray into gardening by quite a bit.&amp;nbsp; This first required clearing a 9-foot patch of weed-encrusted planter as well as maintenance weeding of the puny &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/outside-comfort-zone.html"&gt;3 foot patch&lt;/a&gt; I cleared last year.&amp;nbsp; This involved removing several oak saplings -seriously, who the hell puts oak saplings between a house and a sidewalk?&amp;nbsp; This past weekend I bought several little starter herb plants &amp;amp; transferred them to the planter.&amp;nbsp; The thyme plant stayed - I espied it green popping out of the snow during our thaw, and it's going well.&amp;nbsp; I had to replant a basil bush.&amp;nbsp; In addition, I added chives, rosemary, marjoram and mint for LB.&amp;nbsp; They're doing much better post-transplant than last year's batch.&amp;nbsp; Next week at the farmer's market I'll pick up oregano, which I forgot last week.&amp;nbsp; I have a lot more room, too, but I don't know what I'll get.&amp;nbsp; I want italian peppers and chilli peppers.&amp;nbsp; What else is easy to grow and doesn't attract rabbits?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*For inquiring minds, &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/03/feeling-like-fraud.html"&gt;the talk&lt;/a&gt; went pretty well - I looked  fabulous of course, and my nerves didn't show too badly.&amp;nbsp; I also seemed to impress my session chair, who is a former Editor-in-Chief for the journal in which I want to publish.&amp;nbsp; Fuck yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8483163812094465005?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8483163812094465005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8483163812094465005&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8483163812094465005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8483163812094465005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/05/spring-cleaning.html' title='Spring Cleaning'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S-jHiKjaFcI/AAAAAAAAAJA/DpjnxKnnkYA/s72-c/IMG00096.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5403461496326632984</id><published>2010-04-15T15:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T15:44:29.401-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Nerves</title><content type='html'>Queenrandom is leaving for her &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/03/feeling-like-fraud.html"&gt;VBICM &lt;/a&gt;shortly and is pretty nervous about her talk, although the nice doctor gave her some shiny drugs that calm her nerves and cause her to write in the third person.&amp;nbsp; The conference is rather long so she doubts she can get any substantive posts written in the next week or so, after which regular Random Sample programming will resume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think happy good presentation thoughts for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5403461496326632984?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5403461496326632984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5403461496326632984&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5403461496326632984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5403461496326632984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/04/nerves.html' title='Nerves'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1708366557988703137</id><published>2010-04-07T11:20:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T19:49:24.499-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hardcore science'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>O Western Blot: an ode to the tune of O Tannenbaum</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Please show me bands appeasing;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Let my benchwork be easing; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hope reigns correct bands appear,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Hopes dashed when all I see is smear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Smudges are rather teasing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Why aren't you specific;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O  Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;It's quite unscientific; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The polyclonal may suffice,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Since monoclonal won't play nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Don't appear hieroglyphic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My protein's up with treatment;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O  Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;'Tis really an achievement; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thesis end is now in sight,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The mechanism comes to light;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;If repeat's in agreement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Your method takes a few days;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O  Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Consistency I do praise; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;With science I'm again smitten.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Manuscript is being written.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O Western Blot! O Western Blot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Postdoc will be a slight raise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1708366557988703137?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1708366557988703137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1708366557988703137&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1708366557988703137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1708366557988703137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/04/o-western-blot-ode-to-tune-of-o.html' title='O Western Blot: an ode to the tune of O Tannenbaum'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2484416517102975324</id><published>2010-03-25T23:20:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-27T10:19:21.476-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Feelings of Fraud and Inadequacy in Grad School</title><content type='html'>I keep starting to write this post and then stopping.&amp;nbsp; This subject is very difficult to write about; it's very personal and one of my deepest professional insecurities, and I don't think I'm alone.&amp;nbsp; You see, I was talking with a couple of fellow grad students not too long ago, one senior student like myself, and a fellow a few years younger than us.&amp;nbsp; We were discussing data quality and publication, and I admitted that sometimes I feel like a fraud - sometimes I think my good data is all in my head, I'm imagining it, and someday soon some experiment is going to unravel my entire body of work.&amp;nbsp; The other old salt agreed with me, while the young pup exclaimed "What, you mean those feelings don't go away with success?!?"&amp;nbsp; All three of us were affected by classic &lt;a href="http://www.forbes.com/2010/02/22/imposter-syndrome-professional-fraud-forbes-woman-leadership-psychology.html"&gt;impostor syndrome&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I read that women are more often affected by men, although anecdotally I was the only woman in that conversation.&amp;nbsp; I wonder if this is more common among certain fields or regions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I find even weirder is that as I achieve higher levels of success with my project, these feelings seem to intensify - the more I participate in the scientific field, the more chances there are that people will discover what an idiot I really am.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I have shared with my close friends, but have been reticent to share elsewhere, some recent accolades I have won.&amp;nbsp; I submitted an abstract of my thesis work for a Very Big and Important Cancer Meeting back in November, and not long thereafter I was informed that I was selected to give an oral presentation, alongside postdocs and maybe even a couple of junior faculty.&amp;nbsp; I also found out very recently that I won a difficult to get scholarship for attendance to VBICM, both of which look very, very good on my CV, especially at this point in my career (normally postdocs get both honors).&amp;nbsp; At first I was thrilled, but now I'm just terrified.&amp;nbsp; The social anxiety and fear of public speaking that I've always had don't help, however I find my anxiety over the talk centering around the idea that VBICM attendees are so much more knowledgeable than me about pretty much everything and will find all the holes in my research and eviscerate me publicly.&amp;nbsp; Which is silly - no one sane would do that because it would make them look like an ass.&amp;nbsp; Well they might but it's highly unlikely.&amp;nbsp; This isn't really about anyone who is going to be at VBICM, it's about me.&amp;nbsp; It's about my insecurities, and my ego - see, one of my myriad psychologists once explained to me that social anxiety is a very self-centered disease.&amp;nbsp; That one is so focused on what other people might think that one completely ignores the possibility that other people just don't care all that much - chances are they aren't thinking about me at all, but are rather thinking about things like tasty mashed potatoes or that mystery itch in their pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where does this impostor syndrome come from?&amp;nbsp; I can think of a lot of things.&amp;nbsp; It certainly is related to my anxiety and perfectionism - traits that I've been in treatment for ever since I was a small child.&amp;nbsp; I am naturally anxious, and always felt pressure to be the best and then some.&amp;nbsp; My parents always expected the best from me, but I knew I had to be better than the best because as a girl my best was still seen as worse than the boys.&amp;nbsp; I had teachers who literally took off more points for mistakes made by girls than the same mistakes made by boys (kids work in groups and talk - &lt;strike&gt;even &lt;/strike&gt;especially when told not to), and my achievements were always downplayed by the phrase "your brother is the smartest."&amp;nbsp; I had to be actually perfect to be seen as good enough.&amp;nbsp; Over the years I think I internalized the drive for perfection - if I wasn't top of the class (in anything other than writing - ugh did I hate writing classes), I beat myself up.&amp;nbsp; Somehow if I don't live up to my own impossible standards of perfection, I'm a fraud.&amp;nbsp; It looks so ridiculous written out here.&amp;nbsp; It didn't help that my first adviser constantly undermined my intelligence and data.&amp;nbsp; But my current adviser is my cheerleader.&amp;nbsp; In a reverse from the situation of my first lab, I think she is more confident in my data and abilities than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do I move on from this?&amp;nbsp; Well for starters I can listen to my adviser - I should let her rewrite my internal monologues.&amp;nbsp; Rather than "They gave you this award by mistake and they'll regret it the second you open your mouth," I should say, "Your hard work and novel findings - which you have repeated ad nauseum - are being recognized."*&amp;nbsp; I also need to let go.&amp;nbsp; I don't need to be &lt;i&gt;the &lt;/i&gt;expert in brain tumors and brain development and the three pathways that converge in my project in order to be competent, answer questions intelligently, and not sound like an idiot.&amp;nbsp; Now that I've explored the sources of my insecurities, I can confront my deep-seated need for perfection - and my impossible self-imposed standards.&amp;nbsp; I need to hold myself to the same standards that I hold others.&amp;nbsp; My standards for others are still high, but they're not impossible.&amp;nbsp; And finally, I need to repeat the mantra I discovered before my most recent departmental talk - "What's the worst that could happen?"&amp;nbsp; Anything I can think of realistically still leaves me employed, married, healthy and fabulous.&amp;nbsp; Also?&amp;nbsp; I'll always have my fabulous boots, a congratulations present courtesy of LB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S6w37f4wzdI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Clg54oDwjD0/s1600/918308-p-DETAILED.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S6w37f4wzdI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Clg54oDwjD0/s320/918308-p-DETAILED.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Allegra in Tan, by Born.&amp;nbsp; Fellas?&amp;nbsp; Shoes are always better than flowers.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Actual conversation&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2484416517102975324?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2484416517102975324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2484416517102975324&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2484416517102975324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2484416517102975324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/03/feeling-like-fraud.html' title='Feelings of Fraud and Inadequacy in Grad School'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S6w37f4wzdI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Clg54oDwjD0/s72-c/918308-p-DETAILED.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3446572539839151933</id><published>2010-03-06T18:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-06T18:21:05.296-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Winter Wonderland</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S5LxTu3tcUI/AAAAAAAAAIw/i4z7tlf7zNs/s1600-h/IMG00087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S5LxTu3tcUI/AAAAAAAAAIw/i4z7tlf7zNs/s320/IMG00087.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;I meant to post this photo a while ago.&amp;nbsp; I snapped it one saturday afternoon when walking home from work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3446572539839151933?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3446572539839151933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3446572539839151933&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3446572539839151933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3446572539839151933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/03/winter-wonderland.html' title='Winter Wonderland'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S5LxTu3tcUI/AAAAAAAAAIw/i4z7tlf7zNs/s72-c/IMG00087.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3412574690537759703</id><published>2010-03-03T19:59:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T20:00:10.701-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>We do meat substitute right</title><content type='html'>The Olympics are the ultimate junk TV.&amp;nbsp; I sit in front of them, mindless, for hours, pretending to know something about the hammer, Salchows, and backside rodeos*.&amp;nbsp; They keep me up late at night, cheering for the good ole USA.&amp;nbsp; But also?&amp;nbsp; They have a lot of commercials.&amp;nbsp; A LOT.&amp;nbsp; And I noticed a new commercial for KFC promoting their new boneless fillet, which they promised would be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: red; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&amp;nbsp;BIGGER&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: red; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;MEATIER&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: red; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;JUCIER&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Meatier&lt;/i&gt;? What in the everliving &lt;i&gt;fuck &lt;/i&gt;was there besides meat in their "chicken" before this fillet?&amp;nbsp; Sawdust, crayon shavings and glue?&amp;nbsp; How the hell can one meat be meatier than another meat?&amp;nbsp; They sell plain fucking chicken, for chrissake, it's right there in the name!&amp;nbsp; I NEED ANSWERS, PEOPLE!&amp;nbsp; I...I think I need to go take a shower now, I feel unclean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Not, as I learned, a gay porn maneuver.&amp;nbsp; Heh.&amp;nbsp; MANeuver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3412574690537759703?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3412574690537759703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3412574690537759703&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3412574690537759703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3412574690537759703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/03/we-do-meat-substitute-right.html' title='We do meat substitute right'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6292216300475620521</id><published>2010-02-26T10:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-26T10:43:43.647-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><title type='text'>This is the funniest thing I've read all week.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.stephaniesnowe.com/2010/02/sardines.html"&gt;Sardines.&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp; A comic by my friend's twins.&amp;nbsp; Go read it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6292216300475620521?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6292216300475620521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6292216300475620521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6292216300475620521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6292216300475620521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/this-is-funniest-thing-ive-read-all.html' title='This is the funniest thing I&apos;ve read all week.'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4107840082163831002</id><published>2010-02-25T21:07:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-04-07T11:23:18.733-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>You want to eat dinner at my house tonight.</title><content type='html'>I made some freaking awesome butternut squash soup.&amp;nbsp; Behold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S4cr7-MvSDI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dIqqeiVFch0/s1600-h/IMG00091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S4cr7-MvSDI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dIqqeiVFch0/s320/IMG00091.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so my blackberry photography skillz could use some work.&amp;nbsp; But that stuff is mad delicious.&amp;nbsp; I took some liberties with a recipe I found from &lt;a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/michael-chiarello/roasted-butternut-squash-soup-recipe/index.html"&gt;Michael Chiarello&lt;/a&gt;, who is a celebrity chef LB and I like to keep an eye on.&amp;nbsp; Here's my version (it's super easy):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get 2 large and delicious butternut squashes (ours were a kind gift from a friend who stole them from his mother's garden).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Roast the squashes (this can be done quite a while in advance: I did it about a 4 days before I made the soup, just keep it in the fridge).&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Halve the squashes and place on cookie sheet.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Liberally sprinkle on some olive oil.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Grind some pepper and toss some kosher salt onto the squash.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put in the oven at 400F and roast until quite tender with a fork.&amp;nbsp; It depends on the squash, but this took about 45 minutes with the squashes I had.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Scoop the insides out and discard the rind.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Measure 4 cups of that squash you roasted.&amp;nbsp; Puree it in a blender or a food processor.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; Peel and cut a small bag of carrots (I think we had 8? 9?)&amp;nbsp; into pieces that are about 1 inch by 0.5 inch.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cut up one large yellow onion into manageable pieces.&amp;nbsp; Doesn't have to be a fine dice.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In a stockpot add the following:&lt;/li&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;1.5 Tbsp each butter and olive oil&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the onions&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the carrots&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;6 medium-sized sage leaves, slightly chopped &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;1 cinnamon stick&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;3 medium cloves of garlic, slightly crushed &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;about 1-2 tsp nutmeg*&amp;nbsp;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;about 1-2 tsp garlic powder* &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;about 1 Tbsp freshly ground pepper*&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;about 1.5-2 Tbsp kosher salt*&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;about 2 tsp cumin*&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;about 1.5 Tbsp curry powder* &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sautee over medium heat for about 15 minutes, stirring every few minutes so things don't stick.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Add 2C vegetable stock and bring to a boil.&amp;nbsp; Lower heat to medium and simmer until the carrots are cooked - maybe 10 minutes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is very important: remove and discard the cinnamon stick. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Add the squash puree.&amp;nbsp; Stir well.&amp;nbsp; The soup is probably uber thick at this point: add more vegetable stock or, if you don't have enough, water.&amp;nbsp; I added an additional 2 cups.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cook for about 5 minutes, stirring frequently.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Puree well in a food processor or blender.&amp;nbsp; IMPORTANT: leave a small vent for steam to escape or you might encounter an explosion.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Return to stockpot and bring to medium heat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Add 1/2 to 1 cup of heavy cream, to taste (I used 3/4 cup).&amp;nbsp; Stir until homogeneous.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;See all those lovely spices with an asterix* next to them?&amp;nbsp; Taste the soup now and add more of these, to taste.&amp;nbsp; At this point, I ended up adding the same amount again of salt, pepper, and curry powder, and half again the amount of cumin and garlic powder.&amp;nbsp; I didn't need any more nutmeg.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Simmer for about 5-10 minutes, stirring frequently, after you get the flavor right.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Serve with a dallop of crème fraiche and fresh, warm garlic baguette (or plain baguette, if you don't think garlic is the best fucking flavor on earth like I do).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Oh also? We discovered that butternut squash is Freki's most favorite food.&amp;nbsp; I gave him a bit of raw squash when I was cutting it, because I give him everything because I am a sucker for his big brown eyes, and he nommed it up.&amp;nbsp; Then, when I was scooping out the roast squash, he was standing very patiently outside the kitchen, a big drool gob hanging from his mouth to the floor.&amp;nbsp; I gave him a little in his bowl when it had cooled and he thought that was just the best thing EVAR.&amp;nbsp; Silly puppy, don't you know you're a carnivore?&amp;nbsp; I guess this is where the opportunistic part of the opportunistic carnivore shines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&amp;nbsp; And now you get to see what protocols I've written look like.&amp;nbsp; It's all in the details. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4107840082163831002?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4107840082163831002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4107840082163831002&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4107840082163831002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4107840082163831002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/you-want-to-eat-dinner-at-my-house.html' title='You want to eat dinner at my house tonight.'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/S4cr7-MvSDI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dIqqeiVFch0/s72-c/IMG00091.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7926654016379111546</id><published>2010-02-22T11:03:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T11:05:08.636-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Milo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max Power'/><title type='text'>I'm so dead</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.heyquiz.com/quiz/cat_kill"&gt;&lt;img alt="Is your cat plotting to kill you?" src="http://www.heyquiz.com/bimage/14_93.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering I have &lt;i&gt;two&lt;/i&gt;, I think they're conspiring against me.&amp;nbsp; I did first grow suspicious when Milo distracted me with his cuteness, then Max made a flying leap in front of me, almost as if to trip me down the stairs.&amp;nbsp; Hmmmmmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7926654016379111546?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7926654016379111546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7926654016379111546&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7926654016379111546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7926654016379111546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/im-so-dead.html' title='I&apos;m so dead'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4883911028859112816</id><published>2010-02-19T14:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T14:02:44.241-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Go Megashark!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://staubman.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/megashark-full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://staubman.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/megashark-full.jpg" width="379" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://flowingdata.com/2010/02/19/how-a-giant-shark-took-down-an-airplane/"&gt;Via&lt;/a&gt; (plus video proof)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://staubman.com/blog/?p=67"&gt;Original&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4883911028859112816?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4883911028859112816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4883911028859112816&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4883911028859112816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4883911028859112816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/go-megashark.html' title='Go Megashark!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8220628138808659690</id><published>2010-02-17T14:56:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-17T14:56:28.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Senior Grad Student Invisibility</title><content type='html'>When I was a wee baby grad student, I noticed that the vast majority of students that showed up for journal clubs, workshops, seminars and social events were third year or under.&amp;nbsp; "How terrible!" I thought, "When I'm a senior grad student I'll be sure to participate!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, as a senior grad student, I find myself showing up to less and less of the grad school functions.&amp;nbsp; First to go were the unnecessary social events.&amp;nbsp; Then the seminars.&amp;nbsp; Workshops became spotty, though I still try to attend journal clubs (and my institution is fond of &lt;strike&gt;nannying us&lt;/strike&gt; taking attendance).&amp;nbsp; Increasingly I justify this absence to myself with "This is a waste of my time!&amp;nbsp; I could be at the bench!" or "I have too much to do today!" or "The kids these days suck at presenting a journal article!"&amp;nbsp; My favorite justification for the social functions is "Bah!&amp;nbsp; Kids!&amp;nbsp; I'm too old for this crap!"&amp;nbsp; (I have grumpy old man syndrome at 28, and female).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, some of this is certainly just excuses (although the kids these days &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; put on a terrible presentation, but I should probably show up to &lt;strike&gt;heckle&lt;/strike&gt; give constructive criticism). But I did fail to realize in my early career just how time-consuming full-time bench work is.&amp;nbsp; If there's a seminar at 11, but I have to submit a 6-hour stain to flow lab by 2PM, well chances are the seminar will get skipped.&amp;nbsp; As a young grad student in classes, your eyes are constantly on the clock so you can maximize your lab:class time ratio.&amp;nbsp; I also failed to realize how one can lose track of time during a busy workday when you get in the groove.&amp;nbsp; "Crap!&amp;nbsp; It's 5?&amp;nbsp; I'm going to miss the bus!&amp;nbsp; I swear I looked at the clock an hour ago and it said it was noon!&amp;nbsp; CLOCK, BANE OF MY EXISTENCE, YOU LIE LIKE A LYING DOG!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoo, back it up there QR, breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get the feeling a research career is like this; early on, you have a lot of time for non-bench stuff, so you go to more non-bench stuff.&amp;nbsp; Then you get busy at the bench and forget that the world around you exists.&amp;nbsp; Then you get tied to a computer paper or grant-writing and get bored out of your mind with the constant streams of text so you show up to seminars and &lt;strike&gt;heckle&lt;/strike&gt; constructively criticize baby grad students with terrible presentations.&amp;nbsp; I'm hoping to move to this third stage quite soon, provided the luciferin cooperates.&amp;nbsp; Mwuahahahahahahahahahahaha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8220628138808659690?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8220628138808659690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8220628138808659690&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8220628138808659690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8220628138808659690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/senior-grad-student-invisibility.html' title='Senior Grad Student Invisibility'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2169999204904288696</id><published>2010-02-08T13:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-05-06T16:36:30.403-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mentors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Hindsight -or- Choosing a Research Mentor</title><content type='html'>The single most important choice of graduate school is choosing your adviser/research mentor.  Your adviser affects nearly all aspects of your career:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Science &lt;/span&gt;- Not only will your choice in mentor shape what projects you work on, but part of the job of the mentor is to train you in both scientific thought and methods.  A good mentor will be able to train you to recognize the difference between good research and bad, when to stick with something or give it up, when to publish, and how to produce quality data.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Continuity of Researc&lt;/span&gt;h - Your mentor will provide partial or total funding for your project through her grants, depending on institutional policies.  It is critical you have the funds available to complete your thesis project; without them, there is no project!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Writing&lt;/span&gt; - Your mentor will also guide you to learn scientific writing for meeting abstracts, thesis preparation and publication.  It is crucial to learn good written communication skills; they are the bread and butter of science.  Without quality publications, your hope for getting a J-O-B is practically nil.  A good mentor will produce easy to understand, quality publications and help you to refine your own writing skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Visibility &lt;/span&gt;- Related to the above, your mentor can determine how seriously your communications are taken, and whether they are even in existence.  A good mentor will encourage your participation in national meetings and timely publication.  Your mentor can provide you with contacts to people who work in your field of interest and can advise you on which academic societies are worth your time (and money!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Leadership &lt;/span&gt;- Your mentor also serves as a model for how you might run a lab in the future.  She may also provide you with leadership opportunities within the lab so you can start to develop your own style.  Leadership styles differ greatly; try to pick a mentor who is similar to the style you would like to emulate, but not exactly the same.  You might learn something from the differences!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Graduation &lt;/span&gt;- Your adviser should always have your graduation in mind.  A good mentor will make sure you stayed in school long enough to get the skills necessary to do a postdoc, but not so long that they're taking advantage of cheap labor.  They will press you to make progress, without demanding too much or allowing you to fizzle out and get a terminal Master's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Given how very important your Ph.D. adviser is to your future career, choosing one can be very daunting.  You might ask yourself, how do I rank potential advisers?  Funding?  Science?  Personality?  Success graduating students and placing postdocs?  These are all important; only you can decide which is the most important for you, given your situation.  For me, all the mentors I rotated with had interesting science with established projects, so I could eliminate that from my final decision making process.  I made my initial decision based on appearance of funding (more on that) and leadership style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as you may be aware, I encountered some &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/06/zomg-craziness-so-last-week-has-been.html"&gt;bumps&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/08/whole-new-attitude.html"&gt;Lots &lt;/a&gt;of &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/10/go-go-gadget-gallimaufry.html"&gt;bumps&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I chose my &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/03/if-elephants-never-forget-then-i-work.html"&gt;first mentor&lt;/a&gt; poorly and had to switch labs. My purpose, chickadees, is to prevent future baby Ph.D. students from choosing poorly.&amp;nbsp; Given my methodical mentor-choosing process, where did I go wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You might notice, dear reader, that I did neglect some of the above list when choosing my initial mentor.&amp;nbsp; I did not look too closely at my first mentor's publications to see if she had a good writing style and I took for granted that any mentor would ensure graduation.&amp;nbsp; This was a critical mistake, but not my only one.&amp;nbsp; The other was naivete.&amp;nbsp; There are several things to look for and other things to avoid when choosing a mentor that may not be as obvious as the above list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&amp;nbsp;Be wary of someone who is trying to sell their project to you.&amp;nbsp; If it sounds too good to be true, it likely is.&amp;nbsp; There are two big dangers of a PI who is constantly trying to sell their project to you.&amp;nbsp; The first is that they probably aren't going to be able to be objective about their own research - they are likely viewing it through rose-colored glasses.&amp;nbsp; The second is that you will probably get stuck with their pet project, prohibited from taking your project in your own direction. &amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://physioprof.wordpress.com/2010/01/17/choosing-labsmentors/"&gt;Physioprof &lt;/a&gt;has more to say on this subject.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pay attention to whether the PI has a good working relationship with everyone in the lab.&amp;nbsp; If not, find out why not.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes personalities just conflict, but in my experience this is the exception not the rule.&amp;nbsp; Generally if the PI has a bad relationship with one or more subordinates, that's a red flag for a difficult PI.&amp;nbsp; Does the PI yell and scream?&amp;nbsp; Is her advice nonconstructive?&amp;nbsp; Does she harass employees for taking vacation or sick time?&amp;nbsp; Does she call her subordinates names or insinuate that she doesn't respect their work or intelligence?&amp;nbsp; Does the PI say one thing to you and another to someone else, that is, does she lie?&amp;nbsp; If you can answer yes to any of these questions, RUN AWAY FOR THE LOVE OF DOG!&amp;nbsp; These are huge red flags of an abusive and/or manipulative boss.&amp;nbsp; This person does NOT have your best interests in mind.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Another red flag is if the PI initiates a relationship that falls outside of the bounds of "professional, working relationship."&amp;nbsp; Your PI is not your buddy.&amp;nbsp; Your PI is not your mom or your dad or your aunt or your crabby gramps.&amp;nbsp; AND DEFINITELY NOT YOUR LOVER.&amp;nbsp; EVER.&amp;nbsp; Sure, you can have a friendly relationship, but your boss is still your boss, not your friend.&amp;nbsp; A PI who is trying to initiate a close personal relationship is distracting you from the work at hand, and failing to lead.&amp;nbsp; They may even be trying to manipulate you into compliance; this was certainly the case of my first advisor.&amp;nbsp; She would claim she thought of me "as a daughter" and "had my best interests in mind," thus mollifying me into thinking that she really, truly cared so I should take the abuse as a show of concern.&amp;nbsp; I remember toward the end thinking "If you treat me like your daughter, I want CPS to step in...."&amp;nbsp; Both &lt;a href="http://physioprof.wordpress.com/2010/01/17/choosing-labsmentors/"&gt;Physioprof&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/isisthescientist/2010/01/ask_dr_isis_-_can_i_choose_a_m.php"&gt;Dr. Isis&lt;/a&gt; have many wise things to say on this subject.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lastly, be wary of the appearance of funding.&amp;nbsp; I rotated in three labs.&amp;nbsp; The first had 3 postdocs, 3 students and 2 techs, a small microscope room, a bench for everyone with a couple of spares, and a small tissue culture room.&amp;nbsp; The second had 3 postdocs, 2 techs, 2 students, space enough for 2.5 benches per person, a large tissue culture room with 4 hoods and 12 incubators, a dedicated animal room and a small microscope room.&amp;nbsp; The third had 2 students, 1 tech, just enough benches with a spare for equipment, a small microscope annex and a small tissue culture room with 2 hoods and 4 incubators.&amp;nbsp; Which would you guess were the richest and poorest labs?&amp;nbsp; The first was the best funded, with an R01 and several other indirect grants.&amp;nbsp; The third was next, with an NCI (R01-level) grant and a couple small indirect grants.&amp;nbsp; The poorest funded was the second lab, the one with all the fancy space and equipment.&amp;nbsp; That lab had only an R01.&amp;nbsp; In addition, the PI's in the first and third labs applied for every grant which they even halfway qualified for, whereas the PI in the second lab only applied for (and did not receive) renewal of her R01.&amp;nbsp; However when I was rotating, I did not know any of this.&amp;nbsp; I assumed that the second was the best-funded lab, because it appeared to be so.&amp;nbsp; In reality, it was the worst managed.&amp;nbsp; Not knowing this was my fault.&amp;nbsp; Ask potential PIs about their grants and their philosophy on writing grants.&amp;nbsp; Seek opportunities to apply for your own grants.&amp;nbsp; Further, look it up: the &lt;a href="http://projectreporter.nih.gov/reporter.cfm"&gt;NIH&lt;/a&gt; offers a search on all grants, searchable by PI name, which gives you the grant use, duration, whether it's been renewed or not, when it expires, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;In conclusion, it behooves a baby Ph.D. student to think about more than just science and personality when choosing a research mentor.&amp;nbsp; Because your Ph.D. adviser can affect every aspect of your career in grad school and your career after grad school, you must look deeper.&amp;nbsp; Further, the world is a big scary place with big scary people, and it helps to know how to avoid them.&amp;nbsp; My last bit of advice is this: if ever you find yourself in a bad situation during Grad school, talk to someone.&amp;nbsp; Talk to your deans, your department head, your HR rep, your committee members.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes us wee grad students don't know what is and isn't normal, and we're under a lot of pressure, so we have a tendency to accept things at which our more wizened colleagues would balk.&amp;nbsp; Your institution has support networks there for you, take advantage of them. But most of all, good luck young &lt;strike&gt;padawans&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;padawani&lt;/strike&gt; &lt;strike&gt;padawae&lt;/strike&gt; whateverthefuck is the plural of padawan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2169999204904288696?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2169999204904288696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2169999204904288696&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2169999204904288696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2169999204904288696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/hindsight-or-choosing-research-mentor.html' title='Hindsight -or- Choosing a Research Mentor'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5737415721194100666</id><published>2010-02-05T12:06:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:52:33.037-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Time for Change</title><content type='html'>Sometimes what we start to do doesn't end up matching what we need to do.  When I started this blog, I didn't really have a clear goal or mode in mind...I just thought, "Hey, this will be where I put my thoughts down lalalalalala!"  This led to me getting distracted and not posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have recently put a lot of thought into what I want this blog to be.  I would like to focus more on science and social justice - things which are very important in my personal life, but that I have been ignoring here (don't worry, you'll still get my self-depricating sarcasm and animal stories, for suresies).  To that end, I need to do three things.  First, I'll need to overhaul this blog.  There will be arcives, for sure, but I have reorganized them a bit.  And with new content there must be a new look!  The second, and much harder one, is I need to break out of my shell.  I need to stop being afraid of criticism.  The third is to fully commit to regular posting, at least once a week.  I'm scheduling it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5737415721194100666?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5737415721194100666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5737415721194100666&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5737415721194100666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5737415721194100666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2010/02/time-for-change.html' title='Time for Change'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1427232991412595693</id><published>2009-12-09T21:19:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T13:06:50.538-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>Blizzard Blog '09</title><content type='html'>First things first: Flikr is being a douche (or maybe it's user error but hey I don't feel bad hatin on a conglomeration of code so I absolve myself of responsibility :P)  so the album link is &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24262565@N02/sets/72157622846369551/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, sorry I can't link individual pics today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEFqQIUBGI/AAAAAAAAAH8/MkV_-ky5Z08/s1600-h/P1010020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413614450518525026" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEFqQIUBGI/AAAAAAAAAH8/MkV_-ky5Z08/s320/P1010020.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's our own personal snow gauge.  Our deck furniture doesn't get much wind, so the snow accumulates nicely on it.  How many inches does that look like?  I think it's over a foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few more pictures to show how deep the snow was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEGdytahLI/AAAAAAAAAIE/6_SYpV6wlsI/s1600-h/P1010015.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413615335974274226" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEGdytahLI/AAAAAAAAAIE/6_SYpV6wlsI/s320/P1010015.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Toyota Corolla with snowdrift (yes, I know the corolla has like zero clearance and is teeny but still, that's high for snowfall!)&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEGyMkn0RI/AAAAAAAAAIM/7RwTEhs3iMs/s1600-h/P1010014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413615686514102546" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEGyMkn0RI/AAAAAAAAAIM/7RwTEhs3iMs/s320/P1010014.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;SUV in front of our street, before plowing and shoveling (kinda emphasizes how short the Corolla is, doesn't it?).&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyHd-b-vQII/AAAAAAAAAIU/Ep0T2ymnUtA/s1600-h/P1010019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413852291808575618" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyHd-b-vQII/AAAAAAAAAIU/Ep0T2ymnUtA/s320/P1010019.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Guess where the canoe is?&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And of course, no blizzard would be complete without a big black dog romping in the snow:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyHe6qWz_7I/AAAAAAAAAIc/zYIIHswwbPI/s1600-h/P1010023.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413853326459797426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyHe6qWz_7I/AAAAAAAAAIc/zYIIHswwbPI/s320/P1010023.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1427232991412595693?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1427232991412595693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1427232991412595693&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1427232991412595693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1427232991412595693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/12/blizzard-blog-09.html' title='Blizzard Blog &apos;09'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SyEFqQIUBGI/AAAAAAAAAH8/MkV_-ky5Z08/s72-c/P1010020.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6942323886147366269</id><published>2009-12-09T08:43:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T08:22:01.984-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>I Must Be Insane</title><content type='html'>Here I am sitting at work at quarter to nine during what has to be one of the worst blizzards I have ever seen.  Aside from the M.D. who is required to be here, I am the only person on my floor who decided to work.  Well let me back up, there is a story here if I can glean it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My current thesis adviser informed me this October - on the day I returned to work from a week and a half bout of H1N1, no less - that come June she was leaving this institution and accepting a better position at another institution.  Having only been in her lab for a year, and after all the crap with my former adviser, I silently screamed, then had a heart attack.  But we have a plan.  The plan is, well, my work is going well so we need to get published ASAP.  The hope is to at least be have the manuscript accepted and in revision by June.  Ideally revisions would be completed by then and I could start writing my thesis while some other PI babysits me (this school is not huge on students doing things independently without the official, watchful eye of a faculty member).  If not there are labs I can do my revisions in; we'll just make sure to order all the supplies I need before she leaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The upshot of this is that I've been working my (somewhat sizable) ass off since then to the exclusion of all else.  I'm surprised my hair hasn't started falling out yet (I kid I kid).  So I planned three huge and costly experiments for this week, taking multiple days each but the most work and expense culminating on the last day.  It's called flow cytometry, and at my institution, we have a group of people who, once you've prepared your samples, will run them through the cytometer and do basic sorting and analysis for you.  I have completed two and today is the last day of the third, which would conclude this chapter of my research and be a nice, pretty little graph in my manuscript.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cue blizzard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10 inches of snow and still coming for at least 16 more hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With some vestiges of hope packed into my wee grad student heart, I got up at quarter to seven, showered, tucked my jeans neatly into my boots, wrapped myself up good (I imagine I looked somewhat like Randy from A Christmas Story) and opened my front door.  Except I didn't because it was snowed shut.  I leaned and pushed and managed to displace what felt like 30 pounds of snow, against the wind.  I stopped to catch my breath, then looked down with trepidation.  The four stairs between my front door and the sidewalk had disappeared completely; the snow covered them in an even slope.  Grabbing the rail I was certain would detatch if I actually slipped and needed its stability, I plunged one foot down, down, down into the depths of white fluff and miraculously, fully landed on the first step.  I repeated this procedure until I ran out of steps, then waded the 100 feet to the corner in snow that was perilously close to reaching my crotch.  Finally I was liberated by a plowed street, made my way across to wait at the bus stop at a plowed gas station.  As I waited, I saw nearly every car that passed me skid and slide, and worried that the buses were shut down.  But my bus came (and on time!) and I was shuttled somewhat safely to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I sit by my lonesome, wondering if the people who run my samples are even here today.  It all may have been for naught, experiment-wise  I'll have to repeat the whole four day procedure next week.  The upside of this trek is that now I can claim to be hardcore (shhh, don't tell them that I'm really a wimp!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6942323886147366269?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6942323886147366269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6942323886147366269&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6942323886147366269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6942323886147366269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-must-be-insane.html' title='I Must Be Insane'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5001350530817533631</id><published>2009-11-14T15:07:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T16:30:31.699-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><title type='text'>Resolved: We are investing in kilts.</title><content type='html'>LB and I have both recently had pants-related disasters which have left me wondering whether we are responsible enough to be allowed to wear them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine:&lt;br /&gt;So the other day I was wearing my skinny jeans.  But these particular skinny jeans are a little weird; they seem to get skinnier every time I wash them and never relax again. Also? While they have plenty of room in the butt, hips and thigh, what I didn't expect is that they would be tight on my monstrous calves (srsly. I have had distance runners astonished by my calf muscle size). So after work I change into my sweats.  This day, as I am attempting to pull my skinny jeans off my calves, and they are just not coming off; they are much tighter than usual.   I gather my strength give a good jerk, managing to yank so hard that I pull my feet out from under me.  As I am falling, in what can only be described as fortuitous clumsiness, instead of landing straight on the floor I instead fall into the corner of the mattress, bounce off in the opposite direction, then land on the floor - looking very dignified with my jeans around my ankles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB's:&lt;br /&gt;LB has this ancient pair of dress pants he had somehow inherited, and whether they were structurally sound was in question. This question was answered several months ago, when LB bent over and ripped the buttcrack seam. Like, all the way from taint to waistband. Normally I mend clothes, since between the two of us, I am the least unhandy with a needle. But this was too much for me; I knew that A) I would not be able to get a straight line so his butt would look wavy and B) I would get an ADHD attack halfway through and the stitches would get large and ineffective. So I told him to take them to a tailor. Apparently at some point he instead put them back into the laundry hamper, and they were washed and folded as usual. The other day, LB put them on and wore them to work, NOT NOTICING THE FOOT LONG HOLE IN THEM as he put them on.  He briefly tried to blame me when he got home, but I pointed out that not noticing a hole THAT big in the pants you're stepping into was no one's fault but his own. He capitulated, without admitting defeat. I had a laugh at his expense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5001350530817533631?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5001350530817533631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5001350530817533631&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5001350530817533631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5001350530817533631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/11/resolved-we-are-investing-in-kilts.html' title='Resolved: We are investing in kilts.'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1341291432122692858</id><published>2009-11-02T21:19:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T21:21:15.473-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max Power'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>How I Spent my Sunday</title><content type='html'>Did you know that cats can projectile vomit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All over your hands and satin robe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Max.  Love ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1341291432122692858?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1341291432122692858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1341291432122692858&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1341291432122692858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1341291432122692858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/11/did-you-know-that-cats-can-projectile.html' title='How I Spent my Sunday'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4408754878733780779</id><published>2009-10-22T13:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T13:52:38.689-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.startribune.com/local/65533627.html?elr=KArksLckD8EQDUoaEyqyP4O:DW3ckUiD3aPc:_Yyc:aUnciaec8O7EyUsl"&gt;This story&lt;/a&gt; is awesome.  The hero of our story, Dennis LeRoy Anderson, owns a custom, motorized La-Z-boy, which in and of itself is awesome.  Not only could he drive it around town (and, as will soon be pertinent, to the bar), but it has a stereo and cupholders built in.  Genius.  GENIUS!  As any person in their right mind would do, he tooled this chair down to the bar one Monday evening and proceeded to get smashed.  When Mr. Anderson decided that he had partied enough, he drove his La-Z-boy home.  Except poor Mr. Anderson didn't make it home that night; because he was so drunk, he crashed his La-Z-boy into a parked car in the parking lot.  Sadly, Mr. Anderson was then issued a DWI and to add insult to injury, his chair was confiscated.  All for having the genius of getting wasted in his own, personalized, motorized recliner.  Moral of the story: In Minnesota, motorized furniture, while completely awesome, is still considered a vehicle, so don't drive it drunk.  Call a friend with a pickup to get a ride home so you can enjoy many more days of getting drunk in your personalized,  motorized La-Z-boy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4408754878733780779?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4408754878733780779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4408754878733780779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4408754878733780779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4408754878733780779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/10/this-story-is-awesome.html' title=''/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8439333023827015915</id><published>2009-10-21T15:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T16:04:21.839-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Blog'/><title type='text'>New Book Blog Posts!</title><content type='html'>I recently reviewed &lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-know-why-caged-bird-sings.html"&gt;I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings&lt;/a&gt;, by Maya Angelou, and &lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/10/1984.html"&gt;1984&lt;/a&gt; by George Orwell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8439333023827015915?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8439333023827015915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8439333023827015915&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8439333023827015915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8439333023827015915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/10/new-book-blog-posts.html' title='New Book Blog Posts!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6800771058177284557</id><published>2009-10-19T13:16:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T14:09:18.787-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='idiots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Deep Thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am really enjoying &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/glee/"&gt;Glee&lt;/a&gt;.  Except if they don't stop with the autotune already I may have to stab their sound director.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Actually, the whole damn music industry can stop with the autotune any day now.  Really.  What is so special about sounding like every song was recorded in an echo chamber?  I mean, it was cool and paradigm-shifting when &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auto-Tune"&gt;Cher&lt;/a&gt; did it minimally for effect for the first time  but it's starting to get ridiculous.  Kind of like Snoop Dogg and the "izzle" craze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;That &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/10/18/colorado.balloon.investigation/index.html"&gt;balloon boy&lt;/a&gt; thing pisses me off.  And not about the expense or the attention-whorishness.  No, I'm pissed because these people used their child to get 15 minutes.  They manipulated him into lying for their own ends.  I feel bad for that poor kid; I hope all the money they made on their reality shows will go towards his years and years of therapy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I could really go for a hot glazed doughnut right about now.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Oh did I mention I got H1N1?  I was in bed basically for a week and a half.  That is one nasty bug, and I would not wish it on my worst enemies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I had H1N1?  I was bored.  So I read 1984.  Reading a book that deals with the perception of reality and cognitive dissonance whilst delirious from fever will give you metaphysical crises in seconds flat.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to bake a lot.  I want to get back into that, but I am lacking inspiration.  What are your favorite baked goods, readers?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6800771058177284557?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6800771058177284557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6800771058177284557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6800771058177284557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6800771058177284557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/10/deep-thoughts.html' title='Deep Thoughts'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3269995659620365325</id><published>2009-09-29T12:43:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T15:19:01.634-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>With all the craziness going on in my life I set out in search of ways to relax and unwind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://notalwaysright.com/"&gt;Not Always Right&lt;/a&gt; - The blog of customer stupidity for anyone who's ever had the, erm, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;joy &lt;/span&gt;of serving people for a living.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://stfuparents.tumblr.com/"&gt;STFU Parents&lt;/a&gt; - For the Facebooker who is tired of the TMI parents post about their offspring, including bowel movements, becoming a woman, and &lt;a href="http://stfuparents.tumblr.com/post/200143299/i-dont-believe-ive-entered-stfu-babysitter"&gt;WTF this is&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need to install a skylight just so I can try &lt;a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/2009/09/14/funny-pictures-video-roof-kittehs/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What would &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;happen if &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8206280.stm"&gt;zombies attacked&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://toiletsigns.blogspot.com/"&gt;Toilet signs&lt;/a&gt; from around the world (the &lt;a href="http://toiletsigns.blogspot.com/2008/03/legoland.html"&gt;Legoland &lt;/a&gt;one is awesome).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;And now I'm off to have some chicken noodle soup and ginger ale; I got attacked by a nasty flu and my eyes are starting to tire of the monitor :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3269995659620365325?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3269995659620365325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3269995659620365325&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3269995659620365325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3269995659620365325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/with-all-craziness-going-on-in-my-life.html' title=''/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4605297783902452265</id><published>2009-09-27T15:46:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:39:55.941-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BWCA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><title type='text'>Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 3</title><content type='html'>We stayed at our second camp on Cherokee Lake for 3 nights.  The morning after setting up camp, we made a short day trip to Long Island Lake.  When we were renting our canoe, the outfitter who was dealing with us gave us some recommendations; this was one of them.  The eastern half of this lake’s shoreline had burned in the big fire of 2006, and it sounded worth a see.  We only packed the food pack – so we didn’t have to leave it unattended in camp – and only had 3 very short portages, so this day was not nearly as exhausting as the day before.  We left around 10AM and reached our destination around noon.  On the way there, we had to lift over a muddy beaver dam (although I was able to avoid the mud as was Freki – he’s very delicate and always steps around mud and puddles).  One of our portages also had a very muddy spot that LB plopped right into.  Another portage had a gorgeous rocky stream that we stopped at briefly. When we got to Long Island Lake, we looked for a spot to stop and lunch.  We found a large rock or tiny island, depending on how you look at it, right across from the burn-down area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very nice, sunny spot, and the water around it was quite deep.  Freki set off swimming away from the rock immediately – oftentimes when he doesn’t have an objective while swimming (such as fetching or eating water bugs), he just determinedly sets off perpendicular to shore as if he’s never returning – and we had to call him in to keep an eye on him.  He spent the whole time paddling around the water with hardly a pause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2663/3896399781_3a709d19de.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 402px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2663/3896399781_3a709d19de.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB and I had a nice lunch until some bee decided to come buzzing around my head.  Eventually LB was able to kill it, although I did wish he hadn’t used the cheese knife.  Eh, more protein.  Then, as LB was cleaning off the knife, I looked over to see a mass of bloody black thing on LB's ankle.  It was a pile of leeches feasting on his flesh.  The blood drained from my face, near as quickly as it was draining from his ankle, as I whimpered and squeaked "Leeches!" while pointing at the insidious mass.  He found several more throughout the day, some were hiding in the black sole of his Chacos, and one huge gigantic bloated one was spotted by me at the last portage on the way home.  After lunch, I took some pictures then we packed up and returned to camp (back over the beaver dam OF DOOM AND LEECHES).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2525/3896384387_35c2191235.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2525/3896384387_35c2191235.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2589/3897173926_7a6cd3aa87.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 401px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2589/3897173926_7a6cd3aa87.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we got to camp, it was only 2:30PM, so we spent the afternoon relaxing a bit.  We waded in the water a bit, washed up, and tossed Freki’s water Frisbee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3435/3897182054_95d22d4cfe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 402px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3435/3897182054_95d22d4cfe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we dried off I had LB rub the knots out of my shoulders for a while on our sunny rock on the beach.  We had our dinner and got a relaxing night’s sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the next day in camp; we slept in, then had oatmeal with dried fruit for breakfast, which was DELICIOUS (we mixed the fruit with the oatmeal before adding the hot water, so they remoisturized and warmed a bit).  As I was starting up the Jetboil to boil water for our breakfast, I felt some small thing hit the back of my head.  I paused briefly, thinking, oh something must have fallen out of the tree.  Then something hit my shoulder, and shortly after a pine bud flew past my arm and impacted the ground.  I then heard the loud chatter of an angry red squirrel.  I was under attack!  Freki soon came to my rescue and barked up the tree that the poor little squirrel was inhabiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2650/3897171558_c00481a29a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2650/3897171558_c00481a29a.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After breakfast, we played card games and water fetch with Freki most of the day, then hung out by the campfire late into the evening.  It was nice to have a lazy day around camp to work out all the sore muscles and recuperate for the next day's travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we headed out to our third and final campsite, of which I do not have a picture.  We paddled back to Sawbill Lake the same way we had come to Cherokee Lake, but this time there was only one leech (that we saw) on Freki, since we were both much more cautious when crossing beaver dams.  Our third campsite was nestled in the woods and had separate areas for the fire and for the tent. We spent some time swimming here, but mostly we slept and prepared to leave &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;early &lt;/span&gt;Saturday morning. We woke up early the next morning to the sound of a deer rutting off in the woods, although we never saw him.  We  skipped breakfast and paddled just under 2 miles back to &lt;a href="http://www.sawbill.com/"&gt;Sawbill Outfitters&lt;/a&gt;.  On our way out, we stopped by a cafe in Tofte to grab the most delicious lattes and pecan cinnamon rolls I've ever had (eating naught but granola bars and freeze-dried food for a week had no effect on their flavor, I'm sure).  LB drove the whole way back, while Freki slept and I got some pictures of the scenery, although unfortunately it was too foggy to get a picture of Lake Superior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2590/3897153838_c74a0d15fa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2590/3897153838_c74a0d15fa.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2519/3897174594_9e08c76706.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 401px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2519/3897174594_9e08c76706.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite its shaky start, our vacation was great for everyone.  The weather was perfect (mid-70's, sunny, no rain all week), there were few bugs, and we got a lot of fresh air and exercise.  We were all exhausted for a few days after coming back, but it was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Previous Episodes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-1.html"&gt;Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-2.html"&gt;Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4605297783902452265?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4605297783902452265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4605297783902452265&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4605297783902452265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4605297783902452265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-3.html' title='Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 3'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2663/3896399781_3a709d19de_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1687747591122754974</id><published>2009-09-25T14:31:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T16:15:55.178-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BWCA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><title type='text'>Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 2</title><content type='html'>Our first morning in the BWCA, Freki and I woke up around 7:30. LB wanted to sleep some more, so we hiked up to the point near camp and took a few pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2504/3896400559_2c831fd0c9.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2504/3896400559_2c831fd0c9.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 500px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 375px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3512/3897155516_5304fbee26.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3512/3897155516_5304fbee26.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 500px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 375px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3469/3897134728_387c763dce.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3469/3897134728_387c763dce.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 402px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then hiked through the woods a little bit, where I found some wild raspberries that we decided to have with breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2534/3896360265_e1746bca4c.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2534/3896360265_e1746bca4c.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3464/3897150542_dc68b82153.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3464/3897150542_dc68b82153.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After packing up camp, we set off for a long day of portaging. We ended up portaging almost a mile, total, but it was supposed to be longer; one of our portages was made very short thanks to a beaver dam. My pack weighed close to a third of my body weight, and was about twice my width. As I trekked through the woods, I found myself often pondering Sherpa guides and wondering how they avoided shoulder knots. After the last portage, we paddled down Cherokee Creek, which, at one point, had a beaver dam that we had to lift the boat over. Now, I was paddling the front of the canoe, lacking the skill to steer it. The person in the front is responsible for landing the canoe by stepping one foot out when land is near, without tipping the boat. I had to do this with the beaver dam, which was approximately one foot thick. I missed. The water was easily over my head, but I at least hit the dam. My right leg went somewhat through it, and I was in muck up to my hip (there is probably a beaver cursing my name as she tries to fix the hole I created). I somehow flung my left leg out of the boat, likely over my own head, so as not to tip it, and then fought slippery muck to get up onto the dam. Eventually we got the boat over, and I was almost dry before we made camp. When we pulled the canoe up on shore, I noticed 2 leeches clinging to the bottom of it. I FREAKED.RIGHT.OUT. Because, dude. The three phobias I have, paralyzing, mind-freaking phobias? Bees, ticks, and LEECHES. ZOMG. After putting down the canoe I excused myself, ran off into the woods and checked VERY THOROUGHLY everywhere the beaver dam had touched (thankfully, I had no leeches on me - what I would have done had I found them, I'm not sure, since I'm afraid to touch them).  After this, I quietly regained my composure and shorts, then went back down to the beach. There was a gorgeous sloped rock into the beach, facing the sunset, where LB and I finished the wine, cheese &amp;amp; salami. I had a quick wade to wash out my mucky clothes, then we built a great fire (some kind people before us had gathered quite a bit of wood) and hung out there until bedtime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2568/3897143096_de52950418.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2568/3897143096_de52950418.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 301px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 401px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Episode: Holy Hell More Leeches!, Combative Squirrels, and More Nature Crap!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;Previous Episode:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-1.html"&gt;Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;Coming up next:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-3.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1687747591122754974?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1687747591122754974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1687747591122754974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1687747591122754974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1687747591122754974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-2.html' title='Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 2'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2504/3896400559_2c831fd0c9_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4858570941171579494</id><published>2009-09-23T15:07:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:39:11.306-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BWCA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><title type='text'>Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 1</title><content type='html'>So I alluded to being busy in my previous post.  For a week at the beginning of September, LB, Freki and I took a trip to the &lt;a href="http://www.bwca.com/"&gt;Boundary Waters&lt;/a&gt;.  Oh, except the day we were supposed to leave?  One of our pipes burst a leak.  Fan-freaking-tastic.  So my father in law came over and fixed it, but we ended up leaving the next morning at 7AM, after packing furiously until about 3AM.  (We had originally wanted to leave around midnight, then take turns sleeping in the car). I surprised myself with my endurance by driving to our entry point - nearly the entire length of Minnesota - with only 2 pee breaks, on 3 hours of sleep.  What can I say – I’m a champ.  Or a glutton for punishment.  I’m not sure which.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to &lt;a href="http://www.sawbill.com/"&gt;Sawbill Outfitters&lt;/a&gt; around 4 to pick up our permit and rent our canoe.  When we picked up our permit, we were required to watch a cheesy video, most likely produced in the early 90’s, about not feeding bears or leaving trash or taking things.  Finally we could go down to the water and load the boat:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3452/3897175320_273435f1e3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3452/3897175320_273435f1e3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting to the send-off, about 0.02 seconds were wasted before Freki decided to try to get into the water. He wasn’t so sure about jumping in from the dock-like send-off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2558/3896376011_743d8f93fc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2558/3896376011_743d8f93fc.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but quickly found a way around that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2493/3897152972_b23c6ee681.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2493/3897152972_b23c6ee681.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally hit the water around 4:30PM. LB said some insulting things about my paddling, and I informed him I’d never been properly trained and it had been at least a decade since I’d set foot in a canoe.  He backed off and instructed me on proper technique.  Within a half hour he was remarking on what a quick learner I am, and I was like, "DUH, I am TEH AWSUMNESS!"  After harassing a few other paddlers, we learned that a certain campsite was likely still unclaimed, and made our way there.  It was gorgeous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2523/3896381069_6ed57d9500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2523/3896381069_6ed57d9500.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freki played in the water and angred the little red squirrel who made his/her home way too close to camp.  S/he was chattering at us the whole time we were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2655/3896366227_6ddd6e60e0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2655/3896366227_6ddd6e60e0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2575/3897176782_277be49277.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2575/3897176782_277be49277.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After setting up camp, we ate some cheese, salami &amp;amp; crackers that we had packed for lunch, but obviously we had eaten lunch on the road.  We also pulled out a nalgene full of the newest cheap wine that my mother was obsessing about and had given us a few weeks ago (we figured it’d make great camp wine – it could only get less sweet with oxidation).  While eating dinner and building a kind of piddly fire, we noticed a family of beavers across the way building a lodge.  At first, we only saw one beaver.  The family leader got curious about us and swam up to check us out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3471/3897169220_02eb973887.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3471/3897169220_02eb973887.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After s/he was satisfied we weren’t trouble, other adults and young came out to assist in the building. We let Freki play in the water too long, and he never quite dried off, since it was quite humid that night, poor puppy.  I think he was OK, though, thanks to his thick undercoat; his skin was probably dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next episode: Wild Raspberries, Nature Pictures, ZOMG LEECHES, and more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Coming up next:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-2.html"&gt;Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-3.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4858570941171579494?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4858570941171579494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4858570941171579494&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4858570941171579494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4858570941171579494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/boundary-waters-2009-part-1.html' title='Boundary Waters 2009 - Part 1'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3452/3897175320_273435f1e3_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6327804842408424994</id><published>2009-09-22T10:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-22T10:29:02.848-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>Sorrow and Anger</title><content type='html'>Well.  It’s been a while.  I had some stuff happen in my personal life that scared me off blogging for a bit (and I may at some point change my blog from public to private because of some of it), and after that I got really, really busy (more on that later).  Some of the stuff I won’t get into here, some I will:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met my friend &lt;a href="http://thecottonsocks.blogspot.com/"&gt;eas&lt;/a&gt; through, of all things, a wedding planning website years &amp;amp; years ago.  I attended her wedding and met her husband, and we’ve visited a few times over the years.  She is a beautiful person who is wry, determined, practical, sensitive, and great to hang out with over margaritas.  Her husband is a stand-up guy who is sweet, funny as hell, respectful and kind.  Just about a month ago the worst thing that could happen, happened to them.  Eas was 20 weeks pregnant and went into premature labor.  Their son, Gabriel Ross, was born alive and died in their arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of our friends have written their support, and I have lagged behind.  Every time I sit to try to write, my chest gets tight and tears start to well up in my eyes.  I can’t write what is in my heart because it just seems so selfish and inappropriate.  You see, this is how my little sister Emily died.  All these years, all the childhood therapy and it just comes flooding back like it happened yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn’t exactly the same, but I won’t go into too many details, for the sake of eas’ and my family’s privacy.  Emily had hair.  Hair! Thick, black hair, like mine.  She looked like me.  The picture of the sister I named but never got to meet is seared in my retinas.  Her head was still conical from the birth.  Some say it was a blessing – upon necropsy (they don’t call it autopsy on a stillbirth), they found that she had a hole in her heart that would have made her life difficult if not short.  My parents told me we couldn’t have the remains, the hospital wouldn’t let us have them.  Instead we planted a poplar tree in our back yard.  The tree is still there, so tall and strong, like she never got to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I think of eas, this is all I can think of.  So I waited to write.  Got advice from a friend.  Because this is her time of mourning, not mine.  This is not about me.  But it is something I have to get out of my system, something I need to talk about.  I’ve been afraid of what to say to eas out of worry of imposing my feelings into the situation; I worry that my cautiousness has made me seem distant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I’m mad.  As a sister, I’m sure that my pain does not compare to that of a mother losing her child.  But I know the pain that I feel, and I’m mad that my friends have to feel the pain that my parents did.  I’m mad that we as a species know so little about pregnancy and childbirth, and that we do so fucking little to expand our knowledge.  I’m filled with rage at the completely inhuman way my friend was treated by the hospital staff when she was in the biggest crisis of her life, which was similar to the way my parents were treated.  I’m mad that a quarter of a century later my parents still can’t bring themselves to talk about what happened in more than fragments, that I had to tell my little brother that he had not one, but two older sisters, that my mom could say nothing more but to confirm it.  I’m mad that I still don’t tell people that I had two younger siblings, when they know only one is alive, because I don’t want to have to go into details.  Only my husband knows everything about her life that I do.  And I want to pour all this energy and love into eas, but I want to give her the space to mourn, too, without being burdened by my baggage.  Because I love her and I want her to make it through this dark night and I know that she can because she is strong.  So maybe I’ll just pray that Emily and Gabriel can find each other and play together and be at peace, wherever they are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6327804842408424994?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6327804842408424994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6327804842408424994&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6327804842408424994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6327804842408424994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/09/sorrow-and-anger.html' title='Sorrow and Anger'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2479216048328352693</id><published>2009-07-23T22:44:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T22:47:36.200-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>It's your breakfast, and it's happy to see you!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/3750643923_d6a147dc32.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 254px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2609/3750643923_d6a147dc32.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tore the label off my peach and this is what it looked like afterward.  Pretty cool, huh?  (Well, a smiley face would have been cooler)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2479216048328352693?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2479216048328352693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2479216048328352693&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2479216048328352693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2479216048328352693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-your-breakfast-and-its-happy-to-see.html' title='It&apos;s your breakfast, and it&apos;s happy to see you!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-304788806030964999</id><published>2009-07-17T14:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T14:56:11.971-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Blog'/><title type='text'>A Whole Mess of Book Blogging</title><content type='html'>I finally got caught up!  Check out my reviews of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/07/ahabs-wife.html"&gt;Ahab's Wife&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/07/poisonwood-bible.html"&gt;The Poisonwood Bible&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/07/finding-angela-shelton.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding Angela Shelton&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/07/three-cups-of-tea.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three Cups of Tea&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-304788806030964999?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/304788806030964999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=304788806030964999&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/304788806030964999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/304788806030964999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/07/whole-mess-of-book-blogging.html' title='A Whole Mess of Book Blogging'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3175842940545661495</id><published>2009-07-14T18:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T18:11:56.448-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>This Would Be Ironic, In Alanis Morisette's World</title><content type='html'>I will preface this by saying: I am 95% sure I'm fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got hit by a car on the way home from work.  Walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was running late, and was walking across the street. There was a van stopped at the stoplight. I cut across the street behind the van, which randomly decided to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;back up&lt;/span&gt;. Instincts kicked in. I put out my left hand, slapped the van hard and used its momentum to push my body away from it. It wasn't moving fast and I was able to absorb the blow with my forearm and keep anything else from getting hit. I continued forward movement, when it suddenly dawned on me, "Hey! That car just HIT ME!" In disbelief I half turned to look at it, at which point I tripped on the curb, torqued my ankle and fell on my hip. I landed on mostly muscle and fat so I'm a bit sore there, but everything else seems fine. I'll stop by urgent care if anything hurts more than a bruise, which is what it feels like now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But honestly, who manages to avoid being injured by being hit by a car, only to injure herself by tripping over a curb? FML&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3175842940545661495?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3175842940545661495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3175842940545661495&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3175842940545661495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3175842940545661495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-would-be-ironic-in-alanis.html' title='This Would Be Ironic, In Alanis Morisette&apos;s World'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7640480457332911380</id><published>2009-07-08T13:02:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T13:45:35.124-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Why I Love Being Short</title><content type='html'>I'm short.  5'3", to be exact, although I was 5'2" from about 7th grade until midway through college.  A lot of the time I get bogged down and grumpy about all the negative sides of being short - things I can't do, clothes I can't wear, shitty things people do and say (folks, my head is NOT an armrest, and I DO have plenty of reasons to live, tyvm), etc etc.  Today I decided to think about the positives of my height:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I always have an excuse to get someone else to change lightbulbs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't fall as far when I trip.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My feet will never hang off the end of a bed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can sleep as comfortably on most couches as if they were a bed (well..a lumpy bed.  With cushions).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My height wouldn't cause difficulties for me when traveling in prettymuch any foreign country (although my legs are still too long to sit comfortably in most airplanes - I think they are designed for toddlers).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I generally don't have to look out for low-hanging branches when out and about.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we hug, my head rests comfortably on LB's chest and I can listen to his heart.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I will never hit my head on a doorframe unless I am wildly uncoordinated.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can sit comfortably in most adult-sized chairs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can sit and drive comfortably in most cars.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At my height, I'm actually TALLER than the world average.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a lower cancer and heart disease risk than my tall peers and am less likely to die in a car crash.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can experience and react to the world faster than tall people thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=104183551"&gt;temporal binding&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7640480457332911380?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7640480457332911380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7640480457332911380&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7640480457332911380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7640480457332911380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/07/why-i-love-being-short.html' title='Why I Love Being Short'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5156657102676313096</id><published>2009-07-06T14:49:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T15:10:50.664-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>A Really Good Grill</title><content type='html'>I am sitting here trying to figure out why I am so relaxed and happy today (I even got a "What the HELL is with you and your perky perkiness, who is this woman and what have you done with my wife?" from LB this morning.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, this weekend was not all that great.  Thursday was a normal work day, then I came home to an evening of weeding and raking and bagging and other general yardwork. Friday I relaxed, played some WoW, and did some laundry.  Saturday I worked at the store for 7 hours in sandals that gave me blisters.  Sunday I worked at the store some more.  I got little to no sleep and was tired as hell all weekend.  Not a super fab relaxing weekend, right?  Or was it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night LB and I grilled some of our signature Super Stinky Burgers* and hung out by our fire pit with beer. Saturday night  LB took me out for a birthday dinner, then we came home and watched fireworks.  Sunday, LB's best friend came over and we grilled some brats, then hung out with beer again, playing fetch with Freki and shooting the shit.  Hell I was tired all weekend not primarily because of work, but because I had so much fun sitting out next to the grill that I stayed up way too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized today that even though I worked like a dog on most of my vacation, I still had a great weekend.  Sitting down with your people, having a beer (or three), chatting over a hot grill with good food can really change the day from something stressful to something fun and relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's to a good grill, because really, it can make all the difference between a good weekend and a crappy one.  Well, that and beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Grill a burger as usual.  Place thick slices of onion on top of burger when nearly cooked.  Slather on some minced garlic and jalapeno.  Top with cheese, preferably muenster and pepper jack.  Remove from grill when cheese is melty.  Toast bun.  Enjoy with or without condiments.  Later on and well into the next day pop breath mints like they're candy, in between multiple tooth brushings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5156657102676313096?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5156657102676313096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5156657102676313096&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5156657102676313096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5156657102676313096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/07/really-good-grill.html' title='A Really Good Grill'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5060606039279627204</id><published>2009-07-01T21:29:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-03T23:04:00.356-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Work is da poop...and other obscure computer game references</title><content type='html'>My 28th birthday is coming up.  It's the first time I feel a bit...sad about my birthday.  I had a lot of goals, a lot of things I wanted to do before I turned 28 (most people pick like 30; I just roll a little different I guess).  Some of them I've completed, but some of the bigger ones, I haven't, and those make me sad.  I usually meet the goals I set out for myself, so not completing one is very disconcerting and demotivating to me.  Also, I have to work on my birthday, and work is da poop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of work, I have recently gotten some great results that really make my thesis project into a nice little (sexy!) story.  The gene interaction I have found will really up the impact factor of my eventual paper, regardless of what I find next.  I have a biological effect, backed by a known effector of the pathway, which is a very famous oncogene, and this interaction fits very well into a model of both normal brain development and medulloblastoma formation (which is what I am studying).  There's more work to be done, of course, but I have a very solid foundation at this point which, in the context of thesis research (especially in my circumstances), is pretty fucking huge.  So that's good.  With hard work I think I can get out of here in 1.5 years maximum, 1 minimum, depending on if I'm lucky and all my experiments magically do not require troubleshooting :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5060606039279627204?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5060606039279627204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5060606039279627204&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5060606039279627204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5060606039279627204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/07/well-i-finally-have-new-senator.html' title='Work is da poop...and other obscure computer game references'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6426370451446979599</id><published>2009-06-08T12:09:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T12:10:38.751-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Blog'/><title type='text'>Book Blog: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly</title><content type='html'>New post up at the book blog, reviewing &lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/06/diving-bell-and-butterfly.html"&gt;The Diving Bell and the Butterfly&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I can find my copy of Ahab's Wife, that'll be up, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6426370451446979599?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6426370451446979599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6426370451446979599&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6426370451446979599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6426370451446979599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/06/book-blog-diving-bell-and-butterfly.html' title='Book Blog: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-702321368236772777</id><published>2009-06-04T14:28:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T23:02:54.664-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><title type='text'>Bits &amp; Pieces</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;OK first?  My ISP majorly blows.  I do NOT like random multi-day outages.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Second, &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/06/02/penguin.satellite.images/index.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;?  is awesome.  "So, Bob, what do you do for a living?"  "Well, Jill, I take pictures of penguin shit from outer space." Actually I do think it's a bit creative and cool.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Definition: Irony (n) - Being shit-scared of falling down and hurting oneself when rollerblading for the first time in a year, then injuring oneself removing rollerblades immediately after sighing relief due to an injury-free hour of rollerblading.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sammiches are awesome.  Especially the variety with hard salami and spicy peppers.  Someday my stomach is going to just up and quit, methinks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/06/05/bankruptcy.medical.bills/index.html"&gt;This is totally sick and wrong&lt;/a&gt; (no pun intended): 60% of all bankrupcies are due to medical debt; over three-quarters of those bankrupt people had health insurance.  We need to get the hell on this.  From the bottom up.  I had a 15 minute doctor visit a few months back when I hit my head on a shelf (aaaand that's a story for another day).  The bill was $150 (thank God for my insurance).  That's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;$10 a minute&lt;/span&gt; for someone to have me touch my nose with my finger and walk in a line.  And, this is at one of the "cheaper" health systems in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;country&lt;/span&gt;.  This system is fucked from the ground up.  Universal health care won't be a cure all.  We need more.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This song is awesome: &lt;a href="http://music.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=music.artistalbums&amp;amp;artistid=10891931&amp;amp;albumid=12720"&gt;Guess Who Ran Away With the Milkman by The Pipettes&lt;/a&gt; (if only for the title, ha!).  Click to listen, srsly.  They're a 60's girl group reimagined in punk style. Here's the refrain:&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I don't want to get a mortgage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;or think of when I'm sixty-three&lt;br /&gt;Or in terms of dogs and babies&lt;br /&gt;I know how much you love me&lt;br /&gt;But I don't think I love you&lt;br /&gt;Anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I realized today that I adore break-up songs like most people adore love songs.  Also?  Songs that are depressing in lyric but happy and upbeat in instrumentals are my faves.  There is something wrong with my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-702321368236772777?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/702321368236772777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=702321368236772777&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/702321368236772777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/702321368236772777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/06/bits-pieces.html' title='Bits &amp; Pieces'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8897119818594091841</id><published>2009-06-03T22:46:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T22:52:15.628-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><title type='text'>The Truth is Brutal</title><content type='html'>LB(from the bathroom):  Aaaaw.  *heavy sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;QR: Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB: I was just weighing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;QR: That scale weighs light by about 8 pounds, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB:  (imagine high-pitched scandalized valley girl shriek) Uh!  No it doesn't!  Fuck you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The messenger!  She...has..beeeen...shoooooooooooooot....ugh *dies*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8897119818594091841?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8897119818594091841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8897119818594091841&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8897119818594091841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8897119818594091841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/06/truth-is-brutal.html' title='The Truth is Brutal'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7631240339204922476</id><published>2009-06-02T18:15:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T08:44:14.092-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexual assault awareness'/><title type='text'>Silence is the Enemy</title><content type='html'>This post will be unpleasant.  It is meant to be.  I'm sure some of you know &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/search/label/sexual%20assault%20awareness"&gt;what I have gone through&lt;/a&gt;, and that it is difficult for me to write about rape.  But my discomfort in writing, and anyone's discomfort in reading pales in comparison to what women and girls are living daily.  For &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/intersection/files/2009/05/rape_by_slytherin_prince.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 246px;" src="http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/intersection/files/2009/05/rape_by_slytherin_prince.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;their sake, educate yourself, speak out, donate.  Our eyes need opening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=88260307629"&gt;online movement&lt;/a&gt; happening to raise awareness and action to end the systematic rape of women and girls.  While we seek to end all rape, the main focus of this movement is to end the rape of the majority of females in the war-torn countries of Liberia and the Congo, where rape was used as a tactic of war.  As Dr. Denis Mukwege explains, in a &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/21/opinion/21herbert.html"&gt;column&lt;/a&gt; penned by Bob Herbert :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Once they have raped these women in such a public way,” he said, “sometimes maiming them, destroying their sexual organs — and with everybody watching — the women themselves are destroyed, or virtually destroyed. They are traumatized and humiliated on every level, physical and psychological. That’s the first consequence.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;“The second consequence is that the whole family and the entire neighborhood is traumatized by what they have seen. The ordinary sense of family and community is lost after a man has been forced to watch his wife being raped, or parents are forced to watch the rape of their daughters, or children see their mothers raped.&lt;/p&gt;“Neighbors are witnesses to this. Many flee. Families are dislocated. Social relationships are lost. There is no more social network, village network. Not only the victims have been destroyed; the whole village is destroyed.”&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.glamour.com/magazine/2007/08/rape-in-the-congo?currentPage=3"&gt;Women and girls are being sexually mutilated&lt;/a&gt;: raped so severely they will never bear children, cannot walk for months, have permanent incontinence.  Some have been raped to death.  And those are just the physical scars.  It began as a tactic of war, and continues long after the wars have ended.  It is estimated that in Eastern Congo, &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/05/18/ensler.congo/index.html?iref=newssearch"&gt;1,100 women are raped &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a month&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.  One thousand one hundred.  In some regions, it is rare to find a female &lt;a href="http://doctorswithoutborders.org/publications/article.cfm?id=3422&amp;amp;cat=special-report"&gt;who has not been &lt;/a&gt;raped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What You Can Do&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Educate yourself&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/intersection/2009/06/01/silence-is-the-enemy/"&gt;Silence is the Enemy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/21/opinion/21kristof.html?_r=3"&gt;After Wars, Mass Rapes Persist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/05/18/ensler.congo/index.html?iref=newssearch"&gt;War on Women in Congo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/21/opinion/21herbert.html"&gt;The Invisible War&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.glamour.com/magazine/2007/08/rape-in-the-congo?currentPage=6"&gt;Women Left for Dead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.glamour.com/magazine/2007/08/rape-in-the-congo?currentPage=6"&gt;Shattered Lives&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://doctorswithoutborders.org/news/issue.cfm?id=3466"&gt;Sexual Violence&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;u&gt;Participate in Silence is the Enemy&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Join the &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=88260307629"&gt;Facebook Group&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/intersection/blogger-coalition/"&gt;Visit these blogs&lt;/a&gt;; they are donating revenue to &lt;a href="http://doctorswithoutborders.org/donate/?ref=main-menu"&gt;Doctors Without Borders&lt;/a&gt; and income is determined by blog traffic.  Every click helps.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://doctorswithoutborders.org/donate/"&gt;Donate&lt;/a&gt;.  I am.  (A good list of organizations to donate through is &lt;a href="http://scienceblogs.com/bioephemera/2009/06/silence_is_the_enemy.php#more"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Speak out: Counter rape myths, link to the &lt;a href="http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/intersection/blogger-coalition/"&gt;blogring&lt;/a&gt;, make a note on your facebook page, write to &lt;a href="http://www.congress.org/congressorg/directory/congdir.tt"&gt;your congressional representatives&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I read that there is a Twitter feed for the event as well.  I don't Tweet, as a rule, but the tag is #silencehurts&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;For too long, rape has been a subject relegated to whispers and innuendo.  This silence has placed victims into a realm of shame and isolation, though we are many.  This silence has allowed rapists to ruin lives with impunity.  Do not stigmatize victims or empower rapists, rapist sympathizers and rape apologists: Refuse to be silent.  We will be heard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7631240339204922476?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7631240339204922476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7631240339204922476&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7631240339204922476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7631240339204922476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/06/silence-is-enemy.html' title='Silence is the Enemy'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1493894465358835316</id><published>2009-06-02T18:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T18:14:05.940-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>Disruption</title><content type='html'>Well, I broke my streak.  A very close family member needed me, and I was unable to post.  He is much better now, no worries :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will continue to write every day from this day foreward, until the end of this week, which would have been the original 4 weeks.  More later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1493894465358835316?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1493894465358835316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1493894465358835316&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1493894465358835316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1493894465358835316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/06/disruption.html' title='Disruption'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7902906789993631634</id><published>2009-05-30T21:30:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T21:31:31.922-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><title type='text'>No post tonight</title><content type='html'>Well that's an ironic post title.  But, don't want to be neglecting my duties.  Something important has come up and I don't have time to make a post today.  I should have more time tomorrow.  I apologize.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7902906789993631634?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7902906789993631634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7902906789993631634&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7902906789993631634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7902906789993631634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-post-tonight.html' title='No post tonight'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-241340781620462540</id><published>2009-05-30T09:22:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T13:06:16.739-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Free Association Friday'/><title type='text'>Free Association Friday, or Autopublish Fail</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/search/label/Free%20Association%20Friday"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200024231557207714" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCoyfNlkFqI/AAAAAAAAABk/pIlcfEL4WcI/s320/Free+Association+Friday+Button.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: I had thought I hit an autopublish for this for last night, but apparently I hit save instead.  D'OH!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's word is: Pluto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah.  Pluto.  The planet that never was.  Or was, and then wasn't.  Counted among the planets, then stripped of its status, just because it was small and far away.  It even has moons!  How can something without moons not be a planet?  I was scandalized the day Pluto was demoted.  After all, science curriculum from first through seventh grades was looking at leaves, raising chicks or chameleons, and the NINE planets!  Let's all hold a moment of silence, then raise our glasses in remembrance of poor, poor Pluto!  (It occurs to me that this isn't really free association but when one's finger randomly lands on Pluto, this is difficult!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://orbitingfrog.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/poor_pluto_mathias_pedersen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 391px; height: 220px;" src="http://orbitingfrog.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/poor_pluto_mathias_pedersen.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-241340781620462540?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/241340781620462540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=241340781620462540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/241340781620462540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/241340781620462540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/free-association-friday-or-autopublish.html' title='Free Association Friday, or Autopublish Fail'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCoyfNlkFqI/AAAAAAAAABk/pIlcfEL4WcI/s72-c/Free+Association+Friday+Button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6955549708730751016</id><published>2009-05-28T17:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T18:18:32.394-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><title type='text'>Urgence de Mode</title><content type='html'>I used to work for a cirque that was based in Ontario; when they stopped by Minnesota, blocks away from my apartment, I got a job womanning the box office.  In the box office, I had some flamingly french bosses. Pascal loved to watch the customers walk by and we were instructed, if we saw an outfit gone hideously awry, to yell "Fashion Emergency!" (we were in the box so no one outside could hear) so he (and everyone else cramped in the box) could run to our window and behold the nightmare. Well, one day, one of the managers left their walkie-talkie on and a customer overheard our titilation. We were instructed, the next day, to substitute Urgence de mode! since most minnesotans don't understand french anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at my current institution, we have missing person alerts from time to time. 99% of the time they're benign, like, someone wandered off to the bathroom without telling their spouse. There are a lot of people here and it's easy to get lost in a crowd. This morning, I hear the usual PA announcement: "Attention, attention. There is a missing person. Last seen in XXX building. 78 year old male wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt with a flag and a Harley." I immediately thought "Urgence de mode!" That man wasn't missing, he was just kidnapped for a quick round of What Not to Wear. (less than 10 minutes later we got the all clear announcement, I'm not a complete monster :P)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6955549708730751016?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6955549708730751016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6955549708730751016&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6955549708730751016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6955549708730751016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/urgence-de-mode.html' title='Urgence de Mode'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7069645352152280927</id><published>2009-05-27T23:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T00:01:57.768-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><title type='text'>My fuckit list</title><content type='html'>I actually started this a while ago before &lt;a href="http://kateharding.net/2009/03/10/tuesday-fluff-eff-it/"&gt;the meme&lt;/a&gt; got old, but you'll have to take my word for it :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's my (growing) list of things that, at some point I had considered I would/could/should do, but decided...eh, fuck it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eat anything containing insects.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go on a road trip.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Run a marathon.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Learn how to change the oil in my car.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Cut butter out of my diet, even temporarily.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not waste any time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Have a spotless house.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Making everyone around me happy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Go hunting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Gamble at a casino.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Keep a diary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Waste my time taking the stairs just to get that minuscule amount of exercise, when the elevator is faster.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Try to understand/be understood by toxic people.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tweeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wear uncomfortable pants because they look good or are in.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Read a boring book just because it's a "classic" (I'm looking at you, Gatsby).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Put up and/or shut up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Purposely tan.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Give a crap about "social networking."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Learn to appreciate modern art.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Vote for the lesser of two evils rather than the best candidate.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deal with people who piss me right the fuck off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Read/discuss/think about any more Jane Austen books, especially if someone claims "Oh but this is the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good&lt;/span&gt; one, it's not like the others!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7069645352152280927?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7069645352152280927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7069645352152280927&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7069645352152280927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7069645352152280927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-fuckit-list.html' title='My fuckit list'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4493933226111401765</id><published>2009-05-26T22:03:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T22:11:02.615-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>The Crux</title><content type='html'>10PM and I'm seeking inspiration for a post.  LB suggests I write about what's been on my mind; he knows what it is but I only just admitted it to him today.  But I suppose with his blessing....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit cryptic in &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/resentment.html"&gt;this post&lt;/a&gt;.  The problem is, I want to have a kid, and LB doesn't.  And I don't just want a kid in the abstract.  I want one yesterday.  My best years have come and gone, the aches and pains of getting older are already catching up with me (I realize this is a bit melodramatic for someone who's only almost 30; still fertility peaks in the early-mid 20's and I'm past that).  Or maybe they're from stress; it hardly matters, since my career can only get more stressful from here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know I have a good 1.5-2 years of school left, that we're in no financial position to have a kid and, even if we were, LB's responsibilities at the store would leave me with most of the childcare on top of going to school.  But that doesn't change the longing in my heart, and it doesn't make it sting less every time I hear someone else is pregnant (I feel like the last person in the world who will recieve the honor; hell for all I know I'm infertile).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB talks about how he'll be happy to have a kid once we're stable (he used to talk of kids without stipulation, before we were married).  When we got married, stable meant a lot different of a thing than it means now.  It has been a moving goalpost in our marriage.  Every time we talk, he talks about maybe he just doesn't want a kid "right now" and when the time is right he'll want one.  I'm skeptical.  But otoh, I have had this same skepticism in our relationship before.  Before we were engaged, we had dated for about 6 years.  LB went on a month-long trip; while he was gone on that trip I decided, since he had fed me a line about not wanting to get married "right now" but maybe someday, that I'd give him until our lease was up, then I was moving on, since it didn't seem we were on the same page anymore.  On that same trip LB decided to propose to me.  So, you see, I have simultaneous hope and pessimism.  I don't know what to believe, and my gut is so hurt it can't give me any hints.  I don't know whether to wrench my heart from the person I love, or from the children I would love, or whether I even need to make that decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that my nightmare is to wake up one day and realize that the ship has sailed, and I will die childless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4493933226111401765?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4493933226111401765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4493933226111401765&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4493933226111401765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4493933226111401765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/10pm-and-im-seeking-inspiration-for.html' title='The Crux'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8171442003007750471</id><published>2009-05-25T20:19:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T22:13:47.395-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>In Memoria</title><content type='html'>I'm sure everybody and their brother have a memorial day post up, but I'm adding one anyway :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know very much about my grandfathers, but I know that they both served in WWII.  On memorial day this year my thoughts turned to what I do and don't know about them.  What really unites their service is that neither would talk about it.  The living veterans may not have given their entire lives to our country, but they still have given a part of their life, a part of their soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll start with my paternal grandfather.  He died when my father was 12, so I never met him.  To me he is a collection of stories and a face in pictures.  I don't remember if he was injured in service or not, but I do remember he joined the army late in the war and didn't see as much combat as others.  When he came home, he was drafted as a pro baseball player (something he had dreamt of before the war), however he ended up declining the position in order to spend more time with my grandmother and to start a family.  He died of a heart attack, leaving my grandmother a widow in her late 30s, with 4 children.  They didn't have lipitor back then.  It was a blessing, then,  that he decided to spend more time with his family than being a ball player on the road would have allowed.  I have inherited a lot of his looks, although my personality and hair are more like my grandmother's than his (I doubt anyone would mistake me for a blonde!).  I also did not inherit his high cholesterol, although my own dad did.  In a final act of kindness, we later learned that before his death, he left instructions and money with some of his military contacts, and these contacts kept my uncle from Vietnam (my father would have missed a draft due to his age when the war ended, although instructions were in place for him, as well).  He didn't know when or how, but he knew war would come again and he did everything in his power to keep his sons from it.  Sometimes, when I think of how I almost joined ROTC for college, I think that it would have put me straight in Afghanistan or Iraq.  I like to think that his spirit helped me make the decision not to join, a decision that, at the time, was very uncharacteristic of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My maternal grandfather disappeared from my mother's life when she was 2, leaving my 20 year old grandmother for a younger "woman" (I, however, think 15 hardly counts).  I don't really talk (or think) about him.  My grampa was my grandma's 3rd husband.  He was shot and recieved a purple heart, and that is all anyone knows about his time in the service.  My grandma possibly knows more, but not much.  To me grampa was not a soldier, he was not a man who had taken human life.  He was the man who smelled of tobacco and taught me much of what I know about fishing.  He was the sweet man who sometimes would thrust his dentures at me and my cousins to elicit laughter or, in the case of one cousin, shrieks.  He was the tall man who would carry me everywhere, even when I was getting a little big for it, giving me a view of the world that I would never otherwise have, being always of short stature.  He was the man who would take me on long walks around their large, woody Upper Peninsula property and show me every bird's nest, filled with speckled eggs or small tweeting chicks.  He was my partner in crime, smiling at me when I played on the wood pile, in the mud, or in my uncle's shop where he was constantly trying to convert junkers into functional cars, knowing my mother would object.  He was the gentle carpenter who only ever yelled when we entered his woodshop, because he wasn't very tidy and had nails and saw blades all over.  I remember all these wonderful things and think of the impossibility of him shooting Nazis in Europe.  But it happened.  I don't know what he saw that horrified him so much that he completely shut out that part of his life, but perhaps I can imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this memorial day, I'm not so much remembering the women and men who have died for our country; I'm more remembering those soldiers who lived on, but left a part of them behind.  A part they chose never to touch again, a part they chose to let die, but to warn and protect future generations.  Today my heart is with them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8171442003007750471?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8171442003007750471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8171442003007750471&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8171442003007750471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8171442003007750471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-sure-everybody-and-their-brother.html' title='In Memoria'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7645835565909430470</id><published>2009-05-24T17:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T17:59:24.383-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>Resentment</title><content type='html'>How can you love someone so completely, and be so perfect for one another, except in one, heartbreaking way?  How does this happen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7645835565909430470?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7645835565909430470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7645835565909430470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7645835565909430470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7645835565909430470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/resentment.html' title='Resentment'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1530170934075523134</id><published>2009-05-23T23:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T23:46:29.040-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Healing</title><content type='html'>After my disastrous and traumatic experience in my first lab, I talked with a friend of mine - who, somewhat serendipitously, ended up occupying the previously vacant lab across the hall from my new lab - because he had also had a disastrous and traumatic experience in a lab, left, and completed his PhD in a second lab.  It had been 3 months.  I asked him how long it took to move on, because I felt, after 3 months, I should be completely over the abuse I suffered and get on with my research life.  I asked him, how long until I feel at home again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that 3 months was way too soon to expect to feel better.  That realistically, it'll be 6 to 9 months before I start to feel at home, like this is more than a temporary situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy crap was he right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had sort of an "aahaaaaaa" moment the other day where my project just started clicking with me.  Where I started to feel ownership over my project, and over my place in this new lab.  And it has been almost exactly 9 months.  This is *my* thesis project now, not just my job, not just something I'm doing to fill the time until I decide to quit.  I'm not quitting.  And, so help me God, I am getting a goddamn paper out of it if it kills me.  I didn't abandon 2 years of research - which I knew and know is getting tossed in the garbage merely out of spite -  and put off starting a family for something temporary.  I'm going to get this degree.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1530170934075523134?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1530170934075523134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1530170934075523134&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1530170934075523134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1530170934075523134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/healing.html' title='Healing'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8866811226539353446</id><published>2009-05-22T16:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T16:28:39.704-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>She Works in Mysterious Ways</title><content type='html'>The other night LB and I got into a conversation about things we haven't had since we were a kid, and missed.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rice Krispie Bars&lt;/span&gt;, I said dreamily, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and not those shitty premade ones that taste like cardboard, blue, and glucose, either.  No, the nice gooey home-made, buttery and delicious ones.  I haven't had those in at least a decade.  I could really go for a Rice Krispie Bar right now&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, what treat did my adviser randomly decide to make and bring in to lab to share with us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home-made Rice Krispie Bars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hot damn, someone up there was listening.  I even had two, despite my diet.  Looks like dinner tonight is fish and....fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was *so* worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8866811226539353446?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8866811226539353446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8866811226539353446&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8866811226539353446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8866811226539353446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/she-works-in-mysterious-ways.html' title='She Works in Mysterious Ways'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6646818888791086825</id><published>2009-05-21T21:28:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T21:34:51.159-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><title type='text'>2 asses, 3 cushions, 0 seats</title><content type='html'>Ugh.  I can't sit on my own couch.  Why?  My husband's ass is on one cushion, and his paintball gear is spread akimbo on the other two.  I told him I could sit next to him if he would please move his gear, or I could go upstairs and find a seat at my computer (he hates when I go play on the computer and ignore him.)  He was silent for like 5 minutes, so I went upstairs to the computer.  He gets mad that I'm going off to ignore him.  I get mad and yell that had he not just given up and sat there like a lazy lump, maybe I'd sit next to him and spend time with him.  And he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still &lt;/span&gt;isn't moving the gear.  And can't understand what I'm mad about, since clearly, his anger over something he could change is entirely rational, and my anger over him blaming me for it is psychotic.  Clearly.  (The best part?  "You didn't even say please or ask nicely!"  Ummmm, yes I did.  Selective memory, I'm sure.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6646818888791086825?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6646818888791086825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6646818888791086825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6646818888791086825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6646818888791086825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/2-asses-3-cushions-0-seats.html' title='2 asses, 3 cushions, 0 seats'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6913910433316014870</id><published>2009-05-20T21:03:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T21:07:08.295-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gardening'/><title type='text'>Not Quite Dead Yet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2459/3549725297_b4512970da.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 292px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2459/3549725297_b4512970da.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well the basil was pretty droopy on Monday and Tuesday, but as you can see, it resumed vertical growth today.  And!  Look!  It has like 4 new leaves!  2 on the stem there and 2 on top.  The thyme looks much better too, although this picture is so dark because I forgot to get out there until sunset was pending.  I think I'll pick up some marjoram and oregano at the farmer's market this week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6913910433316014870?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6913910433316014870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6913910433316014870&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6913910433316014870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6913910433316014870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/not-quite-dead-yet.html' title='Not Quite Dead Yet'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8510721195961943854</id><published>2009-05-19T20:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T20:22:55.002-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gardening'/><title type='text'>Sore Throat from Hell</title><content type='html'>You know that feeling where your throat is so itchy and scratchy and painful, you want to rip it out of your neck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah.  That's what I've been feeling the past few days.  That along with a fever, disorientation, and the internet going in and out and in and out have left me with few post ideas and little time in which to post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  But!  Garden update: The plants are still droopy, but I watered them some more and they're starting to look better.  Still no rain here though, which I think would help immensely.  We'll see, we'll see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8510721195961943854?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8510721195961943854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8510721195961943854&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8510721195961943854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8510721195961943854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/sore-throat-from-hell.html' title='Sore Throat from Hell'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7738468011608465009</id><published>2009-05-18T20:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T21:04:14.526-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gardening'/><title type='text'>Outside the Comfort Zone</title><content type='html'>I have always had a brown thumb.  My grand botanical achievement to date (aside from my B in Botany 101) is that I managed to keep a cactus alive for three whole years.  Clearly I am a talented horticulturist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why I decided it would be a good idea to plant an herb garden is beyond me.  I picked up two plantlings (basil and thyme) at the farmer's market a few weeks ago.  When these plants continued to live and, indeed, thrive for 2 weeks in my kitchen, I decided it was time to put them in the ground.  Armed with naught but trepidation and a shovel, yesterday I cleared out a weedy patch of soil that was growing next to my house.  I dug deep holes, then gently buried my plants about a foot apart, with the crown slightly below the soil level, as per instructions.  I watered them.  Then I walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3651/3544705016_599845979d.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 384px; height: 288px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3651/3544705016_599845979d.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Before&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3404/3544705668_d2479271ab.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 387px; height: 290px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3404/3544705668_d2479271ab.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to check on them this morning and they looked droopy already (buy not yellow or brown!  That's encouraging, right?  Right?).  The soil was dry so I watered them again.  I really hope this takes...I don't know what I did wrong!  The soil there is pretty shitty, but the weeds seem to like it ok.  LB thought I didn't need to buy any of that there fancy soil.  We'll see again tomorrow...we should be getting some rain then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7738468011608465009?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7738468011608465009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7738468011608465009&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7738468011608465009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7738468011608465009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/outside-comfort-zone.html' title='Outside the Comfort Zone'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8994534752979536222</id><published>2009-05-17T20:35:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:33:03.705-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Fun Times with Wine</title><content type='html'>Last night, LB and I went to a wine pairing dinner at our local Alsatian restaurant. The meal was six courses, each paired with its own wine. Overall the evening was lovely. Near the beginning of the meal I listened intently to the sommelier, but near the end LB and I were drunkenly gabbing through her speeches. During most of our courses, the owner came over for a little chat and told us a bit about the food preparation. It was a lovely evening, and LB and I both loved our little date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Appetizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Duck Breast Saurbraten with Shiraz-Vionier, Terlato &amp;amp; Chapoutier, Australia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The duck was prepared as a saurbraten with a marmalade-blueberry sauce, served over a few fingerling potato coins. The sauce was absolutely delicious, but both LB and I felt that the duck could have been prepared differently or pork could have been used in a saurbraten. The meat was cooked down a bit more than duck should be, and the technique would have lent itself better to a less delicate meat. We were a bit dissappointed with this dish; it did not deliver on its promise.  The Shiraz-Vionier was made as a 95% Shiraz/5% Vionier in the style of a Syrah, which made it robust but smooth. The wine was very good, although it was better with food than on its own, and we felt it was quite versitle. It could really have gone with nearly anything that a red wine would go with. Food: B-; Wine: A-; Pairing: B&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Soup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cream of Artichoke Heart Soup with Gruner Veltliner, Wolfgang Concerto, Austria&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The soup was made with artichoke heart pureed and creamed not with cream, but instead with mascarpone and a wee bit of bleu cheese. It was served with a fresh artichoke leaf floating on top, and a crumble of bleu cheese riding in the leaf as if it were a wee boat. The soup was absolutely delicious. The fresh bleu cheese on top, when tipped into the soup, melted just enough so as to leave little melty surprises in each bite, which added a bit of saltiness to the freshness of the soup. The artichoke flavor was featured well and not at all overpowered by either cheese. The Veltliner was sweet, effervescent and light, without venturing into the territory of holy crap that's so sweet I can't stand it. If a champagne and a gwertsweimer had a baby together, this veltliner would be it.  It was also very versitle, and I thought it might go wonderfully with a dessert of fresh berries in cream. Food: A; Wine: A-; Pairing: B+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Salad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Three Pea Salad with Albarino, Martin Codax, Spain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third course was a salad of english peas, sugar snap pea pods, and snow pea pods over a small amount of micro greens, garnished with toasted, seasoned pecans and a light balsamic vinaigrette.  This was the perfect refreshing spring salad.  The salad was mostly peas, and just a little bit of greens, which was a good ratio (really, you don't win friends with lettuce).  The pecans and dressing played off the peas well, which were perfectly fresh and crisp.  The Albarino was a bit heavier than the Veltliner, but it was still sweet.  On its own it was a bit plain, but it went very well with the salad.  Food: A; Wine: B; Pairing: A-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;First Course&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Coquille St. Jaques with Chardonnay, La Crema, CA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Coquille was made in the traditional style and served in scallop half-shells.  They were served piping hot, and we had to let them cool a bit before eating them, but they were delicious.  The scallops were done perfectly, just firm enough without getting tough.  The cream sauce was light and just a little sweet, to complement the scallop meat.  I appreciated that the scallops were cut before cooking them, so I did not have to fiddle with trying to cut them inside a scallop shell which, knowing my general level of dexterity, I would likely have shattered.  The chardonnay was very good as well.  It was aged in french oak barrels, which leech less of the oak flavor into the wine, letting the wine's own flavor shine more.  This chardonnay was creamy and smooth, almost buttery.  It was a little less dry than traditional chardonnays, but this lent itself well to the flavor of the scallops.  The wine enhanced the flavor of the scallops, adding to the creaminess of the sauce without adding any heft.  In turn, the scallops added depth to the flavor of the wine.  Overall this was my favorite course, and LB was very impressed as well.   Food: A+; Wine: A; Pairing: A+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Second Course&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lamb Shanks with Monticello Gran Reserva Rioja, Spain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our second entree was a frenched lamb shank served over a bed of white beans and spinach, with a light sauce.  To be quite honest, I don't remember this course very well because, well, if you're counting, we're on our 5th type of wine, and our table was the server's first stop for refills.  The cut of lamb was excellent, and the flavors of the lamb, the sauce, and the white beans married well.  I felt the lamb was overdone; I like my lamb to be medium or medium-rare and this was more medium-well.  I would also have preferred a few more tablespoons of sauce.  LB disagreed on both counts; he thought the lamb was cooked perfectly and that the amount of sauce was just right.  The rioja was, as is appropriate with lamb, a heavier, dry red wine.   It had a spiciness to it that went very well with the lamb; it added a juiciness to the lamb that was needed.  In turn, the fat from the lamb added a bit of body to the rioja.  The pairing was excellent.  This was LB's favorite course.  Food: A-; Wine: A; Pairing; A+&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dessert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strawbery Sabayon tart with Muscat, Beaulieu Bineyard, CA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fresh strawberries were sliced and served over sabayon cream in a pastry tart, topped with fresh whipped cream.  The strawberries were perfectly fresh and delicious; LB and I were wondering how they got such fresh strawberries here in Minnesota in the early spring, since our local strawberries don't usually get good until late July.  The cream and whipped cream complemented the strawberry flavor well, although with these berries I would have been happy with a fresh plate of them plain.  The Muscat was very sweet; it tasted like liquid honey without the heaviness that honey can have.  It was very tasty, although I felt it did not go well with the strawberry tart.  This muscat was made to be a dessert in and of itself, without accompaniment.  Food: A; Wine: A-; Pairing: C&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8994534752979536222?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8994534752979536222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8994534752979536222&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8994534752979536222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8994534752979536222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/fun-times-with-wine.html' title='Fun Times with Wine'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7948973825177643563</id><published>2009-05-16T17:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T17:52:08.763-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>Things I am Grateful For Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sunshine&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Flowers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fresh Spring Air&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Allergy Medication&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;French Food&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wine&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Short Summer Dresses&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rub-0n Tanner for showing off legs in said Short Summer Dresses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A dog that knows not to answer the neighbor dog when he barks&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Advil&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Soft Kitties&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Snuggly Doggies&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Alone Time&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A healthy body&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;More Advil to assist healthy body a day after too much weightlifting&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7948973825177643563?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7948973825177643563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7948973825177643563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7948973825177643563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7948973825177643563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/things-i-am-grateful-for-today.html' title='Things I am Grateful For Today'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8998649964418076890</id><published>2009-05-15T18:21:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T16:17:54.810-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><title type='text'>Fridays are busy!</title><content type='html'>ll this random crap just got dumped on my lap and I think I'll be busy until bedtime, so for now, here are some Freki pics that I just uploaded.  Also if anyone can tell me how to get blogger to actually post a SMALL picture when you check the SMALL box, that would be fantastic.  I just don't have the time to individually change the size of every picture, for every post.  kthxbai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2194/3533999525_1b718d7b27.jpg?v=0" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2428/3533999911_b80213ac1e.jpg?v=0" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2428/3533999911_b80213ac1e.jpg?v=0" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 375px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Chillin on the stairs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2428/3533999911_b80213ac1e.jpg?v=0" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2194/3533999525_1b718d7b27.jpg?v=0" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2194/3533999525_1b718d7b27.jpg?v=0" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 375px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Freki Enjoys a Bully Stick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2349/3534816268_8565cf90c5.jpg?v=0" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2349/3534816268_8565cf90c5.jpg?v=0" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 375px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 500px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not sure what this was about; I found this picture on my phone after leaving it in LB's care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8998649964418076890?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8998649964418076890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8998649964418076890&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8998649964418076890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8998649964418076890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/fridays-are-busy.html' title='Fridays are busy!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5644676147638836892</id><published>2009-05-14T15:45:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T17:02:54.130-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Milo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max Power'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><title type='text'>For the Furbabies!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stop the presses!  Call the governor!  We've got a Furry.2 on the Richter Scale!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When one lives, as I do, far away from fault lines, and one wakes up, as I did, at 5 AM during what surely must be an earthquake, it behooves one to check the bed for rambunctiously wrestling kitties before becoming alarmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3139/2301353104_12bac219ee.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 364px; height: 273px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3139/2301353104_12bac219ee.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A Terrible Joke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you call it when your 75-lb dog and your two 15-lb cats wedge themselves between you and your husband in your queen-sized bed (besides hot, smelly and cramped)?  A Furrito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Babysitter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may already well know about &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/01/maxcapades.html"&gt;Max's love for escaping the house&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-picked-wrong-day-to-neclect-to-bring.html"&gt;and feasting on grass&lt;/a&gt;.  So the other day Max is whining and complaining to be let out.  I'm ironing laundry, and have a pretty decent view of the yard, so I let him out and check up on him in 5 minute intervals (he usually doesn't go very far).  As soon as I come back from letting Max out, Freki takes post on the porch and stares at Max through the windows.  Every two minutes or so he looks at me reproachfully over his shoulder as if to say "What are you doing, you neglectful wench!  The cat is out there all by himself!  He could get hurt, or lost!  Thank your lucky stars you have ME to watch him while you do whatever it is you're doing with your clothes and that scary board OF DOOM!" After a few more minutes of that he would come and nudge my hand then resume his post by the door periodically, until I got fed up with it and brought Max in.  It turns out Freki thinks it is his solemn duty to babysit the cat when he is outside; as I was relating the above episode to LB, he had a story to tell me as well:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day LB was out on the deck grilling dinner, and he had Max and Freki out with him, under his &lt;del&gt;oblivious&lt;/del&gt; watchful eye.  Max, as is usual during this situation, escaped over the fence into the vacant yard next door, to taste some foreign grass.  Freki saw this, then ran up to the fence, and barked at Max until Max did something he has never shown himself capable of doing before: he jumped back over the fence and back onto our porch.  Clearly Freki has decided his role in the family.  I wonder how he is with small children?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5644676147638836892?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5644676147638836892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5644676147638836892&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5644676147638836892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5644676147638836892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/for-furbabies.html' title='For the Furbabies!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6462867581797324015</id><published>2009-05-13T19:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T21:37:09.053-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><title type='text'>So I am a little behind the times...so what?</title><content type='html'>So I was watching the Frontline special on the Madoff thing, because LB pph loves Frontline, and HO.LEE.  CRAP!  I didn't really understand what was going on other than some abstract concept of a Ponzi scheme and everyone hated him for stealing their retirement money.  I had no idea that basically, the FCC let him get away with it after like 3 or 4 investigations in the last 15 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So LB and I were talking about it, and he says, "Now, if you had millions or billions of dollars, that you knew was gained illegally, wouldn't you get the hell out of there?"  I definately would.  I mean, only a cocky idiot asshole would stick around and keep growing an obviously illegal front business while being investigated repeatedly (although since the FCC let him completely off the hook so many times maybe he had no reason to believe the dipshits would come after him for realz).  But where would I go?  Well, if I hadn't pissed off the Swiss, Geneva would be my first stop.  It's a lovely city and I know french, so I could get along fine.  Or?  The Caymans or some other tropical paradise/tax shelter.  Where would you go to spend your ill-gotten gains?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6462867581797324015?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6462867581797324015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6462867581797324015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6462867581797324015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6462867581797324015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/so-i-am-little-behind-timesso-what.html' title='So I am a little behind the times...so what?'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7628400613164198726</id><published>2009-05-12T16:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T16:07:09.801-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><title type='text'>The Body Issues Post</title><content type='html'>So I'm trying to lose weight.  Again.  I keep creeping up towards 150, then freaking out and dieting down to 140, so I can stay in the "normal" BMI range.  I get successful at making the lifestyle changes; going to the gym, reducing portion sizes, then I get stressed out, then I stress eat (doritos and oreos are a staple!), stop going to the gym, and gain.  It's hard though, because my body loves and loves to gain and hates and hates to lose.  They say to lose 1 lb a week, you must have a difference between calorie output and calorie intake of about 500 calories a day.  I have found that I maintain weight at that difference, and only start to lose weight at a difference of 700.  Which is hard, let me tell you.  So I reduce my intake by about 500 calories a day (which puts me just at the "minimum to not starve yourself" of 1200).  Then I have to increase output (i.e. exercise) for the extra 200.  That, at my weight, is about a half hour of running every day.  Now I don't have time to go to the *#$@$&amp;amp;ing gym every day, there is just too much shit that needs to get done.  So I try to walk to work (woohoo a measly 50), and when I do go to the gym I do an hour workout instead of just 30 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that isn't what this post is about.  You see, I can never seem to get a grip on how I feel about my body.  I used to be one of those skinny-minny, can't gain weight if I try (seriously I even went to a doc about it) waif.  I hated my body then.  I got all sorts of sneers about how I must be anorexic or bulemic, envy for something I didn't want, and my body looked like, to me anyway, that of a prepubescent BOY.  I felt unfeminine and hideous.  Now, at the other end of the "normal BMI range," I still feel unfeminine.  Sure I have boobs now, and hips (although that was more of a change in bone structure than weight alone), but I also have rolls and a beer gut.  I also have...dun dun DUUUNNNNN!...thunder thighs.  I am a "fat chick" in the eyes of many, much less ideal than my former underweight self.  I hate myself in the mirror.  I want to go back to that skinny 18 year old and tell her to learn to eat right, that even though she thought pounding down fries and pizza would help her gain weight and become acceptable, that really it was too much! That she was lucky she could find clothes that fit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I think...so fucking what?  So fucking what if I am 0.8 points "overweight"?  My husband thinks I am sexy, I am pretty damn healthy if I do say so myself, and really, I do love my tits.  I have nice tits and do not want to lose them!  I love wine, I love dessert, and I can enjoy my food without having to constantly calculate how fat it is going to make me.  There is so much shame thrown at a) fat people and b) fat women.  And by fat I mean anything over a size fucking 6, because you and I and the world all know that it's the current fat threshold in pop culture, and even in medicine (thank the good lord I have a fat doctor; the one time I got a physical by someone skinny she told me "well being a little overweight is ok for now since you're in school and stressed, but you won't be able to get pregnant if you don't bring your BMI down to the normal range" orly, lady?  I know pleeeeeeeenty of people over BMI over 24.9 who readily attained viable pregnancies).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sure, weight is just a number, but no matter what the weight, if it isn't in a narrow definition of normalcy, there is all sorts of shame, faux concern and policing thrown at it.  I see this and want to be comfortable in my body, and to love it like my husband loves it (well, hehe, not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly &lt;/span&gt;like my husband loves it wink wink nudge nudge).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still trying to lose weight.  And I suspect every time I creep up towards 150 I will.  Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7628400613164198726?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7628400613164198726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7628400613164198726&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7628400613164198726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7628400613164198726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/body-issues-post.html' title='The Body Issues Post'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2065057955876382814</id><published>2009-05-11T17:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T18:03:30.187-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='4 weeks of not crap'/><title type='text'>Resolution and Rhyme</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Momma's got a brand new bag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have decided that it is time to revive my blog and get my damn ass in gear.  I haven't been that great at posting regularly to begin with, and I let my annual Works-In-Progress talk* be my crutch for writing even less in the past few months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I have resolved starting this Monday (which is, today, after all), I am going to write every day for 4 weeks.  Hopefully this will help me figure out how to get my creative juices flowing rather than being a crapfest for my dwindling readership.  We shall see.  Bets?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*An annual talk where I get up in front of my peers and professors and whomever wanders in off the street for free pizza and talk for an hour about all the things I haven't done in the past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ode to Nuvaring, an Elizabethan Sonnet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note: I wrote this after a bizarre and increasingly gutter-dwelling conversation with a friend that started out with me bitching about being sick and ended with, well, this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;O joy is the feeling in my bosom&lt;br /&gt;Upon pon'dring my glorious Nuvaring&lt;br /&gt;For no babe shall my empty womb blossom;&lt;br /&gt;Without my permission, babies shan't spring.&lt;br /&gt;Encirc'ling my cervix comfy and warm,&lt;br /&gt;You keep me safe from too sore breasticles,&lt;br /&gt;You fend off persistent, unwanted sperm&lt;br /&gt;That hail, ruthless, from husband's testicles.&lt;br /&gt;Like a kitten, my uterus can nap&lt;br /&gt;Lazily, emptily wiling her hours&lt;br /&gt;Spending bachelorettehood behind my lap&lt;br /&gt;Waiting, wistful, to unleash her powers.&lt;br /&gt;O, Nuvaring, pray do not fail me now,&lt;br /&gt;Or poverty's sweat shall pepper my brow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2065057955876382814?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2065057955876382814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2065057955876382814&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2065057955876382814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2065057955876382814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/05/resolution-and-rhyme.html' title='Resolution and Rhyme'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-9043711525005116065</id><published>2009-03-26T09:49:00.016-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T19:37:41.493-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BSG'/><title type='text'>So Say We All</title><content type='html'>I've been wanting to post about the series finale of Battlestar Galactica, but I needed a little bit of time to let it digest.  I wasn't sure what I thought and felt about it at first, but I think a week's rumination has helped me a bit.  Oh by the way if you are the only person on the planet not to have watched it by now, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;don't read any further&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm serious.  QUITIT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK.  So.  I have decided that I like the ending.  I didn't love it, but I certainly didn't hate it.  It was nothing like what I was expecting, but I thought it was very fitting.  There were, however, sloppy writing moments that disappointed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The episode starts out where the first part left off; now those who chose to go on Galactica's final suicide mission are preparing for battle and evacuating those who chose to stay with the fleet.  In a surprising act of selflessness (set up nicely by Lee's chastizing from the first Daybreak episode), Baltar decides at the last possible second to stay and fight in this battle.  Was it because he wanted to redeem himself in the eyes of the other main characters?  In Caprica's eyes?  In his own eyes?  Or maybe God made him do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, one of the most touching scenes of the two episodes takes place.  Laura Roslin is parting ways with Doc Coddle and he gives her enough pain medication for two days, so she can function through the battle and what may come next.  She thanks him for all he's done, he chokes up, and she says to him, "Don’t spoil your image. Just light a cigarette and go and grumble."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually there is more setup in an episode before the big battle, but by 7 minutes in Galactica jumps in.  I suppose if you consider parts 1 and 2 were supposed to be the same episode (but the network decided to split them up), it makes sense.  Galactica jumps in and takes such a brutal pounding before Anders makes the colony hybrid &lt;del&gt;orgasm&lt;/del&gt; ceasefire, I actually suspended all knowledge of how plots work and thought for a second that the ship would be destroyed right then and there.  But, it survives, Adama orders for the ship to ram through the wall of the colony and teams go in to rescue Hera, but not before some weirdo raptor pilot randomly decides to arm her nukes for some strange reason (since Adama made a point to say "NO NUKES THEY'LL KILL US ALL IN CLOSE COMBAT" earlier) then promptly her entire team dies.  "Hmmm," I said, "That will be important later."  Anyway, big surprise, all recon teams die except Lee's and Starbuck's because the writers are way too in love with their main good guy characters to let them die (unless they are already dying, more on that later).  Thank God for Helo and Athena they were on those teams otherwise the plot machinations wouldn't have worked out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bla bla bla Boomer saves Hera, not, as they initially were hinting at, because her magical womanly ovaries made her suddenly love the child, but because of some sense of loyalty she still felt to the leadership and crew of the Galactica.  I liked that touch, along with hearkening back to her first appearance on the show as she died.  It reminded me that she was set up from the beginning to have divided loyalties, that she isn't just a feckless evil double agent, but she truly doesn't know where her alligience lies.  It reminded me of the episode where she found out she was a cylon and tried to kill herself, or when she was in the brig beating herself up for shooting Adama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile Baltar and Caprica meet up on the defense line, where she reminds him that his chivalry is pretty silly considering she's the soldier and he's not, as she locks &amp;amp; loads while he fumbles with his gear.  I found that appropriately funny.  Then she says she's finally proud of him and they get the pre-battle hornies.  The Head Six and Baltar show up, to both of them, and tell them to get ready because it's time to play their part in saving Hera and thus humankind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teams return to the Galactica with Hera, Helo is badly shot, Hera runs off because that's what she does (also isn't she like 3 or 4?  Why doesn't she ever talk?  At that age it's hard to get them to shut up!).  Athena is having trouble deciding whether to save her dying husband or her child, but Helo tells her to go get Hera and miraculously survives because the writers love him (although we don't find that out until the end).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next ensues a full recount of the Opera House, and we learn that Galactica is the Opera House.  Baltar, Caprica and Athena all unwittingly start to chase after Hera, then realize that they are reliving the Opera House, wherease Rosalin gets a drug-induced vision of the Opera House and realizes it's time for her to find Hera.  Each of these people at one point help save Hera from the enemy cylons, and the Opera House ends in the CIC with the final five overlooking.  This is where the final five, Baltar, Caprica and Hera needed to meet to fulfil the visions/prophecies and lead to the survival of the human species.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baltar and Caprica breathe a sigh of relief at having fulfilled their destiny and saved Hera just in time for Cavil to barge in and hold her at gunpoint.  Much ado is made and finally the final five, let by Tigh, make a deal with &lt;del&gt;the Devil&lt;/del&gt; Cavil (what you thought the spelling was coincidental?) to give him resurrection in exchange for Hera.  The final five merge their thoughts through Ander's bath goo after Tori tries the "promise you won't be mad at me for something you don't know about yet" line that works even less well with full grown cylons than it does with 4 year olds.  Galen finds out Tori murdered Callie, he interuupts the data stream to choke her to death, ruins the truce with Cavil who decides to shoot-er-up and take Hera by storm.  It quickly becomes apparent that he's on the losing side of this battle, so in fulfilment of Ellen's criticism of his child-like logic, he eats his gun.  For no good reason everyone immediately forgives Galen for ruining their truce and putting everyone in serious mortal peril.  (Seriously, he couldn't wait 120 more seconds to become murderous?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember Racetrack and Skulls with their armed against orders nuke?  Well one of their frozen corpse hands shifts and hits the nuke button, which has no lid or covering, unlike any nuke button ever seen before irl or even on this show.  Nuke hits the colony.  Galactica shrieks.  Shit is hitting the fan, and Kara now has to jump it so it doesn't blow up along with the colony.  She doesn't have the coordinates to the rendez-vous on her, not being the person to man that station in any way, shape, or form, but thanks to basic training, knows how to program and jump.  She has a moment of clarity and punches in the numbers that she had assigned to the notes of All Along the Watchtower.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There must be someway outta here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galactica moans, groans and twists unnatually; it looks like she is going to fall apart any second.  But she holds it together long enough for them to send a raptor to the rendez-vous, then fly past our moon to discover our earth; this episode is rightfully named Daybreak.  After a long, cold and horrific night, the sun is rising over Earth as the survivors of human and cylon kind find a new beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazingly, there is an hour left to this two hour episode.  No major characters have died AT ALL; only 2 named characters have bit it and they were only introduced in Part I.  The writers are too sentimental, methinks.  Come on, even ST:TNG writers killed off the beloved Data.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After five white men make some crude jokes about mating with the native African &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;H. sapiens&lt;/span&gt;, Lamkin picks out a prime piece of real estate to build their new civilization.  Lee decides that's silly, they should give up civilization and live among the people of new Earth.  Everyone agrees to this, since they've been cooped up in a technological, metal hell for 4-5 years and now have PTSD that causes them to make illogical decisions. None of them think that the clone armies of 2, 6 and 8's will freak out the natives at all.  They decide to split up and disperse to ensure survival, funny because this is the antithesis of survival strategy.  I guess this is their version of strategery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of sap follows this and I'll skim over it quickly because this is becoming a novella.  Roslin names the new planet Earth, then she and Adama leave to find a spot to build that cabin they've been talking about since New Caprica.  On the way there, she dies while remarking on the beauty of Earth.  Adama is too busy talking to notice.  When he finds out she's dead because she didn't answer back, he symbolically marries her corpse, something they never had time to do before.  It was supposed to be touching but came across as a bit creepy.  Cut to: he's sitting on a hilltop talking about their cabin, at which point I turned to LB and said, "I hope he's talking to her grave and not her dead body!" Then Lo! did the camera pan out to reveal her grave.  Sigh of relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lee and Kara talk about what they are going to do next.  Kara says she has fulfilled her destiny and is leaving.  She then &lt;del&gt;ascends into heaven&lt;/del&gt; disappears, in an exit that I actually find very fitting.  She was an instrument of God, but only sorta, kinda knew it.  I think it works that her exit is as mysterious as her phantom resurrection last season.  There is closure, but not of the "here we'll wrap it up for you in a neat little package" variety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Galen decides to shove off to Scotland or maybe Iceland and live by himself.  At this point I stop to wonder aloud what happens to the Cylon models.  The Final Five have already lived for thousands of years; will the Cylons here on earth continue to live unless killed by accident or war?  Do they age at all?  Seemingly they don't; is Galen still a sulking hermit in Scotland?  Are there still clone armies of 2, 6 and 8's running around, and does no one notice? PLOT HOLE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next we see colonists traveling to their new home, and this is where we find out Helo didn't die of that nasty gunshot to the femoral artery, after all.  Hera runs and plays in the grass, fade to black.  Fade in to modern New York City, where Angel Baltar and Angel Caprica walk unnoticed on the street.  There they espy Ron Moore reading the Nat Geo edition about Mitochondrial Eve.  Angel Baltar and Angel Caprica reveal that this is Hera, and that the whole event was a Noah's Ark of sorts, wiping out the majority of humanity to start again anew with a small population.  This time, are they doomed to repeat the cycle of android war?  Angel Caprica is more optimistic than Angel Baltar.  Angel Caprica once again waxes poetic about God's plan, and Anger Baltar responds, "It doesn't like to be called that, you know."  No, it likes to be called Ron Moore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The episode ends to the music of All Along the Watchtower, showing our current advances in AI and robotics.  Are we doomed to enslave a race of intelligent, sensitive androids, thus dooming our species to war against a superior opponent of our own creation?  We have watched what came before, and whether it will happen again is now in our hands.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-9043711525005116065?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/9043711525005116065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=9043711525005116065&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/9043711525005116065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/9043711525005116065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/03/ive-been-wanting-to-post-about-series.html' title='So Say We All'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4533015051473697277</id><published>2009-03-06T13:28:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T14:47:45.684-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Open Letters</title><content type='html'>Dear Semi-Elderly Gentleman,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that it is rude to bump into someone when walking.  However, do not give me the stink-eye when you choose to meander in a sinusoid rather than walk in a straight line when I, trying so hard to anticipate your direction that I trip over my own feet and nearly fall, accidentally bump into your undulating-ass self.  I was not in the wrong you cranky-ass over-entitled jerk.  Look where you're going instead of at the damn subway ads and maybe this will happen less often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs and kisses,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~QR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Max Power,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am impressed at your recent display of ingenuity, I am not impressed by your dissemination of a nearly full box of 500 now half-chewed Q-tips throughout my house.  That cupboard was closed for a &lt;i&gt;reason&lt;/i&gt;.  To foil you and your Q-tip loving ways.  You are to cease and desist all cupboard-opening activities immediately you obnoxious little scoundrel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scritches and purrs,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Garbage-collecting Person(s) or Neighborhood Asshole (to be determined),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What in the damn hell did I ever do to you?  My garbage can is always placed neatly at the edge of the curb, on time, never obnoxiously overstuffed, and I pay my bill quite promptly!   In fact, I've never met or seen you, since you make your rounds while I am at work, and I pretty much keep to myself, so I am not sure exactly what I could have done to insult you.  The first time I found my garbage can thrown unceremoniously on the ground, I thought, hey maybe someone bumped into it and knocked it over.  The next few times, I thought it was a bit weird that I seem to be the only person on the block with this problem.  By the fifth time, I was starting to suspect it was being done on purpose.  But the twelfth time, oh that took the cake.  Finding my receptacle halfway down the block, &lt;i&gt;in the street&lt;/i&gt;, on a day that was both raining and snowing, completely and perfectly inverted, mud clearly smeared on the handle, with just enough of a basin in the bottom that when righted, dirty water splashed all over me, that's when I knew you cared.  Fuck you.  Fuck your mother, fuck your father, and fuck your fucking horse.  What the damn hell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sugar and spice,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~QR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ass,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kindly stop being so big and refusing to shrink even when I lose weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~QR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear People who Also Work Here,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know you're overworked and busy, and that the elevator doors usually only open for half a second, but it is generally considered rude to perch at the elevator door then rush in without letting any previous passangers exit, first.  Especially when said passengers include 800 year old people with walkers.  Kindly settle the fuck down, move the fuck over and wait your goddamn turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warmest Regards,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~QR&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4533015051473697277?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4533015051473697277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4533015051473697277&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4533015051473697277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4533015051473697277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/03/open-letters.html' title='Open Letters'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2294484677463980687</id><published>2009-02-17T21:01:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T21:02:21.233-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Blog'/><title type='text'>New Book Blog Posts</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/02/maybe-baby.html"&gt;Maybe Baby&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2009/02/meeting-mr-wrong.html"&gt;Meeting Mr. Wrong&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to have another done later this week but we'll see :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2294484677463980687?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2294484677463980687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2294484677463980687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2294484677463980687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2294484677463980687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/02/new-book-blog-posts.html' title='New Book Blog Posts'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-7731629871691100276</id><published>2009-02-16T11:47:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:33:52.878-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The Obligatory Valentine's Day Post</title><content type='html'>So I don't celebrate Valentine's Day.  I made this decision, ironically, earlier in the year that LB and I had started dating.  I say this is ironic because LB loved Valentine's Day, and it was the first time he had a girlfriend on Valentine's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have moral qualms (I have qualms with quite a few things, actually; I am qualmy):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;V-Day is very much a Hallmark Holiday, in my opinion.  I mean, it really doesn't have much to do with the historical V-Day (more on that later), so basically it's a day to show someone you love them because the dominant paradigm says you must.  I don't want that for myself or my relationship; I want to show my love, and I want my lover's love shown to me, every day.  That doesn't mean we can't do something extra special for one another now and then, but I don't want it to be because of social pressure.  I want no pressure involved; I want it to come directly from the heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't need flowers and chocolates and jewelry to signify love (nor does LB need champagne and steak dinner and lingerie).  All I want is for someone to treat me right, and treat me well, 364.25 days of the year.  Too often is V-Day used as an excuse to give meaningless crap to someone to make up for less-than-stellar performance as a partner and lover the rest of the year.  I really hate the commodification of love and sex that has gone on around V-Day; it cheapens them both.  I'd like mine unadulterated by consumerism, if at all possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;V-Day is very exclusionary and has gotten to the point of, "If you don't have SOMEone to celebrate with you're worthless so stay home and sulk and eat ice cream."  I think that's such bullshit, and I don't want my celebrations to make someone else feel like crap because they can't participate in the socially required chocoflowershininess that is V-Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Valentine's day originated from the Catholic Feast of Saint Valentine.  We have feasts to honor various saints throughout the year.  The &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentine%27s_Day#Saint_Valentine"&gt;two Saint Valentines&lt;/a&gt; who were martyred really had nothing to do with romantic love (although one Saint Valentine was rumored to have been martyred for performing Christian marriages in Rome).  I don't think the orgy of heteronormative consumerism that happens every February 14th is very respectful of this feast day; the meaning of honoring a saint has become completely and utterly divorced from this holiday, even more so than for the feasts of Christmas, Easter, and All Saint's (Halloween) have.  At least they retain some of their original focus.  V-Day does not.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;When I explained all this to LB early in our relationship so he didn't feel the need to do anything for V-Day, at first he was disappointed but then he decided to do "Random I Love You" days every now and then; I do them too because I thought it was a great idea.  Randomly, throughout the year, because we love one another, we'll each surprise the other with a special date, or some sort of token of affection (one that actually means something and not generic like chocolates), etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That given, I have a big BUUUUUT....LB and I DID go on a date this year for V-Day.  We try to go on nice dates every couple of months, and this year we got a mailer for one of our favorite restaurants; they were doing a special, fixed-price menu for Valentine's Day.  We weren't going to do it, because we don't celebrate V-Day.  Then we saw the menu.  Check this shit out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Appetizer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mussels with Sherry and Saffron -or-&lt;br /&gt;Trio of Bruschetta: Pate with braised leek; Brie with fig preserves and balsamic vinegar; White bean with arugula and peccorino cheese&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Soup or Salad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baked French Onion Soup -or- Torpedo Endive Salad with Roquefort and Walnuts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Entree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beef Tenderloin "au poivre". Cracked Pepper and Cognac Cream with Lyonnaise Potatoes and Broccolini -or-&lt;br /&gt;Veal Tenderloin Oscar.Lump Crab, Asparagus, and Béarnaise, with Fingerlings, -or-&lt;br /&gt;Rabbit Tenderloin. Spatzel and Tomato -or-&lt;br /&gt;Heritage Tomato filled with Vegetable Risotto&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dessert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three Tarts: Lemon Curd, Mocha French Silk, and Berry Custard -or-&lt;br /&gt;Crème Brule with Berries&lt;/blockquote&gt;When we saw that, we decided we had to go, moral qualms be damned (damn good food will beat out moral qualms any day in our book).  For the appetizers, LB had the mussels and I had the bruschetta.  The pate was excellent; usually I don't like pate but it was well spiced, and didn't taste too livery.  The brie with fig was also excellent.  We both had the french onion soup which was fabulous.  For the entree, I had the beef au poivre and LB had the rabbit.  We both prefered mine; the beef was perfectly done, and the combination of buttery sauce with the potatoes lyonnaise (which had BACON in them omg) made for the most mouth-wattering bite of food I have had in years.  His rabbit was good to, it just couldn't hold a candle to the beef au poivre.  The spatzle on his dish was, however, to die for.  For the dessert we got one of each and shared; dessert was pretty good but nothing to write home about.  Overall, we were glad we went, and even toasted the evening, but adding the qualifier "we're still not celebrating Valentine's Day" at the end of our toast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-7731629871691100276?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/7731629871691100276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=7731629871691100276&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7731629871691100276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/7731629871691100276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/02/obligatory-valentines-day-post.html' title='The Obligatory Valentine&apos;s Day Post'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5905483973297980104</id><published>2009-02-03T14:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T14:12:18.212-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>51 seconds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style=" background: #000 url(http://www.bunkbeds.net/velociraptor/img/badge.jpg) no-repeat 0 0; display: block; width: 322px; height: 157px; text-align: center; padding-top: 150px; text-decoration: none; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 30px; color: #ff9900; " href="http://www.bunkbeds.net/velociraptor/"&gt; &lt;span style="display: none;"&gt;I could survive for&lt;/span&gt; 51 seconds &lt;span style="display: none;"&gt;chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5905483973297980104?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5905483973297980104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5905483973297980104&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5905483973297980104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5905483973297980104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/02/51-seconds.html' title='51 seconds'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2536158304932640493</id><published>2009-01-15T10:38:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T11:10:16.074-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max Power'/><title type='text'>Maxcapades</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SW9t1bWOZKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DnnVlmGgBIs/s1600-h/No+more+pictures.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SW9t1bWOZKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DnnVlmGgBIs/s200/No+more+pictures.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291568851825091746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Max Power, King God of all the Beautiful Empowerful Cats of the World, has been unusually squirrelly lately. I don’t know what is up with him but if he doesn’t stop I may lose my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The Cereal Incident&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Max loves cereal.  More accurately, Max loves to drink the sugary milk left over from the cereal.  Loves.  As my friend D would say, pink puffy heart loves.  Will he drink normal milk that we give to him?  Oh, ew, no.  That’s disgusting and disdainful, almost as gross as bananas (we once tried to give him some banana, just for fun, and he hissed at it.  Hissed!).  But USED cereal milk, well that is the nectar of the freaking Gods.  So the other day LB is eating cereal.  Not long after commencement of cereal eating, His Royal Entitledness hops up on the table and starts staring at the cereal bowl, then staring at LB, alternately.  LB finishes his cereal, and Max makes a move for it, but not quick enough because LB gets up to refill the cereal bowl.  “Oh noes!” Says Max, “I hafta wait for NOTHER bowlful?”  Max decides waiting is for pussies.  Throughout the second bowl of cereal, he emits frustrated, demanding chirps and growls.  LB finishes his second bowl, drinks the milk and resumes TV watching.  Max pounces upon the bowl only to discover his precious cereal milk is gone.  GONE!  Max decides that this is shit up with which he will not put.  He WILL get a yummy and he WILL make LB pay.  Max proceeds to the treat cupboard, where he yowls demandingly for 10 minutes until LB gives in and gives him a treat, whereupon he struts off triumphantly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The Great Escape Incident&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Max, like many indoor cats, is always and forever trying to escape.  He isn’t usually sneaky about it; most of the time he merely sits by the door and demands to be let out.  Every once in a while I let him out for observed exploration.  Last night, I went to get groceries.  As I’m bringing them into the house, Max demands to go out.  My thinking was, OK, it’s like 10 degrees below zero, he’s been asking all week, perhaps if I let him out he’ll realize it’s not so pleasant out there. So I let him out while shuttling the groceries between the car and the porch.  After scratching excitedly and urgently at the door to be let out, once I open it and hold it open for His Royal Highness, he stares at me for an eternity before gingerly stepping out, one dainty paw at a time.  He cautiously makes his way down the four stairs.  In the meantime I have made two more trips between the car and the porch.  Max starts to realize that the ground, it is ass cold.  He starts picking up his paws quickly, one at a time, propelling forward movement.  He rounds the snow bank at the end of the walk and turns onto the sidewalk.  Freedom is within reach!  But damn is the ground cold!  He adds to his quick-stepping a paw shake at the apex of every paw lift, resulting in a crouched wobbly march.  This propels him forward faster.  It is damn cold but will we turn back and enter the warm sanctuary of home?  NEVAR!!  Myself, having finished shuttling groceries and dying of laughter, decide it’s time to collect the poor, frigid cat.  I scoop him up in my warm arms, only to receive a reproachful meowl and complaints all the way into the house.  After glaring at me for a time, he decides I am his best friend and demands snuggles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The Shade of Doom Incident&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Later that evening, after the Great Escape Incident, Max was a-snugglin and a-sleepin upstairs with Milo while LB and I enjoyed Top Chef.  All of the sudden, out of nowhere, we hear a MEOW!  Then Max comes tearing down the stairs, at top speed, races through the living room and across the dining room in a bee-line for one particular window, leaps onto the window sill, stands up on his legs and intently inspects the window shade.  I’m not exactly sure what the mission was, but damn he was intent on staring at that particular window shade at that exact moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2536158304932640493?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2536158304932640493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2536158304932640493&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2536158304932640493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2536158304932640493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2009/01/maxcapades.html' title='Maxcapades'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SW9t1bWOZKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/DnnVlmGgBIs/s72-c/No+more+pictures.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-2433471494244330561</id><published>2008-12-30T11:44:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:29:57.871-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>R is for Random</title><content type='html'>I got this meme (and the post title) from my friend velocibadgergirl over at &lt;a href="http://velocibadgergirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pardon the Egg Salad&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rules are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I write 10 things that I love which begin with my assigned letter.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you want to participate, leave a comment here (with a working email) and I'll assign you a letter randomly (how else could I do it?)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You write about 10 things you love which begin with your assigned letter (and I mean really luuuuurve, not like "oh I think Raid is nifty").&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When people comment on your list, you give them a letter, then they do the same crap and we all have love lists.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;Velocibadger girl gave me R using her scattergories dice, so, in order of whence they occured to me, here is my list of R things that I love:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.rainn.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;RAINN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; - from their website: "The nation's largest anti-sexual assault organization."  They gather statistics, educate the public, lobby for funding, provide a national crisis hotline (both on the phone and online), help victims connect with low-cost health and legal professionals in their area, all around, they help victims both directly and indirectly by trying to lower the &lt;a href="http://www.rainn.org/statistics"&gt;abomidable rate of rape.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2.  Ripe, fresh, juicy red raspberries&lt;/span&gt; - zomg teh best fruitz EVAR!  I love rasperries so much I incorporated them into my wedding: our cake was flavored white chocolate, with a raspberry puree filling, buttercream frosting and topped fresh raspberries purchased that day from the local farmer's market.  (I wish I had a better closeup of the cake on hand but you'll just have to deal with my ginormous clevage if you want to look at the cake).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3.  Rice pudding&lt;/span&gt; - I like most rice puddings, but my family has a super yummy baked rice pudding recipe that makes my mouth water (and it's super freaking easy to make).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4.  Randomness&lt;/span&gt; - Srsly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5.  Ring&lt;/span&gt; - My engagement ring.  It is a simple custom-made band of white gold. The center stone is a gorgeouse deep blue sapphire, with two diamond offsets.  The stones are at an angle and the ends of the band are fluted around them.  I never go anywhere without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6.  &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5IV3AbLBa0"&gt;Ruby Soho by Rancid&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; - does that count as double?  Nothing like an upbeat punk song about heartache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7.  Rum Balls&lt;/span&gt; - I made this recipe that DeeDee posted over at &lt;a href="http://fiddledeedee.net/2008/12/15/rum-ball-rhumba-2008/"&gt;Fiddle&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://fiddledeedee.net/2008/12/15/rum-ball-rhumba-2008/"&gt;deedee&lt;/a&gt;.  Awesome.  Chocolaty and nutty and rummy.  And they only took me like 15 minutes to make.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://youaintnopicasso.com/images/rockyhorror.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 293px;" src="http://youaintnopicasso.com/images/rockyhorror.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8.  Relaxing&lt;/span&gt; - What more can I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9.  Reproducing&lt;/span&gt; - or, at least, pretending to ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10.  Rocky Horror Picture Show, The&lt;/span&gt; - Let's do the time warp again! (It's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-2433471494244330561?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/2433471494244330561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=2433471494244330561&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2433471494244330561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/2433471494244330561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/12/r-is-for-random.html' title='R is for Random'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6299923352921048337</id><published>2008-12-12T09:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T09:47:59.519-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LB'/><title type='text'>Ladies' Man</title><content type='html'>The town our store is in, because it is like the retirement capitol of the world, has a lot of old people.  So a huge chunk of our clientele is old people with foot issues, who may or may not have their faculties intact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was working the store yesterday with LB, and this 800 year old woman comes in with her daughter and granddaughter.  She needs special shoes for her foot issues, so LB helped her since he’s kind of an expert in that stuff.  They find a pair of shoes for her, but one of them needs to be stretched.  While LB is helping her, she’s asking him all sorts of personal questions…like “oh where do you live?” and, “what time do you get off work?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB went to stretch the shoe, and while he was gone, she asked her granddaughter something that I couldn’t hear, and the granddaughter says “Well I don’t know, ask her, she’s right there.” I walk up and say “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”  “Yeah, who ARE you?”  Granddaughter laughs and clarifies that she would like to know my relation to LB, and I said, yes, we’re married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB came back and I rung up her shoes and some socks she was also getting.  As her daughter was paying, she turns to me and says “What’s your name?”  “QueenRandom”  “How old are you?” “Twenty-seven.”  “Oh!  Oh well OK” I think she was surprised by my age; I think she thought I was quite a bit younger.  She then looks at my husband, who is in the back of the store and can’t hear us, and exclaims, “I’ll take him!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LB: Charming the pants off of old ladies since 1980.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6299923352921048337?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6299923352921048337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6299923352921048337&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6299923352921048337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6299923352921048337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/12/ladies-man.html' title='Ladies&apos; Man'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-1058343273158212561</id><published>2008-10-30T15:07:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T16:32:45.488-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bisexual awareness'/><title type='text'>20 Ways of Coming Out as Bisexual</title><content type='html'>I am not often known for my extreme timeliness, but this post is in honor of National Coming Out Week, which was 2 or 3 weeks ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway in honor of NCOW, here it is, 20 ways to come out as a bisexual:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like both guys and gals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm AC/DC.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My socket accepts both male and female connectors.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I don't limit my love to a single gender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My attraction and love for a person do not rely on genital appearance (excluding warts and lesions).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes I like Earl Grey, sometimes I like Lady Grey.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I root for both teams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I find both long johns and doughnuts equally tasty.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like both roosters and kitties (think about it).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Angelina or Brad?  Yes, please.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I fancy both Martians and Venusians.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can't "just pick a side."  To do so would be to deny half of who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes I feel like a nut; sometimes I don't.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I enjoy situating myself  between the yin and the yang.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On the Kinsey scale, I fall between 0 and 6.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love the person, not the gender.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;At breakfast, I can eat either saussage or muffins.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My extracurricular activities include both pole vaulting and ditch diving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Innies and Outies are both appealing to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can love a person of either gender, but I love that person just as much and am just as faithful and loyal to them regardless of their gender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-1058343273158212561?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/1058343273158212561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=1058343273158212561&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1058343273158212561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/1058343273158212561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/10/20-ways-of-coming-out-as-bisexual.html' title='20 Ways of Coming Out as Bisexual'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-388942587442306115</id><published>2008-10-08T18:48:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T22:41:50.198-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><title type='text'>Go Go Gadget Gallimaufry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Uphevals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I had to change labs.  For those of you not in science PhD programs, that is a big, hairy deal.  Basically?  I lost 1-2 years off of my project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, though, it's a good thing.  When I thought about spending another 2 years in that lab? I had panic attacks.  I was scared and anxious every day.  I was constantly (justifiably) scared of getting yelled at and called names.  I had gastritis.  My hair was starting to fall out.  I couldn't have a conversation without getting defensive.  Things were broken beyond repair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's so much more, but institutional policies, bla bla, plus, at this point, I just want to move on.  I'm not afraid anymore and I want to keep it that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since leaving?  My stomach pains have all but disappeared.  My hair has grown inches (in just 3 weeks!).  My nails are suddenly so healthy I have to cut them every few days just so I can type without being annoyed.  My relationship with my husband has improved dramatically, and I once again feel like, uh, gratifying him on a regular basis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Let's get physical&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am, like everyone and their brother, trying to lose weight.  Not a lot, but started out slightly overweight and I'd like to get a little closer to the middle range of "normal" (according to the docs) before LB and I start trying to conceive (which, at this point, I have no idea when that's going to happen).  I've been doing well, in bursts...10lbs gone since April!  10 more to go.  Mostly it's a matter of developing healthy habits - eating well, drinking enough water, and exercising, none of which I was doing at the onset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a part of this, I've been going to aqua aerobics.  It is awesome.  It's me and like fifteen sexagenarians.  So the other day, we are, as usual, dancin around to popular songs put to an aerobics beat, when the next song comes on.  &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkbdP7sq0w8"&gt;Dust In The Wind&lt;/a&gt; by Kansas.  To a club beat.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NNNN-TSSS NNNN-TSSS DUUUUUUUUUUST IN THE WIIIIIIIIIND NNNN-TSSS NNNN-TSSS NNNN-TSSS NNNN-TSSS &lt;/span&gt; And then I died a little inside.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;When I finish my class, I head back to the locker room and take a shower.  It just so happens that every Tuesday evening at 6:30, the gym gives tours to prospective new members.  They pass through the locker rooms generally just after my post-aerobics shower, when I am changing back into my clothes, meaning they are often treated to me in gratuitous amounts of undress.  That is how it came to pass that  part of my gym routine every Tuesday evening is to flash my bare ass at random (innocent?) bystanders.  I may not possess the sense of modesty to cover up, but hey, at least I'm polite enough to turn so they get booty instead of bush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Deep Thoughts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Celebrity reality shows  just wouldn't be the same without Danny Bonaduce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I can't eat Fun'yns because they remind me of bunions and I'm convinced they'll taste like feet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting out of a wet swimsuit is much more unpleasant than putting on a dry swimsuit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do all dogs think dead, rotten bird is THE scent that will drive ALL the ladies wild, or is it just mine?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't decide what is a worse wake-up call: Dog breath in my face or cat pouncing on my boob.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the word thesaurus.  It engenders an image of a giant T-rex with a big ole book for its head rampaging through the jungle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dogs Rock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2008/10/09/dogs-are-the-best/"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This video&lt;/a&gt; had me tearing up at work...and I'm not a crier!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-388942587442306115?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/388942587442306115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=388942587442306115&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/388942587442306115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/388942587442306115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/10/go-go-gadget-gallimaufry.html' title='Go Go Gadget Gallimaufry'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3181411274183799632</id><published>2008-08-20T08:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T08:54:30.408-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Book Blog'/><title type='text'>Book Blog</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday I started a book review blog, &lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ecclectic Belletrist&lt;/a&gt;.  It has a lot of posts right now, mainly because I took all my old facebook reviews and made an entry for each of those.  They're pretty short, but in the future I plan on longer, more in-depth reviews.  I ready probably 1.5 books per month, so it won't be too bustling.  If you do go there, be sure to check &lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/welcome.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; out first, as it has my comment policy and blog philosophy.  That being said, here's a list of books I have so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/we-need-to-talk-about-kevin.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/we-need-to-talk-about-kevin.html"&gt;We Need to Talk About Kevin&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-sisters-keeper.html"&gt;My Sister's Keeper&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/little-princele-petit-prince.html"&gt;The Little Prince&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/princess.html"&gt;Princess&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/power-of-one.html"&gt;The Power of One&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/out.html"&gt;Out&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/curious-incident-of-dog-in-night-time.html"&gt;The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/misconceptions.html"&gt;Misconceptions&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/wifework.html"&gt;Wifework&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/life-of-pi.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life of Pi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/virgin-suicides.html"&gt;The Virgin Suicides&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/middlesex.html"&gt;Middlesex&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/kite-runner.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Kite Runner&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/separate-peace.html"&gt;A Separate Peace&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/blessings.html"&gt;Blessings&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/bell-jar.html"&gt;The Bell Jar&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/wrinkle-in-time.html"&gt;A Wrinkle in Time&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/goat.html"&gt;Goat&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/brave-new-world.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brave New World&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/lies-my-teacher-told-me.html"&gt;Lies My Teacher Told Me&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ecclecticbelletrist.blogspot.com/2008/08/ocean-in-closet.html"&gt;The Ocean in the Closet&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3181411274183799632?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3181411274183799632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3181411274183799632&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3181411274183799632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3181411274183799632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/08/book-blog.html' title='Book Blog'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-785526525194829362</id><published>2008-08-10T11:54:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T12:43:00.894-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A'/><title type='text'>Whole new attitude</title><content type='html'>So.  I have had an epiphany.  (OK I must stop here to brag that, apparently, I spelled epiphany right on the first try.  Go me!).  About Grad school, or possibly about my advisor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, my advisor and I butt heads a lot.  She is a very confrontational, controlling person, and I won't stand for any bullshit.  It is very stressful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I realized...it doesn't have to be stressful.  I care too much what she thinks of me, and it distresses me that she doesn't respect my professional opinion.  But I realized...she doesn't trust &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ANYbody's&lt;/span&gt; professional opinions, even those people who have years and years more experience than her.  Why should she respect me scientifically when she can't respect her scientific superiors?  No, that would be illogical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I started in this lab, she pushed for a much closer relationship than I was used to, and I think that was to my detriment.  She said she sees her students as her kids.  That she wants to protect us from failure.  This has fucked with my head &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bigtime&lt;/span&gt;.  I allowed myself to think that this was true.  It's not.  It was a device she used to try to get me to open up to her, and a device she uses to justify her paternalistic behavior towards her employees.  In all fairness, I think SHE thinks it's true, but it isn't.  Or, to put it another way, if she treats her actual daughter the same way she treats her employees, than she's a pretty shitty parent.  But if I can sever this "close" relationship and move towards a professional one, like I had with bosses before here, than I can protect and distance my emotions from her constant negativity.  I will never have her approval, nor should I desire it.  She is not, and should not be, a parental figure for me.  Her approval or respect don't matter.  As long as I can finish my thesis and get a decent recommendation letter out of her once I go job hunting, nothing else matters in the meantime.  I will no longer let her manipulations, her misreadings of my personality, and her berating my not being perfect bother me.  Screw that noise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what?  I've been living with this new attitude for the past week, and I feel great.  For the first time in 3 years I feel the knots in my stomach loosening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-785526525194829362?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/785526525194829362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=785526525194829362&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/785526525194829362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/785526525194829362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/08/whole-new-attitude.html' title='Whole new attitude'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8352257875548910306</id><published>2008-06-13T08:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:27:22.602-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Free Association Friday'/><title type='text'>Free Association Friday: Pus-filled tonsil edition</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/search/label/Free%20Association%20Friday"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200024231557207714" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCoyfNlkFqI/AAAAAAAAABk/pIlcfEL4WcI/s320/Free+Association+Friday+Button.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes folks it's time for another installment of Free Association Friday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's word is: &lt;a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/quinsy"&gt;quinsy&lt;/a&gt; (n)  inflammation of the tonsils, with formation of pus.  Root: Greek &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kyon&lt;/span&gt;, dog; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anchien&lt;/span&gt;, choke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK first?   EWAH.  I could have happily lived my life not knowing that such a condition existed.  Thank you, Webster's.  Thankyouverymuch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also?  How do we get from choking dog to pus-filled tonsils?  I mean, yes, they both involve the throat area, but other than that I don't see the connection.  To my recollection as a dog owner, dogs are not particularly prone to being pus-y.  Especially in their throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In regards to tonsils, I do not have them anymore.  I had a tonsillectomy at age 2?3?  Something like that.  I used to get very bad sleep apnea, and when the docs investigated, they found that my tonsils were about 4 times the size they should have been.  Mom says when I snored she could feel the floor shake.  So they got rid of those right quick.  I remember waking up from surgery, and I don't remember much at that age.  I remember being soooooo thirsty and sooooo lonely, but then they gave me my special blanket (which I named Kiki) and I felt much better.  But they wouldn't give me anything to drink.  They said I could have a popsicle and I wanted grape but they were out and all they had was orange, and if you remember orange flavor in the early 80's...ew.  So I sulkily ate my orange popsicle and that's really all I remember.&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/03/100-things.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8352257875548910306?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8352257875548910306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8352257875548910306&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8352257875548910306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8352257875548910306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/06/free-association-friday-pus-filled.html' title='Free Association Friday: Pus-filled tonsil edition'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCoyfNlkFqI/AAAAAAAAABk/pIlcfEL4WcI/s72-c/Free+Association+Friday+Button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-8513577652183096029</id><published>2008-06-07T13:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:26:27.570-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life or something like it'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grad school trials'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ZOMG Craziness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the last week has been just nuts.  But first, the good news: Remember how I was going to fail a class because I missed 3 sessions (I didn't even know GRAD SCHOOL had attendence sheesh)? Well, I was just informed yesterday that my petition for late withdrawal was approved.  Woot!  The email included something to the effect of "This is a one-time get out of jail free card.  Savor it!"  So that's a load off my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the rest of my week?  Pretty shitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for the last 4 weeks or so, I have been feeling pukey along with what LB tells me was heartburn (he's the expert in that, and I personally have never had it before in my LIFE).  Then in the last week, I started getting a constant sharp pain in my stomach, like some alien baby was thinking about poking its way out.  I took a pregnancy test just in case, and it was negative within like 10 seconds (it's supposed to take 3 minutes), so that wasn't the cause.  I figured I caught some bug or something, so I went to the doc.  I have &lt;a href="http://digestive.niddk.nih.gov/ddiseases/pubs/gastritis/"&gt;gastritis&lt;/a&gt;!  The precursor lesion for an ulcer!  At 26!  The doc said the three causes at my age are usually excessive alcohol, excessive caffiene, or excessive stress.  We could easily rule out alcohol and caffiene, since I have 1 a week and 2 a day, on average, respectively.  Doc asks "Have you been under more stress than usual lately?" to which I laughed sadly and nodded my head. Let's see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The class thing which would have been my first failing grade EVER since that one pop math quiz when I had been out sick in 3rd grade.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;More work than usual because my advisor has turned in 3 grants in 1.5 months, with one more due in a week and a half.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One postdoc had to stop working to wait for his visa to get renewed so A piled half his work on me, in addition to my own.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We got 2 new lab members which I have had to train on top of postdoc's work and my own increased work load.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A is being a raving lunatic and yelling at everyone for even thinking about maybe placing half a toe out of line or not being supercrazy productive or perfecter than perfect.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have my annual works-in-progress talk, an hour long talk about my research in front of the entire department, on Wednesday and my bi-annual thesis committee meeting the following day.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My f-ing WATER HEATER DIED.  It had been leaking (slowly) for a while but in the last week decided to leak rather quickly.  And everything in the basement got moldy and the cats wouldn't go in their boxes (located in the basement) because the humidity was making their litter wet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;So.  Yeah.  Bring it the fuck on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night LB and I spent a good 4 hours cleaning out the basement, aided by a window squeegee LB found at his store and a dehumidifier and two fans he borrowed from his parents.  It was gross.  It was sticky.  It was stuffy.  But the basement is more than half dry at this point.  New water heater is coming in bright and early Monday morning to the tune of $800.  Goodbye tax rebate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah and to prevent further flooding?  We turned off the water.  Because lucky us, we don't have separate hot and cold water shut offs.  Nope.  Just one.  So I filled every jug and tub and nalgene last night.  We're manually filling the tank of the toilet for every flush (and now we have to live by that disgusting phrase "If it's brown, flush it down; if it's yellow, let it mellow"), and he's showering at his parent's and I'm showering at the gym.  Oy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  That's what I've been up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To borrow a meme from &lt;a href="http://velocibadgergirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;velocibadgergirl&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Listening to:&lt;/span&gt; Today I hate everyone by The Perishers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-8513577652183096029?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/8513577652183096029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=8513577652183096029&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8513577652183096029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/8513577652183096029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/06/zomg-craziness-so-last-week-has-been.html' title=''/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4278840345879390001</id><published>2008-05-30T17:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T17:46:34.794-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Max Power'/><title type='text'>I picked the WRONG day to neclect to bring a coat or umbrella</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24262565@N02/2536701021/in/photostream/"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3177/2536701021_387249f2d7.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Taken from my front porch.  That white stuff is hail. &lt;br /&gt;Waiting for the bus?  Was not fun.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24262565@N02/2536701025/"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3097/2536701025_59fe1f0d15.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Max, as usual, tried to escape.  I let him, thinking the rain and hail would get him to forever stop asking to go out.  I was wrong.  His grass-tasting tour of the yard was uninhibited.  "Oooh," says Max, "ICED grass.  A rare delicacy indeed!"&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4278840345879390001?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4278840345879390001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4278840345879390001&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4278840345879390001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4278840345879390001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-picked-wrong-day-to-neclect-to-bring.html' title='I picked the WRONG day to neclect to bring a coat or umbrella'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6098341598748190404</id><published>2008-05-16T09:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T09:25:39.288-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Free Association Friday'/><title type='text'>Free Association Friday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/search/label/Free%20Association%20Friday"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200024231557207714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCoyfNlkFqI/AAAAAAAAABk/pIlcfEL4WcI/s320/Free+Association+Friday+Button.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I'm starting a meme. It's MINE ALL MINE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK but not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm gonna do, is pull out my good ole Webster's New World Dictionary, open to a random page, and with my eyes closed, put my finger on the page and the entry it's closest to will be my inspiration for my free association. (Hm...wondering if I might need a newer dictionary...mine was published in 1971...holy crap it's 10 years older than me!) After picking the word I will just type away until my fingers decide they're done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's inspirational word is: Immutable&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immutable, as in, this is an immutable law of the universe. What laws are immutable? That husbands are silly. That cats are psychotic but loving. That Thai food is the bomb diggity. Well, maybe not all Thai food, but all Thai food I've had. I once had this dish at a little hole in the wall Thai restaurant on Lake Street in Minneapolis. I ordered my bean dish 4 out of 5 on their 1-5 spicy scale. I should have ordered a 3. I figured, OK this is Minnesota, right? Minnesotans, as a general rule, are pretty intolerant of spice. My mild is my mother's hot. So I figured, OK I like it spicy, so...normally for a Thai restaurant I'd go 3 but they probably dumbed it down for the locals...so I ordered a 4. Which was very good that day...a little much for me but nothing I couldn't handle. But when I re-heated it in the microwave? Did you know that when you reheat chili oil it gets hotter? Yeah me neither. And OMG was my mouth on fire. I had to walk around with it open for a while. But I'm stubborn, right? So I kept eating it because, dammit I was not gonna throw out perfectly good food that I paid my hard-earned money for! Tears were streaming down my face. Gallons of water were consumed (and later pissed out). My fist was pounding the table and my feet were twitching. But, by God, I finished those beans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to participate, leave a link in the comments!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6098341598748190404?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6098341598748190404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6098341598748190404&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6098341598748190404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6098341598748190404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/05/free-association-friday.html' title='Free Association Friday'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCoyfNlkFqI/AAAAAAAAABk/pIlcfEL4WcI/s72-c/Free+Association+Friday+Button.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-213618621278935546</id><published>2008-05-12T16:53:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T17:15:05.469-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='geeks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gaming'/><title type='text'>I am Uteressa, from the realm of Vulvacular</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCi8mtlkFpI/AAAAAAAAABc/9RCiCdN_pIM/s1600-h/Ash.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCi8mtlkFpI/AAAAAAAAABc/9RCiCdN_pIM/s320/Ash.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199613143057438354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  I am a gamer.  And I happen to be born with a set of genitals that confers the female status.  Some people would call me a girl gamer.  I mean, yes I'm a gamer, and yes I'm female, but why does there have to be two categories: gamer, and girl gamer?  Nevermind the fact that I haven't been a girl for nearly a decade; I think I can very safely call myself a woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gaming is an interesting beast for female gamers, especially those of us who enjoy MMORPGs (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games).  The first time I publicly admitted to being a female while playing WOW (in my n00b days), the conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;General Chat - Some Player: There aren't many girl gamers.  I'm a girl and I'm like the only one.&lt;br /&gt;General Chat - Me: You aren't!  I'm a girl (well I'm over 18 so a woman) and I know other women who game.  There's lots of females on WOW.&lt;br /&gt;Private Chat - Some Player: I'm glad to see other girl gamers!  Would you like to chat?&lt;br /&gt;...wait 10 seconds...&lt;br /&gt;Private Chat - Some Player: I mean like sexy?&lt;br /&gt;Me (offline): Headdesk&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen players who publicly (online) identify as female get harassed as being not as good players (even though it wasn't true), have rape jokes about them told online, or get hit on.  After a few experiences as such, I became much more reserved about grouping with other toons (characters) who I didn't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to be very protective of my identity now...the only people who know are my guild members.  I never go on general voice chat.  I just want to play, dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But some female players revel in their...um....femininity?  Just today, I ran across a toon named Fallopia and another named Ovaree.  Now, I don't see male toons named Vas Deferentia or Testicuole, and I wonder, why would you want to name your character after your reproductive organs?  That's a little too...girly?  For me.  If you want to "come out" as female online, go ahead, more power to you, but naming yourself after your reproductive organs?  Hm.  Maybe I'm just too private (heh I heart bad puns) or maybe I'm just not the "I am woman hear my uterus roar worship the earth mother goddess wombs rock!" type of person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To each their own I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-213618621278935546?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/213618621278935546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=213618621278935546&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/213618621278935546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/213618621278935546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-am-uteressa-from-realm-of-vulvacular.html' title='I am Uteressa, from the realm of Vulvacular'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SCi8mtlkFpI/AAAAAAAAABc/9RCiCdN_pIM/s72-c/Ash.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-4818770244071135400</id><published>2008-05-04T21:49:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:23:15.965-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freki'/><title type='text'>My ass is kinda big news</title><content type='html'>So this saturday, Freki and I participated in the &lt;a href="http://www.pawsandclaws.org/"&gt;Paws &amp;amp; Claws Pet Walk&lt;/a&gt;.  Paws &amp;amp; Claws is the shelter from which we adopted Freki, and I have volunteered there for a while, although not as often as I would like!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2202/2466731692_e11880a43e.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2202/2466731692_e11880a43e.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Everybody at the dog walk, hangin out&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We got there early with a friend of mine who was volunteering to walk one of the shelter dogs.  We hung out, got registered, got my t-shirt and Freki's bandana, played a little fetch to tire him out (it didn't work) then we met and walked with two of my coworkers and their dogs.  Great fun was had by all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2193/2465873645_3d34fa6de7.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2193/2465873645_3d34fa6de7.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Tired dog walkin&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About midway through the walk, we stopped by a river and Freki begged me to go in, so I obliged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2017/2465873637_ff7d4886cb.jpg?v=0"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2017/2465873637_ff7d4886cb.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Freki in the water&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was only mildly upset with me for not letting him off-leash to romp and swim.  I tried explaining to him that this is not the dog park, but he didn't understand.  He was like "Bitch, please.  This is water!  There are geese!  Little doggies need to PLAY!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the walk, we hung out for a little bit to see if we won anything in the drawing, and we did!  We got a grab bag of toys, a Sigg bottle for me, and some doggie supplies which were unfortunately too small (which really isn't surprising, Freki is a bit of a beast).  I'm sure we can find someone who will use them though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterward, we were both very tired.  I dropped the boy off at home, then went out to lunch with everyone we walked with at Pannekoeken.  Twas good.  After that I went home and napped with Freki.  We were both very tired.  Max and Milo joined in, just for kicks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, as I was preparing to write this entry in fact, and I hear (in babytalk), "Is that  Freki?  Yeah is that you?  Is Freki  on TV?  You're on TV!  And  mommy's butt!  And leg!"  Apparently LB was watching the local news, and we were on TV.  I asked, "So did my ass look terrible?"  To which my well-trained monkey man says, "No it looked fabulous."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-4818770244071135400?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/4818770244071135400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=4818770244071135400&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4818770244071135400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/4818770244071135400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-ass-is-big-news.html' title='My ass is kinda big news'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-491750487943993552</id><published>2008-04-26T16:28:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T19:53:31.543-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='political'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexual assault awareness'/><title type='text'>April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month</title><content type='html'>Gotta get something up before it's over!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as many of you may know, I am a survivor of childhood sexual assault. In light of this, I like to do something special every April to raise awareness and combat myths as my contribution to sexual assault awareness month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In lieu of telling my own story this year, I am going to link to a few articles that are pertinent to it or are pertinent to our culture right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of people are starting to understand and know the Department of Justice statistic that 1 in 6 women are raped over the course of their lifetime (not including sexual assault that did not include penetration or attempted sexual assault). But not a lot of people know how many &lt;i&gt;rapists&lt;/i&gt; there are out there, how this number is terrifying to women and why we live our lives in constant fear of being raped. &lt;a href="http://www.amptoons.com/blog/archives/2004/05/05/how-many-men-are-rapists/"&gt;That number, folks, is 4.5%. &lt;/a&gt;Another way of putting it: 1 in 25. If you know 25 men, chances are you know a rapist. I'm pretty sure we all know at least one rapist. They are people we love, people we respect, people we loathe, people who hide their misogyny behind charm, good looks, or chivalry. Think 4.5% is a small number? From Alas, a blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.5% of the men in the United States is an incredibly high number - that translates into over six million men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you added up every US citizen who was officially unemployed or looking for work in 2001, that would be less than the total number of rapists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you added up every US citizen who is Jewish, that would still be less than the total number of rapists. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you added up every teenage boy who had any sort of job - an afterschool job, a summer job, working full-time after dropping out, including all of those - you’d still have over a million fewer people then the total number of rapists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are twice as many rapists in the USA as there are single mothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For every drunk driver who is in a fatal accident this year, there are over 500 rapists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you take every doctor and nurse in the United States; and you added them to every librarian, every cashier, every cop, every postal clerk, and every bank teller in the whole country; you still wouldn’t have as many people as the number of rapists in the United States. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To relate the fear that women experience on a daily basis because of these rapists (again from Alas, a blog):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Imagine that one out of 25 men have at some point in their lives attacked and tortured an Oregonian. You don’t know which ones had done it - you just know it’s about one in 25. And they had done it simply because they had wanted to, and they consider people from Oregon to be just that worthless. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now imagine you were born in Oregon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How safe would you feel in your daily life? What would it do to your feeling of security and safety, knowing that “only” one out of 25 of the men you stand in line with at the bank, the male cashiers you meet at the grocery, the male cops patrolling the streets, the male students you take classes with and the male professors you learn from, and your male co-workers at the office, has attacked someone like you, because they were like you? &lt;/blockquote&gt;Part of my rape was the involvement of pornography. It was used to show me what to do, who I was. Considering, too, that my attacker was under 18, it probably informed him of exactly what females were good for. Porn is very poor sex education, except in my experience most young men learn about sex, at least vis-a-vis what women enjoy, from porn. Talk about missing the mark. "What does porn have to do with rape?" one might ask. A lot. &lt;a href="http://www.oneangrygirl.net/pornmyths.html"&gt;Check out one angry girl's section on porn myths.&lt;/a&gt; Particularly, the sections entitled &lt;a href="http://www.oneangrygirl.net/myth5.html"&gt;"Porn is harmless and has no effect on the person using it"&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.oneangrygirl.net/myth3.html"&gt;"Porn is an outlet or safety valve for men who might otherwise do Bad Things"&lt;/a&gt; are eye-opening; they contains findings from decades of research on the relationship between pornography and misogystic attitudes, sexual aggression and addiction. One researcher found that "The relationship between particularly sexually violent images in the media and subsequent aggression...is much stronger statistically than the relationship between smoking and lung cancer" (Edward Donnerstein). I have ambivalent feelings about porn. On the one hand, a lot of it is disgustingly misogynistic, promotes rape by treating rape as normal sex and enjoyable to the woman, ignores real female sexuality, etc etc. On the other hand, it can be hot to watch two people going at it. In this case, context is EVERYTHING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, a bit of current events. Something even I failed to consider, when thinking about the War on Terror, is the effect on the female soldiers from the U.S. I figured there would be a huge increase in rape of Iraqi women and girls at the hands of invading and insurgent forces, and &lt;a href="http://www.hrw.org/press/2003/07/iraq071603.htm"&gt;there has been&lt;/a&gt;, but I didn't for a moment think that this fate would also befall our own soldiers. Indeed, aside from all the &lt;a href="http://www.thenation.com/doc/20080505/houppert"&gt;KBR madness&lt;/a&gt;, it has recently been found that &lt;a href="http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-harman31mar31,0,5399612.story"&gt;female U.S. soldiers serving in Iraq are more likely to be raped by their "fellow" soldiers than killed in combat. &lt;/a&gt;I know, I know, women aren't "allowed" in combat, but this war doesn't have a clear front line, and women are dying in combat nearly every day. That means they are also being raped by their fellow soldiers every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please take some time out of your day to think about these things, without being defensive. Recognize that, if one in six women is raped, and if you include the women who are victims of non-penatrative sexual assault and attempted sexual assault, that means 1 in 4 women is sexually victimized. 1 in 4. Your mother. Your sister. Your daughter. Your wife. Your fiancee. Your girlfriend. Your aunt. Your grandmother. Your cousin. Your best friend. YOU KNOW a woman who has been raped. Sit down and think for a few minutes about how YOU can make this world a better place for all the women in your life, and thank them for being so strong and brave in the face of the worst kind of adversity - physical hatred. Don a teal ribbon, I know I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nsvrc.org/saam/default.aspx"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193683451693875618" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SBOrlP4JwaI/AAAAAAAAABM/qKWKyA-xsto/s320/teal_ribbon.jpeg" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" /&gt;Sexual Assault Awareness Month official website&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rainn.org/"&gt;Rape, Abuse &amp;amp; Incest National Network (RAINN) for survivors, their supporters, and those who want to learn more&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-491750487943993552?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/491750487943993552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=491750487943993552&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/491750487943993552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/491750487943993552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/04/april-is-sexual-assault-awareness-month.html' title='April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/SBOrlP4JwaI/AAAAAAAAABM/qKWKyA-xsto/s72-c/teal_ribbon.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-329494730812815594</id><published>2008-04-26T15:57:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:21:59.240-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='store'/><title type='text'>What I've been up to</title><content type='html'>So. It's high time I pick this thing back up again. I am a very bad naughty blogger who needs a spanking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. LB and I....bought a store. A shoe store, to be precise. A shoe store in a small whitebred town on the Mississippi. This is what I have been up to for the past...3-4 weeks? Something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-329494730812815594?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/329494730812815594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=329494730812815594&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/329494730812815594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/329494730812815594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/04/so.html' title='What I&apos;ve been up to'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-3712655290761376335</id><published>2008-04-02T11:57:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T12:21:06.918-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello, cruel world</title><content type='html'>I suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less than a month into my blogging and I have already broken my goal of one post a week or more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my defense, I was out of town for several days. The vacation from hell of which we shall not speak again. Or possibly shall. Dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been in a pretty foul mood since I got back home. Among other disasters from this weekend, I discovered on this trip that my grandmother is losing her mind. She is 86, so she's lucky to have been healthy for so long. But this is the first time I've really had to deal with the idea that she's aging. I mean, she has been getting older for quite some time, but she was very physically and mentally healthy. But now, I'm starting to realize her mortality. I just hope she makes it to my graduation; she can't stop talking about how excited she is to have a PhD in the family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In honor of my foul mood, here's a list of the 10 things I hate most right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;1. Banks. They can't do anything right!&lt;br /&gt;2. Sunny days when I have to work indoors.&lt;br /&gt;3. When LBs computer makes our internet not work.&lt;br /&gt;4. My messy house.&lt;br /&gt;5. Mud.&lt;br /&gt;6. Dog poop and having to clean it up after it has been rained on.&lt;br /&gt;7. Waiting in line to spend my hard-earned money.&lt;br /&gt;8. Hypoglycemic attacks (2 in less than 24 hours! Woo!)&lt;br /&gt;9. Shipments that require immediate attention.&lt;br /&gt;10. My bladder, which can hold only a quarter cup worth of liquid. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well enough of that; I'm getting depressed. So, in an attempt to cheer myself up, here's a list of the 10 things I love most right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;1. My snuggly puppy and kittens. They brighten every morning.&lt;br /&gt;2. Diet Pepsi. Caffiene without sugar! Woot!&lt;br /&gt;3. My husband, who, after we get in a fight, has learned to always apologize, then give me my space just like I need.&lt;br /&gt;4. A free scrapbook from my friend California K, who also makes me very happy regularly. Its color is what would result if lime and avocado had a baby, and came in a box with sushi packing tape. LB brought it in the house and said, "I have a gift for you, and it's not shoes." I said, "It's SHOES?!" But lo, it was neither shoes nor was it from LB. But it was still fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;5. Teh internets and my T3 work connection.&lt;br /&gt;6. Being able to skip 2 seminars because everybody thinks I'm still out of town.&lt;br /&gt;7. Springy clothes. Like the season, not the metal twisty thing.&lt;br /&gt;8. Honey mustard.&lt;br /&gt;9. When some sweet anonymous soul moves the 10 gallon carboy that I was filling with water for me, thus relieving my back of that hideous task.&lt;br /&gt;10. Shampoo that makes my hair silky and nice smelling.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Aaaand finally I must thank the Ultimate Blog Party 2008 and, specifically, Thrifty Jinxy. I won prize #94, a booklight. I recieved it last week, but, sadly, my dog ate it before I got the chance to use it. Sigh. He's lucky he's so cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/R_PIiaHivyI/AAAAAAAAABE/VamjtQOSOh8/s1600-h/So+tired%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184708089485639458" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/R_PIiaHivyI/AAAAAAAAABE/VamjtQOSOh8/s320/So+tired%21.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-3712655290761376335?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/3712655290761376335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=3712655290761376335&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3712655290761376335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/3712655290761376335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-suck.html' title='Hello, cruel world'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_KiZa8N7Qfgk/R_PIiaHivyI/AAAAAAAAABE/VamjtQOSOh8/s72-c/So+tired%21.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5002169845178074768</id><published>2008-03-19T22:09:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T22:28:32.285-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Milo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='A'/><title type='text'>If elephants never forget, then I work for a pachyderm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The mystery of grace&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I was (as usual) doing too many things at once.  Or, perhaps, doing too diverse things at once.  I was...reading while walking.  I often do this.  But I was also planning experiments.  I went to turn left around a corner into my office, something I do probably 10 times a day.  I misjudged my distance, and ended up turning about a foot and a half too soon.  Straight into a wall.  People ask me how I can have so many bruises and wonder if I might be abused.  No.  I just run into walls.  Often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Introducing A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, at 4:55 PM today, my adviser (A, which does not stand for adviser but for the first initial of her name) frantically comes up to me.  I brace myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A: Where are those slides you took the pictures of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queenrandom: *raises eyebrow, for lo, I have taken pictures of 200+ slides since joining her lab 3 years ago*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: The slides! You took the beautiful pictures!  Of the fly eyes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queenrandom: Ooooooh *remembering those pictures, taken 2 years ago*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: They are supposed to be above the microscope!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queenrandom: By the Mac, right?  Yeah, I put those back from where I got them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: Above the Mac?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queenrandom: Above the Mac.  *nodding*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I can't find them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queenrandom: *raising eyebrow because I KNOW for a FACT that A rearranged that entire room not 2 weeks ago*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I NEED THEM!  *runs off in a tizzy*&lt;/blockquote&gt;45 seconds later....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;A: *running up to me* I need you to check all your drawers for the slides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queenrandom: OK, but my bus leaves in like 5 minutes so I have to go now.  I'll look tomorrow.  *knowing that I won't find them because she was the last person to have them*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I NEED THOSE SLIDES.  Fine.  OK.  Whatever.  Yeah look tomorrow.  Thank you.  *runs off in a tizzy*&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Scaredy Cat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ha! I just sprayed Febreeze in my office, while Milo was in here, and he just ran out with his tail tucked between his legs.  Evil spraying sound!  Something that doesn't smell like sweet, sweet cat ass!  RUN AWAY!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch out for that Febreeze.  It'll gitcha!&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5002169845178074768?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5002169845178074768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5002169845178074768&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5002169845178074768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5002169845178074768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/03/if-elephants-never-forget-then-i-work.html' title='If elephants never forget, then I work for a pachyderm.'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-6453437244669175600</id><published>2008-03-11T14:15:00.017-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T16:38:22.108-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bisexual awareness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sexual assault awareness'/><title type='text'>100 Things</title><content type='html'>I'm not feeling very creative today, so I'm stealing a blog meme and doing a 100 things about me post. I'm going to try to keep it to things that are NOT already on the blog though :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I have two last names. No, not hyphenated last names. Two. Separate. Last. Names.&lt;br /&gt;2. I have a dent in my thigh. I got it from an infant shot that became terribly infected. The doctors told my mom not to pop it but she didn't listen. Being a nurse, and I suspect almost as science-geeky as me, she measured the amount of pus that came out of it. It was 1 tablespoon.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;a href="http://www.thetick.ws/cartoons.html"&gt;The Tick&lt;/a&gt; is my hero, but secretly I adore &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/crimemonkey/embwbam/bio.html"&gt;The Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;4. I think dark chocolate is the superior chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;5. My mother has boundary issues. Once, she invited me to a sex toy party. When I was 19. When I vehemently opposed the idea, she persisted. Six months later, she tried again.&lt;br /&gt;6. My favorite number is 4 and my favorite color is blue.&lt;br /&gt;7. I was born on Independence Day. When my mom was in labor, she told my dad, "If it's a boy, we're naming it Yankee Doodle." I am glad I'm female.&lt;br /&gt;8. This is already harder than I thought it would be.&lt;br /&gt;9. I used to have a very flatulent schnauzer named Fred. He went to that great yard in the sky when I was 15. I still miss him.&lt;br /&gt;10. My cat Max likes to decapitate mice. I wish I were kidding.&lt;br /&gt;11. My favorite cuisines are Mexican and Indian. The spicier the better.&lt;br /&gt;12. I often don't know what is socially appropriate. For instance, talking about food right after talking about dead mice.&lt;br /&gt;13. My brother is seriously dating a girl with the same (somewhat unusual) name as me. It's weird.&lt;br /&gt;14. I am a very successful ex-nailbiter. I have not bitten in 5 years.&lt;br /&gt;15. I love garlic so much it should be illegal.&lt;br /&gt;16. I don't like being hugged. I have personal space issues.&lt;br /&gt;17. I don't think ice cream is all that great.&lt;br /&gt;18. I spoil my pets rotten.&lt;br /&gt;19. I used to be a kleptomaniac. No, seriously.&lt;br /&gt;20. I love baking, but I am not so fond of cooking.&lt;br /&gt;21. My hair used to be rather straight, but in the last two years, it decided to get curly. I yell at it constantly.&lt;br /&gt;22. I'm constantly being mistaken for a race or ethnicity that I'm not. A lot of people think I'm Asian, some have thought I was an ethnic Jew, and once, a guy that I had known for a while swore that I was Puerto Rican. My ethnic makeup is actually (in order of degree): French/French-Canadian, Swedish, Irish, Welsh, English and Scottish.&lt;br /&gt;23. My husband is Bohemian (2nd American generation though). I think that's so cool. I used to call him my gypsy until he said he didn't like it.&lt;br /&gt;24. I was once called a cryptotranscendentalist.&lt;br /&gt;25. When I was a kid, I didn't like to eat much, so I would store my food in my (ginormous) cheeks and hide vegetables behind my ears. Mom would find me eating hours later.&lt;br /&gt;26. I went to an all-girls, Catholic high school.&lt;br /&gt;27. I went to a Montesorri school instead of preschool and during my tenure there I learned how to write a few words in cursive.&lt;br /&gt;28. I still have nightmares from this one time in Montesorri when I had uncontrollable diarrhea during song time.&lt;br /&gt;29. I started dating LB when I was 16 years old.&lt;br /&gt;30. I am bisexual. When I came out to LB, he said, "Well I could have told you that." I guess it was no secret (except from myself!).&lt;br /&gt;31. I don't think I'll ever come out to my family.*&lt;br /&gt;32. I am a survivor of childhood sexual assault. I was 4. Never think your child is too young to know about these things, they NEED to!&lt;br /&gt;33. I am also a survivor of attempted murder. I was 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. I have forgiven both of my attackers unconditionally.&lt;br /&gt;35. I think this list has gotten too morose.&lt;br /&gt;36. Speaking of morose, I loved Sweeny Todd. But I hate the songwriter, because that $%&amp;amp;$%@&amp;amp; Johanna song gets stuck in my head ALL THE TIME.&lt;br /&gt;37. I am scared to death of clowns and people with mascot costumes on, for no apparent reason.&lt;br /&gt;38. I have an eyebrow piercing.&lt;br /&gt;39. I talk to myself so much that one of my coworkers once got asked if I was "all there."&lt;br /&gt;40. I secretly love having pets because instead of talking to myself, I can talk to them.&lt;br /&gt;41. I had never seen a satellite in the night sky until last summer. I thought it was a falling star and LB had a good laugh.&lt;br /&gt;42. I think Mel Brooks is a comic genius.&lt;br /&gt;43. I think there is something wrong with my sense of humor.&lt;br /&gt;44. I had braces twice when I was a kid.&lt;br /&gt;45. I have had plastic surgery. When I was a toddler, I was a climber (still am, actually). I had climbed onto the back of the couch, and I slipped between the couch and the wall. I didn't hit the floor though, because my upper lip caught me. So the docs fixed that. I always wondered why that was the one part of my face that wasn't asymmetric in any way.&lt;br /&gt;46. I didn't find out about that surgery until I was a teenager. I was railing on about the evils of plastic surgery when my mom said, "You've had plastic surgery, you know."&lt;br /&gt;47. I was born six months after my parents got married. You do the math.&lt;br /&gt;48. Despite that shaky beginning, my parents are still married, 26 years later.&lt;br /&gt;49. Whenever I talk to my pets, I inappropriately put an "s" on the end of words. "Freki, it's time for your dinners." "Kitties! Do you want some shrimps?"&lt;br /&gt;50. I'm a genius, but you wouldn't know it from talking to me. &lt;br /&gt;51. I'm also the world's biggest ditz.&lt;br /&gt;52. I love stationery and other paper products so much that LB only lets me visit Office Max on special occasions.&lt;br /&gt;53. I used to be a huge tomboy but now I love many girly things, including underwear, shoes, purses and makeup.&lt;br /&gt;54. I'm still conflicted about this, but the conflicted feelings fade with every new pair of shoes...&lt;br /&gt;55. Speaking of shoes, LB is in the final steps of purchasing a shoe store. Closing date is April 1...keep your fingers crossed!&lt;br /&gt;56. I love to read.&lt;br /&gt;57. I didn't used to, until we figured out that I was farsighted. After I got my reading glasses, I became a very avid reader.&lt;br /&gt;58. I think I am losing my hearing, and it terrifies me.&lt;br /&gt;59. I'm really really liberal. Not anarchist liberal, though.&lt;br /&gt;60. I'm pretty ticklish.&lt;br /&gt;61. One of my favorite "everyday treats" is vanilla yogurt with some granola and lots of ripe raspberries.&lt;br /&gt;62. I love hockey. I have a secret plan to marry a hot goalie and then keep LB as my poolboy. LB thinks it's a cool plan because then he gets to be a kept man.&lt;br /&gt;63. I like camping.&lt;br /&gt;64. One of my favorite movie lines ever? "This is not a democracy, it is a cheerocracy."&lt;br /&gt;65. I like to shoot guns. And bows.&lt;br /&gt;66. The first time I ever shot, I was given a .12 shotgun. After I shot it, I fell on my ass. BUT, safety rules firmly in place in my head, I kept the gun pointing downrange at all times.&lt;br /&gt;67. I have thrown a bowling ball backwards. Twice. I was drunk neither time.&lt;br /&gt;68. I'm pretty religious.&lt;br /&gt;69. Heh. 69. I'm also pretty immature.&lt;br /&gt;70. Nothing makes me more mad than when people base their beleifs and lifestyles on things the Bible doesn't say, but they claim it does.&lt;br /&gt;71. Except maybe when people use the Bible/religion as an excuse for hate and discrimination.&lt;br /&gt;72. The color pink makes me twitch with rage.&lt;br /&gt;73. The day I stop leaving my keys in weird places is the day the universe ceases to exist.&lt;br /&gt;74. I'm a lot more sensitive than I let on.&lt;br /&gt;75. I need medication just to be normal. LB and I call my medication my happy pills.&lt;br /&gt;76. In case you're wondering, this is normal.&lt;br /&gt;77. I am a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supertaster"&gt;supertaster&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;78. Some of my best friends I met online.&lt;br /&gt;79. Sometimes I use weird sentence structure.&lt;br /&gt;80. Neither of my cats is declawed.&lt;br /&gt;81. In my mother's posession is a picture of a little girl who looks EXACTLY like I did at 4-5 years old. The picture was taken nearly 50 years before I was born. She took it to a psychic and asked the psychic only to tell her about the children in the photo (there were like 8 of them), and the psychic picked out that girl, told my mom about her life and death (and was right, when my mom later researched it), and said that I was her reincarnation.&lt;br /&gt;82. I have never met either of my biological grandfathers - one died long before I was born and the other was a deadbeat.&lt;br /&gt;83. If 82 is the last number you saw on this post it's because I accidentally hit publish instead of save before I went home from work.&lt;br /&gt;84. I sometimes talk in my sleep. I have been known to say "Get bublegum for Fred" (my former dog) and "breasts are expensive."&lt;br /&gt;85. I performed in the Super Bowl XXIX halftime show.&lt;br /&gt;86. I hate decorating.&lt;br /&gt;87. No matter how hard I try, I can't manage to get out of bed on time.&lt;br /&gt;88. My favorite flavors are lemon and raspberry.&lt;br /&gt;89. I don't like to eat fish, but I like most sushi. LB is my sushi taster; if he says it's too fishy, I don't eat it. This is a sacred trust.&lt;br /&gt;90. I HATE HATE HATE it when people eat off of my plate without asking. Dude! Just ask and I'll give you a bite.&lt;br /&gt;91. LB and I met when he was my brother's camp counselor. I was a camper. Ooooh, naughty.&lt;br /&gt;92. We discovered we went to sister schools - he went to the all-boys high school right next door to my all-girls school.&lt;br /&gt;93. I stole him from his girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;94. He said he loved me for the first time on our third date. His hand was still on my boob when he said it. I reciprocated (I mean about the I love you part not the boob part).&lt;br /&gt;95. During our wedding reception, we played White Wedding by Billy Idol.&lt;br /&gt;96. I'm a freaky good boggle player.&lt;br /&gt;97. LB won't play with me anymore, so sometimes I play with myself. Boggle, I mean, you sicko.&lt;br /&gt;98. I like depressing songs that have an upbeat rhythm.&lt;br /&gt;99. My major hope in life is to someday be a grandma. I'd make a kick ass grannie.&lt;br /&gt;100. In my next life, I want to return as a house cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Since writing this post, I came out, but unfortunately, I did so unplanned and drunk.&amp;nbsp; That is not a good idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-6453437244669175600?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/6453437244669175600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=6453437244669175600&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6453437244669175600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/6453437244669175600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/03/100-things.html' title='100 Things'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3358197202539171336.post-5726789419798318458</id><published>2008-03-09T16:15:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T17:24:24.425-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='me'/><title type='text'>Ultimate Blog Party 2008!  All your friends are doing it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/2938/ubp-08-instructions/"&gt;&lt;img alt="Ultimate Blog Party 2008" src="http://i89.photobucket.com/albums/k210/5m4m/buttons/events/ubp-08/fruition-ubp-118px-2.jpg" title="Ultimate Blog Party 2008" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or at least all mine are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just started blogging, oh about a week or two ago, so one of my first blogs was &lt;a href="http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/03/in-which-i-introduce-myself.html"&gt;all about me&lt;/a&gt;.  In short, I'm a doggymomma and a two-time kittymomma, but not a babymomma.  I'm a geeky scientist who's trying to cure cancer.  I've been married for nearly 5 years to my highschool sweetheart.  Thankfully, people have stopped asking us when the babymakin is going to proceed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I don't want to repeat myself too much from last week's post, I'll treat y'all with a general mishmash of the contents of my brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Phrases commonly heard in my household&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The cat does NOT want your bone!"&lt;br /&gt;"Would you stop sticking your nose in my ass?"&lt;br /&gt;"Max [the cat] scolded me again."&lt;br /&gt;"Magic ring high-five!"&lt;br /&gt;"Kitty battle!"&lt;br /&gt;"I am NOT a mattress!"&lt;br /&gt;"The cat is spazzing again."&lt;br /&gt;"I dunno, what are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; making for dinner?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Some likes and dislikes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Waking up with a kitty nose in my face.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Waking up with a kitty butt in my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Sleeping next to my husband.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Sleeping under my husband, after he has rolled onto my side of the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Drinking white russians.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Puking white russians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Puppy kisses on my face.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Puppy burps in my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Snowfall in December.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Blizzard in March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Animals who snuggle with me while I sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Animals who use me as a springboard while I sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Ordering pizza.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Paying for pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: Eating Doritos.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: Fatty deposits from eating Doritos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like: My Thesis Advisor.&lt;br /&gt;Dislike: My Thesis Advisor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Some Compliments I have received&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"You have the most beautiful brain I have ever seen!"&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, baby.  You look mean.  I like that."&lt;br /&gt;"I love your bellybutton."&lt;br /&gt;"Is that an eyebrow ring?  I have never seen anything like that.  That's cool!"&lt;br /&gt;"You're a good yeller."&lt;br /&gt;"You would make a great goth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;About those prizes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Apparently, participants in Ultimate Blog Party 2008 are eligible to receive some pretty cool prizes.  Normally I'd love some of the baby prizes, but I think LB would freak right out if I started getting baby stuff before we popped one out.  On that vein, if I won a prize this year my top 3 picks would be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;   #20- $50 gift certificate to &lt;a href="http://www.paperlicious.com"&gt;Paperlicious.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;   #24- a custom blog design from &lt;a href="http://sweetnsimpledesign.com/catalog.php?category=37"&gt;Sweet 'n Simple&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;   #114- a $25 gift certificate to &lt;a href="http://usa.lush.com/cgi-bin/lushdb/index.html?lang=en_US&amp;amp;dlang=en"&gt;Lush&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3358197202539171336-5726789419798318458?l=circusrandomus.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/feeds/5726789419798318458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3358197202539171336&amp;postID=5726789419798318458&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5726789419798318458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3358197202539171336/posts/default/5726789419798318458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://circusrandomus.blogspot.com/2008/03/ultimate-blog-party-2008-all-your.html' title='Ultimate Blog Party 2008!  All your friends are doing it!'/><author><name>queenrandom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00128796087827034559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2384/2304577551_d5a30daa82.jpg?v=0'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry></feed>
