Blizzard Blog '09

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 here, sorry I can't link individual pics today.

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.

I Must Be Insane

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.

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.

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.

Cue blizzard.

Resolved: We are investing in kilts.

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.

Mine:
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.

LB's:
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.

How I Spent my Sunday

Did you know that cats can projectile vomit?

All over your hands and satin robe?

Thank you, Max. Love ya.

This story 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.

New Book Blog Posts!

I recently reviewed I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by Maya Angelou, and 1984 by George Orwell.

Deep Thoughts

1. I am really enjoying Glee. Except if they don't stop with the autotune already I may have to stab their sound director.
2. 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 Cher 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.
   
3. That balloon boy 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.
4. I could really go for a hot glazed doughnut right about now.
5. 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.
6. 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.
7. 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?