I kind of like this idea for where the WTC once stood ... (Photo: CNN)

That's Mob Mentality for Ya...
Some people are beyond stupid. There is just no place for this kind of behavior....

CHICAGO (AP) -- Two men whose van jumped a curb and crashed into
pedestrians died after an angry mob pulled them out and beat them with
bricks, witnesses and police said.
Autopsies on Wednesday showed that Anthony Stuckey, 49, and Jack Moore,
62, both of Chicago, died from multiple injuries and blunt trauma, a
spokeswoman for the Cook County medical examiner's office said. Both deaths
were ruled homicides.
Witness Taquita Mixon said Stuckey and Moore collapsed to the ground when
they were attacked after the crash.
"They hit them with bricks that came off the side of the building," Mixon
told the Chicago Tribune. "They didn't have a chance. It was a brutal
beat-down." ....

Police spokesman Officer Thomas Donegan said he is not sure about the
number of people involved with the beating. No one had been charged as of
Wednesday morning, he said, because detectives were still piecing together
what happened.
"It will be a while before there will be charges," Donegan said.
Two of the women who were hit were at Mount Sinai Hospital. One in
critical condition, and the other in fair condition. The third person, a 17-year-old girl was in
fair condition Wednesday morning at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.

Hungry?
Want a quick snack without having to leave your desk? Shake out your keyboard. Just all kinds of wrong ...

With fingers like this, how the fuck am I ever going to be a neuro/brain surgeon???

Everbody's a Gladys Kravitz and Barney Fife
A funny viewpoint from a UPS driver on the Justice department's and Bush administration's proposed Terrorism Information and Prevention System (Operation TIPS). This is the bright idea where utility workers and delivery drivers are to report on any suspicious activity they notice during their daily jobs.
Call me crazy but isn't "suspicious activity" a bit too subjective? Who's to say what is odd behavior and what isn't? So, someone gets packages from a certain place all the time... How is knowing this going to stop terrorism? Any schmo can waltz into Walmart, buy a few thousand rounds, and walk out and blow away a few dozen people. And the phone repair guy could not have prevented it.
My next door neighbor is a UPS driver, and he's one of the oddest and yet nicest people I know. He's aslo in the Naval reserves and presently on active duty, so he's really Pro-American, Anti-terrorist these days. Does this mean he's going to have his window blinds lifted ever so slightly to see what high-tech gadget I bought this week? Please.
Asking people to spy on each other is asking for trouble. I guess no one in the JD remembers a certain man named Joesph McCarthy and the havoc he wreaked and the lives he ruined.
There are better ways to prevent terrorism in this country. I think we need to start with our foreign policies and change how we are perceived abroad before we have everyone in this country turning on each other.
What the hell are these guys thinking, anyway? For the past 10 months everyone has been afraid to criticize the White House and the government for fear of sounding ant-American. Well, I think it's OK to start bitching and moaning again.

This is why I never argue politics or religion with stupid people.

I Have My Wife Back!!
A BIG hearty congratulations to my lovely (and intelligent) wife, Deborah, who as of tomorrow evening is officially finished with her M.S. in Software Engineering!!!! Three long years of "Honey, will you please get off the computer, I have homework to do!" is finally over! I get my office back, more access to the computer, and.. more access to my wife. Life is good!
I am so proud of her! Everyone wish her congratulations!!! And tell her to get all those damn printouts, Perl books, Java books, SQL books, and her cat out of my office!!

Yay!!

A Couple of Things
If you don't have your shit together, do NOT blame me because I do. Go get your shit together and get over it. It's not that fucking hard.

If you are miserable with your pitiful existence, do NOT blame me because I am quite happy with mine. Change yourself. I did. And if I can do it, any jackass can.

If life seems dull, boring, uneventful, pathetic, do NOT blame me because I have fun and live my life to the fullest. Get off your ass and go do something. Anything. Find a hobby. GO TO SCHOOL. Volunteer. Travel. I spent 8 years riding a train and dealing with assholes before I saw the light. More importantly, I did this BEFORE I dropped dead of a heart attack from stress. But not after spending a day in the ER and 3 days hooked up to an EKG because I thought I did have a heart attack. So now I am chasing my dream. Don't wait until you almost die before you chase yours.

If your life has become your job and your job has become your life, this too is not my fault. Don't complain that you work too long. That's your decision. Not mine. If you get paid $100,000 a year and work 80 hours a week, guess what? You no longer make $100,000 a year. And, you have no time to spend that $50k you're actually taking home.

If you're feeling insecure about yourself/your accomplishments/your salary/your relationship, do NOT be an asshole to your friends, or ME. It's NOT their/MY fault. Don't try to "outdo" their accomplishments. Don't discuss your salary. Please. They don't fucking care how much you should/could be making. They like you for you, not your curriculum vitae.

Don't blow off your friends and use lame excuses. They do have thresholds as to what will be tolerated. And you won't find out what they are until it's too late.

Don't be high fucking maintenance.

Don't lie. Don't cheat. Don't steal. Don't be annoying.

Don't talk about work incessantly. Nobody is interested in hearing about your asshole boss all the time. We've all had/currently have one (except Robyn. ;)
and don't need to be remined constantly. Venting is one thing. Harping on it for years in an entirely different thing.

If you've been saying for years that you were going to do something BIG, stop talking about it and do it. Talk is cheap. And tiresome after a while.

That's it. Carry on.

The Disaster Strikes Again
I'm not allowed to touch my new telescope when it comes on Friday. Yes Friday. Vanns.com rules! (Unless of course, I get another broken scope, in which case, they suck.) It actually wasn't my fault about the first one - it really was defective. The scope was actually broken when it came, according to Meade, once Deb described the problem (broken mechanical stop). So, Vanns is sending me a brand new one that should be here in 3 days! Deb is going to set it up, calibrate it, and let me look through it once in a while. Disasters with Fred Flintstone fingers are not allowed to set up expensive toys anymore.
I just spoke to my buddy Jack on the phone about this -- he's the only other person who gets fucked (screwed over) as much as I do. It;s usually worse when we're together. Like the time we both ate the only 2 bad oysters in Wellfleet, and were sick for 3 days. So, I knew I could expect sympathy from him. And I was right. When he bought his Celestron a few years ago, it arrived broken, too. Except he didn't send it back for fear that he'd get fucked even more. And believe me, he would. Hopefully, I won't. Chances are, though ... I will.

The $@%!*&# telescope came and the ^#*!(#* telescope is defective. So now the *&!^@$# telescope is going back to Vanns.com.
Piece of shit. After waiting 2 weeks. They better be sending me a new one over night, or my foot will be strategically lodged up their collective asses.

Evil Forces 1, Laura 0

I also took my exam this morning in what was SUPPOSED to be a quiet environment. Ha. I showed up at 11:00 at the university's Learning Center to take the exam, and Larry The Proctor immediately set me up in a cube. I felt ready, but I had some initial concerns about the distractibility, as Larry The Proctor was also Larry The Tutor and was conducting a tutoring session going in the same room. Why they scheduled tutoring for when they scheduled people to take an exam, is beyond my comprehension. I was thinking (hoping and praying), that maybe they'd be quiet and I'd be alright...

Evil Forces 2, Laura 0

Shortly after I began the exam, my classmate with the long string of emotional problems came in and she was very upset. And Very Fucking Loud. For the next hour she proceeded to cry and loudly discuss her "nightmare" about everyone dying and how her cat jumped on her alarm clock and reset it and how she was too emotionally distraught to take the exam. Of course. I was trying to be sympathetic, as I understand her issues, however, the environment was not exactly conducive to test-taking for anyone, let alone someone with ADD.

I managed to finish the exam, and I think I did alright, but now that I've had a few hours to decompress, I find that I am extremely annoyed and pissed off. What I was promised would be a quiet atmosphere was the exact opposite. This shit is hard enough to learn, and to compress it into a 5-week class. Fine. I took on that challenge. But I did not sign on to deal with someone else's crap. I don't blame the girl in my class -- it wasn't exactly her fault -- she can't help herself -- I blame Larry The Dickhead Proctor for not doing anything about it. And the woman who heads up the learning center just got a not-so-nice email from me.

So, now I have a raging migraine, am tired, cranky, pissy, and bummed about my scope, and have a long-ass lab to get through tonight.

Evil Forces 3, Laura 0

It's About Damn Time
I think my telescope has finally arrived. After spending 2 days in Hartford, UPS decided to let it sit for another 2 days in Stratford. Why? Who knows. I would not have had the time or the opportunity to use it anyway this past weekend. Too many clouds and setting it up would have been a big distraction from studying. So, I'll "let" Deb do it tonight while I am in class.

She's been secretly plotting to take over the scope since I ordered it. True, she's been an astronomy afficionado longer than I have. But she's not one for spending her $$. So, she lies in wait for me to purchase something she may find amusing/entertaining/useful, and then claims I can't work it properly, so she must "show" me. However, her toys I can't touch. Not without supervision. Take, for example, any power tool in the house. If it has a potentially fatal electrical current running through it, I can't touch it. And the Weber grill (explosive propane). Unless we're about to die of starvation, I am not allowed to cook on it. And the new ladder. (My falling from the very top rung is an absolute certainty.)

IN the past, Deb's idea of toys were vastly different than mine. She likes tools, I like gadgets. She likes computers, I like reading my email. She likes PS2, I would prefer to read. The telescope, like the motorcycle, may be bridging the gap. It's kind of nice to be able to share a hobby. It wasn't fun when we were polar opposite on one of my former pasttimes: jetskiing. I will admit that that was truly the one toy I had that she actually loathed.. couldn't wait for me to get rid of (after 10 years). Damn thing was always breaking down. But it was a lot of fun!

So, I'll let her set up the scope. I can't be bothered with reading instructions anyway.

My day in the Neonatal ICU
So, Laura, where the hell have you been?! Well, I have been studying ALL weekend. Barely time to check in on my blog, email, etc. In case I haven't bitched enough about it, my exam is Tuesday morning. Learning 4 chapters in a weekend is ... interesting. Tiring. But my pre-med education this weekend hasn't been just reading chemistry notes and solving problem sets...
I spent yesterday morning in the neonatal/newborn ICU of a local hospital going on rounds with a neonatalist. It was one of the most intense experiences of my life.
The neonatal ICU is for babies born prematurely, many due to high-risk pregnancies. When I first arrived, the doctor and I chatted for a few minutes. We discussed my goals as a physician, what I've done so far, and where I was looking to go to med school. He told me about his son, who is a little bit younger than me and just quit working to enter Columbia University's post-bacc pre-med program. So, he was really familiar with my long-term goals. He then explained what happens in the neonatal ICU, and what I was about to see. Then he took me on his rounds. Honestly, I knew I was going to see sick babies, but I never imagined how tiny they would be. Sure, I’ve seen pictures, but seeing them in real life, inches away…
We went from baby to baby checking everything: all the vitals, how they are healing from their surgery (a high number of premies are born with hernias, and have surgery very shortly after birth to repair it), their O₂ levels, if they need a diaper change, etc. The first baby I saw was the sickest. And he literally took my breath away: he was just under 2 pounds. He had the tiniest tubes in his nose feeding him O₂. Leads from a heart monitor were taped to his little chest, and he was wearing a tiny, tiny little diaper, which was still baggy on him. The most striking thing: his hands. His entire hand was no bigger than my thumbnail, his fingers barely distinguishable.
He was born at 25 weeks -- that's about 11 weeks too early -- and he is probably going to be there a few months. But he was doing great! He was born on Friday night -- when I saw him he was about 12 hours old. There were about 11 babies total in the ICU, some sicker than others. As we went to each and every one of them, the doctor explained everything to me: what was wrong with the baby, how premature he/she was, and the course of medical treatment they were giving. We then met with the residents and PA. I sat in on their discussion for the day's plan, mesmerized by how much they new: They talked a lot of numbers, mostly about meds, how they reacted with other meds, what might have caused a certain baby to lose 25 grams overnight, how to correct it. Once the day’s plan was set, we finished his rounds. And no sooner did he finish, he was paged to the newborn nursery where there was a baby just born. The mother wasn't sure how long she was pregnant, and he was tiny and needed to be evaluated. Seeing newborn infants, and I mean minutes old, was mind-boggling. I've never had a child, so I have never been exposed to a baby younger than a few days old. And never a premature one. This baby was fine. Very, very cute. And very healthy. Just little.
The docs, residents, PAs and nurses were the absolute most amazing people. They explained *everything* to me.
Does this experience make me want to focus on neonatalogy? I don't think so, but I can’t say for sure. My fear with specialties such as this is that I think it can be unbearably heartbreaking.
Not all of those babies in the ICU will make it. Yet some of them defy the most astounding odds.
The day definitely gave me renewed vigor to come home and crack the books. If doing this will get me there, then it’s worth the pain and suffering of five weeks of hell. Besides, compared to a 1lb, 10 oz. premature baby, I don’t know what suffering is.

You would think that Hartford was this chic, crowed, booming metropolis. The kind of city that sucks you in and never lets you out. Like NYC. For some unknown reason those UPS bastards have had my telescope there since yesterday. What, they can't find I-91 South? Jesus, there are 5 buildings and 2 highways in our state's boring-ass capitol. How hard could it be? GET ON THE GODDAMN ROAD AND BRING ME MY SCOPE!
According to the UPS site, there was an arrival scan at 2:22pm yesterday. Tonight at 8:47pm, there was a location scan. Location scan? You're still in Hartford, jackass! I could have driven there this morning, picked it up, brought it home, drank a pot of coffee and still made it to work by 9. What the hell are they doing?
Fucktards.

Have one! On me! really! Tonight, I'm going home, having one of these, also, going to the book sale, and chilling.
And then maybe some studying.
Of course, my first night with my telescope and New Fucking England has 100% cloud cover. Bastards.

Cheers!

OK, as I was in the bathroom a few minutes ago, I walked into a stall and noticed purple, red and blue glitter on the toilet seat.

Um.. am I in the dark about something here? Please, someone enlighten me. Call me naive, but why the hell would anyone put glitter there? (No, not on the toilet itself, but on the body part from whence it fell onto the toilet.)

I've recently been educated to the fact that some of my friends (who shall remain nameless... for now) prefer to have "hardwood floors." That was a new concept to me. I've also heard of people getting off on shaving other people. OK, fine. Piercings, tattoos, yes, yes I'm down with that. (Jack, I'm trying to find a way to work in the phrase camel toe..)

But glitter? On your camel toe? (there, did it) Really?
Well, ok, but it makes me wonder: Didn't this woman shower before work? I mean, I can't imagine she'd dash a little on like it's talc before trotting out the door. Unless... she was planning some sparkly tryst here in the office.

See, these are things I don't need to be concerned with at work. I have important articles to write and edit, damn it.

... so, glitter, huh?

Hmm ... shiny ...

Geekend
This is going to be a good weekend. I can feel it. Sure, I've got to spend the majority of it studying for next week's exam, but ... I've been anal-retentively tracking my new Meade ETX EC90 telescope and Autostar Contoller with 30,000 object database on the UPS Web site, and they are due to arrive today. It's also the Pequot Library (in Southport, CT) annual book sale! woohoo! Thousands of books for sale for pennies!!! I usually bring home at least 15 new books. Um, on my first visit. I generally make several visits.
I was thinking about all this this morning, and it suddenly dawned on me "God damn it, woman, are you aware of how much of a geek you have become? Talk about the ultimate geekfest: studying chem, astronomy and books?" And then I got really excited ... and completely depressed. I Am A Geek.

So, to remind myself (I'm doing a lot of reminding myself this week) that I am still the epitome of coolness (shut up, Robyn. Just wait until you see your cube when you return... he he) I rode my motorcycle to work. It was a beautiful ride today. I rode all along the beach and didn't hit an ounce of traffic. (Evil Forces 0, Laura 1) Except now I have to wear a hat because I have the worst helmet hair imaginable. (Evil forces 1, Laura 1) I'd shave my head, but I think Jodi would send the fashionista police after me. Wait until she finds out I don't even wear lipstick...

So, I'm going to work for a bit and then head home to my own personal geekfest. I may even go crazy and get a pocket protector. (Hey Jodi, do they have those in animal print or serenade? ;)

It's been confirmed. All Chemistry professors are assholes. I'm doing OK so far - about a B/B+ average (not acceptable, but OK for NOW), with the first exam coming up this Tuesday. I still don't like the guy so much.
Sure, he's "nice" and all, but he's one of those "weed-out" types who likes to give impossible quizzes and piss everyone off. Like tonight in lab. We had a quiz on material we barely covered, and stuff NOT in the lab. Lab quizzes are supposed to be on the lab we're doing that day. Even last night he said "study X,Yand Z for the quiz tomorrow." We all do. And he quizzes us on some other crap we learned Monday night (in lecture) but haven't had time to review because we all WORK FULL TIME AND GO TO CLASS 4 HOURS A FUCKING NIGHT, GOD DAMN IT.
Yes, I passed it. But not as well as I could have done on it. Yeah, it's only worth 1.6% of my total lab grade which is only for 1 credit. Yes, I know my panties are all in a bunch. Why? WHY? Because I don't buy this weed-out mentality. It only serves to prove that professors can be dickheads and can accidentally weed out very good students who can probably think circles around them. And ... OK, I'll say it.. I'm a fucking perfectionist and hate it when someone tries to insult my intelligence. DON'T. DO. THAT.
There. I said it. I completely ranted in the most narcissistic way. Too fucking bad. I will not be psyched out by any weed-out, pop-quiz-giving, ass-munching, breathing my 02, pain in my hole.

Honestly.

OK, rant over. Sorry about that. Tonight I just needed to remind myself that I am not a fucking idiot. It won't happen again.

I'm Screwed..
Scalpels. Forceps. Clamps. Needles. Probes. Stethoscopes. Percussion hammers. Speculums. Knives. All stainless steel. All ... shiny. I am sooooo fucked.

My New Friend
Remember the "idiot" in my chem class I was complaining about last week? I'm not disliking her so much today.
I figured that, if I was going to survive this class, I needed to find a way to find her amusing so I wouldn't kill her. I must have subconsciously rewired some neurons to do just that. Today, this woman had me laughing so hard, I felt like I was back in 5th grade and couldn't stop giggling in class for a good 20 minutes. My sister and I call that "church laugh." The kind of laughter that should be subdued or nonexistant because you are in an environment (class, a church, a library, etc.) where quiet is an absolute must. It happens when something strikes you as funny, and you're not in a position to laugh out loud, and while trying to stifle this laughter, it only gets worse and worse until you are about to explode. (I can't even tell you how many times I had detention in grade school because of this. At least once a week...) In my opinion, it's the best kind of laughter -- especially when it's shared between you and another person, and you can't even bare to look at the other person because the sight of them turning red and shaking sends warms tears rolling down your cheek and your body is nearly convulsing from trying to hold back a laugh ... That's what happened to me today. God, I love that.
So, what was so funny? Well, during the beginning of class on Monday, it was revealed to me that this woman has bipolar disorder, ADD/ADHD, anxiety disorder, and a few other diagnoses that I can no longer remember. Upon hearing this, her behavior suddenly made sense to me. It was still irritating and disruptive, but I was more compassionate. (Yeah, I'm working on that. I hear MD's are supposed to be compassionate.)
Today, the professor was discussing the use of Copper 64 in curing Wilson's* disease. He asked if any of us knew what it was. No one answered. He repeated the question and stated "I'm serious, I don't know what it is. Does anyone have any idea what it is?"
My friend glanced up from her notebook, flipped her long red hippie-like hair and announced in the most matter-of-fact voice "Who the fuck knows, but I probably have it."
I just burst out laughing, as did the "select" few others that share in the knowledge of her condition. I'm still giggling about it ...
We chatted a bit after class, she and I. Tension broken. She asked me what my diagnosis was (after hearing the professor give me instructions on where to go to take next week's exam) and I told her. She then told me that someday, when her kids are in college, she wants to go to med school to be a clinical psychiatrist.
Why not.

* A rare autosomal recessive inherited disorder of copper metabolism.

Special Ed, Part 2
I hate having to do this, but I just made special arrangements to be allowed more time during exams. I had my quiz on Monday and didn't come close to finishing it. So, I spoke to my professor. He advised me that, because of my diagnosis, I am supposed to be taking my exams and quizes at a separate time, and allowed a bit more time. Some ADD/ADHD students in the class have already made these arrangements. I knew this, but have not had to request it in the past. However, I have just realized that a concentrated course in which I must choke down 2 entire chapters and 2 labs per week is too much for someone who gets mesmerized by shiny objects. And works full time, too.
So, my shrink filed the paperwork yesterday.
Let me just share with you how the conversation went:
I asked the good doctor to write a letter on my behalf for special arrangements (which is required by the university). When I explained why I needed it, the response, from my psychiatrist mind you, was "A 5-week intensive chemistry class? Are you crazy?!"
Sigh. Isn't that what I am paying him to find out??
"That's a lot of work! You're going to be very, very busy! And very stressed!"
Yes, I already am knee-deep in chem shit. I realized that. And my blood pressure hasn't seen 120/80 in about 6 days.
"You absolutely must take more time to take your exams."
Then I called the woman who heads up the university's learning center and deals with students with disabilities. I explained my situation to her about the ADHD, and she calmly told me that she makes accommodations for ADHD students all the time and its nothing to be ashamed about. (I am, of course, completely freaked out by having to actually take advantage of the arrangements. Or maybe it's just really hitting me that this fucking thing affects my thought processing. And that scares me.) She then proceeds to tell me "I've had students stare at a pencil they just dropped on the floor for 10 minutes during an exam."
Great. I have shiny pencils.

Other Side of the Coin
After reading an article sent to me, I found the following link to a letter to President Bush outlining why we shouldn't have a national ID. This info also makes a lot of sense. Perhaps just the states' DMV need complete overhauls. It's too easy to defraud them. People are blatant about how they have abused DMV - inlcuding obtaining false ID's by bringing someone else's info with them to a DMV office. I also know of illegal aliens in this country who were given a temporary driver's license upon arrival here, and then were able to renew it for a 4-year license. And continue to renew it because DMV was not, until recently, asking for SS#'s as a required form of ID.
Apparently, standard ID's are issued in europe. I wonder if Europeans are as concerned about invasions of privacy... I must investigate this.

19 Hours
Yes, that is how long I spent studying chemistry this past weekend. I have a quiz/test tonight. Do I feel prepared? Of course not. I never do. I can do 600 problems, and 12 hours later forget how to do them. Yes, it's psychological. Yes, I know, I place too much stress on myself.
I had dinner last night with my dad and he reminded me that chemistry and organic chemistry are the weed out courses. Thanks, dad. Really. I was petrified of physics, and got an A in that, so I am certain I can do fairly well in chem II.
Nevertheless, right now I am certain I am doomed to fail...

Girls Night Out
Chrissy, this one's for you ...
I tore myself away from the drudgery of chemistry last evening to go watch some movies with the girls. We rented Life as a House and Vagina Monologues. I picked the first, not realizing it was a tear-jerker. Oops. I liked it, although they really pulled at the heart strings too much in the end. And it got a little hokey, too. Overall it was pretty good. But I don't think I'm allowed to pick out films again. (I really wanted to get Amélie, but there was a strong opinion against subtitled films.) Ahem.

The Vagina Monologues was great. We were laughing hysterically at the names women have used to refer to their vaginas. The one that stands out (and Chrissy's personal fav) was coochie snorcher. Deb and I always have cracked up during that one line in the film from Boys on the Side when the character Robin (Mary Louise Parker) referred to hers as a hoo hoo.
So, I've had a thought -- tell me what's your favorite word/pet name for your ... coochie snorcher. Oh hell, don't stop there. If you've got a fav nickname for the ladies (those would be breasts) please feel free to share. My favorite will be justly rewarded... he he. (No, I won't post pics.. come on. This is a family site, godammit.)

Time for a System Overhaul
Nice system we have. So effective. The only reason this guy probably won't go free again is because of the publicity.

(Riverside-AP) -- The man arrested today in the investigation of the kidnap-murder of a five-year-old girl, was accused two years ago with molesting two girls under the age of 14. Alejandro Avila was found innocent by Riverside County jury. Deputy District Attorney Paul Dickerson says of the case two years ago: "I felt the guy was guilty and did everything I could to try and get him convicted."
The body of Samantha Runnion, who was kidnapped in Orange County Monday evening, was found in neighboring Riverside County on Tuesday. Concerning today's arrest, the Riverside County prosecutor in the molestation trial of Avila two years ago says: "I feel horrible. You can't imagine how bad I feel about this ... I'm going to live with this for the
rest my life."

I'm thinking it's seriously time for a national ID card with your DNA encoded into it. Or maybe just the DNA portion for criminals with history of felonies. If you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to fear. Kill a kid and leave a chromosome behind? You're fucked. End of story. I'm sorry but if you've had multiple offenses with molesting children, you should not have the same rights afforded to those of us who live our lives trying to do no harm.
Bushy is talking about national (standard) driver's licenses. Makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, if you can drive in CT you can drive in NY, NJ, or California as well. If currency is standard from state to state, why not licenses? Sure, leave special in-state restrictions as necessary (such as age, type of license, etc.). You can even add the name of the state as a state ID (for example, for voting ID) Just make them uniform in appearance.
What do you think?

When the Going Gets Tough ...
... The tough buy themselves new toys. I'm not going to bitch and moan about my morning commute today. Suffice it to say, I am working from home and the annoying bastards clogging the highway can go to hell. I got myself so worked up while trying to get to my office that I felt my BP rise about 20 points.
I've also been stressed about school, and my latest attempts to keep my stress level in check have been futile. I knew this was going to be a rough week, but I guess I wasn't as mentally prepared as I thought I was. I used to always wonder what athletes meant when they talked about mental toughness. I used to go into a game with confidence, and never really worried about being psyched out. Not on a playing field. I was either good at what I was playing and knew that or a complete novice and knew that, too. Either way I knew the range of my abilities and tried to not overestimate or underestimate them - especially since I played sports for 12 years with a really bad knee. I just did the best I could. Now, however, when it comes to academics, I can relate.
Mental preparation (including confidence and calmness) is 90% of the battle.
Today, I would have been slaughtered on the field. So instead of my usual ranting, I made myself happy by purchasing a new toy. A new telescope. It should be here next week. I won't have too much time to really use it in the next few weeks, but once this class is out, I plan on spending many nights under the stars chilling out.

The Nurse Is In
Wow - for some great info on mental health, check out Tracy's blog this week. (Here, too.)

Go. Now.

LA Cousteau
Doesn't this just bring a tear to your eye?
There once was a time when I wanted to be a marine biologist. I actually have a minor in marine biology. Really. All I needed for a major was chemistry and physics. Guess that means I'll unofficially have a marine bio degree by the end of this summer. Or at least have the proper number of courses and credits to have completed it. I suppose if this med school thing doesn't work out I could always go live down in the Caribbean, drink margaritas, scuba dive and teach people about dolphins. It'd probably be a hell of a lot cheaper than med school, now that I think about it.

Hmm.

Anyone want to come?

And Today's Fucktard Award Goes To ...
Yours truly. Never, ever pack your lunch when you are in a rush. (shut up) This morning I got up a bit early so I could get in an hour's worth of studying before I took Cody to the vet. At 8.30 (her appt. was at 9) I realized I needed to get my ass moving. So, I showered and dressed as quickly as I can. At 8.54 I grabbed the sandwich my wife had made me and opened the frig to grab a diet Coke to throw into my lunch bag. Well ... wouldn't you know it. I wasn't looking at what I grabbed. I saw a silver can, snatched it and tossed it into the bag and ran out the door with dog in tow.
4 Hours Later ...
Robyn's in my office and we're having our daily bitch and moan session. A bit thirsty after my morning tirade, I opened the lunch bag and to reach for my diet Coke and pulled out ... a Bud Light. I looked at the beer, looked at Robyn -- who of course misses NOTHING -- she looks at me with that "I knew you were up to something look" and says "A beer?"
"Uh, um. I saw a silver can and grabbed it. Thought it was a diet coke."
"Uh. Huh."
Of course, now she probably thinks I am a lush. So, I'd like to set the record straight. I do not drink at work. However, I'm not as disturbed by the fact that my colleague may think I am imbibing on the job, but more so that she thinks I actually drink beer from a can.
Yes, I am a beer snob. If it isn't Corona or Dos Equis, it's Belgian beer. Certainly not domestic beer. Pah. Banish the thought from your minds.

So ... that domestic light beer came from someone. And I think I know who ... Ahem. ;)

There's no doubt in my mind that by the end of this week I will be speaking to the professor about this woman in my class. There is no way I can continue to be in the same room as her unless he does something about her behavior. I can't believe the shit he allows her to get away with. I know I'm being a bit anal, but talking on a cell phone is too much. To be more precise, sitting on my desk, swinging your legs while chatting with friends ON THE PHONE DURING A LAB, and making paper boats for the professor instead of actually doing the experiment is too much, not to mention a teensy weensy bit disruptive to those of us who had to pay $1300 to learn this shit for the MCATs.
I feel like I am in some crappy inner city high school and not a university. What's ironic is that the actual facilities (lab, equip., etc.) are 100 times better than at School A. Although, a new wing and lab facilities in the science building are presently under construction there ... Unfortunately, I don't have much of a choice as to where I can take classes in the Fall. (I'm stuck at this place until next summer).

.. if only I took this much interest in my school and studies when I was 18 ...

Special Ed
It’s official. I have sunk to a new educational low. I’ll be taking the little yellow schoolbus to class with my Scooby Doo lunch box. OK, I know, it’s not PC to bust on the mentally handicapped (especially since I am sure there’s a very special category in there for me). However, the difference in students at the university at which I am currently taking classes is vastly different (I'm holding back from calling them retards) from the one at which I am officially a post-bacc pre-med student. Vastly. So, call me an educational snob. At School A, where I usually attend classes, the students act with maturity and composure. And they're, for all intents and purposes, smart. Even most of the profs do their research down the road at Yale.
Apparently, at this institution (I'll call it School B), it’s perfectly OK to yell out random thoughts as the mood stikes you. And address profs by first names. Or make fun of their accent. Or mock them. For example, the fine young woman (ha) sitting adjacent to me, who, to the best of my knowledge was not suffering from Tourette’s, would periodically make an "announcement." For example, 20 minutes into the class, she announced “Hey Doc! I gotta pee!” and got up to relieve herself. (Thankfully, she did manage to find her way to the ladies room and refrained from squatting in the corner.) Or, giving a clear indication of her mathematical prowess, she bellowed “Hey Doc! I have a headache from all this math (simple algebra) can we take a break?” He obliged. Twice, even. Or, “Hey everyone [holding up the text book], the answer (to the prof’s question) is right here in the book! Really! Look!” Or, my personal favorite, “Hey Doc, do we get an extra credit point for answering questions correctly? Cuz I’m keeping track in the back of my notebook, OK?”
Good god.
The big clue that I was in for a fun 5 weeks was when my classmate with the apparent lack of gray matter and malformed cranium asked me what page we were on -- she was rapidly flipping through the text, trying to find the same page I was on by looking at the pictures. I quickly pointed to the upper left corner in her textbook where one could locate the page number.
Sigh.
She replied with “Thanks! Say, ma’am, what’s your major?”
Ma’am? My facial twitches must have indicated she was about to have a near death experience by the look in her eyes (which, by the way, clearly indicated not much was happening on the other side of her gelatinous orbits).
Between gritted teeth I mumbled, “I already have my degree.”
“Oh, cool! That’s so cool!”
Really. I’m cool. News to me. I had no idea I’m cool because I have my degree. For some reason, I thought that the point of taking a class such as this was either to obtain a degree or fulfill a requirement for another one. I mean, who the fuck takes chemistry during the summer for fun? I know you’re dying to know but, no, I didn’t have the courage or the stomach to ask why she was taking the class. If she said she was pre-med, I would have shoved my hand into my own head and ripped my brain out and tossed it into the trash.

Tonight we have lab. I’m willing to bet we don’t use flammables.

Still Here ...
In case you misunderstood my babbling below, I will be writing on my blog over the next 5 weeks. (This girl's gotta bitch and moan daily, you know.) It just might not be the most coherent prose you've ever read. But, indeed, I'm sure I will have plenty to complain write about.

2.5 hours to go... and me without a margarita on the rocks, with salt.

My new best friend of the month: Jodi. Visit her site. Now. While I am slaving over a bunsen burner, her buttery, bite-sized bits of tender bitchiness are just the thing to tide you over until I regain conciousness.

Party's Over, Folks. Everyone Get the Hell Out
Goddammit. My summer vacation is officially over. I start school tomorrow at 5.30p.m. Sons o' bitches. What now? Chemistry. 5 weeks of this crap. This means that no one is allowed to annoy me for the next month. The following scenario is NOT allowed to happen:
[phone rings]
Me: "What."
You: [annoyingly overexhuberant] "Hi!"
Me: "What."
You: "What are you doing this weekend?"
Me: [shoving fists of death through phone receiver to choke the life out of you]
You: "Ouch. You're hurting me. How is school going? Are you almost done? When will you be finished?"
Me: "!^%@&#&%^$**@#(. @Q!@(**#*!!$^@*&
You: "Really? That long, huh. Ok, I'll call you next weekend."

I have nerve bitching like this, don't I? I do realize that it is my life goal to go to med school. I do realize that I should suck it up and shut up. I do realize that I will be doing this for the next 11+ years of my life. (Excuse me for a second while I go bang my head on a cement wall). I do realize that I am bitch from the 7th ring of hell when I am in school. I do realize that the majority of my friends and family have been more than supportive and understanding. Tough shit. I'm still a cranky bitch and you'll all continue to love me and adore me and worship me. Just not for the next 5 weeks.

Yeah, I'm cranky tonight. Don't start with me. Just suck it up, buttercup. I'm taking my cranky ass to bed now. Damn you.

[RG: really, I will be fine tomorrow am. Honestly. Just keep that snorting, yogurt cup-scraping, apple-munching, germ-carrying sonofabitch away from me and nobody gets hurt.]

Thank you!
Eystone had a GREAT fuckin' show at the Acoustic Cafe tonight! We had a huge turnout - sold out!! The house was packed to capacity. I'd like to thank everyone who came out to support my baby sistah and the band - you guys rock!!:
Robyn, Mare, Chiz, Becky, Mary, Kim, Nancy, Chrissy, Davina, Carol (Mom!) Casey, Becki (with an eye), Kathy, Mom, Dad, Pat, Nana, Joe, Chris (you guys were awesome!), Heather, Rob, Iann, Laurie, Kevin, Amy, Dawn, Laura, Nancy Miele - you're the best baby!, Frank, Steve, Pauly Donuts and everyone else (If I missed you, I'm sorry!!!) Special thanks to Robyn who played the role of assistant kitchen bitch and photographer. And to everyone who brought a dish or drinks or whatever -- thanks!!
The pics will be up on Monday or Tuesday - stay tuned!

Oh yeah.. hey Dorothy.. Bitch, what's with the fainting thang? Do I make you that nervous? I missed my new best friend tonight - there were all these semi-nude hunky men running around, too. Right everyone? RIGHT!? (wink wink, nudge nudge.) Damn, girl...

A Few Final Housekeeping Details:
The Potato Salad: (at least 10 of you asked me about it): Reser's Class Potato Salad from Costco. (5 lb. bucket) I don't know what they put in the stuff, but it was f'n good...

Karen's CD's:
As soon as the new one is available (Up for Air), I can get you one - just let me know (if you haven't already). You can listen to 3 songs from the upcoming CD here. If you want a copy of the 180° CD, email me and I'll get you a copy ASAP.

Duh.
Sometimes I wonder how I made it through life without really damaging myself. For the big soiree tomorrow (something like 35+ peeps coming over for the pre-gig... uh, soiree - didn't I just say that. Jesus, were you not listening?) Deb and I have been cleaning and painting like fiends. While she did some touch up to the hallway, I had bathroom duty. DUTY. As in chores. Come on.
I was diligently working on cleaning the soap scum residue from the tub, so I went a little heavy on the Comet. Sprayed down the whole tub with a think layer of white stuff. Let it sit for a while to soak in. Then I got in the shower (this is where the duh comes in) to rinse it out.
Somehow... unbeknownst to me and my malfunctioning pain receptors, I had a small cut on the bottom of my foot. Three minutes into the rinsing ritual, my foot started burning like a motherf*cker. And now I have a big ol' raised red bump on my big ol' Fred Flintstone toe. Probably some kind of blood poisoning. I'm sure my foot will have disintegrated right off my leg by morning.
This is what I get for poking fun of people wanting to drink coffee pot cleaners. If I had used all natural, non-toxic bath tub cleaner, my big toe wouldn't be so abnormally fucking big right now. I suppose I could tell everyone it's the latest fetish sex toy.
"Hey, lady, wanna see my BIG toe? He he he."

Oooookay. Waaay too much caffeine tonight.

Think the Garden Crapping Feline From Hell would like to visit Maryland?

My next diet.
--Source: Stubbs

Chlorinating the Gene Pool
OK, what the hell is the deal with guys who pontificate on the possibility of imbibing potentially poisonous substances? I was just in the company kitchen, minding my own business, eating my chicken cutlet when one of our sales guys leans over to a buddy of his while cleaning his coffee mug with coffee pot cleaner and states, "This shit is supposedly all natural. Cool, I bet you could drink this stuff."
Excuse me, but why the fuck would you even ponder sucking down a serving of coffee stain remover? What neuron went astray and evoked such highly intellectual thinking?
I wanted to tell him to just take a swig and see what happens. It would be quite entertaining watching him spontaneously drop to all fours and begin wriggling on the floor, convulsing and spitting up blue foam, wouldn't it?
OK, maybe not.

For the 3rd time this week I have looked out the window, either of my office or car, and saw someone that made me think "Oooh. A baby lesbian!" And sure enough.. it's a 13 yr. old boy. Jesus ...

This is what I meant when I said that Pledge of Allegiance asshole just wanted his 15 minutes of f'n fame:

SAN FRANCISCO, California (AP) -- The 8-year-old girl whose father successfully sued to have the Pledge of Allegiance declared unconstitutional has no problem with reciting the pledge at school, her mother said Thursday. "I was concerned that the American public would be led to believe that my daughter is an atheist or that she has been harmed by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, including the words 'one nation under God,"' Sandra Banning said in a statement. "We are practicing Christians and are active in our church."

According to the Asshole: "I have a right to send my child to a public school without the government inculcating any religious beliefs." The fucktard also said that "taking an 8-year-old to church doesn't mean the girl is choosing to be religious -- and at any rate, it doesn't matter what the child believes. The main thrust of this case is not my daughter, it's me."

Just back from a lovely anniversary dinner. Italian, of course, because I'm a big gavone. Mulino's in Fairfield. It's the same place (albeit a different restaurant now) that we went to on our first date. It used to be Larry's Diner - a retro kind of place with an old diner car which is now an extension of the main dining room. Now it's an upscale Italian ristorante. Three words: Excellent. Excellent. Excellent. Everything was amazing, especially the imported parmesan cheese. And the merlot. And the fettucini with shrimp and scallops in a lobster sauce. I almost went for the ostrich, but feathers tend to tickle my throat and take away from the oaky taste of the wine. I am too tired and fuzzy-headed to recall everything I ate - but I highly recommend the place. Besides, I'm a lousy critic - I love food -- all kinds -- so everything, IMO, is good. (Except, of course, fast food, which is crap.) The staff could not have been more attentive and professional. Makes for a nice romantic evening. Especially when one comes home, undresses ... and begins sanding the spackle mess made the night before so one can continue painting new doors and trim.
Ahhh romance.

Fucktard
I like how that sounds. Fucktard. Fucktard Fucktard Fucktard.

Guess who's a Fucktard today? Come on ... guess!

I might run outside and mutliate the jackass who has been blowing leaves with the loudest goddamn blower imaginable right below my window for 45 minutes. What leaves? You f'n tell me. I said he was a jackass.

Why Having ADD Is Fun
Ran out of wonderful little purple pills 2 days ago. Wife immediately slapped empty container on sink to *remind* me that I was out. Told me to Find New Prescription. Couldn't. She found it. Made me go to pharmacy to fill it. I did. And promptly forgot to pick up new meds yesterday and this morning.
And so the viscious cycle begins: I forget to take my pills that are supposed to help me remember to take them.
And then the hyperactivity, also known as obnoxious shenanigans, kicks in. While undressing for the shower this morning, I noticed that Cody's snake (3-foot long furry dog toy) was on the bathroom floor. So was Elmo (the wife's cat). Light bulb over brain lights up. I quickly tied the snake around Elmo's body (bitch to ASPCA here) and whistled for Cody.
"Cody, get the snake! Get the snake!" Whee!
Hillarity ensued.
Elmo and Wife not amused.
I'll be picking up the pills after work.

The radio show I was listening to this morning was discussing Anna Nicole Smith's new reality TV show - she wants to be like Ozzy and have her life filmed for the voyeurs of society. Can I have a show of hands from those of you who are actually interested in that? I'd like to know where to begin when I start analyzing DNA for the missing brain gene.

Migraines suck.

energy is draining ... head is bobbing... need chocolate ... must .... get .... chocolate...now ... must crawl to CVS for choc-askdjx ruhjgcjkvncri s;iokj;/,kzxmccopkv ocv............................................................................

Vini Vidi Felis Vici
The @$!%^*! cat crapped in the garden again. Such temerity. As if to mock my "feeble attempts" to deter his defacing of my property, last night the rogue threw down the gauntlet on top of the new rocks lining my garden paths. A challenge! Ah, the game is afoot! I shall retaliate against my foe! I shall be feared! I shall be vindicated! Frailty, thy name is cat!

13 years. 4748 mornings I've woken up next to her, save the few when we were apart. 410,227,200 moments. A billion kisses. That's a lot of memories ... :)
Happy anniversary, my love.

Right now my neighbor, who has lived behind me for 2 years and has never uttered a "hello" or even an acknowledging grunt, is walking around her backyard meowing. Loudly. The thing is, she doesn't own a cat. At least as far as I can tell. So, if she's just pretending to be a cat, would it be wrong for me to go along with her charade and bean her in the back of her head with a boot?

Right now I've had it with all things feline. I threw in the towel this morning in my year-long crusade to prevent the neighborhood cats from crapping in my vegetable garden. It is designed as a Zen garden, with sand paths, raised beds and a shady dogwood tree. You know - a place of peace and tranquility and hairy green tomato worms. However, being so unbearably low on the food chain, cats are stupid creatures and have decided that sand=litter. So, even though I refuse to clean our own cat boxes (that's the wife's job), I've been sifting cat crap from around my hot cherry peppers all summer. Even putting up a wire mesh barrier along the fence didn't deter the little bastards. I even took to flinging feces back over to my crazy neighbor's house (different annoying neighbor) a few weeks ago -- rumor has it she has something like 20 cats. If she is so fond of them, then she wouldn't mind little petrified mementos of her brood, now, would she?
Today, after a startling realization that my neighbor was obviously feeding her cats at something altogether unnatural, I raised the white flag. At 7:30am, we promptly ventured to Home Depot to buy "decorative rocks" and filled the sand beds with them. I was voting for broken glass, but the thought of screaming kitties at 3:00am was enough to persuade me to go with the pebbles. So rocks it is. And I must say, it looks great.
As for my meowing neighbor behind me, I've got more than enough dog droppings to share. I'm thinking of spreading the love ...

My head is pounding. I spent most of the day doing the NYC loop: driving from CT to the Bronx to visit my pop in the VA hospital, where I picked up my grandmother to driver her back to Brooklyn. Then she made me leave right after lunch because she didn't want me driving home in the dark, in traffic. I didn't bother to argue that it was only 3:30, and July when it doesn't get dark for another 5 hours, and a Saturday. She's 100% feisty Italian and everything is YELLED. There is NO arguing with her.
"LAURA, EAT YOUR LUNCH!!! LAURA, WHERE'S DEBBIE?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S STUDYING?? WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH HER?? LAURA, STOP EATING!! YOU'RE GOING TO GET FAT!!"
Of course, that last comment was followed by "HERE TAKE ALL THESE MEATBALLS, MANICCOTI, CHICKEN CUTLETS AND SNICKERS ICE CREAM BARS HOME WITH YOU!!!"
"Nana, the ice cream will melt."
"NO IT WON'T! YOU HAVE AIR CONDITIONING!!!"
So, now I've got a throbber. Ow.

Juice with Jesus
Back from the holiday party - which was no longer the family gathering it used to be. It's become "Juice with Jesus." For those of you playing along at home, I'll fill you in. When I was a kid, suffering through the tortures and repression of Catholic school, I was forced to go to the "folk mass" every Sunday, where I would listen to the screeching sounds of my annoying classmate, Andrea, as she feebly played the guitar and sang hymns. Badly. Afterwards, they served juice and cookies. Hence, it was known as Juice with Jesus. It was shortly after my friend Missy got her driver's license that we started to go skip out on JWJ and head to breakfast at the local diner. Usually hungover from juice with vodka. Her parents eventually got wise and started asking her what the homily was about. Mine realized I was a lost cause. I gave up on Missy, Hi-C and Jesus around 1984. I still eat cookies.
Now, as revenge for marrying into a family of crazy, screaming Italians, Deb drags me to her family gatherings. Today was one of those days. Quick sidebar: Her family is Born Again. I am an atheist. And a lesbian. And a loudmouth. The one time I went to a service at the family's "church" we were served ... what else, juice and cookies. Of course. Apparently lacking in overly sweetened fruit juice, the lord and savior was forced to drink wine 2000 years ago. Poor guy. (I bet he would have walked on water for a bottle of Chateau Margaux.)
So today, unexpectedly, we show up at what we thought would be the 17th consecutive family gathering of the summer, and lo and behold, there were more of them than us. We were outnumbered. Do the math: 2 lesbians (1 atheist) vs. 2 ministers, 15 devout followers of JC, 7 kids, a handful of grandparents, 97 degree heat, NO alcohol. Hell, might as well thrown in a plague of locusts.
We managed to survive the 6 hour ordeal without one blessing, one round of hand-holding. Divine intervention? Perhaps. In need of a drink? Oh, most definitely. Now, where the hell is my corkscrew...

I just had to dump 2 trays of ice into my fish tank - you know it's hot when all four of my finned friends immediately gathered around the floating blocks. And my AC is on! Poor fish -- they were almost boiled.
Today we're off to yet another family function, then fireworks at the beach tonight with friends. (Hey, at least I'll be spending it with legal US citizens!! ;)
Now I'm off to water my lawn and rosebushes before they spontaneously combust.
HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!!!!

I Am NOT Putting That in My Mouth!!
Now that I have your attention ...

Cigarettes Hit $7 a Pack in NYC
NEW YORK (AP) - City smokers here began paying more than $7 a pack for many major cigarette brands Monday as New York began collecting a new tax expected to bring an additional $111 million over the next year.

"Smoke 'em up, Jonny!"*
HAHAHAHA. Good. They should make that a national price. I hate cigarettes. My mother smoked for years, and I had chronic friggin bronchitis as a child. Now I have asthma. My grandfather died of lung cancer that spread to the brain. So, yes, I'm bitter. (And YES, I knnow, I have been known to put one of those things in my mouth after waaaaayy too much to drink.) Smoking is uncool, uncouth, uncivilized and downright stupid. Yeah, I have a lot of friends who smoke. I wish they wouldn't as I'd like to have them around for a while. But if they choose to be stupid, then I plan on making a lot of money off them in 20 years when they are coughing up a lung. ;)
But seriously, smokers, if you KNOW it's bad for you, why do you continue to do it? Don't give me "It's a bad habit and I want to quit, really." Because if you wanted to quit, you would. There are patches, pills, gum, hypnosis, 12-step programs, you name it.
"It's not that easy, Laura!" Well, nothing is. But what about taking little bitty eensy weensy baby steps, like cutting back from 2 packs a day to 1.5 to1 to .5 to 0? What about getting a lung Xray to scare the shit out of you? What about the thought of dragging around an oxygen tank like a dog on a leash during your golden years? What about the fact that kissing smokers is like licking an ashtray?!?! (yes, my wife is an ex-smoker.) Your breath is TERRIBLE!! Your teeth are yellow, and you get wrinkles and lines around your mouth. Soooo not attractive.

Smoking Fact Sheet
Here are a few nuggets for you to chew on:

• Cigarettes contain at least 63 distinct cancer-causing chemicals. YUMMY!!
  
• Smoking is directly responsible for 87 percent of lung cancer cases and causes most cases of emphysema and chronic bronchitis. THANKS, EVERYONE!!! REALLY!! LOVE YA!!
  
• Secondhand smoke involuntarily inhaled by nonsmokers from other people's cigarettes is classified by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency as a known human (Group A) carcinogen, responsible for approximately 3,000 lung cancer deaths annually in U.S. nonsmokers. KEEP PUTTING ME AT RISK, PLEASE!!! I DO'T HAVE ENOUGHT TO WORRY ABOUT!!
  
• Approximately 22.3 million American women are smokers. Current female smokers aged 35 years or older are 12 times more likely to die prematurely from lung cancer than nonsmoking females. More American women die annually from lung cancer than any other type of cancer; for example, lung cancer will cause an estimated 67,600 female deaths in 2000, compared with 40,800 estimated female deaths caused by breast cancer.
  

So, what the hell are you waiting for???

The life you save could be your own.

* Bender, "The Breakfast Club"

I have a game in an hour, and it's so hot I want to bang my head against a cement wall. I've been hiding out in my air conditioned house all day, except for the 5 minute motorcycle ride I took to get lunch. Kind of nice - the breeze cools you off. But part of my ass melted to the bike seat when I first got on it. Not pleasant.

Just read that Rosemary Clooney died over the weekend. Sad. Our old roomate Scott used to force us to watch her in "White Christmas" pretty much every other weekend because Danny Kaye was so unbearably annoying in that film it was like a train wreck.

I saw her on TV recently and couldn't believe how HUGE she was and how little her head looked. Like someone stuck an olive on a basketball.

So, Phoebe's (the cat) new nickname is Rosemary Clooney Felini. She has a huge body, small head and an abnormally small nose. Her nose is like an afterthought. Like her DNA decided last second "Holy shit, we forgot the nose! Quick, use some brain cells and fill it in."

Well, off to finish washing my uniform -- it was still dirty from last week and I didn't think my teammates wanted to smell me festering in a dirty, sweaty t-shirt in the boiling summer sun. And I leave you with that pleasant thought.

Happy Sweating!