From VH1:
"Britney, Nelly, Missy Elliott Want You To Quit Stealing Music"
Britney Spears, Missy Elliott and Nelly are among the artists set to appear in TV spots as part of an awareness campaign to educate people about the legal and financial ramifications of unauthorized file sharing, according to a Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) spokesperson. BlahBlah Blah ... (full article here)

Blah blah blah... "A print ad campaign also launched Thursday (September 26) with full-page ads appearing in The New York Times, Los Angeles Times and other major newspapers and legislative trades. On a bright yellow backdrop, the ad poses the question, "Who Really Cares About Illegal Downloading?" then proceeds to list 80 artists who apparently do, including Ashanti, Busta Rhymes, Eminem, Ludacris, P.O.D. and Marilyn Manson. "

Here's a thought: How about "artists" like Eminem, Marilyn Manson, and Britney Spears quit making music that SUCKS. Maybe if they had something akin to quality in that crap they call music, people would actually want to pay for it. I suppose the next thing is they'll go after the Sonys of the world for producing CD burners so people can no longer copy their CDs.

Give it a fucking rest already. It's called viral marketing. If they want their music heard, let people share it and spread the word. Like they're not making enough goddamn money as it is.

Whiney-ass, rich, spoiled cry babies ...

Because people like this exist:

Sting in the Tail for "Scorpion Queen"
Thai performer Kanchana Ketkeaw (right) has begun her 32-day attempt to break the Guinness World Record for the longest time spent confined with scorpions – and has been stung twice already! The fearless 32-year-old bedded down on Saturday with 3,000 of the stinging critters, explaining: "Most people are so afraid of these creatures. But scorpions are so cute, just like baby crabs; they'll only sting when they're frightened." Kanchana's cell is just 12 sq m (130 sq ft) but she is allowed out for 15 minutes every eight hours.

And jackasses like this:

Most Clothespins Cipped On Face
The UK's Garry Turner clipped 133 ordinary wooden clothes pegs on his face at the offices of Guinness World Records, London, on August 3, 2001. Garry is the landlord of the Red Lion pub in Caistor, Norfolk.

And finally, total fucking losers like this:

Farthest Spaghetti Nasal Ejection
Kevin Cole of Carlsbad, New Mexico, USA, holds the record for the longest spaghetti strand blown out of a nostril in a single blow. On December 16, 1998, Kevin successfully achieved a record distance of 19 cm (7.5 in) on the set of Guinness World Records: Primetime in Los Angeles, California, USA. Kevin first started practicing his nasal ejection with Ramon noodles and then progressed onto spaghetti. He has the ability to blow one end of the spaghetti out of one nostril, and the other end out of the other nostril for a "nasal floss" effect.

Here's an interesting article on the potential for humans to regenerate body parts.
So, theoretically, do you think we could keep cutting off our parts and growing new ones... essentially prolonging life for eternity? (He may have Alzheimer's, but his dick is only 3 weeks old!) Or will it be a major pain in the ass for people who have breast reduction surgery?

Last week, the chairman of my company walked into my office and handed me 4 tickets to last night’s Yankee game. Sweet! Box seats, right by the 3rd base dugout. Paid parking. Stadium Club passes. And of course … I had lab. That’s what I get for saying how much fun I had last week. The Evil Forces are once again focused on me.
I gave the tix to Deb, Jack, my sister and Mr. Ragu so that they may go and have a good time for me. As much as I enjoy my orgo lab, I would have preferred to have been at a Yankee game, even if they lost. Especially last night.
My lab partner brought my threshold of patience to a whole new level. She could not read a thermometer. She could not figure out how to plug in a heating mantle. And ... she’s a bigger disaster than me.
Generally when I hear glass shattering in the lab, it’s almost always her. She is the reason why most university lab equipment is made of Pyrex. Last night, for some reason that only made sense to her, she decided to poke one of my flasks, which was delicately attached to my apparatus and while she asked me the inane “How did you get this thingy on there?” No sooner did the words spill out of her mouth, the flask came crashing down all over my lab bench. (It was not made of Pyrex.) I sighed and remarked “Well, that’s a moot question now, isn’t it?”
I cleaned up the broken shards of glass and refrained from forcing them down her throat, (the lab assistant was watching), and quickly set up a new flask just in time for my professor to wander over to check on my experiment. He’s one of those people who like to fuss with equipment. I don’t mind, as he has been paying a lot of attention to me in lab (general chit chat – we’re the same age, and I think the “kids” make him nuts). So when he decided to adjust the hose that was attached to the water source, I was glad to stand back and let him putter. Especially the 3 seconds just after he adjusted the water hose when I had a fountain of water spraying all over my lab bench. And him. And my lab partner, who just had to stick her nose in to see how you stick a hose onto a nozzle.

Ha.

For the person searching my site for "Rush MCAT scores" -- I haven't taken them yet.

Even when I do, it's highly unlikely I'll report them here.

Now, why don't you go about your business searching on some other inane topic...

1. Would you say that you're good at keeping in touch with people?
I’m pretty good at it. I am still friendly with people I have known since I was a child. With ex-lovers, I’m not so good. But that is generally by choice. I also believe that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, and we may never know until the end which category each person falls into. People come and go all the time. I am constantly getting reacquainted with old friends that I have not seen for ages.

2. Which communication method do you usually prefer/use: e-mail, telephone, snail mail, blog comments, or meeting in person? Why?
I would always prefer to see my friends in person. That aside, I prefer email, as I hate talking on the phone, except when it’s someone I don’t have the opportunity to see often and would prefer to hear his or her voice. It’s more personal. Day to day communications are strictly email, unless it’s family.

3. Do you have an instant messenger program? How many? Why/why not? How often do you use it?
Yes, I use it daily. I’m on about 9 hours a day, but mainly for work.

4. Do most of your close friends live nearby or far away?
Both. I have many close friends who live nearby and friends who live all over the world.

5. Are you an "out of sight, out of mind" person, or do you believe that "distance makes the heart grow fonder"?
Definitely makes the heart grow fonder.

I think it's possible that I can subsist on a diet of bagels and coffee (with a dash of vanilla coke thrown in here and there) for eternity. Even the swill that dribbles out of the coffee maker in the company kitchen, which isn't fit to use as a weed killer, is potable when I haven't had my morning cup o' joe.
I had a great motorcycle ride into work this morning. All alone along the beach, with only a cool breeze and the salt air. For a few minutes, as I was winding along Southport Harbor, all I could think about was how lucky I was to be able to have this, and how nice and peaceful it is. That lasted five minutes. For the rest of the ride, all I could think about was "I Need Caffeine Now."
And now I am drinking something that tastes like it was made with toilet water and dirt, and eating an everything bagel with lite veggie cream cheese, because Fridays are still free bagel day here in dot-com land. But I can oh-so-slightly feel the caffeine buzz beginning... it may be enough to jolt me into consciousness so that I can slither across the street to Dunkin Donuts...

I'd like to thank my "fan" who nominated me this month for three categories in The Bloggys.
I've been nominated for:
Best New Blog
Most Humorous
Blog of the Month

Thanks again, and the rest of you -- GO VOTE FOR ME!!!
(To borrow a quote from Dr. Anne -- whoever votes for me gets free well-woman exams for life. Guys - you're on your own.)

I need to analyze what highly addictive chemicals are in this stuff. If I can, I'm going to bring a can with me to lab next week and try to crack the secret formula, and turn the world's water supply into a sea of bubbly, sweet Vanilla Coke.
Not only am I hoarding the 6 coupons Jule gave me, but I went to Mobil a short while ago, and VC 12-packs were on sale -- for $3.99!! That's 33 cents a can!!
I tried to find a handtruck so I could get the whole goddamn display, but the wife was there, and only allowed 1 measley 12-pack. Pah. That's child's play -- it will be gone by Friday... guaranteed.
(I know what you're thinking, Captain Spandex: "And she says I'm OCD!" But hey, I'm not looking to upgrade my Vanilla Coke... not until Diet Vanilla Coke, comes out, of course. But I consider that a lateral move, not an upgrade.)

I can tell I am going to like my organic chemistry lab ... I never liked general chem labs, as they were always about seeing and understanding reactions, and they were long. And boring. Physics labs were not too exciting either, but they were thankfully short. My bio labs were in fact long, but interesting when we were dissecting cool stuff, like sharks and snakes. The only other lab that was as interesting was microbiology, because we got to grow stuff, like mutant bacteria.
But organic chem lab ... sure it was long, but it was really interesting ... we get to make stuff. Last night I made acetanilide crystals. Acetanilide is an analgesic (pain killer), like aspirin or acetaminophen (Tylenol).
It's much better knowing beforehand how reactions work, and how certain compounds react with each other, and then, instead of focusing on the intermediate reactions, actually using that info to create something tangible. Sure, getting the proper reaction is necessary, but to actually make something useful, especially medicine ... now that's cool!
In a future lab, I get to work with chloroform -- you've probably seen it in the movies: It's an anaesthetic that's used to render people unconscious by evil villains. (No, you can't have any.) Whee!
I can't wait to see what we make next .. heh heh. (Deb may have to start hiding the chemicals in the house.)
My plans for world domination are starting to fall into place ...

I feel like crap. All week I've felt like I was fighting something off. A cold, a flu... something unpleasant. Stiff neck. Congestion. Weakness. Lack of appetite. Feverish. General malaise. If I was 18 I'd be convinced I have mono. Somebody check my spleen, please.

Probably just allergies ... nevertheless, I am going to bed early. I can't afford to be sick.

Pity me. Damn it.

Suck.
Sorry ladies, but I have to agree with the guys on this one. In my very non-scientific study on who is most likely to kill me while I am on my motorcycle, hands down it goes to women. Specifically, women in their mid-30s who drive minivans or SUVs. EVERY time I have to swerve to avoid some asshole who pulls out in front of me, it's a woman in a MV/SUV. Every time someone backs out of their driveway without looking and almost clocks me, it's a woman in MV/SUV. Every time I have to flip off or kick the car door of someone who just nearly ran me off the road, it's a woman.

Maybe guys have more respect for bikes. I'd hate to think so. But so far, it appears that way. Guys stop to check out the bike. Admire its curves and sleek lines. (I know it's the bike, because it certainly ain't my sinewy body they're checking out.) Women look at it like it's not there and pull out faster than a 16 year old hearing "But I'm not on the pill."

Now, I am not accusing all women who drive MV/SUVs as being erratic and road hazards (they are). My argument is that most people who are trying to kill me fit that category.

I might add that most of them are either sipping a Starbucks coffee or talking on a cellphone, or both. Occasionally, I have a near-miss with someone applying mascara in the rear-view mirror. It's usually followed by a string of profanities about the woman's looks and the ineffectiveness of said makeup.

Be they soccer moms or just rude Fairfield County socialites, they are asking for a serious ass beating.

Nevertheless, the weather is now cool enough that I can wear my heavy artillery boots -- the kind that leave big, greasy black streaks on car doors.

Then The Bitch Fell Off.

I love that expression on the back of Harley T-shirts. Such style. Such class. I Must Have One.

My bike is back!! Finally, after getting a good, long screw, the bags are once again tight and snug on my seat.

Oh, and the saddle bags are attached to the motorcycle, too.

Heh.

Finally, after weeks of agony and waiting I can take my bike to work, provided it doesn't rain. Screw it. I don't mind being wet. I've waited long enough.

Thanks Jack!! Thanks Deb!! Thanks Nutty Company!!

Now, where did I put those assless chaps ...

My new best friend of the moment sent me 6 coupons for FREE 20 oz. bottles Vanilla Coke!!!

Who rocks, more than you!! NO ONE!!!

Wheeeeee!!!

(Um, no. Deb is not at all amused.)

Somebody, please, tell the media we've had enough. It's impossible to forget. There's a difference between a dignified remembrance and over-the-top, designed to rip your heart out again constant coverage.
I have not slept well the past two nights. Sure, many have not slept well in 366 nights. No one can rest in peace when they won't let you even begin to heal.
When the powers that be learn the meaning of moderation, respect, tact, and dignity, the world will be a much nicer place to live.

Forgetting is not an option. It is not possible. Not for any of us.

Is that such a difficult concept to grasp?

You know you've been "replaced" when your own mother calls at 11:30pm and asks to speak with your wife.

No, she didn't want to talk to me. She didn't care to chat about my first organic chem lab. My quiz. My day at work. She called to talk to Deb about the thousands of dollars in new suits she gave her over the weekend. "How did they fit?" "Can your mom take in the waist a bit?" "Do you look stunning? Yes, you do!"

Did I get a suit? Pah. I didn't even get a dirty, old leaving-the-lint-between-your-toes sock. The wife -- she gets new clothes. She gets attention. She gets love.

Like Charlie Brown would say, "I got a rock."

Bastards. They'll pay. They'll all pay ...

Two weeks of fretting about this stupid lab, and I get there tonight and 4 out of the 12 students are no-shows. What the hell is wrong with people? They register for a class, fill it up to capacity, and then don't bother coming?
On top of that, the same guy that teaches the lab at my primary school also teaches the orgo lab at this (other) university. Same guy, same class, different school. Half of us are from the other school! Can someone tell me why he can't teach a night class at my primary school?

For god's sake. I'll never understand universities.

On a positive note, a good friend of mine is taking a class simultaneously as me, right down the hall, so I'll get to see her more often!

The final bonus is, the school store down the hall now sells Vanilla Coke. Wheee!

No, that's not how I am spending my weekend. Maybe 20 years ago, but certainly not now. So, what's with the Jay and Silent Bob quote?
Blame my mother -- she started it.
For my parents' anniversary a few months ago, my baby sistah, our respective partners, and I bought my parents tix to see the Rolling Stones at the Meadowlands on Sept. 28. Usually my parents are the country club scene/opera-attending types -- neither of them has ever been to a rock concert. Needless to say, they were quite excited when they got their gift.
Maybe too excited...
On several occasions over the past few weeks my mother has brought up the fact that she has never seen marijuana in her life. (She has ... she just didn't know it at the time.) Except, she says, for the time she found some "oregano-like substance" in one of my sister's coat pockets, and asked me what it was. Apparently, I took it from her, offering to "throw it out." That, she suspected, was pot.
Throw it out, indeed.
So, this morning she called me. We were discussing the upcoming concert when all of a sudden, out of her mouth comes "Well, I need to go out and get a leather bustier to wear at the concert." Then she laughed.
Me: "What!? Deb, my mother wants to buy a leather bustier for the Stones show."
Deb: [Rolling her eyes] "Scary." (Nothing fazes Deb. Ever.)
Mom: "Maybe I need to get a gong, too."
Me: "A what? What the hell do you need a gong for?"
Mom: "Well, what are those things you smoke pot with?"
Me: "A BONG!? Jesus, mom."
Mom: "That's right. A bong."
Me: "You'd be just as bad as the rest of those hippies that will be there."
Mom: "That's what I mean! I missed out on the whole 60s scene raising you and your sister."
Me: "You sure you missed out? I mean, it would explain an awful lot if you hadn't ..."
Mom: "No, I've never even seen drugs. No one I know did drugs. They drank a lot, but certainly not drugs."
Me:"Must be nice to have a selective memory."
Mom: "Anyway, tomorrow is the church picnic. Why don't you and Debbie stop by."
Me (mumbling): "I'd have to be stoned first. Watching the religious statues bleed out the eyes when I stepped foot on holy ground would be too much of a trip."
Mom: "What?"
Me: "Nothing. I'll see. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

A bong. For god's sake.

Well, this time I *really* did it. I was stupid enough to think I could play basketball this morning (football was cancelled as the little urchins were playing soccer on our football field) with a broken thumb. About 50 minutes into the game (and it was a good one today), I went for a loose ball, and BAM! I snapped my thumb back, again. It's really, really broken now. So, I relented and am now wearing a splint.
Amazing what you need your thumb for. Everything. You don't realize it until you can't use it. Think about it.
I'm ambidextrous at many things (eating, shooting, batting), but some things I am right hand dominant. Writing for example. Try holding a pen with no thumb. Or brushing your teeth with your nondominant hand. And wiping your ass (there are some things you just shouldn't ask your partner to do).
I won't even get into the sex aspect. Then again, I said I was ambidextrous, didn't I?
It was a bit of a relief to know that I wasn't the only injured party fool enough to play. There were 4 of us today with serious injuries. (And they want to play basketball AND football on the weekends...) It was decided that a first aid kit and lots of ice must accompany us to the courts from now on. No really.. ya think?
So, how is she typing, you might ask? I type with only 6 fingers normally, so this isn't a streatch for me. Although it's quite painful.
Where is my walking pharmacy when I need her?? ROBYN!!!!! Pain pills, please!!! NOW!
Hmm. Maybe an ice cold beer placed on my hand would help ...

It's official. I am now the neighborhood "mean lady." I was just in my garden picking my hot cherry peppers, and the neighborhood gang of 8-10 year olds were riding their bikes in font of my house. This in itself is a daily occurence and nothing that irks me. I usually ignore them, even when they sit on my lawn and leave juice boxes and candy wrappers behind. They're children afterall, right?
Sometimes I wonder... As I was leaning over the fence just a short while ago, grabbing a hold of a pepper, I heard one fine young lad loudly yell out "What she needs is a dildo and a condom!" I quickly looked up, fully expecting him to be directing his comment to me. Sheer paranoia that I live among homophobic midgets ... he was referring to his 10-yr old playmate.
Nice. I expect this from some of my peers, but not little kids.
My "old person" reflexes got the best of me and I quickly yelled back, "Guys! Please! Your language!!"
One of the girls quickly quipped to the guttermouth, "Just don't say anything. She can hear you," as she motioned towards me.
I can hardly wait for Mischief Night in my neighborhood ... looks like it'll be one of those nights where I am hiding out in the bushes with the hose.
Little punks...

1. What is your biggest pet peeve? Why?
Self-absorbed and inconsiderate people. Be they bad drivers, loud talkers, rude or insensitive. Also, people who don't listen.
People need to be aware of their surroundings. Burst the bubble already.

2. What irritating habits do you have?
I am demanding. And stubborn. I have a loud mouth. And I curse and bitch too much instead of acting on what’s bothering me. And I tend to stew about things for way too long and then blow my top.

3. Have you tried to change the irritating habits or just let them be?
I am constantly trying to work on them.

4. What grosses you out more than anything else? Why?
It used to be food in the drain catch in a sink, until Robyn taught me that there are far more horrifying things in the world. I had such a lesson last night … and I cannot repeat it here.

5. What one thing can you never see yourself doing that other people do?
See my answer to #4. Aside from that, playing with people’s emotions. I would never deliberately hurt someone. I’m sure I do in fact hurt people far more than I am aware of, but it’s certainly not deliberate.

Top Google searches leading to my site this week:

"Mount+Rush+Moore" (Um, if it was Mount Rush! More! I’d be a bit more amused.)
"Fucking+the+neighbor" – (Three searches in 2 days! Time for a divorce lawyer..)
"House+wife+fucking" (Come on … house dresses and curlers really do it for you, guys?)
"Head+shaving+cat" (Insert “talented feline euphemism” comment here.)
"Anna Nicole Smith fat ugly" (Talk about redundant searches..)

Sitting here downloading MP3s like an ubergeek, and decided to download my favorite song. No, not that one by the Bellamy Brothers. No no... nothing by BSB. This one...

I've been banned from helping fix my motorcycle. Why? Because when Jack and I are in the same room, all the negative energy pools in that immediate area, and things go horribly awry. Since it involves on of my favorite toys, I am happily obliging and avoiding the shed. I want it together tonight so I can ride it the rest of the week. I'm dying to test out my assless leather chaps, too. And show off my new tattoo. And multiple piercings. I may be mechanically useless, but damn I am butch. And I look good on a bike.

Apparently, my friends don't exist except for in the ether or the deep, dark recesses of my imagination. Since no one (that I know) has signed my guestbook, one can only conclude that they must not exist.

Oh well, more wine for me at the BIG, GIANT, HUGE party I am throwing.

(Lazy bastards. Sign it, or secrets, bra sizes, college GPAs, embarassing drunken escapades that haven't already been revealed, and arrest records will be provided for my existent readers.)

It only took me two hours to get to work today! And ... I only live 15 miles away!! God bless I-95 and those swell truck drivers that felt the need to crash yet again! I am always happy to spend more quality time with my car.

I do have good news ... a nice woman in my class gladly dropped the evening lab and switched to a day lab so that I could register for the evening lab. Otherwise, I would have been screwed. My professor told me that if I didn't get in, I would not have been able to take the spring lab, which would have meant 10 weeks in an organic chemistry lab next summer. (If you think I'm utterly delightful now ...)

And just when I was seriously beginning to think that everyone sucked ... Silly me. I'm relieved to know that I can resume my eternal optimism for yet another happy, happy day.

So how did you spend your last weekend of the summer? I spent mine cleaning my basement, weeding the garden, shredding old documents, and breaking my thumb, which, by the way, I refuse to have xrayed and casted because it's the hundreth time it's been broken. I'm over it already. It can stay swollen and sore for the next 6 weeks. I'm ignoring it. As far as I am concerned, it's nothing but negative attention seeking on the part of my thumb. It's a fat, stubby little hypochondriac.
We were going to drive up to Newport for a day, but this lovely New England weather put a damper on the plans. Not a big deal. We did manage to squeeze in 2 parties and dinner with friends. Oh yes, and we broke the motorcycle trying to redo the saddle bags. Jack is coming over tomorrow to rescue us. Whoever built this bike initially had something against nuts and bolts. The original parts are .. (refraining from saying screwed up) .. a royal pain in the ass.
School begins tomorrow. Still trying to get into the lab portion of this class, which I need. The night lab was closed, so now I am not registered for any lab because the geniuses at this school allow 32 students in a class, but only 12 in a lab. There are 4 classes and only three labs, which leaves a lot of people screwed out of the lab portion. (Do the math.)
In any event, taking notes tomorrow morning is going to be a challenge for the thumb-impaired. I can't grip a pen very well ...
Sigh.