Bastards!

Imagine my surprise this morning as I was driving to work when I saw that the 14 cent "Wednesday Price Hike" came a day early. Eyes bugged out, jaw dropped… they fooled me!

Damn them. Not because I’m surprised to see gas at $2.73 a gallon. I just thought I had them finally figured out since they had consistently done it on a Wednesday for so many weeks in a row.

I think they must read my blog.

I’m certain I’m that popular.

And in that case… I’m going to start a boycott someday when you least expect it. You’ll see, Big Oil! You haven’t seen the last of me!!

End Blog.

Happy Birthday Savvy!

My dog is turning 5 today. The big 3-5 in puppy years. Better start looking for those grey hairs...

Luckily, she got to spend time on the ranch to celebrate. I hope that she's happy and that Mom and Dad didn't forget to do something special for her. Because... more reason for me to steal her away in the darkness of night if they have.

She may live with them... but she's still my dog.

Savvy, I'll be there at the end of May. If you decide you'd like to come home with me, pack up your stuff. You're always welcome. =)

End Blog.

Madonna

I have lots of Madonna music. I won't go so far as to say that I have every song she's ever made, but I do have some that weren't released on an album and I have the plethora of songs from movie soundtracks. Currently, my winamp has 16 hours, 39 minutes and 37 seconds of Madonna goodness on it. That's 207 songs, some of which are repeats because they are live performances or remixes. Also, there are the cover songs she's done (Fever, American Pie, etc.) and the ones she's translated into Spanish (Veras, Lo Que Siente La Mujer). This is also not counting music from Evita, or Santa Baby - as far as I know, the only Christmas song she's covered.

In short, I love Madonna. So, here are some interactive goodies for you to play with. Only 122 days until her next birthday!

My results:



Which Madonna Personality are you? Take the Quiz.


~or~


Take the Which Madonna video Are You? Quiz





You're more intelligent than 90% of the people you interact with. Academic and witty, you are an avid reader and thinker. You are artsy-fartsy and creative, and you have been or will be deeply inspired by the book, "Memoirs of a Geisha" and are fascinated with oriental culture and history. Many write you off as a geek, but don't listen to them. You have trouble relating to the "club-scene" and want a partner who's interested by the same topics as you. And remember: love is all we need.


~or~

What Madonna Song are You?

You are POWER OF GOODBYE..... You're sappy and sentimental, but very observant of human behavior. You're logical, but your heart takes over your head sometimes. Take some advice, go have a holiday and cheer up!
Take this quiz!

Go ahead. You know you want to. Deep down everyone loves Madonna.

End Blog.

Happy Jesus is a Zombie Day!

Many people don't really think about it, but the best thing about claiming Jesus is a Zombie is that all the Christians can't get mad at me. Because it's exactly what they believe. See?

Romans 14:9
For to this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the dead and living.

Matthew 28:7
And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead...

Wow, that was the only time quoting The Bible has ever been fun.


Don't worry. Jesus was probably a great guy. I'm sure he thinks it's funny too.

End Blog.

Nerds Are Cool

Overall, you scored as follows:

11% scored higher (more nerdy) and 89% scored lower (less nerdy).

Your nerdiness is:
High-Level Nerd.
You are definitely MIT material, apply now!



Dude... it's a multiple choice test. We know how much I can't resist them. *pushes up glasses*

Oh, and the only reason I didn't score higher is because I don't personally get science magazines. But... work does! So, I get to read 4 different ones. And because Blackwell is the very first name in the mailbox system there... I get to read them all before anyone else upstairs.

Yeah! *Embraces Nerdiness*

End Blog.

Finding Trouble

I went out and shot some pool tonight, in addition to standing around and watching other people shoot pool… which, worked as I’d hoped and I was invited to play with some other people. I met a seemingly nice guy, his best friend, and his sister and played a few games with the three of them.

But, he’s not what I’m looking for. And he made a comment about wanting to move to San Francisco some day, but not caring for the large gay population in the area. He also dissed Janis Joplin. The only comment he apologized for was the one about Janis Joplin. You know, the one I didn’t care about.

There’s definitely a difference between here and DC. I suppose that’s the one thing that I liked about the place. It was filled with all of the misfits and outcasts who couldn’t stand the intolerant people populating the land, so they aggregated and made a crazy city and hiked up real estate prices so only the people who really truly wanted to be there would find a way to stay.

I’m hopeful I’ll find my out-pocketing of misfits here. Maybe on an island. With toys. And a dentist elf.

End Blog.

Good Friday

The Police really know how to celebrate. They had a barbeque today at the credit union over the lunch hours. Hot dogs and hamburgers on Good Friday. I applaud them for this.

If I follow that silly no eating meat rule, it’s purely by accident. Some little things have held over from the Methodist upbringing… you know, like still loving Christmas (although it’s mostly more for Santa and Comet than Jesus).

But this is one thing I’m happy to not participate in any more.

Because today I got good food for next to nothing! And, I gotta tell you… I don’t know what’s happened to me recently but… I love hot dogs. I think that the quality of hot dogs in the Midwest must be like, twelve levels above what they try to pass off as hot dogs on the east coast.

Dear East Coasters,
I’m sorry your hot dogs suck. If you ever find yourself in KC, buy a hot dog even if you don’t generally like them. And if you do like the crappy hot dogs you’re used to, I have no doubt that Midwestern hot dogs will be orgasmic. Just some friendly advice.
Hugs and Kisses,
Nikki

And, hey, if it’s still Good Friday as you read this… go have a hot dog and think about Jesus.

Blasphemy! I know. I'm full of ways to disappoint Jesus.

End Blog.

A Random 30 Questions

Q: WHO'S THE 4TH PERSON ON YOUR RECEIVED CALL LIST?
A: Tom O’Neill

Q: WHAT'S YOUR MAIN RINGTONE ON YOUR PHONE?
A: Ring 3. I could not be more boring. Well, yes I could. I could have ring 1 or ring 2.

Q: WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT?
A: Talking to Mel, Mary Beth and Jeanna on IM when I should have been going to bed.

Q: WHAT DID THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE ON YOUR CELL PHONE SAY?
A: “Katie’s wedding was pretty. She was cute. We’re headed to the reception to get smashed.”

Q: WHOSE BED DID YOU SLEEP IN LAST NIGHT?
A: My own. Someday it’ll be the guest bed. And I’ll have a big huge comfy one for me. That I’ll let my guests sleep in because no one wants to sleep in the bed I’m currently sleeping in. Not even me.

Q: WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
A: Olive green. I used to think it was the ugliest crayon color as a kid. My, times have changed.

Q: MOST RECENT MOVIE THAT YOU WATCHED?
A: Dawn of the Dead.

Q: NAME 3 THINGS THAT YOU HAVE ON YOU AT ALL TIMES? (This shouldn’t be a question mark.)
A: A pair of gold hoop earrings (2) and silver and blue Fossil watch. I even sleep and shower with them. So, really, we are talking at all times.

Q: WHAT'S THE COLOR OF YOUR BEDSHEETS?
A: Olive green and cream. At least the bottom sheet is. I don’t believe in top sheets. My blankets are cream and blue. Yes, I realize they don’t match. But, it’s a comfort issue not an aesthetic one.

Q: HOW MUCH CASH DO YOU HAVE ON YOU RIGHT NOW?
A: $139.30. Because I have a job where I make money!

Q: What is your favorite part of the chicken? (Did you notice the change from all caps? What’s with that?)
A: The drumstick. Because I like the name. And yes, I did notice the switch from all caps. It really bothered me, although, not enough to actually change it.

Q: What's your favorite town/city?
A: I’m totally diggin’ KC. Lots. I don’t think I have a favorite town otherwise. Anyplace but DC.

Q: I can't wait to (til)...?
A: Sometime in May, probably around Memorial Day. Because there will be a drive to Texas to get my car inspected and I’ll get to see my dog. It’s been over a year. Oh, and my parents will be there too. Yeah.

Q: When was the last time you saw your mom?
A: March 1,2006 at like… 5:30am. I think.

Q: When was the last time you saw your dad?
A: See above.

Q: When was the last time you talked to them?
A: Actual talking? No idea. But like, just a few days ago on IM.

Q: What did you have for dinner LAST NIGHT?
A: Mashed potatoes. Yes, that’s a meal. And, dude, the caps are freakin’ me out.

Q: How long have you been at your current job?
A: 29 work days.

Q: Look to your left. What's there?
A: My briefcase which is sitting on top of my bed.

Q: Who is the last person you spent over $50 on?
A: Besides myself? No one. I spent over $50 last weekend to go see Brenda, but that wasn’t specifically on her. It was for like… food and gas. Although, I did purchase a $28 Chipotle order for people in withdrawal. Mmm Chipotle. Gotta share the joy.

Q: What's the last piece of clothing you borrowed from someone?
A: I don’t borrow clothing. Bren and I traded shirts… that’s probably the last thing I’ve worn of someone else’s.

Q: What website(s) do you visit the most during the day?
A: Google. There are many things that I do not know.

Q: Do you have an air freshener in your car?
A: No, that would ruin the new car smell. Although I can’t smell it, other people seem to enjoy it.

Q: Do you have plants in your room?
A: I have a plant in my back bedroom but not in mine.

Q: Does anything hurt on your body right now?
A: yeah, now that you mention it, my neck/shoulders. Are you coming to fix that?

Q: What city was your last taxi cab ride in?
A: Washington, DC. The night Howie Day didn’t show up to his concert. I’m still bitter.

Q: Do you own a camera phone?
A: No, I do not. In fact, I was given a dollar to use this phone, that’s how cheap it is.

Q: What's your favorite Starbucks drink?
A: Caramel Macchiato.

Q: Recent time you were really upset?
A: Sunday through Tuesday morning.

Q: Who do you think will repost this?
A: Probably no one. Unless they’re really bored. Maybe if I say Beth she’ll be guilted into doing it. So… Beth. And Erin. She should do it too.

End Blog

Perspective

Today in history (April 13), Commander James Lovell spoke the infamous words, "Houston, we've got a problem," aboard the ill-fated flight of Apollo 13.

And, like... you thought you had a bad day.

Makes a good arguement against the number 13, eh?

End Blog.

Gas Was 88 Cents the Day I Got My License

I have often wished that I had a way to see into the future, limited only to a few days and specifically for the purpose of knowing what the gas prices will be – lest I accidentally ruin something important. (You know how time travel can be tricky like that.)

But, as it turns out, I no longer need such a fancy device. Why, you ask? Because I’ve learned a fundamental truth of the universe.

Gas prices go up on Wednesdays.

So, regardless of the level of your fuel tank on Tuesday night, fill it. You will thank me when you arrive home from work the following day with a relatively full tank of gas and pass a station advertising a fourteen cent price hike for the same product you bought the night before. Fourteen cents!

This plan would not have failed you for the past four weeks. The theory of “The Wednesday Hike” is a very good one, although I have no idea what the oil companies are doing Tuesday nights. (Kegger?)

But, since gas prices are $2.63 here, I thought I’d do a little internet research to make myself feel better. So I looked up what the gas prices are in DC! They range between $2.91 and $3.02 a gallon.

I was right. That did make me feel better.

And for even cheaper gas, we could move to Utah, Wyoming, Idaho or Montana. Or, for some God-unknown reason… New Jersey. Despite the strange laws making it illegal for you to pump your own gas (since 1949), their prices are way cheaper than the surrounding states. You’d think that they would raise prices to help pay for the people they must employ, but obviously this is not a factor involved in pricing.

And, for those of you interested, Oregon has the same full-service program set in place (since 1951), where only gas station professionals can administer fuel into the tank. Although, they don’t have the added advantage of super cheap gas like NJ does.

Some people think these laws should be revised. However, the residents in these states have never pumped their own gas and therefore do not know how. I, for one, don't think we should give them the privilege. Obviously there is some reason the policymakers enacted the law in the first place. You know, like, their states are filled with incompetent morons. (C’mon, don’t be angry, morons encompass the planet. I’m just stating the obvious. At least your lawmakers recognized this fact while the rest of the states elected their morons.)

Can you imagine? I mean… pumping gas is really complicated and hard to learn. They’d have to all take a class and be given demonstrations. The costs would be astronomical. Besides, I don’t think they could handle it. They think they’re too good to pump their own gas now, anyway. They’ve been spoiled. Even if we did teach them, they’d never do it.

In fact, I’ve never heard people from either of these states ever complain about having someone else do it for them. It’s only been whining about doing the actual manual labor themselves when they find they are no longer in their homeland and… oh, would I be a dear and please do it for them?

You can’t really blame them, though. I mean, who really wants to get out of their car on a cold and/or blazing hot day to pump gas when they don’t have to?

The only people that have a problem with this whole “you-can’t-pump-your-own-gas” thing are people from the other 48 states (and probably every other country with cars). Because we think it’s our God-given right to pump gas. Yet, we’d be pissed off if the pizza stopped being delivered or we were bothered with the inconvenience of going into a building instead of the drive thru.

I'm sure New Jersey and Oregon aren't going to apologize for the convenience anytime soon.

Aaaaanyway....

Based on these facts – cheap gas and never having to pump it – New Jersey sounds like a wonderful place.

In theory. =)

End Blog.

Madonna X-Static Process

I could listen to this song on repeat for days. It’s both sad and empowering for some reason and seems to help put me in a better mood anytime I’m down. I remember listening to this song endlessly when I moved to DC at the end of 2003. And now, after moving again… it still sits well with me. I have no idea why this of all songs is my comfort song. But it is. It soothes the rough edges.

And if I ever learned to play the guitar, I think I’d be happy only ever learning this one song. Although, I need a singing partner if I were to ever sing it, seeing as how she likes to make verses that overlap. I think it’s specifically so she can’t perform those songs live in concert principally to piss me off. (Can’t think of another? How ‘bout Rain?)

How I’d love to hear this one live, though. Madonna, a guitar, a stool, and a spotlight. Heck, I’ll even let her sit on the edge of the stage. No background singers, no dancers… just this song. Perfection. Alas… I can’t even go to her next concert because the closest she’s coming is to Chicago and in the middle of the week. You know… when I actually have money to go see her, it's impossible for me to do so.

Lyrics:

I'm not myself when you're around
I'm not myself standing in a crowd
I'm not myself and I don't know how
I'm not myself, myself right now

Jesus Christ, will you look at me?
Don't know who I'm supposed to be
Don't really know if I should give a damn
When you're around, I don't know who I am

I'm not myself when you go quiet
I'm not myself alone at night
I'm not myself, don't know who to call
I'm not myself at all

Jesus Christ, will you look at me?
Don't know who I'm supposed to be
Don't really know if I should give a damn
When you're around, I don't know who I am

I always wished that I could find
Someone as beautiful as you
But in the process I forgot
That I was special too

(Contemporaneously)

I'm not myself when you're around

I'm not myself when you go quiet

(Contemporaneously)

I'm not myself all alone at night

I'm not myself standing in a crowd

I'm not myself and I don't know how

(Contemporaneously)

I'm not myself, myself right now

Don't know what I believe

Jesus Christ, will you look at me?
Don't know who I'm supposed to be

(Contemporaneously)

Don't really know if I should give a damn
Someone say if I should give a damn

When you're around, I don't know who I am

I always wished that I could find
Someone as beautiful as you
But in the process I forgot
That I was special too
I always wished that I could find
Someone as talented as you
But in the process I forgot
That I was just as good as you


I love you, Mo.

End Blog.

Postponing the Afterlife With Pop

I wanted to share this conversation I had recently with all of you, but I had to sort of recreate it since there was no way I was to know at the time that it’d end up being so hilarious (to me at least).

Saturday night, the Anderson residence.
A conversation between Nikki and Beth:
(Don't worry, you’ll be able to tell who’s who.)


I try not to drink that much soda.

I could never give up Dr Pepper. I love it too much. It makes me happy.

You’re an addict.

I am not.

The first step is admitting you have a problem. *

It’s not a problem. It’s good for you.

No, it’s not. Why do you think I feel guilty every time I drink a Coke?

I don’t know. Why? Soda’s good for you.

No, it’s not.

Yes, I bet the first ingredient is water. *Points to can in her hand* See? Carbonated water.

That’s not water.

Yes, it is. Water fortified with carbon. You have to get it from somewhere.

Carbon dioxide? You could get that from breathing.

*Continues reading ingredients* High fructose corn syrup and/or sugar. Goooood stuff. Carmel color, phosphoric acid, artificial and natural flavors. See, there are natural things in here. Sodium benzoate.

You don’t need that!

Yeah, I do. It’s a preservative. You’ll totally be sorry when I live longer than you. *Reads more* Caffeine. That’s the last ingredient - and I need caffeine.

No, you don’t need it. C'mon, need? See, you’re addicted.

Yes, but I need it because I’ll be living much longer than you.


My logic rocks.
End Blog.

*You can say the words and still not think it's a problem.

This Boggles the Mind

Study Fails to Show Healing Power of Prayer

~or~

The Most Poorly Designed Medical Study Ever

While I don't disagree with the results, I hate how the study was performed. Didn't these people ever have a science class, like... ever? There are so many variables and confounding factors present in the study I don't even know how it was published or any conclusions were drawn.

And if the subjects believed in spritual healing, there's no way they weren't praying for themselves. So, why not just say there's over a 50 percent chance that you'll have post-surgical complications, no matter what you do?

This leads to few plausible conclusions, but here's what I'm going to go with since they got to draw conclusions from their stupid study I'm going to as well:
1. The reason you're in the hospital is most likely because it's your turn to die.
or
2. There isn't a God listening to anyone's prayers, should they be yours, those of your close friends or family, or perfect strangers praying on your behalf in the religious community.

You know who this is the worst news for? Not those who just went through surgery. It's the people who are leaders in the religious community. They were just told they were maybe only 50 percent effective. But then again... so were the doctors.

Guess it just goes to show that it doesn't matter how you try to fight for someone's life.

Oh, Man. Did I just make a case for fate? Crap.

End Blog.

Job Titles

I’ve decided I want to change my job title from “Criminalist” to “Crime Fighter” simply because it sounds more superhero-y. I never wanted to be a superhero when I was little, but now that I’ve grown up into my full adulthood maturity level, I’m sure that’s what I want to do. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman… I recognize these people as my peers.

And since I’m not from another planet, don’t have cool powers or gadgets, and definitely don’t have millions of dollars, this is the best I can do. But, when you think about it… abstractly… that’s totally what I do now. I’m a superhero crime fighter.

I’m gonna see if I can get that on my business card.

End Blog.

Blast from the Past

Today during my reading I came across a biology term that sent me right back to freshman bio, finals week, when I was helping J cram for our last exam. We were sitting on my dorm room floor, going through our notes on reproduction. And as I was explaining it, I was talking with my hands – which for some reason seemed to help – and I made up hand signals for all the vocab words that were hard to remember.

Turns out, I still remember what the one for zona pellucida* is, and it made me smile. Not because I was especially fond of the material, but because I know that I helped J pass that test remarkably well.

What a lovely little memory of our first year as friends.

I miss you, kid.

Oh, and I also hate you because you are on a cruise right now. You better make sure you eat some for me, too.

End Blog.

*Zona pellucida – a thick transparent envelope that surrounds a developing ovum, allowing only one sperm cell through to fertilize the egg

What The Hell?

Lebanon Valley College is tiny and in the middle of nowhere. I’m nearly positive, besides paying the professors, the only things they spend money on are building new dorms, renovating the old buildings, building completely useless bridges, tearing down trees, and landscaping. It’s a very beautiful place but I know they have tons of extra money that they are hoarding. They don’t like to throw it away on student affairs, but I have no idea what they're planning on using it for.

Even though there’s nothing to do.

LVCers have always just figured out how to entertain themselves. This involved a lot of time at Wal-Mart since it was the only place open 24 hours, driving to Harrisburg for actual entertainment, or drinking alcohol – which all college students universally enjoy.

The biggest thing to ever hit the school was the once a year party weekend we liked to call “Spring Arts”. I’m still not sure where the art part came in. I guess it was because we’d have live local bands come play for us and music is art.

Throughout college, it was the most awesome weekend every year. And we enjoyed our little college party, even if they tried to change the name and the image our senior year to “The Cherry Blossom Festival”. (The trees that were torn out were all replaced with one million ornamental cherry trees.)

Well, they’ve gone and changed the name again since hiring a new president. This time it’s being called “Valleyfest”. I approve of this change, as the weekend always was a big party. But… here’s the big news:

We only ever had local bands or cover bands because the school doesn’t spend money on such trivial things. Or they don’t fundraise enough for this major event – whatever the case may be. And while we complained a bit knowing that other colleges had big name headliners, we understood that we were a small school and things like that just didn’t happen in the middle of nowhere central Pennsylvania.

That being said… are you ready for this?

The fucking Gin Blossoms are going to play at Valleyfest.

Well, Hey Jealousy!

My world has just imploded. I no longer understand who I am or where I came from. My school? No way. They’re also having The Starting Line perform the night before. They sing The Best of Me. I love that song. You should download it.

Oh, and to the town of Annville: You can kiss LVC's collective ass and shove your noise ordinances where the sun don’t shine. You've been a college town since 1866. Probably the year most of you were born.

LVC just keeps getting better without me. Better Spring Arts, renovated Garber Science Center, new psychology department.

I still do not believe this. Insane. The love for my undergrad continues to grow beyond all plausibility.

End Blog.

April is Panda Month

You know who I don’t hear about anymore? Tai Shan, my little Butterstick.

Now, those of you who don’t live in DC are probably saying “Who’s Tai Shan?” and those of you who do live in DC are probably saying, “Dude, he’s still on the news every single night.” (Not that people in DC regularly use the word “Dude”, and for that we can all hate them a little bit more.)

The National Zoo's giant panda, Mei Xiang, gave birth to her cub, Tai Shan, on July 9, 2005. Since then, he has been on the news, I swear, every single night. They had an entire voting system in place for choosing his name. There are tickets to see him and dinners in his honor.

But you know what? It was a cute news story every night and probably the only one that ever made me happy. I’ve never been a really big fan of pandas. That is, until that cute little guy. Man, that’s one adorable cub.

I will always remember his first exam when he was still nameless and they were describing his size as that of a stick of butter. So for many of us in DC at the time, he will always be our little Butterstick, even if we didn’t win the write-in campaign to name him.

Every time I would see him on the news an involuntary, “Awww!” would escape from my lips. It was uncontrollable. And I haven’t heard about him since I moved. The last time I heard anything, he’d just met his dad.

So, for an update, here’re things I didn’t know about Tai Shan:

He weighs over 40 pounds now. (That’s a lot of butter.)
He’s eating bamboo.
They gave him new trees and he loves to climb them, although it took him three whole days to notice. I can only imagine the “tree watch” that was going on among the zookeepers and the betting pool that must have occurred.
They are selling a Tai Shan DVD for $21.95.

I will never buy that DVD. It’s only 50 minutes. If you taped all the news stories since his birth, you’d have more footage than that.

Plus, who needs a DVD when you have panda cams?
pandacam1
pandacam2

End Blog.

Comments

Hey, did you know there was a setting in here where you could allow anyone, even non-members to post comments? I just found it. You know what that means? You too can now play on my blog and post things for me and others to read.

I like pretending that people read it. I also like to pretend that they will comment, too... and I won't just get a whole buncha junk from spammers. But I know that's what's going to happen.

I guess it'll just give me something else to do. Delete stupid comments from people trying to get me addicted to free porn. And, like, if I was really interested in free porn, don't they think I'm smart enough to find it on my own? Dear people that do that - we don't need your help, but thanks. Porn's not hard to find.

I mean... so I hear.

End Blog.

Reading Rainbow

Update - Training advancement.
I'm moving on from blood to semen ID at work.

As I'm reading for research sake, I find an article from the late 1800s, describing the flavor of semen. It states, “According to certain authors, its flavor is peculiar, very bitter; according to others, simply a bit salty or flat. It is the last which appears to be true, but it’s possible there are variations.”

You’ll do anything in the name of science, Boys, won’t you?

I’m very happy that common practices in science did not persist over time. Thank god for lab hygiene, personal protective equipment, and practices to avoid disease and contamination. Thank you for not allowing me to taste biohazerdous material.


Also, your Daily Vocabulary, as I’m reading again. The joy.

Pederasty - a man who has anal sex with a boy

Fecundating - to fertilize something, or make somebody pregnant

Orchitis - inflammation of one or both testicles, usually caused by infection (can cause infertility)


I work at a job where we talk about semen and vaginal swabs on a daily basis. You'll get used to it.

End Blog.

This Day in History

On this day in 1979, there was a major nuclear accident at Three Mile Island in Middletown, PA.

Also on this day, with almost equally disasterous ramifications:
I burned my tongue.

End Blog.

My Job Is So Cool

There’s been a big news story for the past several days about a home invasion where the victim shot and killed two men who allegedly kicked in his door. These men were found down the street, shot to death in a white SUV. The crime scene was a mad house with people crawling all over it and I think some of our CSTs briefly made the news while they were processing the car outside.

You can read about it here:
http://www.wdaftv4.com/fullstory.asp?ID=13145

http://www.wdaftv4.com/fullstory.asp?ID=13158

http://www.kctv.com/Global/story.asp?S=4684995

News video:
http://www.thekansascitychannel.com/video/8299976/detail.html


I got to see the crime scene photos of this case today. How cool is my job?

Some details of the case are most likely misrepresented by the media, but sadly, I can’t really elaborate on it. Of course, I probably know more than the media does, so I don’t blame them for only reporting what they can gather as the investigation continues.

I guess this is something I’ll come across a lot in the years to come. I can see even the news starting to annoy me soon.

However, aside from all of this, the case initially caught my interest when it was reported Sunday because the shooter is claiming self defense. Um… dude, the guys were driving away in an SUV when you stood on your porch and shot at them. How can you be in any danger at that point?

In my opinion, this is no longer self defense. They’re not in your home. They were fleeing the scene. And from what I gathered in law class… you could be in big trouble, Mister. The only way you'll come out rosey in this is if they were firing at you while they were driving away. And that... I don't know.

And now, your Law Lesson from a girl who hated law class:
You can only use self defense as an excuse to a crime: "If a reasonable person would think that s/he is about to be physically attacked, s/he has the right to strike first and prevent the attack. But s/he cannot use more force than is reasonable - if s/he does, s/he may be guilty of a crime.”

Sure, the intruders had guns, so the use of deadly force was justified. But, the key here is that they were fleeing the scene and no longer a threat. Some states even require that for you to use self defense, that you must have tried to flee from the scene to safety first yourself and been unsuccessful.

Makes me wonder what the Missouri state laws are about self defense, since they vary state to state. Now, if this were Texas… it’s very possible that he could have gotten away with what he did, but I’m not so sure about Missouri.

Thankfully, I don't make those kinds of decisions about court and charges and get to stay out of the whole big mess. I still wonder why in the world they made me take those law classes, anyway. Should be interesting to see what happens.

End Blog.

Let's Get Physical... Physical

Thanks to Brenda and Beth... I've stolen this. So, me too.

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Quality Time.

Complete set of results

Physical Touch:		12
Quality Time:		7
Words of Affirmation:		5
Acts of Service:		4
Receiving Gifts:		2

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

This is really not surprising. And also sad that I live alone.

I don't need gifts and I don't need you to do stuff for me, just say a couple nice things, spend time with me, and touch me a whole bunch. And I'll be a happy camper. Maybe this is why dogs make me happy. A quiet companion who'll sit on your lap.

End Blog.

Spigot

Another great thing about moving out of my old place...

You can drink the tap water here. And it doesn't taste like "dirt and pipes". I might actually drink more of it like I should.

Oh, and on a somewhat related note - what an awesome word - Spigot. Looking at it, it seems like it should be a racial slur or something. But it's not. But it looks like something horribly derogitory. Maybe it is. Maybe it's a disparaging term for a gay Hispanic man. In which case, the word is totally not as cool.

End Blog.

Redefining Room Temperature

The term room temperature is misleading. It does not mean “temperature of the room” as you think it would. It’s not one of those literal things, and it’s not an exact, precise measurement. In laboratory reports it’s taken to be roughly between 21–23 degrees Celsius (70–73 degrees Fahrenheit).

Frequently “room temperature” is used to describe something warming or cooling to the ambient temperature of the room. This is understood to be in a “comfortable living” range. Now, in the general population, we tend to believe that “room temperature” is somewhere between 68-72 degrees Fahrenheit (21–22 degrees Celsius)*. I’m likely to agree, although I do enjoy a somewhat warmer room.

However, I have found that “room temperature” doesn’t apply once I go to work. There I have two different things going on. I have “office temperature”, which I like to describe as “super cold” and I have “lab temperature” which is more like “frigid, arctic tundra”.

Today, the trace lab was 56 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). I was in there looking at blood patterns all day. Sitting for 8 hours at 56 degrees is recipe for Nikki Popsicles.

In fact, here it is:

Nikki Popsicle: **
1. Place Nikki in a chair
2. Turn down temperature to 56 degrees Fahrenheit
3. Let sit for 8 hours
4. Serve cold

End Blog.

*Based on a very scientifically sound internet poll of people I know.
**Nikki prefers “Klondike Style” and asks that you not shove a stick up her ass.

I'm Rich!! Kinda.

I got one email today. It was from Chase, the credit card company I don't have a credit card with, telling me that my account has been locked due to unusual activity and I needed to re-log in with all my vital info.

Whoa. My little alarm went off. I have another credit card!? Woooo! Online shopping spree!

I didn't want to not charge things, so I went online, signed in with ramdomly picked numbers and letters (because I knew I didn't have a usename and password), and it took me to a screen that would fix the problem with my non-existant credit card. Woohoo! I totally logged in! They'll just be needing my mother's maiden name, my social security number, an email address, my credit card number, the verification number on the back, and the experiation date.

Hell, if I had all that, I'D BE USING MY OWN DAMN CHASE CARD! I don't freaking have one, people!!

So, if you get an email like this:




Don't click the link. And if you do, don't fill out the info. Or... alternatively... if you do, also sent me the information because I have some things I'd like to buy. Like a bed and a DVD player. Send me that info. I'll totally charge expensive things to your account.

Stupid internet phishing schemes. At least send it to people that actually have the credit card so you don't get found out. I reported it to Chase's email abuse center.

I wouldn't be sad if these people died. Okay, well, maybe I would be a little sad. They were the only ones who emailed me today.

End Blog.

Re-Cut Movie Trailers

There are some geniuses out there with a lot of extra time on their hands who have taken it upon themselves to re-tool the trailers of some of our most beloved movies and turn them into something else. Thrillers become romances. Love stories become horror movies. Horror movies become buddy family dramas. And Brokeback Mountain paved the way for practically everything to be a gay romance.

I’ve gone through lots of these. And here, listed below are the better ones I’ve seen. These are the ones I thought somewhat worthy of sharing, should you feel so inclined to wait for downloads. They don’t all use the same media player, so I hope all of yours are updated.


Sleepless in Seattle as a thriller

The Shining as a Nora Ephron film

Psycho as a love story

West Side Story as a horror/zombie flick

Groundhog Day as a vampire comedy

Back to the Future re-imagined in Brokeback Mountain style

Star Wars re-imagined in Brokeback Mountain style – with droids!


It’s amazing what editing and different music can accomplish. If I ever decide to get a hobby, this is how I’m spending my time.

End Blog.

Your Daily Vocab

I know you’re sick of these but I’ve finished the first section of reading I was given, so hopefully there won’t be more for a little while. Therefore, I thought I’d do this a little differently. First, I shall give you words I read today that I think should be used more often. Because I don’t hear them enough.

Cogently - forceful and convincing to the intellect and reason

Caveat - warning or proviso, something said as a warning, caution, or qualification

Unequivocal - allowing for no doubt or misinterpretation


Secondly, I will give you words that I didn’t know the meaning of and had to look up for curiosity’s sake.

Tincture - a solution of a plant product or chemical substance in alcohol

Crenated- with a scalloped edge or a surface with rounded projections


And finally… because 1.) I've never heard of two of these words, 2.) it’s really kinda gross when I just give you these three, and 3.) for a taste of the very weird reading I did today:

Scarlet - a bright red color tinged with orange

Puerperium - the period immediately after childbirth when the womb is returning to its normal size, lasting approximately six weeks

Lochial - the normal vaginal discharge of cell debris and blood after childbirth


I was going to end this blog with some sort of witty comment… but I don’t know how to follow up “normal vaginal discharge” with class.

End Blog.

Word of the Day

Ovine – Relating to or like a sheep.

Yes, I realize my job is somewhat odd. It's not my fault I run across things like this when I read. And if you must know, they were talking about an ovine bloodstain in the article. That just made it cooler, didn't it?

End Blog.

10,000

Henry just turned over 10,000 miles today on the way home from work. I made sure to watch it happen since it was such an important milestone in his life. What a good car.

I’ve had him since May of 2004. That’s 10,000 miles in 21-ish months. That averages out to not even 500 miles a month. I hope he was feeling underused because now that I’m in KC, I’ll be doing a lot more driving than I did in DC.

For me, this is a good thing. I get to spend more time with Henry and less time with Metro. Let's outline all the wonderfulness to this situation.
- I never have to wait for Henry.
- Henry's never crowded.
- I get to sit down when I take Henry to work.
- Henry takes me directly to my destination. Walking several blocks is no longer involved.
- I can sing loudly and Henry doesn't care.
- No one is making me pay to park Henry anywhere anymore.
- It takes me less than 25 minutes to get to work.
- I will no longer have to complain about Metro.

The one and only bad thing? I can't read the paper on the way to work anymore. It's okay though. Driving is more fun than reading and current events anyway.

I love you, Henry.

End Blog.

Words I Should Know But Obviously Don’t

I’ve been doing a lot of reading of scientific journal articles at work and have come across words that I didn’t necessarily know… but apparently was supposed to. So, being a good criminologist, I looked them up. Not that I was utterly confused all day. I mean… I got the gist of the articles. Really.

Occult – Difficult to see, not visible to the naked eye, and only detectable by microscope or chemical testing.

Not as in supernatural, which was the only definition I knew previously.

Titer – Biochemistry: the concentration of an antibody determined by how much it is diluted before it no longer reacts positively to an antigen.

I figured this out due to context clues. But still… you’d think I’d have come across this word previously in my formal education.

Ungulate – Having hooves.

Okay, I knew this. I just couldn’t come up with what it meant at the time. There was a whole list of things – primates, marsupials, reptiles, birds… etc. I couldn’t decide if it was animals with hooves or mammals that lay eggs. --By the by, the egg laying ones are called monotremes.

And as an interesting side note, monotremes isn’t a word in Microsoft Word’s little spellchecker thingie, but it is in the built-in dictionary. Don’t you think those two things should somehow be linked? I do. How can it be spelled right and in the dictionary but not in the spellchecker? I always assumed they were one in the same. Apparently this is not true. I feel cheated.

And the red squiggly line is mocking my properly spelled word. Jerk.

Okay. Lesson for the day over.

End Blog.

As If There Was Any Doubt

You Are Dr. Pepper

You're very unique and funky, yet you still have a bit of traditionalism to you. People who like you think they have great taste... and they usually do. Your best soda match: Root Beer Stay away from: 7 Up

What Kind of Soda Are You?

Yep. I'd have been shocked if it came up with anything else. Then complained. Then taken it again.

But I didn't have to. Because I am a Pepper and this proves it. As if the 9 gallons of Dr Pepper I drink a week didn't. (Okay, that's not true. There's slightly over 10 cans in a gallon and I don't drink 90 a week. But you know... close.)

End Blog.

Propaganda

Today Alison berated me for not having an emergency kit prepared for bad weather. Therefore, everyone should go out and make such a kit. (This is her "public service announcement".) Apparently, there are four basics things that you MUST have.

1. A snack of some sort. Not only will it come in handy when you are hungry, but in a case where there are others in your same sheltered area, it will help you make friends.
2.Water. This one I understand.
3. A poncho. The reason for the poncho still escapes me. I believe there was talk about forming a tent out of it. I think this was for a situation in which you weren’t trapped in rubble.
4. A flashlight. I suppose it’s so you can find your way out of rubble…

Also, I have been informed that I need to hide money in my car for an emergency. Not for storms, per se, but other emergencies. Like, what if I break down and the tow truck doesn’t take credit cards? Although, I was not given an amount of how much money I need to hide in my car. It probably changes yearly with inflation rates.

Special note:
It’s always good to have duct tape and plastic with you. They are useful tools, although will help little in case of nuclear attack.

Excuse me… Did you just say Nuclear Attack!?

I think someone’s a little paranoid or has fed right into the distorted information that the government spreads and promotes.

Remember after September 11th? We were all to make our own emergency kits to protect ourselves from biological warfare. Same with Y2K and the “fact” that our infrastructure would totally and completely break down creating utter chaos. And now? The government won’t stop talking about the bird flu. Have you noticed that nothing ever comes from these “threats” that are talked about for months?

Wanna know a secret? Every flu starts with birds. Yes, that’s right. All of them.

The life cycle of all flu begins in birds. Some birds (like wild ducks) can serve as hosts for the virus, spreading it to other birds or farm animals without getting sick themselves. These viruses rarely pose a health risk to humans, but if they mutate into forms that can also infect people, the annual human flu cycle begins.

It happens EVERY YEAR. Each year we make a different vaccine for influenza based on what chickens have in China at the time. So, everyone, STOP FREAKING OUT ABOUT THE AVIAN FLU!

Wanna know why people are freaking out? Media. Spreading Propaganda.

Robert Webster, a world-renowned virologist at St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, consultant to the World Health Organization and the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, has said this in regard to avian flu: "What should the average person do? The average person should be prepared to live in their family unit for three months. You have to have food, dried food, resources to live for 3 months in your unit. And so that's the maximum we can do."

And with all those titles, who wouldn’t believe him? It scares people. But you know what? No one listens when calm, sane scientists talk.

Dr. Dick Thompson, the World Health Organization spokesman on communicable diseases said, "It's very unusual that a virus with pandemic potential actually appear. So, that has us concerned from the beginning. But have we seen any change in the last two years that makes us think that this is on the edge of mutating into a pandemic strain? Definitely not."

And Professor Sir David King, chief scientific adviser to the British government and head of the Office of Science and Technology stated, "Your chances of winning the lottery are about one in 14 million. Your chances of catching bird flu are more like one in 100 million."

Chill out, people. Okay? And if you don’t freak out about the bird flu anymore, I’ll let you hide money in your car without rolling my eyes or beginning another tirade such as this.

End Blog.

Quiet Lightning

Yesterday I was introduced to Midwestern weather. I didn’t really think it was going to be that impressive. Eh, tornadoes. So what.

Dude, I was wrong.

It’s really rather impressive, if not a tiny bit frightening. We were under a tornado watch for most of the day yesterday and while most of the weather wasn’t anything to be worried about, there were several sporadic times where it changed suddenly and dramatically. Downpours, hail storms, rapid temperature changes.

But the thing that impressed me the most was the lightning. I’ve never seen so much lightning in one storm in my entire life. Big, impressive, cloud to cloud arcs and clouds lit up from behind. Pretty. Powerful. Majestic.

But quiet. None of the lightning was followed by thunder. It was something I didn’t understand. And none of my Midwestern friends could tell me why. Thankfully, I have the internet at my disposal and an unquenchable curiosity for randomness. Therefore, should you also wonder why there was all of that lightning without thunder; I am here to share the information.

It seems when lightning strikes, the air around it becomes extremely hot - so hot that the heat causes the air around it to expand rapidly. When the air heats up and expands, it creates a compression wave that propagates through the surrounding air for the first 10 yards. This compression wave then manifests itself in the form of a sound wave that decreases with distance. Ta-dah! Thunder.

We’ve been taught that sound travels much slower than light, so we see the flash of lightning before we hear the thunder. In air, sound travels roughly 1 mile every 4.5 seconds. Light travels at a blazing 186,000 miles per second.

It is impossible to have lightning without thunder, contrary to what I witnessed last night. Many people refer to this as “heat lightning”, although no such thing actually exists. If lightning is observed without thunder, the storm is simply more than 15 miles away. There is thunder… you’re just too far away to hear it.

Even if it looks like the storm is right on top of you, apparently.

And thus, this ends the science lesson for today.

End Blog.

You Got Moxie, Kid

We went to Moxie’s tonight. I swindled Beth into playing pool with me so I could win and I drank a Bud Light. It wasn’t bad. Maybe some beer is okay. Then we ate dinner and found out it was trivia night. Daniel won the first round of “singles trivia” and then we were all put up against the rest of the people at the bar for the next round when it switched to teams. We won by half a point because Nick got us a partial bonus point for knowing that the actress in Coyote Ugly was Piper Perabo. (None of us knew the character’s name was Violet.) Each winning team member got a free shot of the bartender’s choosing.

He decided to make us all “leg spreaders”. They were deliciously scrumptious. We have no idea what was in them… but they were green and tasted like they contained coconut and pineapple. So the green might have been apple pucker or midori. It’s something worth looking into. Mmm. Anyway…

Good, fun night. I’m glad I decided to join them.

Although, if I ever tell this story again, it’ll be more like this: “Remember that time Piper Perabo got me a delicious leg spreader at the bar?”

Rock on.

End Blog.

Floorplan Spontaneously Changes: Concussion Ensues

Nikki, on her way out for the evening, turned off the overhead light in her bedroom and headed for the door. The apartment was dark, and having just looked up at the light as she pulled the brass cord, her eyes were far from adjusted to the conditions currently at hand. Fearless, having lived in her new apartment for several whole days now, she was confident she could maneuver out of the door and down the hall to the kitchen, where she planned on grabbing a Dr Pepper for the upcoming drive.

Stepping out of the room, she took a left, headed down the hallway, and

*BANG!*

Nose, chin, and left knee hit the door all at the same time. Tears sprung to her eyes as confusion set in and she pulled her glasses off of her face in stupefied puzzlement. What had just happened?

There was pain, that much was clear.

And… oh, yes… Realization washed over her. The hall closet. Quite forgot she had one of those right there.


Do you realize how hard you have to smoosh your nose in for your chin to also hit the door when you run into it? And how you must have been going fast enough to follow through with your knee? Can you imagine what that looked like?

I can.

Yes. I’m a dumbass. And I’m sharing it with you.

It's three hours later and I still have a splitting headache, even after medication. All from running into a door. I have no excuse. I’m a dumbass. And it’s not even a lame cover-up for being a battered woman. I’m just that stupid.

But at least I didn’t break my nose. There’s luck I'll accomplish that on another day.

End Blog.

Words of Fun

I took a personality quiz online and decided to share it here because for once it seemed to really apply, almost in its entirety. I found out I’m an “Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiver” that’s commonly referred to as "The Gentle Artist".

Here’s what they had to say about me:

You are nature’s balm: the soothing presence who calms us when we are stressed, who reminds us of the delightful spontaneity of childhood, and who shows us how to appreciate nature and all living things. But as easily as you bring happiness to others, you can bring sadness to yourself when you fail to see your strengths, focusing only on your limitations.

Love for you is an all-or-nothing experience. Because you tend to shut out the rest of the world so you can experience love more fully, you can be vulnerable to the whims of your beloved. Devotion and flexibility are two of the most important qualities you, as a Gentle Artist, bring to a relationship. Your genuine and almost innocent expression of love can make the right person (and yourself as well) very happy. But you must make sure you have chosen a compatible mate, because once you fall in love, you are riding a roller coaster that is almost impossible to stop.

And what I’ve learned from this:

1. I need a dog to be able to appreciate nature more.
2. I need someone to point out my strengths when I fail to see them because I don’t want to be sad.
3. It’s a good thing I like roller coasters.

Speaking of roller coasters… I live a stone’s throw away from an amusement park. Seriously. I see roller coasters every time I leave my apartment complex. I’m getting a season pass. I wonder if this means anything for my love life.

End Blog.

Kansas City: Home of the Free

Free.

The word has many meanings: Not a prisoner, unrestricted, uncensored, self-ruled, not busy, unoccupied, single, unobstructed, giving readily, honest, uncontaminated, released from captivity, rid of burdens, unclogged…

Not Costing Anything.

So you’ve probably heard that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. And, as I’d come to learn living in the nation’s capital… no such thing as free… parking or laundry. You know, the sorts of things that we take for granted as not costing anything. But, to wash a load of clothes, I was paying $1.75 in quarters. And to dry a load of clothes I was paying $1.75 in quarters – Without the convenience of having a change machine provided for me. And, to park my car for 8 hours while I was at work, I was paying $8.00. But, I was lucky and it didn’t even have to be in quarters.

But, today, I remembered something. These things are free for mostly everyone and rightly should be.

Kansas City has free parking. Right there in the Plaza… all free. Not even a parking meter on the street. This is something I can stand behind. And today, in the comfort of my own apartment, I did two loads of laundry. And I didn’t have to put quarters in the machine.

Lo! I have found freedom! It name be Kansas City.


End Blog.

Oh, Canada!

For the duration of the women’s figure skating competition, I will be cheering for Joannie Rochette of Canada. Will she win? Highly doubtful. After the short program she’s currently in ninth place. All three Americans placed well above her. In fact, Sasha Cohen is a whole 10.88 points better.

So, why, you may ask, would I be cheering for a woman who will most likely lose and is not even from my home country?

Simple.

Rochette's choreographer, David Wilson, got her to use an orchestral version of "Like a Prayer" for her short program. This makes me happy and wins my cheering support. To heck with talent. Music matters to me. It was pretty darn fantastic.

So, I’d like to thank David and Joannie for bringing Madonna to the Olympics. May they be able to have the longevity of Ms. Ciccone herself.

End Blog.

Bobsled or Bobsleigh?

Yes, I have very odd concerns. I’ve been talking about the bobsled event for several days. Okay, maybe not directly, but it’s been mentioned more than once in recent blogs. Everybody calls it bobsled. Bobsled bobsled bobsled. That's all you hear the commentators say.

And then I see it labeled on tv during the bobsled event. “Bobsleigh”.

What now?

Shouldn’t that be pronounced "bob-slay"? What the hell is up with that?

So, of course I had to look into it. The following is a public service announcement for all:

Bobsledding was invented in Albany, New York and then introduced to Switzerland. In the United States and Canada the sport is known as bobsled, everywhere else, bobsleigh.

So, living in the United States… I was right. Go me. And, considering that NBC is broadcasting to us here at home in America, they are wrong. They are titling the event as if I lived somewhere else (excluding Canada). They are wrong. Wrong wrong. Wrong.

I’m going to write a letter. Look for changes in 2010.

Oh, also, while we’re at it… Torino v. Turin. Dude, just pick one. At this point I don’t even care which one, although, if you’re really asking, Torino sounds prettier and Turin makes me think of the relic those insane religious folk actually think was Jesus’ burial shroud. And it sounds like urine. Okay, I do care.

Just stop using Turin already!

Things I’ve outlawed from the stations controlled by NBC: Bobsleigh and Turin.

I’ll keep you updated should there be more rules in the future. That is all.

End Blog.

Blog About Us, Too!

Okay, so I got a call from the US Women’s Curling team asking that I please comment on them, or their sport, and to be my witty, wonderful self. So, I watched the curling team do their thing today, with the hog line and the hammer and the rocks in the wheel house and peeling of the guards during a spiel. Or something. I’m nearly certain they speak a different language.

Not only do I not really understand all there is about this sport, but it’s very boring. It’s also something I think I could do, especially if there aren’t rules against like… shoving the rock down the ice and trying to hit as many of those things as possible. That would be more fun. There are probably rules against that.

Now I understand why they wanted me to bring attention to their sport. Because most people watching fall into a coma. I saw a few people in the stands with ventilators and heart monitors and IV lines. The team travels with a staff of doctors and nurses specifically for their fan base.

But you know the hardest thing for them? Being in the Olympic village with all those other thrill-seeking luge and skeleton and downhill skiing adrenaline junkies when they’re just so vanilla. So, to fit in – and under the ruse of raising money and bringing attention to the sport – some of international curlers have made a calendar where they’ve posed nude.

So, I can’t complain. Maybe all curlers have a uniquely wild side that’s usually hidden. And although sisters Jamie and Cassie Johnson of the US team weren’t part of the photo shoot, I suggest the organizers find out if they’re interested for the next calendar year. Because they’re both rather hot. They could be in a nudie, tastefully done calendar.


In other completely unrelated Olympic news...

Why does the bobsled race look so much slower than the luge or skeleton? They're still going over 80mph, but they look to be traveling at about 30. Damn you crazy maniacs! You've ruined watching bobsled forever!

End Blog.

PS - I'm not dead. The ticking was my cordless phone that was unplugged and packed away in a box. Apparently it ticks when it's unhappily losing its charge. Or it ticks when it's in a box. I have a claustrophobic phone. It figures.

Quick! Duck and Cover!!

For those of you living in a bubble... I'm moving. Almost 1100 miles and the trip will most likely take slightly more than 2 days with the moving truck. Which brings me to my current position:

Not only does my room look like a disaster area because of all the packing, but today I realized that there is actually something ticking in the middle of all of this mess. Now, I don't own anything that ticks. I have no idea what could be ticking.

Therefore, should you not see another post from me on here, I'll let you assume that someone planted a bomb in my room and now it actually is a disaster area.

I ask just one thing:

Tape it if it makes the news.

End Blog.

Yay! Just What I Needed!

More insects in my diet. Because, I hardly ever eat them. Okay, okay, I never eat them. I admit, I’m not that great when it comes to healthy eating habits. So, sneaking in good foods into things that I actually like is a good thing. You know what I’m talking about – tomatoes chopped up and well hidden, fruit covered in chocolate, beetles in my yogurt and juice. It’s nice that someone’s looking out for me. Left to my own devices I’d eat a box of cookies for dinner and go to bed.

Dannon, Tropicana, Hershey, Pespi – I thank you for helping me eat natural products. Way to keep me healthy!

Don’t let those vegetarians and kosher following individuals get you down!**

End Blog.

**Everything causes cancer. Get over it; we’re all dying no matter what we eat. Apparently Teflon (or, at least, perfluorooctanoic acid) is everywhere.

Women’s Downhill Hopeful

Lindsey Kildow may not be winning metals, but she’s got the absolute right idea about national television. Sure, she would’ve gotten screen time being at the Olympics. And yes, she would have even gotten interviews and stuff if she had done well.

But America loves an underdog, especially if it’s them, just as much as they love winners. But, I think, they also love to see people fail and are fascinated by pain, disappointment, and even perseverance.

So, here’s my new plan:

1. Get to the Olympics. 2. Get semi-hurt so that I can still compete. 3. Win the hearts of millions. 4. Get the most screen time of any athlete there.

Think about it. How much have you seen Lindsey on tv? Lots. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion. You see her ski. You see her ski in slow motion. You see a close up of the edges of her skis in slow motion. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion. You see her giving interviews. You see her talking about her injuries. You see her talk about the wonderful drugs they gave her. You see her say that she’s going to try her best. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion.

She’s already gotten more than her fifteen minutes of fame, more than all the other athletes there in Tornio. Sure, we’ll forget about her eventually. But look at all the exposure she’s getting. And in four years, if she comes back, you better believe she’ll have a highlight reel and we’ll see the fall. And we’ll see the fall in slow motion. And we’ll see interviews with her on how she’s overcoming it, overcoming the odds, getting her head in the right place to compete, how she’ll prove her abilities this time. And then we’ll see the fall again.

Lindsey Kildow is brilliant. She knows all about the “agony of defeat”.

And the only reason we might not remember her like we remember Picabo Street is because her parents totally messed up when they gave her an ordinary name. But, you better believe that she’s got a Chapstick commercial in the near future.

End Blog.

The Search Continues…

…for the most insane Olympian. Now, I thought those lugers were nutters, but I’ve found a woman who has taken over as the current most insane sportsman, ever. I am sure, given that I continue to watch these games, that there’s someone more fanatical out there. But for now…

I’m going with this woman who competes in skeleton – which is like the luge except you get to fling yourself down the track head first. I didn’t catch her name or home country, which I apologize for because I certainly want to know, but not only is she involved with this sport, but she’s still doing it while two months pregnant.

So, pregnant, running on ice, jumping stomach first onto a hard sled, and speeding head first down an icy mountain where it’s a miracle every time you don’t die. Who cares about metals? These people are actually alive at the bottom of the hill! Everyone’s a winner!

So, barring any unfortunate mishaps on the ice, I fear this kid of hers will be the ultimate thrill-seeker. And then he or she will end up topping this list someday when they invent the newest sport using the bobsled track called “Suicide” – where you go down head first, on your back, looking up at the sky, blindfolded, without a sled, while shooting heroine and playing Russian roulette. The person to kill themselves in the fastest time as they reach the bottom of the hill, wins.

Don’t think it won’t happen.

End Blog.

Nothing Will Ever Top 02/14/2005

So, this Valentine’s Day was not as cool as last year when I went to the morgue. Not even a little bit… but, things did get accomplished today. I…

1. Cancelled my phone line service
2. Cancelled my DSL
3. Cancelled my cable (all effective on the 28th)
4. Gave my leasing office my move-out date
5. Bought plain white paper for packing breakables
6. Faxed an application to the apartment I want to live at
7. Informed my two bosses what my last day would be
8. Oh, yeah, and I worked at work as well

And now… to acknowledge that it’s Valentine’s Day, I bought myself Chipotle. And I’m going to eat my chicken burrito with black beans with an icy cold Dr Pepper and at least take solace in the fact that I’m not leaving behind one of those significant-other-type-people when I move.

At least I know how to take care of me and make it a good Valentine’s Day. So, should you ever want to make my day remember – Chipotle and Dr Pepper. If there’s a heaven, I’m positive that they’ll both be there in abundance. And there won’t be a line.

End Blog.

The Silver Bullet

The luge is the strangest sport around. Not that I’ve thought about all the sports around, but, hurtling yourself down a really hard, super twisty ice hill at speeds over 80mph is just insanity. And not only that, but you’re lying down, on your back, in a position where you can’t really see where you’re going all that well.

Then there’s the commentators telling me that the competitors need to relax and absorb the bumps in the track to go faster. Are you kidding me? Relax and go limp at 85 mph? I can’t even do that when I’m riding as a passenger in a car going that fast on a twisty mountain road. With a seat belt and an air bag in really good weather where there’s some security that I’m not about to die.

And Armin Zoeggeler of Italy is the craziest of them all. Not because he goes the fastest, not because he won the gold medal, not because he crashed during practice and continued to compete… but because of his super shiny silver helmet. What in the world is this man thinking? Doesn’t he have someone in his life to tell him it was a bad idea?

I want to rip that helmet right off of his head.

What’s the reason for that ugly, gaudy thing anyway? He’s a gold medalist. He got one last year. NOT that I want the helmet to be gold. That would be worse. That would be like the gold running shoes of that track star guy… whatever his name is. Why can’t he have a nice black one? Something normal. All the other lugers at least understand that if they die flying down that hill, at least they won’t die in a really awful shiny silver helmet.

End Blog.

Thwarted

My plan to influence the Neilson ratings single handedly has been found out. This is what happens when you post your secret conspiracy plans online – Your cable goes out. Let this be a lesson to all of you.

How will I ever be able to watch all of the Olympics coverage now? I’m not, that’s how.

Every single channel is static.

I’d blame the crazy winter storm, except at this point in time we only have minimal amounts of snow. The weather forecasters must know the Olympic opening ceremonies coordinators. I bet they all swim in liquid crack together on a regular basis.

End Blog.

I Don’t Watch Sports

But I love sports movies.

There, I said it. Why? Because at the end, during the big final game where they’re struggling to win (but in the end always do) - I get goosebumps and have to hold back tears. I’m so proud of them, those fictional underdogs.

And this is why the Olympics rock. Maybe not so much the actual events, but the stories of struggle that show how people got to the most challenging, prestigious sports championship of their lives where they get to put their skills on the line against all the other people at the pinnacle of the sport from all over the world… that’s what I like. It’s like hundreds of mini sport movies played on TV for a few weeks.

Really, which sport doesn’t matter. I could care less. I’ll watch speed skating. I’ll watch downhill. I’ll watch bobsledding. I’ll watch curling. I’ll watch ice skating. I’ll even watch women’s ice hockey even though there’s no body checking.

I watched the biathlon. (It was on this morning.)

Okay, Now I have your attention. Now you understand.

I will watch whatever they put on. In 2004, I watched race walking. The whole race. At 4am.

I love the Olympics. And I will watch extra to make up for all the people who only like the Summer Games. Take that!

Single handedly, I, Nikki Blackwell, shall influence the Neilson ratings and watch NBC, USA, CNBC, and MSNBC any time they’re showing Olympic coverage.

And do you want to know why? Because the policy of some of those channels is that anytime the US is playing, there will be no commercial interruptions. Do you know how much hockey games rock without commercials?

I do.


End Blog.

Star Studded Event

Whoa... what happened? All of a sudden there are celebrities all over the place. Susan Sarandon, Sophia Loren, Yoko Ono, Peter Gabriel. Isn't the Olympics about sports? I forget.

But let's just talk about the people on wires climbing about for a moment. I know they were supposed to look like snowflakes. My head understands that much. But, you know what? They were creepy. And they looked like spiders in complex webs. Being creepy.

Even when they made the dove at the end... it was creepy.

Creepy Spider people on wires. Obviously plotting against me. Damn those crackheads. They take my demands and make them into something from nightmares. Someone was on a bad trip. Maybe they also took some acid or something.

Meanwhile... wouldn't it be funny to see one of these last torch bearer people fall while they were running? I mean, horrible for them, but I'd laugh all the same. Probably the flame isn't supposed to fall on the ground either. I suppose it's a good thing no one fell.

Anyway, I think the lighting of the torch was worth the wait. Sure, it was really fast, but it was fancy and flashy. I like things that sparkle. *places stamp of approval on the lighting* Good job.

Plus, the fireworks were cool. The spiral around the stadium? Totally looked like a slinky in the air. Now that's something I can get behind... a slinky event.

Think if you lick a slinky in the snow your tongue would stick?

Okay... with that thought, I'm going to bed. But I'd like to state for the record that the creepy spider snowflake people will most likely haunt me in my dreams for the next lifetime. Not even slinky fireworks can erase that image.

End Blog.

Oh My God, There's MORE

I posted prematurely. I don't know what I was thinking. There's more crackpot mayhem on TV now.

A woman in an oyster shell. I want to make a joke about her hidden pearl... but am refraining. A floating sun and moon with people attached and hanging from wires. A man who's become the embodiment of the human circulatory system. A racecar (spelled the same frontwards and backwards). Think about this... a racecar at the Olympics... doing doughnuts. For no discernible reason.

None of this makes sense.

Although, I'm no longer disappointed by the lack of people hanging by wires.

It's as if I can speak to them and they can hear me.

I half expect someone to run around with the Shroud of Turin. Top that Crackheads. The Shroud of Freakin' Turin.

Viva Torino!

End Blog.

Crack Pot Olympics

I’m excited to watch the opening ceremonies of the Winter Games tonight. Because I like to marvel at how the people who created and choreographed it must have been on crack.

So, as I’m waiting for them to start, I’ve decided to start this blog so that I can give you a play by play. Now, as a person who is not on crack, it is likely I will not understand what the hell is going on. Crackheads, bear with me. Your world is strange and new and I only get a brief glimpse of it every other year.

It has commenced. I believe they’re showing me that the Olympics is like a giant flaming roller derby. Somehow. And it’s changed into a giant kidney. And the rocketeer made an appearance.

Then it started to snow and these men played the big Ricola horns and they called upon the giant walking, dancing Christmas trees. Which lead to dancing cows. Because cows get happy when the trees dance. Don't look at me like that. This is crackpot logic. You have to just go with it.

This must be top quality crack.

Why is there always lots of fire and ice used in the opening ceremonies? I’m just waiting for the ice to melt. Although, I do enjoy the contrast.

Okay, so we’ve changed over to silver clad, disco miners with lights strapped to their foreheads.

And… I… can’t even describe what’s going on. People are making a picture of a man ski jumping. He’s animated. I might have to say this is the coolest thing a crackhead’s ever done.

This is the coolest thing a crackhead’s ever done.

Okay, now this could get interesting. There’s scaffolding and many people tethered together. This is like a Madonna concert performance waiting to happen. And yet, it wasn’t. That was highly disappointing, my little druggies. All I got out of that was the Olympic rings. Maybe I’ve been to one too many Madonna concerts.

I suppose I can forgive them since my mind is still trying to wrap itself around the 900 people that made up one ski jumper. I think I had a flashback to drill writing in marching band and my head exploded. I’m pretty sure my drill would have been even better had I known about the power crack had on the final product.

So, let’s recap: in the crackhead’s mind, this is what the Winter Olympics means to us – It’s a flaming roller derby with dancing trees and cows, lots of fire, miners – possibly to supply the fires, and ski jumping. The Winter Olympics is all about ski jumping.

Good to know.

And the countdown begins… two more years until I get to see top quality entertainment on crack again.

End Blog.

I Statements... for fun

I am not: dead. Yet.
I hurt: people accidentally because I’m not as empathetic as I’d like.
I love: fiercely. And possessively. It’s probably unhealthy.
I hate: trying to be patient for six months.
I fear: that after all the work to make a new life, I’ll be unhappy and alone.
I hope: that moving to MO is the best decision I’ve ever made.
I crave: someone to love me back just as fiercely.
I regret: not taking more chances. You only live once.
I cry: easily. It’s sometimes a very bad thing when you can’t stop them.
I care: about my friends. My job. Where I live. Money. Stupid things that shouldn’t matter.
I always: drink Dr Pepper.
I long: for a companion. Possibly of the canine persuasion.
I feel alone: at night. When I can’t sleep. And it’s dark. And I’m alone.
I listen: to you. Really, I do! … Huh?
I hide: eggs at Easter. Well, I could.
I cause: forest fires.
I sing: at work. It’s annoying to everyone.
I dance: badly.
I write: when I have a genius idea and get excited about it. So, hardly ever.
I breathe: in and out everyday. Continuously.
I play: with water in the shower. I like water.
I miss: my college girls.
I learn: rather quickly. It only took me 18 years to realize that I could stop going to school.
I feel: lonely a lot.
I know: many useless things.
I say: things in my head that I’d never say out loud.
I succeed: by accident and luck.
I fail: myself probably everyday. But I also forgive easily.
I dream: about three things – water, cars, and dogs.
I wonder: about many things. I have a pretty curious nature.
I want: to win the lotto. I should play the lotto.
I worry: about moving. Daily.
I wish: that I knew the start date of this new make-believe job I sorta have.
I have: much to be thankful for that’s taken for granted.
I give: myself to my friends.
I fight: hardly ever. That’s lots of energy. I’d rather be passive aggressive.
I wait: to hear from KC. Everyday. Wait wait wait.
I need: a social life.
I live: for the little things, but mostly laughter. We should all laugh everyday.

End Blog.

When You Wish Upon a Star Your Dreams…

I’ve been having the weirdest dreams lately where really odd things are happening and I refuse to wake up because I can’t imagine what I’ll do next, it just feels so bizarre. And I know it’s a dream but I don’t want to pull myself out of it because I know it’s more interesting than anything else going on.

Tracey’s appeared in two of these dreams. She’s grown and still appropriately older than me, but I really know nothing about her. She’s just there or follows me as I wander about without purpose. We’re doing random things. You know how dreams are… we’re in a hurry but I can’t determine why, we can’t find something, we’re in a maze… stuff like that.

But this morning my dream consisted of us looking at lots of different dogs because I think I wanted to buy one. Dad was there “helping” but providing us with facts and ideas that weren’t helpful in picking one out. For example – there was a big hullabaloo about how I needed a dog who knew how to swim. I didn’t think this was a big deal, but Dad insisted that we toss them in water to find out. And he picked up this big, brown, kinda curly dog, which I still don’t know what breed it was, and threw him in the lake.

And slowly… slowly… the dog just sank. Didn’t even try to swim or struggle, just sank below the water. Tracey and I screamed and made Dad go save him. And when he pulled him out of the water, he told us you could teach them how to swim by nearly drowning them repeatedly. Which he set about doing, rather violently, much to our horror.

And it was super peculiar – not because he was doing it, but for the fact that I didn’t want that dog, so it didn’t matter if it could swim or not. So I watched for awhile, asked him to stop – which he ignored, and then gave up on talking to him. Tracey and I ended up leaving him behind, wandering down this hall (that appeared from nowhere) on our own, and I found that we were in what appeared to be a long abandoned zoo.

The display in front of us was for a polar bear, who had two little baby cubs. It took me a while to find them, but I did. They were sleeping behind a huge pile of dead fish and big, heavy rope. I don’t know why they were there.

And then I realized the glass was missing and took a step forward. And the cubs woke and came to me and I was petting the cutest little polar bear cub, ever. To which I insisted Tracey take a picture, so I could show it to Janelle and tell her how she should have been there.

More happened previous to the weird dog scenario, I think it involved an amusement park and my mom dancing in a blue feathered dress wearing a blue wig and sitting on my father’s shoulders. Wacky strange craziness all around.

I’m not sure what’s going on with my mind. I don’t usually remember my dreams, but when I do, they usually involve water or cars or dogs. It’s nice to know that I still am not letting myself down on that and even managed to combine two of them this time. (That is, a new combination of two. Usually it’s driving along a river. I’ve had that dream a few times.) And if in fact dreams are Freudian and represent things… it’s nice to know that I still continue to have the same issues reoccurring for the past several years. Apparently I’m not growing emotionally. At all.

But, it’s time now that I go to sleep again (after 2am), into that hazy fantastic world of water and driving and dogs.


End Blog.

Futurama

Disclaimer to the Universe:
Please do not jinx me for finally being optimistic about this job. Thank you.



I’d like to write something overly simple and yet extremely intelligent to tell you what exactly I’m feeling right now, but I find that I’m pretty much incapable of putting together thoughts in a manner that represents the emotions I’m currently having.

I’m nearly certain that I’m going to get this job that I interviewed for back in August. (See, Universe, I said nearly...) Now, while this is good news, there are still a myriad of things that require my attention. Like… giving notice I’m moving out – but on what date? And how exactly will I work that out with my current roommate? And packing my things to move half way across the country. And renting a truck to do so. And coordinating time off with my parents and using them for help... again. Then there’s also getting my car ready for the trip as well. Not to mention my dwindling savings account and how much this will all cost. And how wise it is to continue putting things on my credit card? How quickly will I be able to pay it off?

Then there’s the whole getting a new apartment – and how can I make sure it doesn’t end up like my current apartment? How do I make sure I pick a good place that I can afford and yet still not get anything stolen? I mean, crime is good for the job but not for my personal well-being. And then the whole getting approved financially to live there without the support of my co-signing parents. It seems weird to think of myself as an adult. In my mind I'm so far from adult.

Not to mention Tracey’s upcoming birthday, which always sorta puts me in a funk because it reminds me how she would have been such a great example to follow after – and then reminds me of all the things she didn’t get to do. Like have a first real job. Or drive across the country. Or frickin' go to grad school.

Then there’s my own birthday on its way. I’ll be turning twenty-five. Which seems like a milestone in acquiring responsibility. So, it’s good that I’m most likely getting a job. A real job. With a retirement plan and healthcare benefits. A career. Adult things.

But with all of these things running through my mind, the one that hit me hardest today while thinking about starting to pack up my apartment…

I realized just how far away I’ll be from the place I grew up (I mostly mean college), from the friends I grew around and from the people that understand me most. Sure, I might not see them often (or ever) now, but I knew they were only three hours away. Visits were possible. And I wonder: If I feel isolated now sometimes here in DC, will KC be able to change that, or change me? I’m sure it’s my fault I’d rather stay in than go out, but of course being more financially stable will help remedy some of that. Being poor and broke is seriously limiting - especially in the social life department.

But I’ll miss Thanksgivings in New Jersey, although the possibility of being closer to family and having the money to spend that time where I should be – at home… feels right. The job feels right – an opportunity like none other – doing something I truly believe I’ll love.

To be happy going to work everyday is, I think, something we all strive for and the promise of having that at such a young age… I’m probably ahead of the pack. I know what I want. I’m very close to getting there. It’s just a matter of not letting the loneliness and isolation of an entirely new place get to me. To be able to assimilate myself into a new group and find good, honest friends… and hopefully someday someone to love. And split the rent with. Who likes dogs.

Just a few more obstacles in my way… before I turn twenty-five and start a future that will be the rest of my life. And although I’m scared, I also think I’m incredibly lucky.

It’s an odd feeling to be so hopeful and scared and uncertain about something I’m so sure is the right choice for me. I guess I’m just conflicted about growing up and gaining responsibility.

But, if I’m lucky, I’ll skip the quarter-life crisis that so many of my peers are going through.


End Blog.

Evolution, Schmevolution!

Recently the school board in Dover, PA ruled that intelligent design could be taught alongside Darwinian evolution, in science classes - until a group of 11 parents decided to challenge the decision in court, on the grounds that intelligent design is merely creationism in disguise, and is therefore unconstitutional (the grounds being separation of church and state).

The Dover parents that took the situation to Federal Court heard the testimony of a leading architect of the intelligent-design movement defend his ideas in the courtroom and acknowledge that under his brand new sparkly definition of a scientific theory, astrology would fit as neatly as intelligent design.

Um, yes, but see, that's exactly the problem, Dumbass. Astrology isn't a science either. By expanding the definition of "scientific theory" to include intelligent design, you’re admitting that intelligent design is, as it stands now, NOT a science.

See, scientific theory requires that hypotheses be tested, so that they can be discovered as true or false. In other words, any scientific theory must be falsifiable (i.e. what you’re doing to Darwinian Evolution, making it a science). Intelligent design, which attributes the origins of life to a mysterious intelligence (God - wink, wink) is not provable or disprovable. AND THEREFORE NOT A SCIENCE!

*Rampages*

It seems the definition offered by the National Academy of Science, the largest and most prestigious organization of scientists in the Western world, was inadequate to contain the scope and splendor of intelligent design. So… they just up and changed the definition of science entirely. Good decision. Excellent choice.


Today I give a big shout out to my old home state of Pennsylvania for finally doing the right thing on Election Day. On Tuesday, all eight school board members up for re-election were booted out. In their place are those who campaigned against the teaching of intelligent design in science class.

I cheered when I heard the news and proclaimed that it indeed was "a great day for education" (what the KS BOE said after they voted to make the teaching of the principles of intelligent design mandatory).


*goes off on a tangent*

Speaking of the Kansas Board of Education…

Listen, if you want to discount evolution and fossil record, go ahead. Evolution is a theory, and though well based in scientific facts, there are a few problems and missing links in the fossil record. This is why it’s a theory. But it’s still science.

Meanwhile, if you must make the teachings of intelligent design mandatory, it should be done in a religion or philosophy course, where it belongs. The fact that evolution is too complex for you to understand doesn’t mean it needs to be attributed to a higher intelligence… it just means you’re not all that smart. I mean… Science class is just not the proper venue for this subject. Teach it elsewhere.

When your kids grow up and move on to college, they’re going to be in for a rude awakening. Colleges and universities will not teach alternatives to evolution in their introductory biology courses. And most philosophy classes are going to question existence entirely. Don’t be so closed minded as to influence young minds so early.

And if that is what you think the science class is doing, I suggest a whole new course devoted to this subject. Teach every theory out there. Evolution, intelligent design, creationism, the beliefs of those that follow the Flying Spaghetti Monster (http://www.venganza.org/) … all of it. In a class not labeled as science.

I wasn’t lucky enough to learn about evolution in school. My school board thought it necessary to completely shirk the issue. Avoiding it is also not the answer. I wasn’t introduced to evolution until college… and trust me; it was more difficult to handle, never having a background on the information. This is also not the way to go. Boo Blue Mountain. Boo on you.

*goes back to original topic at hand*


But anyway… back to Dover…

Today, on the news, I heard this: (it just keeps getting better)

The Reverend Pat Robertson told Pennsylvanians who voted the members of the Dover Area school board out of office for supporting intelligent design have also rejected God as well.

He’s quoted as saying, "If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God. You just voted God out of your city."

Now, I don’t know much about anything religious… but I was always under the impression God was the forgiving sort. And just because the town’s voted to teach science in the science classroom doesn’t mean that they are not religious folk. I’ve gotten the opposite impression living in the region.

But the fact that Robertson is even suggesting the area be struck by disaster in the wake of Katrina and Rita and Wilma and the tornadoes in Indiana is insensitive and obtuse of him. It's frustrating. This dude totally needs to shut the hell up. Yeah, I said hell in regards to Reverend Pat Robertson. He’s not spreading God’s ideals, he’s being an asshole.

Besides, God isn't going to smite his followers because of a silly election. And if he does, who would want to believe in that kind of God anyway?

*Rampages more*

I am and always will be a scientist at heart. And while I am proud of the voters in Dover, I am still sad for the state of affairs in Kansas. It’s a giant step backwards in science education. And although I encourage questioning and curiosity for advancements in the field, this is not the way to go.

*Heavy sigh*

End Blog.