Not my favorite kind of parade

This week I got a full physical from my doctor, courtesy of my 40th birthday.  That birthday, mind you, was two months ago, but January was the earliest I could schedule myself in one of the coveted 8am time slots.  Fasting bloodwork + limited number of days in the week = you practically have to kill someone to get a slot for a physical.

The doctor's usual nurse, Rachel, wasn't in that day - the first time ever that I've been in the office and NOT seen her.  Her replacement, whose name I never caught, was competent, but I was disappointed.  If I was going to have to have a female witness on hand for my exam, it would have been nice if I at least knew her name.  I mean, I'm open to meeting new people, but I do have standards.  She could have at least bought me a drink first....

It also happened to be my doctor's week in the "let's have medical students shadow our practicing doctors" rota, and the Nameless Nurse asked if I would mind if a medical student sat in on my visit.  No problem, I said, remembering that 3/4 of the visit was just going to be me answering only mildly uncomfortable questions.  My doctor brought in Eric, who was blandly handsome and looked like he was still wet behind the ears.  He shook my hand with just the right amount of respect and geniality - good training on handshakes at Case, apparently.  Nothing creepy there, no vibe of, "Boy, am I excited I get to look up your hoo-hah today!" so that was okay.

Endless questions.  Who died when, of what?  What do I eat, drink, do for fun?  How often?  Seriously, every time I get a physical - which isn't that often, maybe once every five years? - the number of questions doubles.  Meanwhile, I'm sitting there, hunger and a caffeine headache gnawing away at my insides because I haven't eaten in more than 12 hours.
Dr: "How much caffeine do you drink every day?"
"Not enough today, let me tell you."
Dr: "Okay, on a normal day when I'm not torturing you, how many caffeinated beverages do you drink?"

My doctor isn't much older than I am, and one of my main goals when I visit him (aside from getting my prescriptions re-authorized at the pharmacy) is to crack him up.  It's usually not that hard ... or that intentional, actually.  Can I help it if strong knee reflexes and a pair of slip-on shoes are not a good combination?  Anyway, he's rattling through his standard list, I'm watching him type the answers into his laptop and waiting, because I've got a good answer prepared for one of the questions.  And, sure enough, it came:

Dr: "What type of birth control do you use?"
"Condoms.  Well, condoms and excessive irritability, if you want to know the truth."
Dr: "Nice," he said with a grin.
"Bet your questionnaire doesn't have a code for that one."
Dr: "Nope, but it probably should."

Questions answered, he shined a funky light in my eyes, looked in my ears and up my nose, and explained a few things to Eric the Med Student about how the software was set up to track when various vaccinations were due in the future, so you don't have to calculate them yourself.  Apparently, in 2020 I can look forward to my tetanus booster - awesome!

Dr: "Okay, so we're going to step out for a minute while you get out of your clothes, and we'll do the pelvic exam when we get back."
"So can I leave my top half dressed, or do you need the full monty?"
Dr: "Full monty, including socks.  Gotta do a full skin exam, too."
"Yay. So, do I at least get a drape?"
Dr: "Oh, right.  Here you go," the doctor said, and he rummaged around in the exam table drawer and got a gown and drape for me.  "I thought she had already gotten one laid out.  Be back in a minute."

Well, maybe a few minutes.  It's a good thing I asked for the gown, because I was in there forever.  First, the Nameless Nurse came back to give me my flu shot, while my doctor went in to see another patient.  Then, the doctor was ready, but the nurse was filling in paperwork.  Then they all were ready, but the nurse hadn't laid out the exam equipment that my doctor preferred, so they had to get that set up.

Meanwhile, I'm starving and rapidly approaching being late for work. I was stuck naked in The Most Boring and Chilly Exam Room Ever, texting a friend to set up a play date for Liza and sending messages to Jason to jokingly complain about the physical.
- "Rachel the nurse has the day off so there's a sub, and it's medical student following day.  There's going to be a parade of strangers looking at my privates in the next few minutes.  Yay!"
---"I always say no to that."
-"That's because you hate learning and don't want the next generation of doctors to know what they're doing.  Loser."

Honestly, I thought, I don't care who all is down there, as long as I don't have to see them around town on a regular basis.  I'd much rather have a dozen med students down there taking notes and drawing diagrams, rather than walk around naked in the women's locker room at the gym.  At least the med students I can justify as being for the greater good, whereas walking around in the locker room is just icky.  Then again, maybe I was just a little lightheaded from the hunger and lack of Diet Coke.

The Pelvic Exam Parade eventually was ready to start, and it was even more fun than normal, since my doctor was taking his time and explaining everything he was doing to the student.  I distracted myself by trying to figure out how old I would have been when I gave birth to him if the student was my kid, and the answer was "not that much younger than some of my friends started having kids."  Those medical students are getting younger all the time (insert obligatory old woman cackle here).  This somewhat distressing thought was effective as a distraction, though, because I managed to ignore most of the exam, other than one strangely off-putting comment from my doctor to the student: "Sorry you can't see what I'm doing here, but it's all up on the top floor.  I think you'd have to stand on your head."  Okaaaaaay ....  Time for the patient to ask about something that's been bothering her for a while:

"Oh, I meant to ask you, ."
Dr: "Huh.  Well, that's unusual."
"Yeah, I kind of figured that.  Heck, if I could get a camera up there, I could probably make some money from the video on YouTube."
Dr: "I am so glad you said that, because I was totally thinking it, and I'm not allowed to say stuff like that."
"It's like a party trick."
Dr: "I do not get invited to those kinds of parties."
"Yeah, me neither, so it's kind of a waste."

The doctor filled in some paperwork while I sat on the table and tried to not look like I was ready to gnaw off my own leg.

Dr: "Okay, so here's the order for the lab work, and another for a mammogram.  You get to start having those, now, too, by the way."
"Yeah, I know, all of my high school friends were complaining about it on Facebook in the past year."
Dr: "Really?"
"Yeah, well, it came up a lot.  It's not like they were posting pictures or anything."
Dr: "I hope not."
"Dude, knowing my friends, I'm lucky they weren't posting live video feeds of the procedures."
Dr: "..."
"Again, I could totally make money with that on YouTube."
Dr: "Again, I'm glad you said that, not me.  Go get the lab work done down the hall, and I'll see you in three months."

A few minutes later I was sitting there, trying not to watch the technician fishing around for a vein (mine are dainty) and I looked up when another patient entered the waiting area  ... with Eric the Med Student trailing behind him.  I gave him a faint smile and tried very hard not to concentrate on the fact that he'd been trying to check out my top floor just a few minutes before.  I said thanks to the technician, grabbed my coat, and headed for my car.  With any luck, the Pelvic Exam Parade would not follow me all the way to Subway, because while Eric may know all about my party trick, that didn't mean I wanted him to know what I order on my sandwiches.  Some things are just too personal to share.

I love TED

Where else - other than the TED talks - can you painlessly learn more about how the digital world works from people who are extremely well-spoken yet still folks you wouldn't mind inviting to your barbecue?



Or see stuff that's so funny you remember it five years later?


I love you, TED.

Let us all celebrate the true meaning of the holidays

http://whatever.scalzi.com/2010/12/21/an-interview-with-the-nativity-innkeeper/

"Let me ask you. So your baby is born, and the first thing you do is put him in an open container filled with grain and covered in oxen drool? Does this seem reasonable to you?" 


This is why I should not be allowed to sort through my blogroll while eating cereal.  Anyone know how to get granola out of a laptop keyboard?

They are losing their freaking minds

The cats are, that is.

The birds have finally found the feeder that I put in the yard back in November (way to be observant, guys!), and they're hitting it hard.  I put it in the front yard this year, partly to give the birds some cover in the bushes nearby, and partly because this way I can watch them while sitting on the couch blogging (ahem).

I also put the feeder there because it's right near the window where the cats normally hang out anyway - I figured it would be like Kitty TV.  When the first birds appeared, I called Zach over to the arm of the couch and pointed out the window.  Zach normally isn't Mr. Observant, either, and I don't know if I've ever actually gotten him to look at something I was pointing to ... until today.  Dude started barking his head off (yes, cats can bark) at the birds, and I thought he was going to launch himself through the window (which would have been problematic, since it's got a Christmas tree in front of it).  The initial flood of birds - maybe half a dozen female cardinals and a couple of house sparrows or house finches, plus a black-capped chickadee - went down eventually, and Zach regained his sanity.

Just now Bella finally noticed the birds, and SHE started barking at them, and she never barks at anything.  She pretty much ignores the squirrels and chipmunks (which Zach happily stalks and yells at through the sliding door) and hardly ever meows unless there's something wrong (like her food bowl being less than half full).  But she stood on the arm of the chair and yelled at those birds for a couple of minutes straight.  She's quieted down now and trying to pretend that she's resting, but I'm not fooled.  She's trying to figure out how to open the window so she can go get those suckers.

Good luck growing some opposable thumbs and bulking up enough to turn the crank on the windows, babe!

Now that I know the birds will actually come in this close to the house, I'll have to see if I can manage to get another kind of feeder out there.  Just having hulled sunflower seeds won't do it for long, not if we want to have more than two or three kinds of birds around.  I'm thinking of getting a feeder for nyjer seed to see if I can get a few more finches.  And maybe if I'm feeling really kind I'll get one of those suet/peanut butter feeders for the squirrels in the back.  At any rate, it looks like the Ohio Birds guide is out to stay, at least until we can recognize all of the usual suspects at the feeder.

How to tick off your sci-fi nerd friends

Show them this with an absolutely straight face:

Or perhaps this is more your style:

First person to show these to someone and have them patiently explain to them why these pics are "wrong" gets a present!

A message for someone special

For: You know who you are
From: http://xkcd.com/828/

The popup you see when you mouseover the original comic reads: "Having a positive attitude is almost tautologically good for your mental health, and extreme stress can hurt your immune system, but that doesn't mean you should feel like shit for feeling like shit."

And if you haven't read the XKCD comics online, grab a cup of coffee and go check them out.  You won't be disappointed (although you may need to go back a couple of weeks to get past the guest posts and 5-minute comics).

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Name: Tobacco "Bubba" Hornworm

Suspect was being held in temporary custody outside a private residence.  Preparations were being made to transfer the suspect to a medical facility, where he would be held in suspended animation for several weeks before being released.  The suspect escaped from the temporary holding cell and has not been seen since.  If you have any information about the whereabouts of Tobacco "Bubba" Hornworm, please contact local authorities.  DO NOT APPROACH THE SUSPECT - interactions with other citizens have shown that he may be armed and dangerous!

Aaaaaaah!  Run for your lives!  Bubba is back, and he's pissed!

(translation: I had a tank set up with dirt for Bubba to dig into when pupating, but somehow he managed to escape from the butterfly cage that I'd left open and propped on top of the dirt, and I haven't seen him since) 

It's disappointing when you plan to use "I think I just peed myself" as a post title, then find out you've already used it, darn it

Because I did, when I saw this:
http://the-panopticon.blogspot.com/2010/06/proof-that-no-matter-how-bad-it-is.html

Especially because it makes me remember this:
http://oxymoronassoc.livejournal.com/462027.html#cutid1 which is not safe for work, seeing as how it's rather crude, but hilarious all the same, as it imagines Edward Cullen of Twilight fame as someone who picked up a lot of hobbies while everyone else in his family was hooking up.  A small sample:

oxymoronassoc: i bet he went through a phase where he knitted shit
oxymoronassoc: to keep from strangling emmett
oxymoronassoc: everyone got a lumpy pullover for xmas that year
welurklate: ESME GOT SOMETHING WITH A CAT ON IT
oxymoronassoc: EMMETT'S HAD NO NECK HOLE AND EMMETT TRIED TO PUT IT ON ANYWAY AND STRUGGLED AROUND A LOT UNTIL HE JUST RIPPED HIS HEAD THROUGH

"Do it again, Mom! I never get tired of this video!"

More fun from YouTube

Your life will be richer for having seen this, I guarantee it.

Because we need some fun on this snowy Friday

And a last one, this time from just under a decade ago

One more post from way back when - a recounting of my adventures getting (the first of three) lasik surgery to correct my hideously bad eyesight. The squeamish should bow out now, I think.

---

Ok, so I'm back, have slept off the worst of the valium, and am ready to tell my tale, for those of you who have strong enough stomachs to read any further. Here's how my day went:

9:15 am - suffered power blackout at work; since I work in a lab where the loss of ventilation can be hazardous, all of us trooped over to the cafeteria to hang out. Nothing better than time to sit around with nothing to do right before surgery, so you can dwell on exactly how scared you are. Contemplated the possiblity that the power wouldn't come on in the next hour or so, which would cause the plant manager to send first shift home early for the day, which would mean that I could save 1/2 a vacation day. That was the bright spot of the morning.

10:55 am - power restored, first shift had to stay. Darn it!

11am - bid farewell to coworkers ("See you Monday . . . hopefully!). Felt sense of elation that in a few hours, I'll be able to stop worrying about the damn procedure. Thought about taking my safety glasses with me in the car so I could pitch them out the window on my way home after the surgery, but decided that littering wasn't the best idea.

11:15am - choked down a light lunch at Subway. Contemplated which toppings would look best if circumstances caused me to regurgitate them all over the laser technician. Fretted.

11:55am - arrived at doctor's office. There were only two cars in the parking lot, a parking lot that is usually full. Is the place closed? Has he been sued for malpractice? Or are they just slow because of the lunch hour? Remembered to bring inside the bag of pre-surgery stress reducers I've gathered (stone I use to keep my hands occupied instead of biting my fingernails; photos of loved ones; handkerchief from my grandmother who breezed through several cataract surgeries with no difficultes, and whose estate made the surgery financially possible for me; plastic baggie and napkins to use in case of nausea).

12pm - signed in. Signed disclaimer that boiled down to "anything that goes wrong ain't the doctor's fault." Took 10mg valium. Tried to read engaging book to keep my mind off of impending procedure (
i O is for Outlaw;
very good book so far). Held husband's hand. Fretted.

12:15 pm - young woman who just arrived is scheduled for the surgery slot after mine. She looked calm and ready to go. And skinny. Wished fervently that I was more like her, or at least looked that good in overalls.

12:30 pm - assistant came to prep me for surgery. "I'm supposed to be feeling less anxious, right, because that isn't happening yet." "We'll get you prepped and get you another pill."

12:40 pm - Began crying. Just a little. Reassured by assistant, who had laser surgery herself, that everything will be fine, but I don't have to continue if I don't want to. Gulped down another 1/2 a valium, preying for some dopiness to start soon. Eye area was swabbed with betadine solution, and I had to put on a little blue shower cap to keep my hair out of the way.

12:50 pm - Waited in small waiting room for doctor to arrive. Assistant stopped by every few minutes to make sure I was feeling ok, which interfered with my stress-reducing yoga breathing techniques. Panic was still there, but manageable.

1:10 pm - Doctor is here, ready to go.
* Sit in something like a dentist's chair, only it tilts so far back that you feel like you're going to slide off headfirst onto the floor. Head was positioned just so, then held in place with an inflatable donut-shaped pillow. They moved the laser in place over my eye, and the focusing ring around the outside was so bright I could barely look at it.
* They put a patch over my left eye. Had to stare at the light while they attached a suction ring to my right eye. This caused me to lose all vision in that eye, which was probably a blessing, but it was really uncomfortable - like someone pushing fairly hard on your eye with their knuckle. The keratome (translation - knife) attached to the suction ring, and after a few seconds of vibration, the flap was cut. They removed the suction ring, and I breathed for the first time in several minutes, or at least that's how it seemed. Probably would have been impossible at that time to pry the lucky stone out of my hand.
* Also luckily, with the flap cut I couldn't really see what was going on too well. First they attached a speculum to my eyelids to keep them open. Then they flipped back the flap, made sure everything was ready, and started up the laser. The trick to the laser is that you have to look right at that super-bright area (with a pulsing red light in the middle; that's the actual laser) without moving your eye, or it gets all screwed up. Unfortunately, to me it looked like the damn target light was moving, so I kept trying to follow it with my eye. Luckily the doctor has a view of the whole thing, and every time my eye started to wander, he'd flip off the laser. After the fourth or fifth time that happened, he was probably getting a little annoyed. Meanwhile, the laser technician was counting down how many seconds I had left to go. Longest 48 seconds ever recorded in the history of mankind.
* Once the laser was done, they flipped the flap back in place and used some sort of spatula or brush or something to smooth it back into place. Thanks to the negative pressure in your eye, there are no stitches necessary to hold the flap back in place. Then I had to sit there with the speculum holding open my right eye (so the flap could get nicely dried and stuck down before I blinked) while they started on my left eye.
* So the right eye was bad, but the left eye was even scarier, since I knew exactly what was coming. The suction hurt worse on that eye - was bordering on pain, instead of just being uncomfortable. I'm hoping that whimpering uncontrollably doesn't mean that I wasn't brave, since I made it through the whole procedure for that eye, too. Of course, I may be picking rock fragments out of my hands for a few days, but hey - at least there was not vomiting!
* After the left eye was done, they put some drops in my right eye, then took out the speculum. Then I had to wait for another few minutes with the speculum still attached to my left eye (and it pinched!) while the doctor and technicians made small talk. Then they put in the drops, took the appliances off, and damned if I couldn't see! Well, I could see pretty well until they taped some clear eyepatches over my eyes to keep me from scratching at them overnight - they blur things a little bit.

1:30 pm - All done, including the post-operative counseling to let me know what types of pain and/or problems are bad enough for me to call the doctor at home and drag him with me to the hospital. Arrived in the lobby, triumphant, and looking unbearably stupid with both eyes tremendously bloodshot from the suction

Another post from the way-back e-mail machine

Found this one still online at the cooking forum I used to haunt back in the day ("the day" being 1998 and 1999, while I was living in Japan and was using the forum as a substitute for actual friends).

Oh, one more thing. For those of you who are interested, here's a copy of the message I sent out to friends and family, to let them know what our last few weeks have been like. Hope you enjoy!

This week's topic: Sayonara!

Well, it's been a long, hard road, but we've finally made it - our last day at the lab! Thank you, dear readers, for giving me a place to vent and explain our life abroad. It's so nice to share our thoughts with our friends, without having to tell the same anecdotes over and over again. I hope that you have learned a little, and laughed a little, and will miss the messages a little now that they're done. Better hold on to printouts of these little gems . . . you never know, maybe someday I'll become famous and they'll be worth something as records, rather than as kindling! Anyway, as a public service to you, I leave you with a step-by-step list of instructions for closing down your life in Japan, in case you ever need to do so.

** Allow two moving companies to bid on the move, as required by company policy. Explain to moving company representatives what will be sent by air, what will be sent by boat, and why your cat has its own bedroom in your apartment.

** Cram in day trips to all the places you meant to go see, but never got around to visiting. Shop for potential Christmas gifts and last-minute home decorations; add several more little paper weeble-wobble dolls to your now-extensive collection.

** Prepare cat for trip. Attempt to put cat into the carrying case he used on the trip to Japan; realize that he can't fit all four legs and his tail in at once. Visit hardware store to purchase crate large enough for a medium-sized dog, because "we want him to be comfortable." Sigh with relief when huge crate actually fits in the back seat of your car. Take cat to vet for pre-move checkup and updated shots. Watch as cat goes ballistic at the sight of other animals in the exam room; almost receive rabies shot instead of the cat because he squirms so much. Wish you had a tape recorder to capture the sounds coming out of the cat's throat, some of which could be marketed to the folks who make sound effects for horror movies. Vow that when you have to take the cat back to the vet again right before you leave the country, for another round of shots and the final certificate, you will either drug him into a stupor or wrap him up tightly in a towel.

** Purchase airline tickets, remembering to reserve a space in the cargo hold for the cat, and to get the animal-approved flight from Cincinnati to Cleveland (which involves a 3-hour layover in Cincy, rather than the standard 1-hour layover). Make hotel reservations at cat-friendly hotel. Reserve mini-van rental car to tote luggage and cat home from the airport.

** Begin disposing of Japanese appliances. Sell washer, dryer, and refrigerator at bargain-basement prices. Arrange to borrow company minivan to transport large appliances to their final destinations. Purchase large amounts of aspirin to alleviate hernia you anticipate will occur after you lug the refrigerator downstairs. Give away hair dryer, telephone, and light fixtures to strangers who make eye contact with you on the street.

** Begin sorting out what will actually be sent by air. Bring home boxes of work-related papers, and empty boxes to use for sorting. Watch in amusement as cat goes partially psycho when furniture is moved from one room to another . . . try to record the highest spontaneous vertical leap he performs when he hears a loud noise.

** Begin disposing of excess food. Offer American canned goods to fellow expats at reasonable prices. Devise delicious meals to use up foods that have already been opened ("Hmmm, a box of frosted flakes, a can of tuna, a bar of white chocolate, and two boxes of baking powder. Looks like we're ordering another pizza!").

** Ask secretaries to find a Japanese hotel which allows pets, for your last few nights once the apartment has been vacated. Determine that the closest one is two hours away from work, and three hours away from the airport. Decide to stay at a hotel in Nagoya and either smuggle in the cat, or leave him with a friend for a day or two.

** Deal with the movers for the air shipment. Explain, in a horrible mixture of English and Japanese and without the benefit of a map, how the movers should get to your apartment ("We're near the Meito Ward post office, and across the street from an elementary school. Does that help?"). Explain to the movers that the piteous noises coming from behind the closed door are not from a human sacrifice, just from a spoiled kitty. Try not to feel awkward as you sit on the couch watching a rerun of professional wrestling - it's the only English-language show on - while the movers grunt and strain in the next room. When movers ask if they may take a 10-minute break, consider the question carefully just to worry them, then say "yes." When movers ask if they may use the bathroom, consider the question carefully just to make them squirm, then say "yes."

** Deal with the aftermath of the air shipment packing. Let the cat out of his room, then watch as he actually does a double-take when you let him into the room the movers have emptied out. Notice how he jumps two feet straight into the air anytime you move or make a noise, for about 2 hours after the movers leave. Decide to get all the psychic cat damage done at once, and bring the dreaded suitcases out into view.

** Decide that to make things easier on the cat, you will leave the country one day earlier, thus eliminating the need to board him at your friends' house. Rebook airplane tickets, hotel, car rental. Notify everyone in the expat division of the changed date. Reschedule apartment inspection for the morning of the day you leave Japan. Schedule necessary maintenance on newly-purchased home (being certain to schedule the chimney cleaning BEFORE the carpet cleaning, and the cable tv installation AFTER the delivery of the television in the air shipment).

** Deal with Japan's farewell present to you, in the form of one last Unpleasant Seismic Event (we don't like to say the E-word). Think to yourself - and I'm suggesting based on experience here - "God, what are they doing downstairs? Ok, this one does feel like a truck hit the building - several times - and it's still going. I don't want to be trapped in the post-earthquake apocalyptic rubble wearing nothing but spandex tights and a sports bra - should I put my shoes on now and get crushed to death, or put them on later and risk having to run through broken glass barefoot to escape? Huh, the china cabinet sure is rattling - good thing we packed up all the photos and breakables earlier today. Maybe I'd better go stand by the door with the earthquake kit and see if this is going to stop soon. JASON!!!!!" Wait for 30-second temblor to finish, wait for a few seconds. Find husband, half-clothed and trying to pry the cat out of the box spring of the bed. Remind husband that in the case of a real emergency, it's better to have a dead cat than a crushed husband. When he disagrees, remind yourself that his life insurance policy is large enough to provide for a comfortable life for you. Remind yourself to check on whether he's covered in an earthquake, and if the "Accidental Death or Dismemberment" policy would apply in that situation.

** Say goodbye to coworkers. There should be plenty of opportunities for this, since you'll have a farewell staff meeting, farewell luncheon, night out with the secretaries, and official Soubetsukai on the evening of your last day of work. Begin thinking up excuses why you are unable to sing karaoke that night. Mentally review the useful Japanese phrase, "I cannot drink much tonight; I am on a diet." Lay in a supply of Tums, aspirin, and cool cloths for the next morning.

** Supervise packing of sea shipment. Stand around awkwardly while the movers do all the work, gradually taking away all the comfortable places to sit and interesting things to do. Remember to buy earplugs for yourself and all moving company employees, so that the noise from the cat - who will be locked into an empty room by himself - does not drive anyone insane. After movers leave for the day, watch as cat becomes completely psycho as he views the boxes and rearranged furniture one day, and the completely empty apartment the next day. Partially open doors between the connecting bedrooms, so that cat can run circular laps around the apartment. Feel really guilty when you leave him alone in the apartment and check into a hotel.

** Last day in Japan: 6am - wake up, check out of hotel. Travel to apartment; clean like maniacs. 9:30 - apartment inspection. When apartment owner and management company try to charge you for the tiny holes in the wall where you hung pictures, point out that they were going to have to re-wallpaper the whole apartment anyway, since there are so many 4-foot-long cracks in the walls. Remember to stand directly over the spot in the carpet where the cat tried to chew his way under a door (so that inspectors don't notice the frayed area). As inspectors make unreasonable demands for compensation, whisper hilariously menacing catch phrases you learned from the professional wrestling show under your breath ("He wants $500 because we didn't sanitize the oven? Yeah, right, I'd like to take that oven, shine it up real nice, turn it sideways, and stick it straight up his roody-poo candy a** "). 10:30 am - apartment inspection complete; turn apartment keys over to apartment owner. Turn company car keys over to secretary from work. Throw yourself on the mercy of your neighbors, whom you will visit until it's time to go to the airport around 4:30 pm. Check watch. Realize that you will smell like sweat and bleach all the way back to the US - that's another 20 to 24 hours. Check watch. Hope that the Business Class amenity pack contains refreshing moist towelettes, which you can use to give yourself a sponge bath in the airplane bathroom. Check watch. Cram yourself, 400 pounds of luggage, and the cat, into two taxis and head for the airport.

So long, farewell, sayonara, and good night!

Blast from the (way, way) past

We're going through some totes full of old mementos, and I found an e-mail correspondence I had with the owner of the company I worked for in July 1991. This is the first recorded instance of me using the computer to be funny, so I thought I'd share it here. Of course, the boss came up with much funnier material, but he'd had decades more practice than I had at the time (I was 17).

Backstory - Our company was on two floors of one building (five and six), and someone had recently sent around a message complaining that people were leaving the fridge door open in the break room near where I worked.

From me:

I found that the best way to make sure the fridge door closes (see Ley's e-mail) is by pressing on the lower lefthand side of the door with your foot as you close the door. This makes sure that the gasket around the door seals; if it doesn't, air leaks out and you may as well not close the door. Give it a try next time you use the fridge on six. Thanks!

From Andy:

FYI. Personally, I have found that getting a running start from the file cabinet and slamming my head into the lower right hand corner of the door seems to work just fine ... except for the one time that someone opened the door and I didn't notice ... it took me a half-hour to get that Tupperware container dislodged from my head.

From me:

Sometimes I go up to the seventh floor and do a Tarzan-type swing out their window and in through ours, kicking the door shut on the way. Of course, we usually don't have the windows open, so it's pretty painful and probably not as effective as your method.

From Andy:

Yes I have tried that method also and it is not nearly as effective as my first method, as you so correctly state. Another method that has also proven effective in the past has been to attach a come-along to one of the support beams in the ceiling (or actually, a portable engine-lift also works in a pinch) and then I have wrapped the fridge in a sling and pulled it up to the ceiling. Then comes the tricky part ... you need to position the refrigerator such that the door is facing down while suspended six feet above the floor. From here you simply cut the cable and let the fridge drop to the floor - slamming the door shut and safely sealing the contents for the next user. This method is a little tricky but it has never failed me yet. Give it a try and let me know how you like it.

Proof that the science nerds have a sense of humor, too

From today's trip to the natural history museum, I give you ...

Part of the display of "beetles"

Part of the display of nests and "eggs"

Part of the library in the education center

I believe that may be the best book title, ever.

This one's for you, Percy

http://www.dorktower.com/2009/12/23/dork-tower-wednesday-december-23-a-very-classic-musky-christmas-ii/

Dang, now why didn't I think of that?

http://www.buzzfeed.com/awesomer/nerd-tivity-scenes/

I still think the funniest thing is that some of our friends' kids used to use the Playmobil baby Jesus as a purchase at the Playmobil grocery store. I wonder how much a savior costs?

Two things that made me laugh

1. When we were in the car yesterday, Liza and her friend were pretending that they had buttons that would turn the car into a roller coaster or an airplane. As we were going up an on-ramp onto the highway, the friend yelled out, "We're on a roller coaster! Hold on to your underpants!"

2. Apparently, it was cold enough where Jason was in China to make this hat seem like a good idea:

Joking around with Liza this morning, I threw the hat to her, and I realized what this thing reminds me of: the panda heads that come flying at you when you're playing the soccer game on Wii Fit. I think I'll just start randomly throwing it at her when she's practicing (real) soccer in the yard, just to entertain myself.

Why have I never seen these before?

Did you know there's a whole subculture devoted to writing funny product reviews on Amazon? Seriously. Check it out:

http://www.amazon.com/Mountain-Mens-Three-Short-Sleeve/dp/B002HJ377A

Check out the comments for the shirt, then check out some of the other suggested items. I love the milk that can be used for self defense ... and the second comment down on the Zubaz pants.

Oh, dear. I think I may have found yet another place to waste time on the internet ...

I think I just peed myself

I don't find 'em, I just pass 'em on: