an ageless question

as a scientist, i'm baffled.

while the following implies that i regularly break the OSHA code by wearing sandals to a lab with a radiation license, i swear it's all hypothetical.

so when i (i mean, you) wear flip-flops all summer long, from a variety of manufacturers and with a broad array of footbed composition, with data points from all over the pricing spectrum, you'll notice that any given pair of flip flops will, someday when you least expect it and when it's most likely to sound like a fart noise at a bad time, squeak when you walk in them.

all flip flops squeak, eventually. and it's not like you reach a certain amount of wear upon whence you overcome the threshold of quietude and squeak thereafter. no; some flip flops will squeak one day, then not the following. they will squeak when it's raining, cloudy or sunny. they will squeak when you tip toe, walk brusquely, or run to catch the train. they will squeak whether your feet are dry, cracked, clammy or covered in spilled ice cream. and then, the same flip flops, under any of these conditions, will also not squeak at all.

which leads me to my scientific conclusions.
first, if flip flops squeak, and no one is around to hear them, you still paid too much for them.

second, as a corollary to heisenberg, no two pairs of flip flops can be squeaking on the same feet at the same time, or you are a mutant.

and third, you will forever be a slave to these random noise emissions, as flip flop squeakage is utterly unpredictable.

kind of like women.

lab witticisms

next time someone gets cheeky, i think i'm going to mutter, "well jeez, who spilled methanol in HER fume hood?"

hehe. MeOH jokes are the best

here be dragons

do NOT ride the red line, or meander around park street, after 9.20 AM. this is when all the weirdos, freaks, and retards go to daycare (or their masspirg meetings).

the MBTA sucks all the time, but in this morning window your probability is greatly increased for any of the following:

-losing 43 minutes due to inept operation of the crip-crank by the conductor while trying to board stephen hawking bound for a leisurely wheel around the MFA (drool-cup included)

-being accosted by well-dressed, clean shaven young children of the cor - i mean, spreaders of the word of god

-being asked to sign a hippie petition by some fireplug whose gender, much less sexual orientation, is nebulous at best

-sitting next to the asian dude picking his nose, while your own olfactory senses are overcome by his grocery bags full of hybrid garlic-bok choy and powdered ylang-ylang musk of some exotic intestinal parasite sold for medicinal purposes at the allston super 88

-watching six B-line trains fly by, sparsely populated with normal professionals and people with 20th century hygiene regimens, while all the aforementioned congregate around you like flies around a starving ethiopian baby. that's right. THEY ALL WANT TO TAKE THE E LINE TOO

punjabi haiku

smooth mango lassi


moist lamb tikka masala


garlic naan for me.




yeah. so we're going out to dinner, i have a wicked cold and i bless the brown man for his wonderful culinary creations which may be tasted despite blocked sinuses.

i've been lazy here, i'd apologize but i'm sure you all know we just signed the lease for our new apartment. horray for us...honeybear and sweetie, making people sick in public for exactly 290 days and counting.

today's deep thought

don't be like me:



increasing both your reps and weight for squats and lunges on monday, the goal being to fatigue your gluteals to 'asses of fire' proportions, is not worth it.




cause then trying to hold your farts in at work on tuesday allows you to explore a new dimension of hell.

mangia bene, an operetta with a moral

the saga of my belly, as told by sabominator:


yesterday i was overcome with PMS hunger; the endless great-basin belly syndrome.

i ate a mess of cold spicy sesame noodles with chicken from the chinese truck.

it was soooo good until about 5 pm, when it became sooo bad.

i thought my ovaries and stomach lining were fighting over which got to digest me from the inside out.

too sick was i to eat any dinner but midol and guinness. which helped.

so i went to bed hungry, arose more hungry, and breakfast was like a trickle in a silo.




no more chinese truck.