won't you be my neighbor

...i just wanted to say that, it has no bearing on the subject of this post. which actually has no subject. i'm still at work, and will be till like 8. and it's friday, you must know. i'm so dedicated to alzheimer's research, protein biochemistry, and all of the folks at good ol' harvard. i work real hard. i like my job. if anybody willing to pay over $40K for super technical work is reading this, you know what to do...i may use too many gloves in a given day, and i won't chop off little mousie heads or wipe monkey butts, but i'm a hell of a pipetter, i've memorized the fisher catalog, my electrophoresis skillz know no bounds, and i promise to stop wearing flip flops if you pay me enough. thank you, that is all.

a perfect evening

so last night i passed up talking with my mom for ben and jerry's no added sugar strawberry "ice cream" and a private screening of what i would say is a seminal movie of our time, a modern-day classic produced at the zenith of eddie's career...coming to america...good god what a film. you can't see stuff like that in theatres anymore. i want to live the 80's all over. but i don't want to be prepubescent, chubby and unpopular with pink tinted glasses and neon tights again. getting back on topic...i'm sure i've told everyone i know about the time i was in the gym and those big black dudes (yes, THOSE GUYS, you know whom i mean) started singing "she's your queen to be" in perfect falsetto and how we shared a cross-cultural moment. of course you've heard that, it's one of my only funny stories so i probably even blogged it when it happened.


and i've been harping all day about my separation anxiety and how it feels like i have a small child in his first day at daycare...steve is getting his tint removed by some dutch dude. isn't that weird?

tips for the T

i think the MBTA should subsidize this blog.

THE FRIENDLY COMMUTER:

-don't take the rush hour trains. but don't go too late after rush hour either. the older relatives of the mutants who ride the subway at this hour are coming into town to visit them.

-if you see any of these things as you're entering a car, proceed through into the next car: an accordion (specifically, a man playing it). a double stroller with frantic mom accessory. two guys who look like they want to be on the chicago bulls - and they seem to think you look like a snack. any asian, indian, or person of non-western appearance talking on a cell phone just as loud as a westerner. any babies, any at all; sleeping one moment, spitting up and screaming the next. and, if you see all of these things on the same car, as i did this morning, you might want to reconsider how badly you need to reach your destination in the first place.

-pick one of the double seats. the triples look big and good for napping - they are. but if someone sits next to you, and any of the triples still have only one person in them, you have immediate grounds for evicting the squatter next to you.

-if the train is filling up, each time you come to one of the stops, pretend you're sleeping. people feel bad squeezing in next to a sleeping person because they know that moving your bag if you're sleeping is an evil thing to do.

-oh yeah, keep your bag on the seat. if the conductor points to the 'please keep feet and parcels off the seats' placard, tell him it's not a parcel. it's expensive north face trekking gear. only old jewish ladies have parcels.

-when you sit, allow your legs to fall apart and your thighs to spread as widely as possible. if someone catches you at feigning sleep, inhale sharply and make yourself look fatter. they won't sit next to you. this is kind of like the survival instinct of pufferfish in the wild. drool and saliva bubbles can assist in this ploy.

-playing dead when they come to collect tickets doesn't work. neither does looking pretty and forlorn. have cash handy.

-if you recognize someone from your morning or previous day's commute, don't make eye contact. they already think they have a tenuous connection with you - after all, you ride the same train.

-if you see any adults with boston maps, fanny packs, and tired children with a filmy glaze of sunscreen at 9 AM on a cloudy day, head for the other end of the car. you don't want to hear their questions, or their rowdy "son-of-a-gun" vacation stories as regaled to the conductor. listening to them puzzle over where the green line trains go will hurt your soul.

OCD etiquette

first in entirely unrelated news, we are now the proud owners of a cuisinart burr coffee grinder *nixon stance of evil victory*

moving on. when one experiences important changes in one's life, aka "stressors" (these allow you to take sick days off work without reporting them), one tends to subconsciously exert control over those things in one's life which one can still affect, in an attempt to compensate for the 99.9% of things which are tramlining away into one's future like a runaway train. and at this point the royal "we" is sick of saying 'one' so we shall get to the point - after all, we're talking about me here - it's the point of this blog. me.

so anyway, moving, changing states and all associated red tape, getting a new car (a first car really), learning to drive stick, commuting 4 hours a day, and beginning a new job search while currently facing undure pressure at work, is all stuff that's been going on for the past couple of months and it sucks (not the parts themselves, but the emotional sum total).

if you knew me better, you'd see me doing all sorts of strange ritualistic behaviors in response to this puppetshow in which a sadist is cruelly tweaking my marionette strings.

one of the handtowels in the bathroom is for faces (blue), the other for hands and the use of strangers (yellow). lysol must be applied liberally to exposed surfaces once every 24 hours. the trash can should be as shiny as the mirror. the car should be parked evenly between the lines and in one of the same 3 spots at the commuter rail station. gym sneakers remain at work, running sneakers in the closet, casual 'i'm cool' sneakers in the hall. rainy day sneakers now double as driving sneakers, which is rather confusing. toenail polish smudges easily and must be punished. keys go in the silver bowl, as do wallets; car keys are detachable from main keys. nalgene bottles are checked periodically throughout the day for floating particulate matter. the sink is clean and the brita filled to the brim. we shall say nothing of the state of our laboratory bench or the pairs of rubber gloves used each day.

i think there are many people like me. some are kept in little rooms, some blend into the crowd. and i have a solution for us all: the best way to exert control, while being productive and making our lives and the lives of those around us better, more efficient. how? so easy. i hope you work in a tall building.

this is not going where you think. when you're taking the elevator, and you are a lazy pig like the people in my building, there is something you can do to change your life each day. an example: when your lazy pig finger touches the down button and you are on the 7th floor, and you get in to make the miraculous journey 15 feet south to the 6th floor - where you'd already be if you hadn't been waiting for the elevator but had taken your lazy pig feet to the stairwell - you step in and hit the 6th floor button. for the ordinary citizen, the adventure ends with the touch of this button. for the concerned, slightly-OCD individual seeking to feel a control rush and be considerate to the time-oriented nature of life, one thing remains: a quick depression of the 'close door' button. your trip to the 6th floor begins approximately 5.2 seconds sooner than that of the ordinary citizen. you are in control, your small action had a profound effect on you and the people sharing the steel box with you. the day is better; you saved time, you made a difference, and you can breathe easy.

there now. isn't that better?

crikey

me + my current driving abilities + friday + 4 PM + 495 + Rt 3 = NO

pimp tint

the other night i parked at the fleet ATM near my apt to get some cash. nobody else was around, it being 8 pm in southern NH - there aren't any sidewalks to roll up.

i was being adventuresome and left the car unlocked and running, doors shut - with the windows up, you can't see if anyone is in the car or not. that's how dark this LI guido tint is.

i get my money, head back to the lot. i see two middle-aged women about to get out of their minivan next to my car. they hesitate, exchange glances, get back in and close the doors. wait.

then i walk over to my car and see their looks of relief as i get into my rumbling, shiny black whip and prepare for takeoff.
their body language says, just a blond chick with groceries; it's not a getaway car, or a bunch of hoodlums of dubious ethnic background. it is now safe to get out of our minivan and commence the ATM-age.

heh.

btw, if anyone knows of an EASY way to DIY tint removal, or a place that would be cheaper than 150 bux, now would be the time to speak up.

blaaaaaaahorg

today i am wearing white pants, and i ate blackberries. i am morbidly procrastinatory, putting off a massive cross-linking experiment of 42 individual PCR tubes. headaches abound; i'm sleepy and want to go home. i missed the train yesterday but got to talk to a nice woman on the T whom i'm sure i will never talk to again. i watched good will hunting for the first time since moving up here as i ate my microwaved organic enchilada last night; it didn't look the same, i recognized everything. it was no longer a movie. i'm excited to commute home tonight so i can see my car again, give first gear the old college try...and maybe tool around the parkinglot late tonight when shaw's closes. if i could teleport, i would be on the couch with fred and the dinosaurs blanket and the remote, tucked in happy and in a quiet house that smells like mine.

animals, minerals, and a vegetable.

last night, brahm (krister's kitty, who routinely kicks my ass) sauntered into the living room, let out a wail, and began to hork on the carpet. considerate roommate that i am, i picked kitty up so he could barf on the hardwood floors instead. he was having such a miserable episode that despite all the times he's left me scratched and bleeding, i put aside the angst and held and stroked kitty while he retched. (didn't clean it up though. not my pet). then later on the ungrateful bastard attacks my leg. i get no love.


then joe wanted to see all of my kitchen supplies as i packed them - ostensibly to ascertain what new acquisitions need be purchased upon my departure. but after the expletive-ridden message he left me at work, accusing me of stealing his rollins spoken word video, i knew the real reason (whatever dude, i have a picture of me and henry, i don't need your stinkin VHS). at the end of this surveying ordeal, although we had a minor snafu over some pyrex bakeware, joe gave me his large george foreman and an iron (leaky, but still). maybe he's not such a throbbing c0ck after all.


so i was starting to like people and little furry animals again, but then this morning on the T a crazy dude who kept saluting his reflection in the window and refused to hold on to anything as the train moved allowed himself to fall backwards against me with great force (dude, if he can control his bladder and use a T pass, he's doing well - and there's no excuse for this). so my fist caught him squarely in the ribs. eeew, cooties. i'm tired of boston.

professional stuntman: do not try at home

last night i jumped into bed (at my new house) with such flourish and zeal, i railed my bottom against the wall so hard, it knocked the wind out of me (not that wind, you perv). only i am masterful enough to do this.

hey man, it was dark, ok?

tuesday utterances

a rich cornucopia of experiences from the last 48 hours:

-having given our evil gnome of a physics prof the smackdown by yawning my way to a 100 on the last exam, i believe i am now a wentworth legend (not only am i actually passing summer physics, but i have boobs to boot). last class - tonight. frick yeah.

-if our new apartment is unparalleled in its glory, then my old one is the height of unctuosity. i mean, i spend a week in SILENCE watching law and order and top gear on my NEW 27" TV, enjoying this luxury they call central a/c, a clean bathroom and well-equipped kitchen, and of course spending each morning and evening with teh honeybear...then without warning i am hurtled into the seventh circle of hell (somerville city limits) where i have to wrestle the semi-intelligent shower slime mold for possession of my soap (damn dictostylium...); sit in my little airless cell comforting myself with amplitude while my roommates BAKE PIZZA in an oven against my wall, despite our balmy 83 degree apartment; feel my bare feet stick in a sangria slick skirting the kitchen perimeter, and listen to sounds of 'queer eye,' 'match game,' and 'molto mario,' emanating from the dark and dank recesses of the living room, wondering WHY MY F1 RACES WERE DELETED FROM TIVO and if i'll ever get to see the cable for which i pay 1/4 of the bill. and then as i trudge off to a sweaty and doubtless troubled sleep, head hung low, their demented cat uses my leg as a scratching post. today's lesson: ROOMMATES SUCK. NEVER AGAIN!

-and so yesterday i walked around in my camo cargo pants with a banana peel in the right leg pocket for 5 hours. squidgy.

-ahem yes and er, I HAVE AN AWESOME CAR. victory is mine.