So this morning I am trying hard to get into work around 9 am because I think that coming in at 10 and leaving at 4 is a bad habit. I am sitting at my desk for no more than 45 minutes when the fire alarm goes off. My office mate and I think that it is a “practice drill” and we just leave the building. However, once outside, they tell us that there is a leak in one of the labs and that we aren’t going to be let in until AT LEAST 1:00. I left my laptop, my backpack, and my lunch in the office! I can’t work, play, or eat! I wondered around aimlessly for a few hours, but it is pushing into the 100’s today and I can only handle so much heat. Then I randomly entered buildings seeing how cold they kept them. It is now 12:45 and I am in the computer lab adjacent to my building. And my building is still closed.

Apparently someone spilled hazardous waste. GREAT!

I would love to go home, but my motorcycle helmet and keys are ALSO in the building. Why in God’s name didn’t I BRING THEM WITH ME!!!!! Duh.

Oh. And I plugged the vending machine in last night. It started its dull little hum right away and in about an hour it was starting to feel cold. Then I saw this part from which two wires were protruding from. I couldn’t find where the wires came from, but they ended at the little piece of plastic/metal. So I decide to touch the plastic/metal piece. And you know what? IT WAS THE TEMPERATURE OF THE SUN. It was so hot that I was almost paraylzed when I felt the heat on my fingers. I iced them for about 3 hours and then rubbed a mass quantity of Neosporin on the area.
See, this post could be accompanied with pictures, except that I am not allowed to go to work!
I guess this makes up for yesterday, huh?

When are these words appropriate? I will tell you when they are appropriate. When someone is moving a circa 1950’s Coca Cola vending machine out to the dumpster! He claims that it still works, but that the power cord needs replaced, due to some fraying. Of course, it needs cleaned and touched up, but you know, I thought I would just take it and see how much it was worth. He said that he bought it for like $50 about 8 years ago. So this morning I called someone who sells refurbished vintage vending machines and they told me that they sell theirs for… hold your breath… (I am still swooning from the phone call)… $8,000 freaking dollars! A beautiful out-of-debt $8,000!!!!! And I think that I got it because of karma, but I will tell that part of the story in a minute.

So you might be asking yourself why you can’t see this precious item on Ebay yet. Well. Here is the dilemma. Winemonkey used to collect old Coke paraphernalia. When he moved out of his mother’s house (when he was 18 or 19) she made him take ALL of his stuff with him. Baby books, clothes, old record collections, Coke collections. Then his house burnt down. All that he had left is one badly charred baby book, which he covets and keeps as well protected as possible now. And here I am, with this vending machine that is worth up to $8,000. Keeps drinks cold. Holds the bottles of Coke and long neck Coronas as well, from what the guy who gave it to me said. And my little winemonkey used to collect it. So I told him that I had a HUGE surprise for him at my house, but I wouldn’t tell him what it was. I thought I would only be able to sell it for about $500 dollars and that it would make a great present to him. Now I am faced with this huge decision to sell it and make bank – (You know, pay off my car, start saving for a wedding, rid myself of a couple of credit cards) – Or give it to my boyfriend. The more I think about it, I bet he would want me to sell it. He knows how much I worry about money. It would be so nice to only have to worry about student loans whenever I am out of graduate school and not a million other kinds of debt. I will let you know how it turns out!

I think the good karma came from helping my friend Suzie at her garage sale. I was wheeling and dealing, moving furniture, and providing entertainment when no one was there shopping. We made $300 for her move back South. Good times. Fun times. Plus, I am generally always a nice person.

It must be! The past few days have been the strangest, in a good way, that I have had in a long long time. In March I took my qualifying exams. (For those of you who haven’t experienced or witnessed first, second, third or fourth hand the terrors of the quals, let me give you the quick version of what they are and how mine were. When I started graduate school, my advisor and I came up with an idea for my thesis. For three years I collected data on the topics for my thesis. Then I picked 5 professors that I had for class or knew through research to test me. They tested me by reading through my proposal, listening to a short presentation from me about what I research (where I REPRODUCE FROM MEMORY graphs and charts, numbers, and results because we are given only a set of markers and white board with no other references… so NO note cards. Nothing.), then grilling me with questions for about 2.5 hours. They could ask me anything they wanted. Things about my research, generally chemistry, organic chemistry, the list is endless. This is a rite of passage. Consider it “hazing” for a Ph.D., but with intentions of making sure you are smart enough to get your Ph.D. You can imagine how hard it is to study for. And how long one might study for such an exam).

So this is now more than 5 months behind me. I am stronger person for having done it. But the point of this post (which almost always happens in the second paragraph of my post) is that I was in the elevator this morning with a professor down the hall. And he asked me how Greenland was, and I politely said that he had be confused with my other group members and that I don’t study snow chemistry. Then he says, “Oh. You’re the gal that does the EXAFS research. You really impressed your qualifying commitee.” To which I respond, “Really? Huh, I was really nervous. I just wanted to earn their respect.” Then we talked about QE dynamics.

But this guy doesn’t know me from Adam. I mean he says hi to me in the hall, but I have never talked to him about research. In fact, I have accidentally insulted the man in the past. He has a head of grey hair, is a tenured professor and I think fairly well known in his field. He has this picture of a toddler on his door. I wanted to start a conversation with him, so I figured I would ask him about the toddler. For weeks I kept saying in my head, “Whatever you do DO NOT ASK HIM IF IT HIS GRANDSON.” I am practically yelling it in my head, right? And what is the first question that pops out of my mouth as soon as I get up the courage to ask him about the toddler? Yep. You guessed it. “Is that your grandson?” To which the response was, “No. It is my son.”

I know know why I do all of that yoga. So that it is easier to open my mouth and insert my foot.

Alton Brown.

If I wasn’t so damn sure that I would be living a life of eternal happy bliss with Winemonkey (and if I wasn’t sure that Alton was married) I would find him and woo him.

I am sure that you all have heard about this event, but if not, read on. It might gross you out and/or you might find the irony in the situation. When I was in college, I used to listen to Dave Matthews Band ALL OF THE TIME. In fact, when they came to PA I would see them at every venue they played (Pittsburgh, State College, Philadelphia – all in one year). In fact, one of the best concerts I have ever been to was an accoustic set played by Dave and Tim Reynolds. I saw 6th row and one of my friends was working stage security so she got one of their guitar picks after the show.

But the point of this story is they pooped on a tour boat.

Yes. You read that corectly. As their tour bus was going over a bridge with a metal grate bottom, they opened the waste tank and dumped 100 gallons (or 800 pounds) of human waste on a tour boat that was passing underneath the bridge!

If you were a passenger on the boat, what would you do? I know I would hope I wasn’t yawning.