Have you ever read Mary Roach's "My Planet" in the Reader's Digest? She's a humor writer that writes about her encounters with her mechanic, lawn care, buying furniture, and whatnot. (You can do like I do and read them all at rd.com under humor.) Anyway, at the end of one of the articles, it mentioned that she had written some books, and I thought "Oh good! Humorous short stories like what she does in My Planet!" So I go the library, and I get her first book, and it's called "Stiff: The curious lives of human cadavers". And it's about what happens to human cadavers! It was actually really good. It's funny, but respectful, and most of it is not that gross. (The chapter entitled "Eat Me: Medicinal cannibalism and the case of the human dumplings" was a little disturbing, but the rest of it was neat). She talks about how they're using cadavers to test flak jackets for the army, and as crash test dummies in automobile tests, and of course, to train surgeons. She's done unbelievable amounts of research, and if you're not squeamish about the dead, read the book. I've included the excepts from the back of the book below:
"To learn the weight of the human soul, in 1907 a Massachusetts physician engineered a special bed-scale upon which he installed his dying patients. At the precise moment of their passing, he watched for a downward twitch of the needle. By his determination, the soul weighs three-quarters of an ounce-about the same as the big toe."
"For every cadaver used to test and develop airbags, 147 lives are saved."
"It is possible to eat oneself to death at Thanksgiving. In 1891, a German physician sat a cadaver in a chair and filled its stomach until it burst-at about a gallon."
See? Neat stuff about being dead. You'll get some weird looks carrying the book around, but I found it to be really cool.
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4/3/06
Zombie
You have not heard from me in days and days because I have been waylaid by an evil, yes EVIL sinus infection, and have not been able to come into work for the last two days. It is in my head, it is in my ears, it is in my jaw (which I didn't even know sinus infections could do, but apparently they can). The pressure is killing me! I asked very nicely if Tony would drill a small hole in my head to let the pressure out, and he said no! Then I asked if he would just gently break my occipital bone to let the pressure out, and he said no again! Then I asked if he would just remove some of my teeth to get the pressure out of my jaw, and he still refused! You just can't get good healthcare these days. I have decided that my theme song for this sinus infection is Zombie by the Cranberries. For the past few days I have been laying around moaning, "In my heeaaaaaaad, In my heeeeee-aaaaad, they are fight-ting...With their tanks and their bombs, and their bombs and their guns, in my head, in my head, they are dy-ying!" When the fever spiked, Tony decided enough was enough and took me to a walk-in clinic. After an hour in the waiting room, the doctor spent MAYBE 75 seconds with me, most of which consisted of looking in my ears and going "yep. mucus" then looking at my throat and going "yep. Mucus" and then writing a couple of prescriptions. Then it was off to the pharmacy, to get my happy little hot pink pills. On the way home I was reading on the box of pills that side effects included nausea and diarrhea, but only in 1% of the population. Guess what. You just happen to be talking to 1% of the population. But who cares! If it will get the pressure out of my head, I can put up with a little additional bathroom time.
3/23/06
Can you hear me now? Oops!
Here's something that just makes my day. I dropped the cell phone in the toilet.
It was hooked to my belt, and as I undid the buckle, the phone when Zip! off the belt and Sploosh! into the toilet. I fished it out (luckily the water was clean...well as clean as toilet water gets anyway) and blow dried it, and it never quit working, so I thanked my lucky stars and continued on my merry way. Two days later, it shows message that says "Service required". I called my helpful Sprint people, and they said that a diagnostic would need to be run, and to take it to the local Sprint store. I took it to the Sprint store, and they told me that the cost for the diagnostic was $35, OR I could buy a warranty plan for my phone, in which case all diagnostics would be free. The Warranty plan just happens to also cost $35. So I buy the warranty plan, fork over my $35, and the result of the diagnostic is "Hmmm. Water got inside your phone. It's broken". (And for this I paid $35? Brief stomping and cursing). Fine. Fix it. "Ohhhhh no" they say "the warranty covers everything EXCEPT water damage. There's no fixing this phone. You'll have to buy a new one". (More stomping and cursing). All my pictures that I had one there? Gone. All my phone contacts? Gone. Much gnashing of teeth on that day. But in the end, I got the buggers back. I refused to buy their overpriced replacement phones! I just went back to using my old blue one that I had previously. Works just the same, jut no picture taking capability. Meanwhile, there's a new phone on ebay with computer link up capability, so it's kinds like a palm pilot and phone in one. Tony says I don't need something that fancy, but maybe...
It was hooked to my belt, and as I undid the buckle, the phone when Zip! off the belt and Sploosh! into the toilet. I fished it out (luckily the water was clean...well as clean as toilet water gets anyway) and blow dried it, and it never quit working, so I thanked my lucky stars and continued on my merry way. Two days later, it shows message that says "Service required". I called my helpful Sprint people, and they said that a diagnostic would need to be run, and to take it to the local Sprint store. I took it to the Sprint store, and they told me that the cost for the diagnostic was $35, OR I could buy a warranty plan for my phone, in which case all diagnostics would be free. The Warranty plan just happens to also cost $35. So I buy the warranty plan, fork over my $35, and the result of the diagnostic is "Hmmm. Water got inside your phone. It's broken". (And for this I paid $35? Brief stomping and cursing). Fine. Fix it. "Ohhhhh no" they say "the warranty covers everything EXCEPT water damage. There's no fixing this phone. You'll have to buy a new one". (More stomping and cursing). All my pictures that I had one there? Gone. All my phone contacts? Gone. Much gnashing of teeth on that day. But in the end, I got the buggers back. I refused to buy their overpriced replacement phones! I just went back to using my old blue one that I had previously. Works just the same, jut no picture taking capability. Meanwhile, there's a new phone on ebay with computer link up capability, so it's kinds like a palm pilot and phone in one. Tony says I don't need something that fancy, but maybe...
3/20/06
"Just wait til we get our Ames on you"
By the way, the title up there is meant to be sung to the Hanes commercial jingle, so that it goes, "Just wait til we get our Ames on you!"...Yeah, never mind.
For all my Non Hah-vard fans out there, the Ames is this contest that they do at Harvard Law where they get in little teams and write briefs, and then "battle" those briefs in oral arguments against other teams. I think there's a round every semester or so, until the third year, when somebody wins. I asked what they won for all of this hard work, but apparently you just get your name in the paper or something. I'd at least hold out for a toaster.
To help you better visualize such a battle, close your eyes and imagine the following:
Scene: Still shot of HLS campus, in colorful Pokemon style animation.
Two law students are standing in a ring with the traditional oversized eyes of Japanese Anime, and funky spikes of hair. Suddenly one pulls out a little red and white ball and throws it, calling out something asinine like, "Ridinghood v Wolf brief, I choose YOU!" Close up on the brief with "zooming through the air" streaks rushing past, and several minutes of strobe-like flashing which causes entire cities to have epileptic fits. Change to close-up on other opponent's face, which is a slow motion, ridiculously prolonged expression of shock. Add gasp. (Because the first rule of Amine is "Why talk when you can do a close up on a single art frame and just gasp?).
Now, you'll be glad to know that when Stepher and her teammate Allison totally rocked the kasbah in their oral arguments, so they will be moving on to the next round. True to the Pokemon form, they won by keeping their eyes as large as possible and prolonging each facial
expression an additional 15 seconds before changing suddenly to the next one. They also gasped a lot instead of speaking. Growls also work. Guaranteed win.
So my congrats to all you Ames teams who have made it to the next round. Be sure to display your briefs so that they resemble a small yellow flying squirrel thing, or a dinosaur with wings.
For all my Non Hah-vard fans out there, the Ames is this contest that they do at Harvard Law where they get in little teams and write briefs, and then "battle" those briefs in oral arguments against other teams. I think there's a round every semester or so, until the third year, when somebody wins. I asked what they won for all of this hard work, but apparently you just get your name in the paper or something. I'd at least hold out for a toaster.
To help you better visualize such a battle, close your eyes and imagine the following:
Scene: Still shot of HLS campus, in colorful Pokemon style animation.
Two law students are standing in a ring with the traditional oversized eyes of Japanese Anime, and funky spikes of hair. Suddenly one pulls out a little red and white ball and throws it, calling out something asinine like, "Ridinghood v Wolf brief, I choose YOU!" Close up on the brief with "zooming through the air" streaks rushing past, and several minutes of strobe-like flashing which causes entire cities to have epileptic fits. Change to close-up on other opponent's face, which is a slow motion, ridiculously prolonged expression of shock. Add gasp. (Because the first rule of Amine is "Why talk when you can do a close up on a single art frame and just gasp?).
Now, you'll be glad to know that when Stepher and her teammate Allison totally rocked the kasbah in their oral arguments, so they will be moving on to the next round. True to the Pokemon form, they won by keeping their eyes as large as possible and prolonging each facial
expression an additional 15 seconds before changing suddenly to the next one. They also gasped a lot instead of speaking. Growls also work. Guaranteed win.
So my congrats to all you Ames teams who have made it to the next round. Be sure to display your briefs so that they resemble a small yellow flying squirrel thing, or a dinosaur with wings.
3/17/06
Erin go what?
Happy St. Patricks Day all you wonderful people out there in blog land!
I read an article yesterday that said that true Irish Catholics (the Ireland variety) don't have a big celebration for St. Pat's day. There's no green, and they don't drink lots of beer. It's a somber day, they may eat a big meal with the fam, then retire to the living room to sleep it off, and that's it. But then, the Irish tourism board caught wind of what Americans THOUGHT that the Irish were doing, so, being an opportunistic tourism board, they immediately started having parades and green beer. The Ireland Irish think that it's an American tradition that for some reason, Americans go flocking over to Ireland to celebrate, but they're getting lots of tourism dollars out of it, so why rock the boat? Kiss your lucky blarney stone and start taking the American tourist's money.
I read an article yesterday that said that true Irish Catholics (the Ireland variety) don't have a big celebration for St. Pat's day. There's no green, and they don't drink lots of beer. It's a somber day, they may eat a big meal with the fam, then retire to the living room to sleep it off, and that's it. But then, the Irish tourism board caught wind of what Americans THOUGHT that the Irish were doing, so, being an opportunistic tourism board, they immediately started having parades and green beer. The Ireland Irish think that it's an American tradition that for some reason, Americans go flocking over to Ireland to celebrate, but they're getting lots of tourism dollars out of it, so why rock the boat? Kiss your lucky blarney stone and start taking the American tourist's money.
3/8/06
There goes Peter Cotton-tail...
So yesterday I was puttering around the back porch, refilling my bird feeders, and I found half of a rabbit under the porch. A big rabbit. And the left half. I don't know where the right half went, and the part that was left was not all in one piece. Luckily, he'd been there long enough that he wasn't still gooey, and it was mostly just fur and feet. When I first saw it, I was like, "Oh look! A rabbit nest where the momma bunny has lined it with fur...and her back leg". Needless to say, EWWWWW! I made Tony come out and scoop it up with a shovel and throw it away. What worries me is what killed the rabbit, and how it came to be under our back porch. The rabbit in question was almost the size of a small cat, and literally ripped limb from limb, so I don't think a cat could have done this. Besides, cats will break its neck, but they don't usually rip it apart. That makes me think dog, but we have a fenced yard, so how did a dog get back there? And back out again? Tony suggested maybe a raccoon, which he says would be both big enough to rip a rabbit apart, and agile enough to scale our fence. He also says they would have the disposition to tear Peter Rabbit limb from limb. (By the way, did I mention that raccoons will be the next exhibit at the local zoo? Keep your hands and feet in the car at all times). Whatever it is, I have given it the newspaper-worthy name, "The Suburban Killer" and am seriously concerned about Mason being out on the screened in porch by himself. True, there's screen between him and The Suburban Killer, and he could run back inside the house if he felt threatened, but he's a house cat. How would he know he was in danger? He's never felt threatened by anything scarier than the vacuum cleaner. I could lock the cat door so he couldn't get out, but he loves being out there, and closing it off would create one very ticked off kitty cat...one who knows where I sleep. Anyway, the whole point of having a screened in porch was so that the boys could enjoy it. Tony says that the cats should be fine...he doesn't think the Suburban Killer would want to get through the screen, even if he could, and I guess he is the resident raccoon expert. However, if I find another dismembered animal under the porch, we're going into extreme lock-down, and I don't care who stands on my head in the middle of the night and fusses.
2/18/06
On the soap box
Warning: I have pulled out my official box of soap and am preparing to launch a full missile strike against one of my very favorite pet peeves, the "reality" TV show. If you're a fan of "reality" shows and are prone to melodramatic rants towards my comments section (and why wouldn't you be? You learned from the best- the reality show itself) then turn away now, and use this very special time to reflect on what exactly draws you to watch such ridiculous television. (I'm talking about the Survivors, the Wife Swaps, the Apprentice, the Bachelor and Bachelorette, all of those variations where the girl falls in love with the geeks but then chooses the hot guy in the end, the Real World, the Big Brother houses/farms/communes, and the like).
I wish they wouldn't call it Reality TV, because it's not reality, and a lot of it is encouraged, if not straight out scripted. It's just not an accurate cross-section of society. (If it is, then Heaven help us.) There are no "nice" people on these shows. There are no sweet grandmas, or people who would help others and expect nothing back in return, or (gasp!) shy people! There are only spotlight hogging, extremely aggressive people with egos the size of planets. True, the directors want it to be that way because they think that makes for entertaining television. They want there to be controversy. They think that it would be boring if everyone just got along.
So they pick "strong personalities" and create rifts on purpose. Someone who liked everyone, or worse, didn't care if someone didn't like them, would never get on the show. With my common sense, I'd never make it past the first screening. You'd have to be an Ammorosa, or that irritating psycho woman that they're always showing on the promos of the Bachelor, or a Vegetarian, Jewish Mom who gets switched to a household full of Nazi, Deer hunting Carnivores (actually, I think that one airs tomorrow night). Sigh.
What really worries me is that are kids are growing up watching all of this, and they think that acting like this is normal. It's okay to have a screaming match to get your way, or backstab someone that you're supposedly working with, or double-crossing people with secret alliances. Can you imagine people growing up and trying to work in an office like that? It doesn't work, even if Donald Trump pretends it does. It's going to ruin the kids of today, and worse, other countries think that this is how Americans work. They already don't want to work with us because of our incredible egos, but no one is going to want to cooperate with someone who glorifies winning by spreading rumors about all the other candidates. It's all downhill from here, and I blame a lot of it on reality TV. I'm moving to Switzerland.
Now, cue the people who will vehemently defend their favorite show, (fill in blank here). How dare I say that (show contestant) isn't "real" just because they are driven/have the guts to speak their minds/not afraid to look for true love in Paris with 28 hot girls who are all pretending to be someone they are not so that they can be the last girl standing and thereby launch their acting career? Why, if I had half the (characteristic of above mentioned show contestant), I wouldn't write such stupid blogs. (Favorite show here) is wonderful! It's about the American Dream! True love! Fighting scurvy on a tropical island! Just for that, I'm fired! I'm out of the alliance! I'm not going to marry the guy pretending to be rich when he's really a construction worker. I rest my case.
I wish they wouldn't call it Reality TV, because it's not reality, and a lot of it is encouraged, if not straight out scripted. It's just not an accurate cross-section of society. (If it is, then Heaven help us.) There are no "nice" people on these shows. There are no sweet grandmas, or people who would help others and expect nothing back in return, or (gasp!) shy people! There are only spotlight hogging, extremely aggressive people with egos the size of planets. True, the directors want it to be that way because they think that makes for entertaining television. They want there to be controversy. They think that it would be boring if everyone just got along.
So they pick "strong personalities" and create rifts on purpose. Someone who liked everyone, or worse, didn't care if someone didn't like them, would never get on the show. With my common sense, I'd never make it past the first screening. You'd have to be an Ammorosa, or that irritating psycho woman that they're always showing on the promos of the Bachelor, or a Vegetarian, Jewish Mom who gets switched to a household full of Nazi, Deer hunting Carnivores (actually, I think that one airs tomorrow night). Sigh.
What really worries me is that are kids are growing up watching all of this, and they think that acting like this is normal. It's okay to have a screaming match to get your way, or backstab someone that you're supposedly working with, or double-crossing people with secret alliances. Can you imagine people growing up and trying to work in an office like that? It doesn't work, even if Donald Trump pretends it does. It's going to ruin the kids of today, and worse, other countries think that this is how Americans work. They already don't want to work with us because of our incredible egos, but no one is going to want to cooperate with someone who glorifies winning by spreading rumors about all the other candidates. It's all downhill from here, and I blame a lot of it on reality TV. I'm moving to Switzerland.
Now, cue the people who will vehemently defend their favorite show, (fill in blank here). How dare I say that (show contestant) isn't "real" just because they are driven/have the guts to speak their minds/not afraid to look for true love in Paris with 28 hot girls who are all pretending to be someone they are not so that they can be the last girl standing and thereby launch their acting career? Why, if I had half the (characteristic of above mentioned show contestant), I wouldn't write such stupid blogs. (Favorite show here) is wonderful! It's about the American Dream! True love! Fighting scurvy on a tropical island! Just for that, I'm fired! I'm out of the alliance! I'm not going to marry the guy pretending to be rich when he's really a construction worker. I rest my case.
2/16/06
Olympics
THE OLYMPICS ARE ON! THE OLYMPICS ARE ON! I am so excited. (Yes, I know, I am one of maybe 20 people who are watching it this year.) I do NOT understand why other people don't find the Olympics as exciting as I do. Our little 21 year old downhill skier guy who has never placed higher than 32nd before, and is the newcomer to a team of strong veterans WON the gold last night in a phenomenal run! His Mom cried, his Dad cried, he cried, (I cried), and his teammates hoisted him up on their shoulders and paraded around with him while he cried. Or, how about our guy who won the 500M speed skating Gold on the 13th anniversary of his grandmother's death, because before the race he wrote her name on the front of his skate with a marker, and when he started to get tired, he remembered that and pushed to get Grandma across the finish line first? You can't BUY TV that exciting! I'm watching curling, and I don't even know what the object of the game is. I just know that those little broom sweepers are really excited, so I am too. And don't even get me started on how much I love Snowboard Cross! Not that it's all fun and games. (Well, it is all games, but not always fun). Last night in the men's short program figure skating, Weir(d) was an absolute idiot. The guy named his glove on his costume! When he won Silver, the camera zoomed in on him and he did this ridiculous little shoulder wiggle and dance. I'm embarrassed that he's representing our country. I'm starting a campaign to officially give him to France. I really wanted the Austrian to win. He did an incredible skate, but he caught his foot on his other skate going into a jump and it tripped him up. Poor guy.
2/15/06
Stepher's project
Stepher, the brilliant Hah-vard Law school sister, is going to teach the law to 7th graders as some kind of pro bono project that she has to do for class. (This is Hah-vard's way of infiltrating and infecting the minds of our young so that they too will yearn to grow up without a soul).
Unfortunately for Stepher, the 7th graders already know why lawyers are important to society. It's to convince the judge to try you in juvie for knocking off the convenience store. And in the event that you do get time, the lawyers are the only ones who can send you mail that can't be read by the warden, so you can use that to put the hit out on one of your homies on the outside.
Here's my opinion on the matter (and since it's my blog, mine is the opinion that counts. If however, you agree with my opinion, then I'll let your opinion count also). 7th graders are dangerous little monsters. I was one once, and I remember. I think their interpretation of the law should be that if they so much as thinking about doing something wrong, then the 7th grader ends up in jail. That would be beneficial to them. 7th grader buys some drugs? Boom! Sentenced to jail. 7th grader skips school? Goes to jail. Talks back to mom? Jail. Copies homework? Jail. Sits directly behind me in a theatre and giggles on a FREAKIN CELL PHONE through the entire movie? Jail, and then lethal injection. That's what 7th graders need to know about law. And if one of the little smart mouths says otherwise, tell him that "It's not what 150 years of precedent says, it's how the LAW SHOULD BE".
Unfortunately for Stepher, the 7th graders already know why lawyers are important to society. It's to convince the judge to try you in juvie for knocking off the convenience store. And in the event that you do get time, the lawyers are the only ones who can send you mail that can't be read by the warden, so you can use that to put the hit out on one of your homies on the outside.
Here's my opinion on the matter (and since it's my blog, mine is the opinion that counts. If however, you agree with my opinion, then I'll let your opinion count also). 7th graders are dangerous little monsters. I was one once, and I remember. I think their interpretation of the law should be that if they so much as thinking about doing something wrong, then the 7th grader ends up in jail. That would be beneficial to them. 7th grader buys some drugs? Boom! Sentenced to jail. 7th grader skips school? Goes to jail. Talks back to mom? Jail. Copies homework? Jail. Sits directly behind me in a theatre and giggles on a FREAKIN CELL PHONE through the entire movie? Jail, and then lethal injection. That's what 7th graders need to know about law. And if one of the little smart mouths says otherwise, tell him that "It's not what 150 years of precedent says, it's how the LAW SHOULD BE".
2/13/06
Banana Pudding Cake Update
Banana update: I was feeling kinda bad about not knowing that Tony thinks he hates bananas yesterday, especially since the cake is just sitting there, tormenting him, so I stopped by Kroger on the way home to get him some Valentine's cupcakes. I got 6 chocolate cake ones, and 6 vanilla ones, just in case he thinks he hates one of those. So I get home and put the cupcakes down and notice that a large portion of the banana cake is no longer there. Hmmmm. This is very strange, since the only person in the house all day is a self-proclaimed banana hater. So I ask him if he ate the cake, and he gets all sheepish and says yes. He quickly adds that it's still yucky, but in a half-hearted way. Because it's Valentines Day Eve, and we're getting ready to go to my favorite restaurant, I let it go, but I cannot help smirking. The outspoken banana hater has a secret love of banana after all.