The Way Things Are






sometimes quickies are just the thing
2006-02-01, 2:39 p.m.

Do you notice anything different? Like my font isnít making your eyes bleed, or making your head feel like youíre weaning off your SSRI? Anything?

Last night was the big science/art/history/religion fair at Lil Guyís school. Itís not JUST a science fair, you see. I keep trying to get him to do a religious history project about the role of the Church in post-plague Europe, but he wonít go for that. I use that as our default project whenever he whines (which he does each year) ďI donít know what to do my project on! Nothing interests me!Ē Itís not what interests HIM; itís what interests ME.

One of the boys in his class did a POTATO GUN. Yes, a potato gun. He built a potato gun, and had a hypothesis that a potato carved into an aerodynamic shape would travel further than your standard lumpy potato, and then tested it. I give that boy an A+.

Not to be outdone by the potato gun, I told LG that next year, heís doing a beer bong. We are going to kick the potato gunís ASS. It can be all about the physics of the beer bong, and the hypothesis whether or not you can slam a beer more efficiently with a bong than just by doing that open-at-the-bottom-with-bottle-opener strategy. As you know, they arenít creating any more energy around here. We have a finite amount of matter and energy, so if you can slam your beer whilst conserving energy, I think thatís a good thing.

I had to explain to him what a beer bong is for. See? Science is fun and informative. I smell a federal research grant.

When I floated this idea past some of our friends last night, they did agree that this would be a fantastic final 8th grade project Ė a good way to go out in style. Or flames. DW pointed out that this might be why people think we're white trash, but I argued that they just think we're fun.



I am experiencing a kind of crash towards the end of the day. At about 3:30, I get extremely irritable. No, I mean EXTREMELY irritable. Pissed off, flinging papers around my office, ready to bite the head off anybody who walks in here with any bullshit. Cussing at the phone and the relentless email inbox. And then about 30 minutes later, Iím so freaking tired my little pencil-neck Ė even with the reinforcement of its wattle Ė canít support my big blocky noggin, and I just want to crryyyyyyyy. Maybe Iím colicky. When I get home, I reheat a cup of cold coffee (the horrorÖthe horror) just to make it until bedtime.

So I have devised a strategery: I have set the alarm on my cell phone to go off at 3:00, telling me ďWakie!Ē to remind me to drink a cup of coffee BEFORE it all hits, and then again at 4:00 (ďApple!Ē) to remind me to eat an apple. Iím hoping this will completely circumvent the melt-down and restore order to the universe. If not, Iíll have to go to Plan B: Surreptitious Office Alcohol. You all sensed a disturbance in the force, didnít you? Yeah, it was bad.


Someone told me something particularly repulsive today, and I made this face and couldnít get it to subside, so I took a picture of it. I wonít link the name of the beneficiary of this face (not because I canít, because I CAN), but dude, if you want to own it and then maybe have to explain it, just claim it in the comments. This oneís for you. ::clink!::


Thatís about all I have for you today, pumpkins. Itís just a quickie, but sometimes quickies are just the thing, arenít they?

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