"My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody."

I've noticed that I tend to write really long posts, and during my off week--due to having much better things to do--none at all. In an effort to make shorter posts, and to post some when I don't have anything to write about on my on week of work (which is when I have the time to write no doubt because I'm not doing anything exciting enough to write about), I've decided on occasion to go back and write about events from my off week that were overlooked.

So Monday Pinkie, FK, and I went to GV for tea. They have this cute little tea shop in the village with quite the selection of herbals for those of us who'd rather not go black. FK in turn had heard of it from Bliss, who went, and when she (FK) heard I'd also gone for tea in the nook of my Kinder Bueno supply store, decided she wanted to go have tea too. It was seriously so cute it was hard not to vomit. I fell in love with the place. In and of itself it was adorable. Very pink and sunny. We each got our own tea pot that had some sort of padded cloth on the outside which kept it hot throughout our entire visit. And they had sugar cubes (far superior to grain where tea is concerned) with little tongs, and little beehive honey jars with drippers. didn't so much like herbal tea in London, but it's quite enjoyable if you have honey in it. I got peppermint, which I love. Then they also brought out a bowl of lemon slices, and this cute little metal bird contraption that squeezes them, and added to the tea it was even better. Man, I actually liked the tea part of tea for a change. In addition, we asked for water, and they brought out cucumber water--far more refreshing than regular water. Finally, they brought us out 3 tiered trays of delightful little sandwiches (cucumber, apple and cream cheese, ham and cheese, and tuna), scones with jam and clotted cream, fruit, cookies, cake...it was awesome. And they offered and gave me a to-go box at the end. I'll definitely be visiting again.

Pizza...now that's what I call taco.

I ate a taco for breakfast this morning. It happened to be there, and it appealed to me personally, so I did it. Which made me think, why are breakfast foods what they are when lunch and dinner are so similar? Who decided that tacos and pizza and Mountain Dew are unacceptable breakfast foods for anyone other than starving (and let's face it) indolent college students? I personally think it's the idea that massive amounts of sugar will help us through the day, for those of us who put syrup on everything we eat in the morning, and go for the pastries above all. Although that doesn't explain all of the bran cereals out there. That pondered and out of the way...

So my good friend Traves has decided to forsake science and become a business man. This affects me because he will be the 3rd coworker in our little section of two to move on. The other two are in sections right next to me, so I still see them, but Traves is moving to Texas. I’m beginning to think it might be my fault. The other week will probably die in this section, but I go through at least one work partner a year. I for one can’t blame those who have gone on; I plan on jumping ship as soon as I can see another that isn’t sinking. But it sucks to go from working with a person who randomly puts chocolate in my drawer to utter uncertainty. I’ve been blessed with a lot of good coworkers, but there’s no way I can be as consistently lucky as I have been forever.

So Leon, my new section buddy, started yesterday I think. I haven’t met him, there’s a lot of pre-training that happens before you can officially train in the lab. I’ll call him Leon because his real name does start with an L. My own cleverness kills me, if my sarcasm doesn't first. Also, both his real name and his alias seem fitting for someone we’re fairly certain is actually Brief-case Carrying Guy, which seems exactly the type of person my supervisor would hire. Quite the fall I’ve suffered. My old supervisor went with the care-free candidates who would calmly shrug if the machine caught on fire--which unfortunately hasn't happened yet, and which works well with my apparently anal and somewhat tightly strung type--but New Supervisor is a micromanager and I expect anyone he would hire to be the same. It figures he would pull something like this before he himself leaves to climb the totem pole of power we have here at ACME Labs. One day the Immunology section is bound to turn into a pyramid of slightly littler replicates of my Now Group Manager.

"I have enough money to last me the rest of my life, unless I buy something."

A work friend of mine sent this picture to me. It's of an indoor beach in Japan. Note the real beach sitting right next to it. True, it sounds really cool because it's massive, has no pollution or salty water, has a retractable roof so there will always be a blue sky even if outside isn't, is kept at a constant warm temp, has wave machines for surfing, there's a volcano that erupts hourly...but dang it, why would you pay 50 bucks to go to a fake beach when there's one right next to it for free? Are they that rich over there? If so, I'm incredibly jealous.

Oh that I were Bill Gates and could buy a holiday. However, then I'd have to be Bill Gates.

Blazing Infernos of Potentially Biohazardous Material (or something like that)

So yesterday ACME labs caught on fire. Rather, one of the reagent walk-ins caught on fire, and now the whole lab smells like a giant bonfire, and consequently so do we. It's a big lab, so that tells you something as to enormity. Nothing really bad has come of it, at least as far as my immediate circle of a job is concerned, but I guess the walk-in is gone now. It's all rather sketchy actually, though that might only be because of my complete lack of desire to find out what happened exactly. I asked someone, they said something caught on fire, I said "okay." But the second I got out of my car yesterday, coming to work, I could smell it; and because it happened in shipping, and our division is next to shipping, it only got worse the deeper I got into the depths of the Immunology section. Kind of a redundant statement--I know--but whatever. So now they have about a million and a half very large fans strategically placed around the laboratory near all doors. I walked in the door today and had a hard time not being blown away by one roughly the size of me. Well, the size of Frogkisser anyway. It blows both ways, so the danger did not pass after I walked past it. I put my lab coat on in the doorway and felt like Superman with his cape. Speaking of which, I know of people going to that today, but I can't go today, so someone should go with me to see that next week. Anyway, I had a friend who insisted on wearing one of those surgery mask thingies around all day yesterday, and aparently the rest of us will all regret not doing the same when she's at our funerals, though I doubt any of us will be capable of feeling regret very far once we've already died of lung cancer.

Shoo Chicken...

*Just a warning: read this post in increments*

So yesterday tennis won out over Frisbee. I would never have thought so in a blue moon, but there you have it. Mainly it's because the womens Frisbee team is so amazing that I feel inadequate playing alongside them..most times actually. Athletically I think I can keep up, but they'll shout out game plans, commands, codes, and I have no idea what they're talking about. I have some of the lingo down, but for the most part I'm ignorant when it comes to the strategies they employ. I still enjoy going, but yesterday was not the day. I always feel a little stupid in these circumstances, which is a feeling I'm pretty used to so I can ignore it mostly, but yesterday a few things happened between leaving work and that night that made me feel even more stupid and ultimately swayed me towards my decision...

Namely, #1, I totally caused a fender bender just outside of the parking lot of my work. Now I pride myself on my ability to not hit moving objects, and I thought I was past the inanimate object phase, but the last few months seem to disagree. Some background information you might want to know: between my 16th and 17th years I managed to hit a wide variety of things that weren't moving. The mailbox, the neighbors fence, my brother's parked truck, that stupid ditch... The list sadly goes on, but didn't consist of any actual accidents that were my fault, and fortunately seemed to stop upon reaching my 17th birthday. About a year ago I hit a concrete barrier dodging a golden Labrador retriever at 4 am on the freeway, but I solidly blame that on the dog, not myself. Other than that, it's traffic tickets that have plagued me, not accidents. Another year went by and I thought I was out of the woods, but about a month ago I hit my sisters garage door. I wasn't going fast or anything, it was a little bump, but it did leave a dent and I felt horrible.

I guess I did also bumper car Fantastic Funk's car on the way to FHE one night a few months before, when she had stopped at a stop sign, but fortunately no harm was done and she was an understanding roommate, so I felt stupid, but not panicked, and then forgot all about it. Man, I guess I was amidst the woods even then.

Flash forward to today, er..yesterday. I'm driving, traffic is awful, I stop because no one is moving, I look to my left and attempt to find my cell phone--just to make sure I didn't leave it at work, my foot slips a little off the break, and I move about a mile per hour--if that--right into the non-moving car in front of me. I feel like an idiot. We pull over into a side street and inspect his bumper. It's a guys bumper after all. The guy was really nice, pretty young, in a suit no doubt coming from work, and somewhat cute...all of which made me feel even stupider. As we're inspecting his car I'm sure he can't help but notice mine and the huge wind tunnel of a whole in the front of my crappy care. I figure he could have decided that I was obviously a crappy driver that needed to be taught a lesson, and then could have proceed to take me for all I'm worth, but the only scratch on it was apparently there beforehand. Maybe he saw my crappy car and assumed I was a poor college student who couldn't afford to fix my own crappy car, let alone someone else's, which is the case. So all in all he didn't notice any harm having been done, but he took my number just in case the bumper fell off on his way home or something, which it wouldn't have, but you can never be too cautious. I spent my drive home praying it wouldn't fall off in some fluke of nature. So there I was, driving and feeling stupid, and the last thing I wanted was to go play Frisbee already feeling stupid to begin with. I also incidentally left my work badge at home that day, and I was going to fill up my empty water bottles before I left the building, but forgot before turning in my temp badge, so I couldn't get back in and I had no bloody water. It being so dastardly hot outside, I really just couldn't play without acquiring more water.

At that point I called Duckling, and she went with me to buy a tennis racket, because she had the skinny on where to get one. Not that there weren't many places to buy them, but as far as price and proximity went, she was in the know. Imagine our surprise driving there upon encountering a chicken in the middle of the road. I don't know why it was there or what it hoped to accomplish by standing dangerously close to the middle of the road, but there it was. I told Duckling we should get it out of the middle of the road. She vetoed us getting out and picking it up, so I told her to shoo it when we drove by it (we were stopped at a traffic light and it was just past the light). So she rolled down her window, shouted "shoo, shoo" really loudly as we passed by, and to a wonder it actually ran off of the road.

As we were still marveling at finding a random chicken in the road, we arrived at the store. I decided that if I was to buy a racket, it had to at least live up to the standards set by the rackets everyone had bought already, otherwise I might as well just keep playing with Phillip the midget racket. There were quite a few youth ones that were slightly too small (so they were out of the question), and I also refused to pay more than anyone else (considering they're all probably more serious about this than I), Plus both Duckling and FK got a racket top case that came with their rackets--so with all that in mind my choices were cut down quite a bit. I wanted the cushiony handle they all had, but I really didn't want one with a picture of Federer or Venus and Serena on the case, regardless of how good they are. I also refused to get the racket that UG and FK got, because as much as I'm all for breast cancer awareness, I didn't want a pink racket. That left really expensive or not a Wilson brand. Now I know nothing about tennis racket brands, and frankly I didn't care, but aside from the fact that all 3 of my friends got Wilson rackets, the fact is that they have little W's on them. This is in no way important except in that I wanted to have the initial of my tennis racket's name (which yes, I did give it) on the racket, and I had decided in the car to name it a "W" name, which delighted me for some unknown reason. So I sat there and debated with myself, all tennis equipment was 20% off after all, and then I noticed that on the top of the shelves were 3 rackets. One was a youth sized racket with a skeleton on the case for some reason, and the other two fit all of my requirements, except that none of them had a price, so we took it up to the register. It ended up being 11 bucks, which was half of what everyone else paid. Mission accomplished. I named my racket Webster and call it "Wally" for short.

Tennis was better than the last time, which was expected since FK actually knows how to play and could impart the knowledge of the rules to the rest of us. We managed to hit it over the net in streaks of more than just 2 or 3 also, but it went into the other courts way too many times to be called a "successful" tennis excursion. As a result, with us playing two different games on two side-by-side courts, we shouted "little help?" to each other quite a bit as a way to cut down on having to get our own stray balls. Thus was the "Little Help Tennis Project" started. I plan on making shirts, and we plan on becoming quite good--or at least on sucking less--by the end of the summer.

Sorry about the novel guys.

Dream Weaver

Why the title? Because it's stuck in my head, that's why...thanks to Frogkisser's post. I also occasionally have the image of Wayne at a hard rock concert with "Dream Weaver" playing dubbed over the hard rock part of it. Anyway...

I'm at work, and I'm bored. Technically I could go home, there's nothing to do here after all. And I have in all of my hours. More than I need actually, though I might need them soon enough. But I have about 7 hours just from last Monday for this pay period, so not likely. Mainly I'm still here because I plan on going and playing some disc with the Womens league up here. I say up here, but I think it's downtown, so is it down here? Sounds weird that way. I haven't been in a while, and I want them all to know I'm serious, but frankly I think I'd rather play (notice I use this word roughly) tennis. Either the "play" part or the "tennis" part should be taken slightly as less. However, I got new cleats and I would like to try them out. Playing frisbee I should add, not tennis. This would be the third pair I've gotten recently. Sorry, the fourth pair. I seem to be rather picky on the matter. Anyway, I can return two of those, free of charge, once I get around to it, but who knows when I will. The point is that this pair feels nice. I think they're the ones. In the meantime, everyone (which really only comes down to three people) has new rackets now, and they are legitimate tennis rackets. I believe before there was a question as to whether the previous rackets were indeed badmitten rackets, but I do in fact think they are tennis rackets, if primitive ones at that. I've been to the tennis museum at Wimbleton, so I think I know what I'm talking about. Unfortunately I was not so lucky. I think everyone took up tennis recently, because by the time I got to the DI all they had were a few broken badmitten rackets, and two racquetball rackets. I chose the latter, making it the most tennis-y looking racquetball racket I could find--and out of the two I could find it was. So Phillip is short, but loved, and does the job. I would call it a tactic, to distract, but unfortunately my crappy tennis playing manages to distract enough by itself, and so it probably serves more as a question, or as a "that figures." Still, I wouldn't mind getting a Phillip II. Maybe I'll leave work to go buy a new racket.

Moving against Intuition.

Today was my last day of lazing about for the week. I pretty much didn't want to do anything at all. I blame this largely on the heat. No one can want to do anything but lay around on a day like today. I won't test that theory very far of course, because I'm sure the world is full of more ambitious people than I, but I did do some moderate exercise this morning (against my better judgment) which I feel backs it up at least slightly. After about an hour I was spent entirely. I remembered why it was I stopped running in the morning..in the summertime..outside. I did at one point run through the very enticing sprinklers at the park though. That was enjoyable from the time I was running through them to about 10 seconds after when all the wetness deposited on me evaporated.

At that point (the point where I was back at home wondering why I had been so ambitious to begin with) I again decided against my immediate desire to do nothing. I have been meaning to print of the various pictures acquired in the time I've had my digital camera. I take pictures like it's no one's business, but I can honestly say I've never printed off a one. I was pretty content just leaving them on my computer, until one day a sizable portion of them didn't survive the wiping clean of my hard drive, largely due to my own folly. So I have over a years worth of pictures still, and not one of them in print. Today I finally took a cd of several to the store and ordered prints of them. It took quite a long time looking through them all and selecting, but I've finally done something about them. I also bought myself a USB flash drive that doubles as a key chain, so I think from now on it will be easier to go through this whole picture process again.

Somewhere in all the errands I decided to run, I decided to go in the party store up in JL, since I was already there. I did this only to see if they had puppy dog ears, because you never know- they might, but they didn't and so the quest still goes on to fulfill "Operation Clark in a Wagon." Why is it that stores with little to no customers always have ample amounts of workers all asking you if you're "finding everything you need alright" every two minutes? I swear, there must of been 20 of them, each popping out of nowhere every so often, insisting on checking on my progress. Some people find this helpful. I find it annoying. And awkward. If I need help shopping, I have no qualms approaching someone who's paid to know what I need to know and forcing the information out of them, but personally I don't like them pestering me. Oh well. That said...

Tonight I really should have followed my streak of doing what needed to be done, but that I didn't want to do. I haven't been to the last 2 track practices, making the amount of times I have been just one. I love track, I'm sad I lacked the ambition, but not only did I not want to exercise any more, but I also did not want to go out in that sun again period. Running speedwork hurts like the dickens regardless (what exactly is "the dickens" and why have people decided it hurts anyway?), and doing so in 100 % weather--where even the most responsibly hydrated person would instantly be sapped of all liquid in their system--would be sheer suicide. So I skipped out of that for no other reason than that I'm a wimp lately. However I did not stay at home laying on my couch as I would have preferred. FK, Pinkie, Duckling, and William James wanted to go to the game store, and so I went with them. We played Niagara. It's a nice game--you have little canoes and the ever present threat of being swept off the water fall--but I seem to lack the strategery required to win the stupid game. Which is why every one else liked it. But it was fun, and now I'm doing my laundry. I can't stand how efficient I was today, and at how little slacking I actually managed to pull off.