Chicken butt

...I mean guess what.

I went running yesterday! And it felt gooood. How long till I fall off the wagon again? I'm taking bets.

Thank the good God in Heaven and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that it's Friday.

Happy half-birthday to me! PARTAAAAY! (Saturday, 9, Bedrock Billiards)

The highlights tour

OMG! I forgot to tell y'all about the St. Lou highlight!!! I MET BILL NYE!!!!! THE SCIENCE GUY!!!!

So when I was at one of the crazy press parties a fellow DC-ite (I think his name was Nate. It was one syllable. I can't remember) infomed me that Bill Nye was an attendee at the conference (The American Association for the Advancement of Science if you care). I became immediately giddy about the possibility of a brush with greatness. I mean who doesn't aspire to be a tall, gangly, bow-tie wearing scientist! He made me who I am today. Ok that's an exaggeration. 321 Contact was more influential. (And I'm not tall, gangly, or bow-tie wearing.) So we were joking around that I had to meet Mr. Nye and tell him that he was my hero. Double dog dare.

The very next day, I was wandering around the halls not attending any boring meetings when I heard that the cast of NUMB3RS was in the hizouse. I don't watch the show but I am a fan of David Krumholz and can (sadly) recite his entire film career. So I stepped into that less than boring meeting to gaze at him from afar. Mid-gaze, I saw BILL NYE! THE SCIENCE GUY!!! Post-gaze, I went up to Mr. Nye and in the fashion of a giddy school girl told him that he was my hero. He responded somewhat rudely and turned away. So I started to harumph out of there. He must have realized his rudeness becuase he stopped me to invite me to a reception. With an icy stare I responded that I had other plans. (Ok it wasn't that icy. And I did have other plans. But he was kinda rude)

I did not say hello to David Krumholz because I was afraid that I might come across as weird stalker fan. I mean really, who's a fan of David Krumholz?

The wide and wonderful city of St. Lou

And here would be a blank post.

Retitle: The wide and wonderful trip to St. Lou and all that transpired there.
2/16 6:20AM Woke up going, "Ack, ack! I'm late" when in reality I wasn't. However I rushed anyway thereby forgetting my deodorant and razor.
7:30-10:30AM Hiked uphill to metro. Took metro. Got slightly lost in metro/airport. Got unlost. Checked in. Went through security. Found gate. Got breakfast, settled, watched planes and read new book.
10:30-1:00PM Flew to Chicago. Tried to land unsuccessfully. Tried to land again unsuccesfully. Tried to land again unsuccessfully. Landed in Indianapolis. Tried not to puke (both successfully).
1:00-3:0PM Sat in airplane. Had lovely conversation with Southwest airlines representative. Tried not to puke.
3:00-3:30PM Flew to Chicago
3:30-4:00PM Ran around Chicago airport trying to figure out gate of flight. Stood in many lines. Queried why my coworker had a boarding pass and I didn't. Boarded plane.
4:00-5:30 Flew to St. Lou
5:30-6:30 Watched much luggage go by on carousel. Came to slow realization that mine wasn't there. Filed complaint.
6:30-7:30 Looked for metro. Found metro. Stood in snot-sticking cold. Got on metro going in the wrong way. Got on metro going in right way. Rode metro to hotel.
7:30-8:00 Checked in. Found that hotel had been charged to me. Got key. Went upstairs. Tried key (unsuccessfully). Tried not to cry (successfully). Went downstairs. Got new key. Went upstairs. Tried key (successfully). Had best pee of life. Realized I had only eaten one bag of pretzels and two bags of peanuts all day. Met coworker for dinner.
8:00-9:30 Ordered dinner. Waited for dinner. Waited for dinner. Waited for dinner. Tried dinner. Dinner burnt on top, raw in middle. Traded dinner in for soup. Soup too salty. Sat on phone. Called several people inadvertently. Ate crackers that came with soup. Went to bed!

2/17 (No hourly description needed) Registered for conference. Went to boring meetings. Got luggage! Ate good lunch. Went to more boring meetings. Went to press party! Ate large quantities of chocolate cake! Met neat people! Rode up the St. Louis Arch! Tried not to puke (successfully). Thanked lucky stars I only had one beer.

2/18 Went to boring meetings. Walked around in snot-sticking cold to find restaurant. Gave up. Ate in a hotel with some lovely physicists. Didn't understand conversation. Went to more boring meetings. Went to party! Met neat people!

2/19 Went to boring meetings. Found restaurant! Ate. Went to more boring meetings. Went to bar! Drank copiously! Went to party! Went on five story spiral slide! Drank!Crawled through ceiling! Climbed through things! Touched a skate! Pet a guinea pig! Met neat people! Went on three story slide! Climbed up and down things! Bruised myself!

2/20 Went to boring meetings. Had lovely lunch with coworker. Got on metro in right direction. Met neat person. Flew to Chicago. Ate dinner. Flew to DC. Took metro. (all with neat person and coworker) Hiked downhill from metro. Went to bed.

tada!

Holy crapload of work Batman!

A week and four day without hearing from your favorite little blogger. How do you people survive such things? Somehow my coworker finagled it that I got overloaded with proofs right before press day. He is smooth. However, I (smoothly) glided into his office and asked if he could take a few back. Like butter on a bald monkey.

Also, we got a neatokeen grant to publish all the workshop reports from our meeting in Mexico (pronounced May-hee-co). All those good ol' reports are being sent directly to me because apparently once you're a PhD your brain is so overloaded that you can't figure out a simple online submission system. So I have to upload manuscripts, check them, assign editors, contact reviewers, and chase the crap out of whomever doesn't bend to my will.

So Happy Tuesday!

Happy busiest day for private investigators to tail cheating sigficant others day!

Happy former pagan spring cleaning holiday where men picked women's names out of an urn and then were forced to live with them for a year day!

Happy former pagan spring cleaning holiday when women were whipped with bloody strips of goat hide day!

Ok. Perhaps the last two need a small amount of explanation. According to the gurus at the History Channel, once upon a time in a faraway land there lived a priest named Valentine. He was a neat guy and also a political subversive. When Emperor Claudius decided that single men were better soldiers than married ones he outlawed marriage. (Now lets reflect a little here. Were the single soldiers more bloodthirsty because they were bitter and had nothing to lose except a few mugs of mead and a woman of ill repute? And the married men were worse fighters because all they could do was moon about their sweetheart and the spectacular lasagna that she could prepare? Or were the married men sucky fighters because as a result of marriage (and the implied death of soul) they were completely useless? It makes a difference.) Anyhoo, good ol' Valentine defied the Emperor and married couples in secret. Tada!
Another version of the story says that Valentine rescued lots of Christians from torture imposed by the Romans. Tada!
And yet another legend says that Valentine was thrown into jail for one crime or another. In the dank and musty hole that is a medieval Italian jail, he fell in love with the jailer's daughter. He sent her a note, "from your Valentine." Tada!

Not sure how these actions get him sainthood (except the denying the lions a good meal bit) but some Pope with an unpronouncible name canonized him.

Then in a classic Catholic lets-deny-our-base-desires-and-disguise-a-pagan-holiday-as-a-religious-one, St. Valentine's Day was established. The pagan holiday in question was more unpronouncible than that Pope's name and celebrated the oncoming Spring and its associated naughty bits. To celebrate, people would clean out their houses and sprinkle a bit of flour in them. Then the men all went up to a dark cave where they sacrificed a goat and cut its hide into bloody strips. When they went back to the village they hit the woman with these strips (yum) to make them all fertile and stuff. ALSO, all the single women in the village would put their names in an urn. And the men would pick the a name out and be paired with that woman for a year. (I have no idea what happened if the numbers weren't even.) Apparently, this led to a lot of weddings after the year was up. (Anyone thinking shotgun?)

So anyway, I guess this means that the holiday was NOT invented by card conglomerates. It was invented by horny goat-herders who needed to clean their houses. But if you're still really bitter check out these cards.

I leave you with this: en Espanol casar = to marry, cazar = to hunt; esposa = wife, esposas = handcuffs. Hmmmmm.

Spin Doctor

Actually, those two words (although not in conjunction) directly apply to today.

Numero uno: Went to the doctor today. A frustrating experience as usual. She didn't have the goop for the TB test so I paid $10 for the privilege of waiting around and having my blood pressure taken. I now have to go back Monday and then Wednesday. She also asked if I've had asthma, which is something I've been concerned with lately, but didn't follow up on that comment. In the rare instance that you're worrying about me...I'm perfectly ok. (I may be dying of consumption.)

Numero two: Am writing an article on the 2006 International Symposium on Wetland Restoration. I have no idea how to make that interesting. No clue even what questions to ask my interviewees. My first published piece and the beginning of a long press career and it'll be a total dud. I just know it.

Oh! And my UPS guy is back! Siiiigh. His deep blue eyes will get me through the day! Siiiigh.