I was making a complex cocktail of organics today to create a more accurate emulation of partially digested food using various chemicals that are neither found in the colon nor in one’s food when I decided to run the process remotely using an automatic stirrer.  I set the stir bar and left.  30 minutes later I returned to the fume hood covered in fake poo and a couple gallon of foam tooling around on the floor, oh and the gut wrenching smell of fake partially digested beef and peanut butter (tasty combo, I know).  The lab owner was at a meeting so I began cleaning when he returned:
Him: Whew, who shat in my lab?
Me: Not shit, poo juice.
Him: Poo juice no smell like goose shit.
Me: “Whew” juice is new poo juice.
Him: “Whew” new poo juice go boom?
Me: A little.
Him: No new whew poo juice next time?
Me: I say “boohoo” to new whew poo juice.
Him: Get some more paper towels.

I was making a complex cocktail of organics today to create a more accurate emulation of partially digested food using various chemicals that are neither found in the colon nor in one’s food when I decided to run the process remotely using an automatic stirrer.  I set the stir bar and left.  30 minutes later I returned to the fume hood covered in fake poo and a couple gallon of foam tooling around on the floor, oh and the gut wrenching smell of fake partially digested beef and peanut butter (tasty combo, I know).  The lab owner was at a meeting so I began cleaning when he returned:
Him: Whew, who shat in my lab?
Me: Not shit, poo juice.
Him: Poo juice no smell like goose shit.
Me: “Whew” juice is new poo juice.
Him: “Whew” new poo juice go boom?
Me: A little.
Him: No new whew poo juice next time?
Me: I say “boohoo” to new whew poo juice.
Him: Get some more paper towels.

There’s only one way to properly celebrate the return of risen Jesus to earth: Ribs.  I think we should celebrate Jesus more often.  Also, I think we should do a better job of rotating between meats for various religious occasions.  I think kids would better remember the Feast Days of the Saints if there were more foods related to them.  “Blueberry tarts, it must be the Feast Day of Nicholas of Myra, Patron Saint of Pharmacists, Pawnbrokers and Prostitutes”.  Patron Saint of Prostitutes, yeah, I’m not making this up.  Remember this guy eventually turned into Santa Claus.  I’d love to see some kid convert to Christianity
Kid: Who’s Santa Claus?
Priest: The Patron Saint of Prostitutes and Pawnbrokers.
Kid: Sounds fun, I guess that’s why everyone likes Christmas.
I originally thought this was someone fucking with Wikipedia, but upon checking with the Catholic Saint network, it’s true. He’s also represented as “the bishop with three children”, even better.

I led Matt on a tour of camp and encountered Ted and Chris Hastings constructing their adobe hut.
Ted: Damn it! Our people built the pyramids and you can’t make an adobe hut?  Do you need a whip to remind you of what workmanship means!
Chris: Shut up!  I’m a photographer, not a brick-layer.
Ted: Silence, why don’t you photograph your horrible bricks!  You could have put hair in it and had more holding power than this grass.  You do your people shame.
Now there’s someone who has pride in his people.

I wasted a lot of time at work today.  In fact, I had so much planned, I was planning on wasting time after my co-workers left.  The key was getting to that point.  So, when they wouldn’t leave, I got a little angry, until I realized, I was doing a cross-word puzzle.  That’s right, I was complaining about having to waste time until my coworkers left so I could waste time, but in solitude.Also, I showed some of my co-workers the Kiwi Video that won the YouTube Awards.  I thought the video was wonderful and humor-filled, all my co-workers cried thinking the Kiwi died at the end.
Kate: But the kiwi died.
Me: It’s an animated kiwi!
Kate: So, it’s still going to die. And then die again if you show that video again. *cry*
Me: Hm…. Well what if I said the kiwi landed in a shallow pool of water?
Kate: Then it would drown *cry*
Me: Okay, okay, what about a pool of water sufficiently deep to stop its fall but not deep enough to drown it?
Kate: I could live with that.

Today’s discussion on evolution contained the following:
Crazy-Asian-Girl using the verb “evoluting” no less than 3 times.

Me: Most non-Evangelical religions have no problem with evolution, for Catholics, Pope Pius X okayed it (I later corrected myself as it was Pius XII)
Bitter-Catholic-Girl-That-Looks-Like-Kate-Hudson: I went to Catholic school and we didn’t talk about it.
Me: I’ll be sure to have the Pope look into that as Sister Marry Dumbass was obviously his theological superior.Crazy-Asian-Girl: The way genetic engineering is going, we’re going to be like the X-Men soon, do you really want that?
Every Male in the Class: Yes.

Guy-to-My-Right: Did Cyclops have any powers besides laser vision?
Me: Yes, sleeping with Jean Grey.
Guy-to-My-Right: Considering he was such a dick I’ll consider that a super power.

My recently promoted co-worker told a joke today, I think.  There was no discernable punch line nor even humorous interludes, but she’d periodically giggle or say something with exceptional emphasis where one would normally put something of note, but nothing.  I remember it involved King Arthur, a witch or stopwatch and I believe some sort of hover-craft but I’m not quite sure as it came after a duel of some sort in a bog, cave, or dungeon.  It ended with “I’ll let you pick the bed” and I easily lost 2 hours of time today just rolling it over in my head trying to figure out what had happened during the elapsed 5 minutes.  In that she’s now a BMS employee, I feel justified in billing for that time.

We began discussing Darwin’s Origin of Species and the point was brought up while discussing Toygers.  Immediately, crazy-Asian-woman and dumb-white-man went at it over the rights and wrongs of genetic engineering, GM foods and test-tube babies.  I stayed cool for about 20 minutes of this rubbish until I broke.
Me: We’re talking about a God-damn cat!  There’s no bio-lab tinkering here.  It’s not making zombies, or sheep-people, we’re not creating super-bugs or biological weapons and we’re using technology that man has used ever since he said to himself “that bull looks tasty, I think I’ll take him home and make some more”.  We’re not taking university resources away from curing AIDS or fighting cancer.  We’re talking about cat breeders that simply want to fulfill their lifelong dream of having a little tiger at home.  Get over it.
*Dead silence*
Instructor: Let’s move on….After class, I approached the teacher to apologize where he told me I took it better than he thought I would.  Thursday should be fun.

I recently received back a piece of documentation for a precision tool I use at work and discovered that there was a problem with the serial numbers.  Normally, these things are tough to fuck up but the person at the other end must have been particularly talented.  On the calibration certificate, the person had manually struck through with a pencil the serial number and just written the correct serial number under it.  That would stand up to about as much FDA scrutiny as someone who’s trying to get into a bar with a license where the age line had been struck through and fixed with a Sharpie and the words “OK” written on top of the line.  I call the person in question and she faxes a “corrected” version to me, which still has the error but it’s signed!   Forehead slap.