A Riot is an Ugly Thing

King of the Nerds

In one of DaisyFae's recent blogs, we discussed our high school nerd roots, mine run fairly deep.  I didn't have a single date in high school.  I was a lab assistant, multiple science fair winner, Audubon Society Award winner, Institute of Environmental Sciences winner, and member of the Dungeons and Dragon Club.

My prom date canceled on me 4 hours before I was supposed to pick her up,  because her Mom, the cunt, didn't want her to go with me.  Her mother didn't think any of her family should mix with mine, because neither of my parents had a college degree.  That's totally true.  You might well ask yourself, what kind of job did this woman have? Certainly, she was a lawyer?  She wasn't...well, she had to have been a physicist then? Not exactly...oh, she was a tenured college professor? No, she was an Elementary School teacher, which should in no way be viewed as disrespect for school teachers.

Anyway, I digress from my original nerdly intentions.  As I told DaisyFae, I used to sell Science Fair projects.  They went $15 for a winner, and $10 for a regular project. I generally knew what would win. It had to demonstrate the scientific method. You had to identify your control, you needed multiple trials, and you had to cut down on variation that would affect your results. However, the pièce de résistance was if your results disproved your hypothesis, and you acknowledged it in your conclusion. The judges would get a big-old erection when they read it, and  slap a ribbon on your project.  I liked science and I liked money, so it was win-win for me.

I hearkened back to my nerdy days, this evening. On Saturday, I picked up a splinter at the theater. I hadn't done a good job getting it out, and by this evening it was festering.  Tonight, I went down to my garage and dug my stereo-microscope out of storage.  I stuck my wounded finger under the microscope; did I mention the microscope is fully illuminated? (Man, I bet DaisyFae is swooning right now!) I was able to locate the rest of the offending splinter and gently remove it with very fine-pointed tweezers.  It already feels better. 

As I go to sleep tonight, I imagine, In some other part of the country, that a far superior family must have to suck on their fingers and howl like fuckin' Proconsul africanus, whenever they get a splinter. 

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

St. Patrick's Day: A cautionary tale

  
 

Catching up

Well, it has been a busy two weeks. When last I left you, we were celebrating the favored holiday of Keitholicism, Ass Wednesday.  I got to celebrate in a different way at work.  A homeless man slipped past the gate guards here on base. We happen to be the closest building to the front gate, so he walked up to our visitor's entrance. He rang the bell and got buzzed in, but didn't wait very long at the visitor's desk before he set off exploring.  The receptionist ran into my office and told me we had an unauthorized visitor running loose in the building. I tracked him down into an empty cubicle where he was helping himself to trash bags, and if I hadn't gotten there in time, likely some pilfer-able equipment.  I managed to get him out of the building, after he frightened some people and strained some work relationships (more on that later). 

By the time we got outside, he wasn't very happy with me. The police arrived quickly, and took custody of the dude. When they searched him, imagine my surprise to learn that he had six knives on him.  I honestly don't think he was there to hurt anybody. I think he was going to take whatever he could quickly get his hands on, and get out.  However, that doesn't prevent me from recounting the tale of how I single-handedly faced down a crazed-psychotic bristling with weaponry.  This would have never happened, if my Delores was still here!

During the festivities, the homeless dude managed to get into a suite of four offices with an outer office area where the secretary sits.  At the time he got in there, he was fleeing from me, and people in that area knew this wasn't a good thing.  One of the managers, a fellow who portrays himself as an outdoorsy Marlboro man, ran into his office and slammed the door, leaving the secretary trapped in the outer office with the stranger, after making eye-contact with the poor woman.  One of the other managers in that suite came out of his office and shoved the secretary through his door and closed it.

Needless to say, the secretary and this manager are not quite getting along at the moment. The guy is taking a ration of good-natured, and some maybe not good-natured, ribbing about his less than heroic behavior.  In fact, the guy has taken off a good bit since the incident.  You really don't know what you'd do in one of those situations, but I guess he found out. 

I'm satisfied to know that I went toward the trouble. Which, of course, verifies my status as the Alpha Male, the stallion, the silverback, the top dog, the male lion; "King Kong ain't got nothin' on me!"  However, if I'd have known he had all those knives, I'd have been heroically weeping under a desk, with a big snot bubble coming out of my nose.