Chad & Matt's Guide to Life

My Good Advice for Zahra

2011-01-25T21:10:00.002-07:00

I've always been a slightly critical person AND don't really have a knack for pushing compliments I don't mean. Okay - I probably do, but a) honesty is easier and b) I want you to be honest with me.

Besides - what takes more time away from your life in a response to the following question "Do I look fat in this?"

Saying no takes way more energy because there's always the task of having to convince the fat person you're being sincere (nice)

Say yes and it's over. You're not doing your fat friend any favors letting them go out looking like they just won a pie-eating contest after lunch.

In the cases where your friend truly doesn't look fat you can say no and then rather than plead your case of sincerity simply remind them of all the times you didn't spare their feelings.

Them: Do I look fat in this?

You: No

Them: Are you just saying that?

You: Remember that time I told you that all you needed to do was put a ring through your nose and matadors will be poking you in the neck?

Them: . . . yeah.

You: I'm not here to spare your feelings. I'm here to be a good friend. Now go get me a cupcake as a reward.

ANYWAY - I got to give good ole Zahra some email advice today as to how she should do herself up for an upcoming wedding!

Spit it out, spit it out!!

2011-01-24T10:32:00.006-07:00

Yesterday while at work I got to enjoy some cake!

Mmmmmmm!!

Delicious cake! Left over from a birthday party somewhere at the other end of my building. This happens almost daily. Cake cake cake.

Sooooo . . . because I see cake on a very regular basis you'd think I wouldn't go crazy when I see it. We're talking shark-near-chum crazy. My eyes roll into the back of my head, I unhinge my jaw, etc.

Back to yesterday at work. I'm sitting at my lab table getting ready to eat cake with Amber and Troy. While cutting the cake a little chunk fell from the plate and onto a petri dish. I picked it up and ate it. Amber and Troy stared at me.

Chad: What??

Troy: Did you just eat that out of a petri dish?

Chad: . . . ummm . . . no . . .

Troy: I just had tarantula molts in there.

Amber: I just had bedbugs in there

Chad: . . .

It's a fact that your mouth is the dirtiest part of your body (dirtier than even your rectum!) so I feel like my mouth was probably dirtier than that petri dish cake.

In addition to standard bacteria found in the human mouth . . . (**ahem**)

There was the time I was cleaning out storage cabinets at work and found a tea bag and thought "I need to make me some tea!". It tasted like something that would leak from the bottom of your fridge when the power is out.

There was the time I was helping Zahra clean out her purse and found a mini toblerone that she had been holding on to like it was a savings bond. Chocolate probably shouldn't crumble. It should melt in your mouth, not bead up and roll around on your tongue.

Then there was the time Matt and I removed all of the interior from his '72 Beetle. I found a mint in the floorboards and promptly ate it. It fizzed in a hurty way. And Matt looked like he was going to finger sweep my mouth like he was my dad and I was a two year old that was eating a quarter . . .

Heehee.

At least I've moved up to eating old/dirty sweets and left behind my problem of kissing things I shouldn't. Enjoy (while I cringe) exhibits A, B, and C

Dead Squid in a disection lab.

Stuffed Brown Bear in a sports bar in Lodo.

Patrick Casto.*

*(It was St. Patrick's Day - of course drinking was involved)

If I were a betting man . . .

2011-01-20T21:50:00.002-07:00

If I were a betting man I'd be living in the gutter eating my own shoes.

This is because evidently I don't have good bettin' instincts.

Case in point:

about 21 minutes ago my brilliant and gorgeous cousin, Melissa sent me a video for a PSA about testicular cancer. I watched it and thought I'd bet anything that this is a bad SNL skit or something . . . Nay nay. In fact, it is a legitimate PSA (one of many) made by CBScares and aired during 60 minutes.

Let's watch!

60 fucking minutes aired this. Did the CEO of CBS recently suffer a stroke? Recently as in while they were pitching this idea?!?!

"Hey guys! You know what's coming up? Valentines Day! And I don't know what says Valentine's Day like a testicular exam!"

As hilarious as I think it is I don't think it was done very well. The marketing people at CBS need some schoolin' from yours truly.

How exactly is grabbing your nuts to check for lumps better for your significant other than a diamond? I think that they should be aiming towards the idea of spending Valentine's Day performing exams on each other!

She gives you a testicular exam - you give her a breast exam!

This could be made into a whole series!!

*Ahem* Marketing people . . . you. are. welcome.

Best Friends: Check each other for scoliosis. Routine exams are the backbone of true friendship!

First Dates: Check eachother for cavities and/or early signs of gum disease. Let them know they're the only sweetie you put in your mouth.

Valentines Day: See above

1 Year Anniversary: Pap smears for your partners. There's one sure fire way to show you love her for what's on the inside.

10 Year Anniversary: Prostate Exam. Give him a gift he'll never forget.

The slogans write themselves!

Better than that - if relationships last long enough you'll probably be the most healthy person on the planet!

Of course - you always risk losing your partner once you utter the words "Honey, I got you something better than a diamond this Valentine's Day. I got you the family jewels."

Trust me - I think I've ended relationships this way.

Except I wasn't refereing to having just given myself a testicular exam exactly . . .

Oooh . . . That's hot!

2011-01-18T22:45:00.003-07:00

I realize that, for the sake of good taste, I should have (long ago) written "Chad's Guide to Sexy Art".

Better late than never (or pregnant) - but because we're in a race against time I'm not making a formal guide - rather a short list.

Here is my list of things you should NEVER try to make sexy:

1. Disney Characters

2. Bad people

3. People who are ugly when clothed

4. Dead people

5. Anyone with a prosthetic.

Oh wait - I'm sorry. It looks as though my list is too late.

My bad.

P.S. For anyone thinking "Hades isn't a dead person! He's the God of the Underworld." I must say Seriously? That's what you have a problem with??

P.S.S. And to those same people: judging me and NOT sexy disney villain art means you are a little creepy

P.S.S.S. Even though I just had the thought it doesn't look like Hades' pubes are blue fire . . . hmmmm . . . I maintain that YOU are still the creepy one.

P.S.S.S.S. No, I'm NOT protesting too much.

P.S.S.S.S.S. Shut up.

Junk Mail

2011-01-17T19:41:00.006-07:00

I have recently been working on my finances. More specifically I have decided to solve the mystery of I make a decent living so how can I possibly be broke ALL THE TIME?

Answers keep popping up and I have a beautiful example. My email address at mac.com is ending soon and to renew it (like I always do) is $100.

$100! For a service I can get for FREE through gmail - which I totally do now. But I need to be sure I don't lose anything in my switch . . . other than my mind.

Sooooo I've been going through all of my email folders to see if there's anything important. I've found a few things. Among them is the realization that I abuse the email system with . . . well . . . strange things.

Luckily I don't send to the masses, but generally to a couple of people. Which pretty much means Matt.

Here is a little sampling of what Matt's inbox looks like. So sit back and enjoy!

From: Chaddy

Date: May 14, 2010 8:46:27 AM

To: Matty

Subject: I came downstairs today...

To An upset back yard. When they told the butcher they wanted the head

cut off they assumed he would throw it away. But he included it and

now it has to be thrown in a ditch.

I've never seen "dispose of pig head" on a wedding to-do list before.

A pig head.

Mississippi is f*ed up!

***************************************************************************************

From: Chaddy

Date: May 08, 2010 1:31:26 PM

To: Matty

Subject: My rental car

The guy says "I've got an HHR for ya"

And I'm like "what is that? Some kind of form?"

********************************************************************************

From: Chaddy

Date: April 04, 2010 8:54:43 AM

To: Matty ,Lindsey

Subject: Hero Bee (Beero?)

So last summer when I was collecting feral bees with Patrick he got

stung by one

(very funny)

(and kind of sad)

(but mostly just funny)

So I stumbled upon the bee that stung his ho ass and performed it's

necropsy last night.

Poor bee.

See all the entrails dangling out of her stinger hole?

At least she went down in a blaze of glory. Teehee.

********************************************************************************

From: Chaddy

Date: March 31, 2008 3:16:50 PM

To: Matty

Subject: Squid

The whole time I was doing this I was thinking "I'll never question

matt's weird class assignments again! Just make the smell go away!!"

So if you ever question why you have to make a radio out of a rock-

remember that I wonder why I have to know the gonads of a squid by

sight...

(its #5 by the way)

***************************************************

And now for my personal favorite example of the grave importance of my email correspondence:

From: Chaddy

To: Matty, Zahra

Date: March 02, 2009 09:45:16 AM MST

Subject: my morning is full of laughing at the GIS students

wuttup homie?

So - because i'm bored and the only thing keeping me from going to starbucks is that i'm also lazy. (i'm totally allowing myself to go though . . . i haven't gone since last week!) I'm going to give you a play by play of my morning.

1:00 AM

Go to bed after watching hilarious (only to me) episodes of Ren & Stimpy with Heather, followed by Last Holiday with Queen Latifah. *Do you think She and LL Cool J got into a 90s "hip-hop off" on the set? I really hope so.*

6:19 AM

Hate Zahra for sending me text messages regarding a voicemail I left her yesterday. Not even an important voicemail! I just called to tell her that Bob called me while he was taking a dump and told me about it (yes, i hung up)

8:02 AM decide to schlep my way to the bathroom. hate my bladder, still hate zahra a little more.

8:04 AM turn on Sex and the City playlist on my iPod, because showering just seems easier with Cheryl Lynn gargling about how I got to be real!! Also, doesn't everyone feel like they look amazing when getting dressed to fergie?! Let's hope so, my cold sore looks like a plate of italian nachos.

8:15 AM

Open bedroom door to let Sabrina out - accidentally let Heather in. Dancing Heather. uuuuggghhhh. i'm assuming she remembered something important she had to do and THATS why she scurried away - not because of the look i shoot ANYONE who dances into my room before I've had coffee.

8:30 AM

Heather shows off her "earrings" (read: gallstones with hooks) to me. how can someone have such little self awareness??

8:31 AM

Make fun of heather's gallstone earrings. kindly recommend she find another pair.

8:32 AM

Heather refuses to find another pair - she thinks they look GOOOOD! While telling me how she has way better taste than me (really? you're wearing what appears to be an old halloween ninja costume) she accidentally drops a gallstone earring down the sink that i forgot to put the stopper in.

8:33 AM

While telling heather that Lord God, Creator of the Heavens and Earth, ALSO thinks those earrings are heinous I secretly thank Zahra in my head. Several days ago when I asked her if i should put the stopper for the sink in she replied "why?! No!! What are they going to be doing in there? spa facials?! leave it alone so we can go to sonic!"

Zahra is forgiven for stupid text message this morning.

8:45 AM

walk into every room of house with no intent. just bored.

8:50 AM

still bored

8:55 AM

still bored

9:00 AM

remember how Bob wants to borrow my scooter. don't want to let him. how to say no?? hmmmm

9:01 AM

get sidetracked and move from thinking about Bob to thinking about cupcakes. (Do I have a secret stash in the kitchen????)

9:02 AM

HALLELUJAH!! Secret cupcake (and there's more where that came from) in tow, I shuffle to the computer to check if my professor emailed me to tell me that class is cancelled.

9:04 AM

No

9:05 AM

read some weird email addressed to science and technology students. "That's Me and Matt!! Squeeee!"

It's about some rally to conceive of green ways of living. Science and technology suck. Are we the only departments that are hounded by this? At least I get to giggle about the two examples of science and technology majors in my head are also the two biggest contributers that I know to CFCs in the air from classic car (way better than hybrid) pollution. If driving our amazing vehicles is so wrong then why are we exempt from tailpipe emissions bitches?! wooooo!!!

9:07 AM

decide that Matt HAS to read this email! OF COURSE he'll think it's as funny/ironic as i do!!

Matt will probably delete it immediately - I'll copy and paste it in my own email! (seen below). . . .

>LOOK INTO THE FUTURE WITH GREEN TECHNOLOGY

>Attention all science and technology majors!! Here is your opportunity to hear about sustainable and alternative practices in your field.

>Speakers from Colorado Conservation Trust, SWCA Environmental Consultants, and Colorado School of Mines will be discussing topics such as creative solutions in environmental management with GIS and fuel cell technology research in the Front Range.

>

>FREE Food and Refreshments

>

>March 4th 2009 Science 138 11:30-1 pm

>

>Hosted by Metro State Environmental Science Organization &

>The GIS Club of Metro State

9:37 AM

did i really just spend a half hour relating my uneventful morning to a more than likely unimpressed bubeleh? yeah, i guess i did. But I got me a cupcake bitches!!!!

see ya soon

Chad

Lots of Ladybugs . . . or at least another type of Beetle

2011-01-10T11:59:00.007-07:00

Most people know that I love Love LOVE my job!

I get to wake up and go to work where I spend anywhere from 8 to 14 hours playing.

I walk around with Jungle Nymphs on my shoulder like they're parrots. . .

Sometimes I have stern talkins-to with tarantulas about boundary issues regarding my iced chai . . .

Sometimes I make fun of children's artwork . . .

(Come on people. This 3rd grader knew exactly what he was doing. I'm counting AT LEAST 3 rim jobs going on here and I think 1 has a little insertion. Sick.)

But I also do work. This year I've been focusing on breeding things that we've never been able to breed in captivity before.

Let's see . . .

Right now I have a species of spider that I need to figure out how to couple without getting

them killed or me sent to the ER

One species of beetle that I can't figure out the right soil composition for the female to lay eggs in.

Another species of beetle that I'm trying like mad to find a second plant the larvae will eat because the first plant, kudzu vine, the USDA won't let anywhere near a US port of entry.

A mantis that needs a temperature about 30 degrees higher than the other animals in the room

And another mantis that needs humidity about twice as high as everyone else in the room.

And while I'm experimenting over and over and failing over and over, guess what happened . . .

the little Blue Death Feigning Beetles from the Sonoran desert - an animal that no one has ever been able to captively breed - has quietly been laying eggs and raising their grubs in a tank right in front of me. This ground breaking thing is happening without my help at all while I can't replicate what others have already done before.

There's a story from Under the Tuscan Sun that tells of a girl who used to hunt for ladybugs and never caught any. Then one day she fell asleep in the grass and when she woke up she was covered in ladybugs.

That's totally me! Except with Blue Death Feigning Beetles. Plus, while the little girl probably kept them in a jar until they slowly suffocated and/or starved to death - I am off to work on publishing.

In yo' face little girl!!

Temperence Brennen is a fucking liar.

2011-01-07T14:28:00.002-07:00

For years now Matt has been talking about this 'Bones' show. I've never really cared to watch it - which means I really don't care to hear about it.

I totally do it too, so I'm a hypocrit - but let's get past this and focus on what really needs to be said: If you find a program interesting you will never translate that interest to others by telling them episode plots.

The only way to get someone to love a show with you is to get them to watch it. And the best way to get them to watch it is to get them to feel like they NEED to watch it at least once. The best way to do this? In my case - tell me I remind you of someone on the show.

This has never been a compliment to me. I've been compared to people on tv before and it never fails to anger me. So after years of Matt telling me "so last night on Bones . . . " or "Gina and I were watching Bones . . ." and my just hearing white noise after that my need to see it was finally activated by my horrible friend Josh who spent like three minutes telling me that I'm like someone he referred to as the "bug and slime guy".

I kind of already hate this.

A) oh good. Yet another time that my job has people seeing me as a 2-dimensional bug-loving character. I never NEVER get sick of that. Way to make me feel like there's othing to my life besides a respect for arthropods Josh. I hope I never get fired because I'll have nothing to live for. People will probably see me wandering street corners in ratty clothes looking for rolly pollys (which are technically crustaceans . . .)

B) even though Josh claims this was a compliment - perhaps he needs to read "Chad's Guide to Compliment Giving" that I posted on October 31st of 2009

ANYWAY - so thank goodness Bones is available on my instant Netflix so that I was able to immediately see this person who is just like me.

He is so ugly.

Also, he is a complete a-hole. I don't understand why anyone can stand him. He's snide and that's about it. I suppose he's smart, but he's not funny or charming or anything. He's just a douche that's always cranky. HE is a two dimensional character.

And he is so ugly.

Lets face it - compare me to anyone you want and no matter how painful they are to watch, it won't bother me at all compared to saying I remind you of some ugly guy.

Josh doesn't think he's ugly.

But Josh was backpedaling methinks.

Aside from Hodgins (the ugly bug and slime guy) I kind of dislike several aspects of the show. I dislike the two main characters (P.S. Zooey Deschanel TOTALLY got the looks in the family). I find it a little far fetched that these people are stumbling across decayed remains like all the time. At what point are they going to realize "hey, we seem to stumble upon a lot, I mean a LOT of human remains by accident. Maybe we should start hanging out somewhere else"

The thing that bothers me the most is the lab. Their beautiful lab that looks like a cross between the main entrance to the Louvre and an Ikea. No one has a lab that looks like that. NO ONE.

Hospitals don't even look tht clean and sterile.

Temperence Brennen? You and your lab are a big fat lie. LIE!!

So here's my official opinion of the show Bones:

I think it's phenomenal. Am I going to watch every season? Yes! I love the science behind everything, I love the plot lines, and most importantly I love Zack (word on the street is that after a couple seasons he goes into an insane asylum because he was found to be a serial killer apprentice. Thanks for ruining my favorite character on my new favorite show)

So thank you Josh.

But next time we want to get me to watch a show I've never seen, lets not compare me to someone with bug eyes and a fro . . .

Quick thoughts:

2010-11-23T20:58:00.002-07:00

I wouldn't call myself an exhibitionist by any means - but am I the only person that really wants to fly somewhere just so I can go through DIA's bodyscan? Do you think they can give me a printout of my projected naked self?? Hmmmm . . .

In more upsetting news, it's something like 4º outside and cold weather always makes me have to pee. It's a tragic irony that when I come in from the freezing cold and head for the restroom the very LAST thing I want to touch is my junk.

Did I mention that I took a double dose of Benadryl a little bit ago?

Two Movie Reviews Disguised as a Story. Enjoy!

2010-11-20T21:31:00.006-07:00

Picture it:

Berlin. September 2010.

Matt has just finished taken a shower and discovered me scratching at the bathroom door . . .

You may be thinking I reaaaaally had to go to the bathroom. You may even be thinking that I just wanted to help Matt towel dry!

But you would be wrong.

I had to get Matt out of the bathroom because we were under attack!

(And by "attack" I mean I SWORE I heard someone trying to break in through the front door. . .)

Matt looked at me like I was a crazy person.

But you know what? I was right to be wary. And here is my proof:

In the past couple of weeks I have watched 2 German . . . well, we'll just call them films.

#1: The Human Centipede

In this story there are two American tourists road-tripping through Europe. Their car breaks down in a rain storm and, rather than change the damn tire, they set of on foot for help. What do they find but a house occupied by a crazy German surgeon who promptly drugs them and brings them down to his lab. In his lab there is already a Japanese man strapped down.

Does this guy have big plans to sew them all together, mouth-to-anus, to create a big human centipede? You bet he does! Before you start to wonder too many things, let me answer all your questions.

Yes, it's gross.

Yes, it's unlikely that the 2nd and 3rd 'segments' would survive for long solely on fecal matter

Yes, there is a scene where the Japanese guy in front can't hold his poo any more and involuntarily craps directly into the mouth of the American chick sewn to his booty. (What makes this worse is the creepy German doctor saying "yesssss. Feeeed her!!")

Yes, Matt and I watched the ENTIRE thing.

My defense: It was a present from my curator because I love scary movies AND it's kind of work related!

#2: Otto, or Up With Dead People

A zombie comes to life in rural North Germany and hitches his way to Berlin to find himself. It turns out this zombie, named Otto, has a whole laundry list of issues other than being dead. He's an antisocial homosexual vegetarian zombie in search of . . . something more.

He meets up with - who else, but two morbid lesbians making - you guessed it! A ZOMBIE MOVIE!! (Guess who just found their star!!) Did I mention that for some reason one of the lesbians is only filmed in black and white and doesn't speak, but has piano accompaniment and old-timey captions? I guess she's a silent film lesbian?

My defense: It showed up on Instant Netflix's new arrivals page. I saw a zombie in an outfit I really liked so I hit play! I guess that'll teach me . . .

Sooooo. See what I mean? Germans breaking into our apartment? AWFUL!!

Matt finding out that it was our landlord's sister stopping by late at night to pick up the rent and I look like a psychopath? EVEN MORE AWFUL!!

At least we didn't get sewn together or have a gay horror-orgy. (tongue kissing AND intestine eating? You pick one or the other! Good day good sir!)

I Certainly Hope I Be Decent. Nahmean?

2010-11-16T22:23:00.004-07:00

My friend Lindsey sent me a link recently that made me realize: at first glance we may seem very different, but really we all strive for one thing. One basic human need that is intrinsic in us all even if we don't all express it or realize it. The yearning for sweatpants to go away . . .

This link brought me to a series of "tweets" (God, I hate Twitter) (And anything else that tries to work the word 'tweet' into an audible statement) (Rockin' Robin? I'm talking to you too)

Anyway - it brought me to a series of tweets (gak!) by a rapper named Ghostface Killah. (Yes, It's a stupid STUPID name - but at least it isn't 'tweet')

It seems that Ghostface (I assume that since we have so much in common I don't need to address him as Mr. Killah. We're pretty much best friends in my mind) has had enough of people not putting any effort into their appearance.

Because his message is so valuable - I will translate it here for my non-fluent-in-gangsta friends out there. Lets make my translations yellow . . . you know, so you don't get us confused.

Ahem.

Ghostface says:

A lot of niggas don't know how to get busy.
1:27 PM Nov 3rd via web

I have recently become aware that many of my friends and colleagues are not sure how to take on a suitable appearance

A lot of y'all muthafuckas just throw on whatever whatever whatever and just think thats whats poppin and it's not poppin man.
1:28 PM Nov 3rd via web

Many of you feel that wearing something you would normally wear to bed or the gym is also appropriate for, say, going out for drinks. But it isn't.

Yo when you step out the crib, just make sure you match. Don't be coming outside on some like you Rainbow man or something like that G.
1:29 PM Nov 3rd via web

When you leave your house it is important to coordinate your clothes and accessories. Bold patterns and solids are always a good bet, but NEVER bold patterns mixed.

With mad different colors and shit and your gear ain't proper. You know what I mean? Make sure your swagger is up to par nahmean. You decent
1:30 PM Nov 3rd via web

Remember our motto: Flashy, not trashy. Make sure that you look appropriate for the occasion. Yoga pants are appropriate for YOGA. Flip flops are appropriate for VOLLEYBALL GAMES. Uggs are appropriate for . . . well, nothing. When in doubt ask a friend for advice!

You ain't gotta come out looking all Super Fly and dapper and all that shit but just make sure that your gear you know...that you official!
1:31 PM Nov 3rd via web

It isn't necessary to wear Marc Jacobs to the grocery store, but some effort is appreciated by those around you. Remember - there is a whole array of attire between formal and pajamas. It's called *blank*-casual.

You can take the wackest gear but make sure that gear, that K-Mart gear, whatever you wearing, you official wit it.
1:32 PM Nov 3rd via web

Again, couture is not necessary. But make sure that it's flattering, wears well, and makes you feel good about your appearance.

YOU bringing the steez to it. Nah mean?!
1:33 PM Nov 3rd via web

Style with ease (yes, I had to look it up. Thank you Urban Dictionary)

Make sure your foot game is official. A bitch don't like you to step to her acting like you trying to bag her with your shoes all bent up.
1:36 PM Nov 3rd via web

It isn't flattering to a lady (or gentleman) if she thinks you assume that she is so easily attainable that you can attempt to make advances in battered old sneakers. Make an investment in a good shoe that will last you awhile. Diesel makes wonderful casual shoes and Prada is pricey - but will last you a lifetime!

Or at least if your jeans is fucked up and you got a decent pair of kicks on, you might could be able to pull a bitch. She might go for it.
1:38 PM Nov 3rd via web

With appropriate shoes by your side you can probably get away with less-than-your-best jeans. A lady will overlook a hole in the knee if she sees a strong symbol of pride on your feet.

Your hair cut game gotta be live too.
1:40 PM Nov 3rd via web

Take pride in your hair as well . . .

Just make sure that your cut is good. If your cut is good and your kicks is good, you might could get the bitch.
1:41 PM Nov 3rd via web

A fresh hairstyle and decent footwear can go a long way with your intended romance

A lot of y'all niggas ain't LIVE. Nah mean. Out of 100 niggas it might be like 10 LIVE LIVE LIVE thats SUPER LIVE niggas!

1:43 PM Nov 3rd via web

Many of you are not as dapper as you think. The likelihood that you are as posh as you believe (according to a recent study by Ghostface Killah) is approximately 1 in 10.

The Rest Of Y'all Niggas Is BIRD NIGGAS! Straight Up!
1:44 PM Nov 3rd via web

The rest of you are mere posers. Seriously.

The type of niggas that just get punched in the face all day, robbed all day.
1:45 PM Nov 3rd via web

You anger society that takes offense to you're attitude of "I'm a trendsetter. Look at me wear Ugg boots with short shorts!".

Niggas that was getting stuck for they cupcakes man back in high school, Jr High, taking your Butter crunch man we know about that shit man.
1:47 PM Nov 3rd via web

These individuals most likely developed this arrogance as early as high school or junior high. As a result they may have (rightly so) been the target of bullying. Bullying, and perhaps a few instances of stabbings for any cupcakes you may have on your person. Bullies know how to expose your weaknesses, and that is usually through brutal theft of your cupcakes and/or your Butter crunches. That will take you down a notch.

Like I said, out of 100 niggas it might be like 10 LIVE niggas out of 100 niggas man and which one are YOU nigga. Point it out nigga.
1:49 PM Nov 3rd via web

1 in 10 individuals truly have style, while the rest are delusional. Which one are you, good sir or madam?

and is you sure about that dude!
1:49 PM Nov 3rd via web

Let's reflect on our wardrobe for a moment. Do you have good taste? Really?

Pictures of Your Kids

2010-10-09T19:08:00.004-06:00

Yeah.

I'll probably never be that guy that pulls out pictures of my kids to anyone with the faintest interest.

However - I already am that guy that does so with shoes. Something that I imagine my close knit group of loved ones to be very excited about.

For example: Yesterday when Matt was hard at work, getting ready to start his weekend, he was probably very relieved to get this picture message from me:

They match my wiener dog!!

They're my new Matt-inspired shoes. Black and camel pikolinos that pretty much feel like your walking around on a cloud made of buttery leather.

And this? Is why people don't like to give their phone number out . . .

Our Very First Tag!!

2010-10-03T16:49:00.005-06:00

My friend Ana from Caffeine and Cocktails has tagged Matt and I. My head has explained it to me in this manner:

Remember that semester in college when you were obsessed with Myspace? This is kind of like all of those quizzes you'd take. Ana tagged you guys. So answer her questions, make up your own and tag blogs you love.

Oooh! Fun! I LOVE answering questions about me!

Because I'm giving Matt a break from Chad (the poor guy spent nearly 300 hours with me attached at the hip with no breaks) I will be answering these exciting questions on behalf of both of us to the best of my ability.

Let's look at Ana's questions!!

1. If they were to make a biopic of your life what would it be titled and who would be casted to play you?

If I were already dead it could have a way cool title - like The Unravelling of A High Strung Kook - but neither Matt or myself are dead it would need an ominous title. Maybe something ironic like Critical Indifference. I like that. I'm critical - Matt is indifferent. It works.

Who would play us? I have a list of people that I think resemble Matty. Starting with Dick York from the early Bewitched years and ending with Jim Carrey in Cable Guy. I've never found anyone that looks like me. I've never been told that anyone looks like me either. I think that due to a lack of options our biopic would have to have me animated. Geez, that's depressing. Everyone likes to be compared to pretty celebrities - so why not me? However - Matt being an actor and Chad being an animation would be Who Framed Roger Rabbit? level of badass!

2. What is your favorite dessert? Be specific.

Hmmmm. That's tough. We're both very inclusive with sweets. So in the spirit of specifics I will go with favorite dessert of the week! Matt is now borderline-stalker-obsessed with Wispa bars. Its a deliciously aerated milk chocolate bar made by Cadbury. Picture chocolate mousse in a candy bar wrapper! (They are exquisite!!)

I, on the other hand, just went back to work and was greeted by a wonderful triple chocolate cake. It was super moist, super sweet, and best of all, super devoted to me. I even ignored the spelling error and saw it as an opportunity to eat as much as I could until the poor English was a distant memory.

Also - how did my coworkers convince a bakery to put a picture of two tarantulas mating on a cake? They're probably still thinking "What the fuck did we just send out into the world?"

3. What's your favorite cocktail, shot, and wine? In that order.

I think we're both beer men. But cocktail wise I will always lean toward cape cods and Matty will most likely take a rum and coke. Shots? I'll take anything that doesn't involve pineapple or coconut. I don't do tropical shots. I think Matt has vowed to stay away from shots since his Old Chicago shot night that ended up being his Old Chicago bathroom head-in-the-pot night. Matt also isn't the biggest fan of wine (I think) - so he probably won't have a preference. That's okay. I'll take his. While I don't love wine either - I am a drunk.

4. What is your favorite holiday? How would you celebrate it?

I have to be honest. I have NO idea what Matt's favorite holiday is. Mine would be Halloween. I love the creepy factor. Jack-O-Lanterns, Black Cats and Skeletons, Wicked Witch silhouettes over full moons? Its the best! Last year I celebrated it by reading to little kids and then I went to a party downtown where I felt like a cheap piece of meat (not complaining!). I totally won a costume contest too! I was the mouse from "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie"

5. If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you go and why?

Me? I'd go to Dior. Whichever one has the largest section pour homme. (I need fall clothes! Squeee!) (Too gay??) Also - I should mention that the scenario that involves me being able to transport ANYWHERE problem free also comes with an unlimited line of credit and my bill? Does NOT come to me, but is instead portioned out and distributed amongst my exes. Well - now I'm just super depressed that this isn't happening like - tonight!

Matt? Hmmm - I suppose he'd be happy anywhere with food and a bathroom. . .

6. How would you describe your personal style?

We're very similar. If we were chocolate bars Matty would be a Mars bar. I'd be a Snickers - which is a Mars bar with nuts. We both start out with chocolate (casual shoes) caramel (t-shirts) and nougat (jeans) - but I have the little bit extra: nuts. I tend to be more insecure than little Matt so I like to layer a lot more.

Outside of clothes we're still very similar. What I call "vintage modern". Classics with a modern spin. Like shaving with with a straight razor, but using L'Occitane shaving soap. Tooling around town in a 72 Beetle listening to your iPod. Stuff we both do.

Otherwise we are very different. Matt is very balanced and demure. I have violent mood swings and am a *tad* more crass. Matt is independent and conventional. I am emotionally crippled, yet wildly devoted. A combination that makes me very symbiotic on friendships.

7. What do you keep in your Box of "It's Not Going to Work Out"? (Basically, what secrets do you keep from your significant other that may make you look a little bat shit crazy?)

Hahaha! I'm afraid not much. Probably why I'm significant other-less. Because Matt's been married since about the 6th grade he doesn't have any secrets from his significant other because he didn't have much of a past to develop any. I am concerned that one day he will run amuck with an automatic weapon and let his secret desire spill onto police demand lists . . .

8. Tonight you can do anything without worry of cost... what would you do?

Damn. It's 7:30 on a Sunday night. So I can't legally buy anything. I guess that leaves me with malice. I'd probably settle all my scores via vandalism and use my monetary freedom as my parachute! Then I'd order an obscene amount of shit online - because who doesn't love getting packages?

Matt would hire a hitman to rub out his mother-in-law. (And since I'll be in the gettin' even business - I'll be for hire. Cheap.) (What can I say? I'm a good friend!)

That was more exhausting than I thought. I guess its a different story when I'm not trying to kill time between Virology and Analytical Chemistry. I've lost my steam. The GOOD news is that every blog I follow has already been tagged with the exception of two - so I'm tagging The Daily Update and A Writer's Landscape. Hosted by my sweet cousin Melissa and my amazing friend Josheleh, respectively.

So go read away! And continue to read their blogs or I will probably cut you. As you can see from the above answers - I'm both crazy AND hellbent on mayhem.

Physically, I'm Great

2010-10-01T08:55:00.009-06:00

On September 26th Matt woke up from a much deserved nap to a half naked Chad bursting at the seams with eagerness.

It was time for Matt to remove my stitches!

Those itchy itchy stitches.

It was phenomenal! Actually, it felt like Matt was flossing my skin, but whatever. I was excited. After I finished mentally congratulating Matt on his surgical prowess I realized that if only all of my problems could be solved with Matt's skilled hands . . .

Chad's 10 Little Things that make him look S-L-O-W while in Europe:

1. No matter how many times Matt forewarns me I will ALWAYS try to pull doors open. Which makes me look like a complete tool. People realize I'm either A) stupid or B) American. Six of one, half a dozen of the other . . .

2. I enjoy drip coffee. Which is kind of like asking for a cup of unicorn in Europe.

Chad: I. Would. Like. Just. Plain. Iced. Co. Ffee.

Barista: Next time you need to ask for Americano.

Chad: NEXT. TIME. I. WANT. AN. AMERICANO... I. WILL.

Although -I've always wondered why they call cafe americanos that. My best guess is that it was created for European coffee shops to try to imitate American coffee. Because they only have espresso and Nescafe -which is dirty river water. But, in their defense - the espresso is A-Mazing. Non of this Starbucks "my machine must pull my shots for me business"

3. While I look both ways when crossing the street - I do it in the wrong order if I'm in London. Which means that while I'm looking left I'm walking right in front of traffic coming from my right and Matt has to jerk my arm out of the socket to save me - like I'm his blind, deaf child.

4. I WILL make a big deal over every Porsche, Volkswagen, Skoda, Fiat, etc. that I see on the road. Which is time consuming because that's all they have. Matt and I saw an Isetta in Wolfsburg Germany and I was basically a drooling puddle of gushing love.

5. When at restaurants I'm conditioned to waitstaff checking on you. Or at least bringing your check. Which means: until I realize that it's time for me to use my pushy set of lips, I'm sitting at a table with empty plates and glasses and the staff is wondering why the hell won't that guy ask for his bill and get out of here?

6. The excitement I clearly FAIL at suppressing when ordering a beer to go with my Royale with cheese at McDonalds makes me look like an insane person.

7. When Matt finds a candy bar he loves that you just can't get in the US - I'm probably going to load up my arms with it to stock up. Do the cashiers see a well intentioned person looking out for the delight of his friend? No. They probably see an slow moving American trying to buy 21 Wispa bars. I think that I? Am a big part of the reason the world thinks the US is over-indulgent.

8. I have been raised in an asphalt world. Which means that when I've had a beer AND my legs are exhausted from walking - sending me out into cobblestone streets is just asking for physical comedy

9. I love me some yellow mustard. The people of central Europe? Don't even know what it is. Neither of us happened to know the German word for 'mustard' which left me telling a waitress in broken German that Matt and I wanted our hamburgers to be more yellow . . .

10. While Matt would prefer to watch the news in our Berlin apartment - I would much rather watch The Nanny dubbed in German. Matt always knew that the second he would take a shower he could expect me to 1st) change the channel and 2nd) interrupt his shower by barging in to give him play-by-plays of plot development. Nanny Fine liebe Herr Sheffield.

Fun with lists!

2010-09-14T17:42:00.002-06:00

Hi all! it's been a while since I've blogged, and I've leaned heavily on Chad to keep all the gaps filled-in, but I just started a new job, which brings me to my list of today: jobs I have held...

1. Carnie
2. Grocery boy
3. Applebee's host
4. Grocery night stalker
5. Warehouseman
6. Tire buster
7. Real estate admin
8. Barista (thanks to you Chad)
9. Car salesman
10. Barista at Braun's bar and grill
11. Sam's Club - gas station attendant, electronics sales, and tire busting
12. Sofa Mart - warehouse, routing delivery trucks and delivery driver
13. Race car parts fabricator
14. High-end sculpture awards fabricator
15. Orthodontic Product Designer
16. Real estate admin (calling all those who were in foreclosure)
17. Freelance designer/fabricator
18. Home Depot flooring associate
19. Master Artist at a mannequin manufacturer
20. Warranty department lead

I also have done my fair share of freelance fabrication and repair, and I also helped fix and flip a house. And I suppose you could count 'musician' in there somewhere...

What you got for job lists?

Not itching like a dirty ho no mo'

2010-09-11T17:37:00.002-06:00

I'm cancer free . . .

Hooray!

But I'm still not . . . erm . . . 'pre-cancer' free?

I don't exactly know what it means either. I have "pre-cancer".

Here's an idea: if there are people out there with the ability to tell what will some day be cancer. Why the fuck aren't they scanning the masses when they're babies?

Anyway. Pre-cancer schmancer. What I'M more upset about is having to deal with the Dream Team again.

Lets look back, okie?

I had two chunks of skin with suspected melanoma corkscrewed out of me and stitched up.

The Dream Team called me and said "Yeah. . . We need to corkscrew out more. But this time we're using a much bigger corkscrew. So . . . let's make you an appointment!"

I made an appointment.

For yesterday morning.

To have BIGGER chunks taken out.

Nurse: Good morning, Chad. It looks like we're going to be taking your stitches out today.

Me: Yep.

Nurse: And it looks like we need to schedule an excision.

Me: Actually, that's supposed to be today.

Nurse: No

Me: Yes

Nurse: No - it says here that you're scheduled to have stitches removed.

Me: Yeah. Stitches . . . and the hunk of meat they're sewn in to.

Nurse: Yeah, actually [Dr Awkward Touch] likes to do surgery later in the morning.

Me: Why does that matter? Is he eating it for lunch?

Nurse: That's funny.

Me: So I have to schedule ANOTHER appointment?

Nurse: Yeah. But the front desk (the Dream Team) will help you out with that!

Me: How about instead of sending me to the front desk staff you just blindfold me and start hitting me with a stick.

Nurse: Haha! Now lets get those stitches out!

Chad: (eyes rolling wildly) okay.

Nurse: Ooh! These have healed nicely!

Chad: Good.

Nurse: Yeah! The skin has even started to heal over the stitches! I'm going to have to dig them out!

This is when I revealed my secret weapon. (Yelling)

Chad: Wipe that stupid smile off your face! If you act cheerful about digging stitches out of me (without painkillers!) I'm going to leave. (And I'll be slashing all of your tires)

She shut up and went to work with what I think was a pair of cuticle scissors. The fact that she didn't appear to know how to handle them should've been apparent by the shape of her cuticles. She had the hands of a disabled welder.

Now - in pain - I was sent to the Dream Team to ONCE AGAIN schedule my excisions.

Instead of recounting my experience with them for you, just stick your head in the refrigerator and slam the door a couple of times. You'll get the idea . . .

Now I have a new appointment on Thursday. Which means that my stitches need to come out sometime when I'm in Prague.

Matt promised to take them out for me.

I better remind him to pack some scissors and an ice pick.

Itching like a dirty dirty whore

2010-09-07T19:46:00.003-06:00

Recently I went into a dermatologist's office to have some 'suspicious moles' looked at as recommended by my friend Natalie.

Actually my friend Natalie, an oncology nurse, didn't exactly say I should have them looked at. We were in Mississippi (read: drinking heavily in the deep South) when she starting scanning our friend, Heather and myself.

"Jezzussshh! Youu sshould reaally have thozze looked attth!"

With advice like this I could've said I wasn't concerned, but I'd risk drunk Natalie trying to scoop them out with a potato peeler and some vodka. So I just promised I would.

"Ohhh Naaataliiieee. Offf coouuursshe I willl . . . "

This is how I found myself in Denver Dermatology at 11:45 when my appointment was scheduled for 11:00. Keep in mind this is a dermatology office. Not an emergency triage. There wasn't a line ahead of me. I was the only person IN the waiting room. Well . . . eventually a burly woman who I referred to as "Clark" in my own head arrived around 11:15. When Clark was brought back after a 10 minute wait it occurred to me that the front desk staff - who I have dubbed "The Dream Team" - forgot about me. How the FUCK you forget about someone who is sitting RIGHT in FRONT of you is beyond me.

Anyway. . .

An hour after I arrived I was brought back and given a body scan (humiliating) and then had 2 punch biopsies taken. Martha accompanied me to the dermatologist's office for A) morale support and B) her credit card because I? decided to cancel my health insurance to pay for my gym membership (which I no longer go to). While I'm being given the local anesthetic Martha strikes up a conversation with my medical assistant, Yolanda. They were cooing over the pros and cons of getting your eyebrows tattooed (slightly less humiliating).

Did I take pictures of me getting my body scanned by doctor awkward touch? Yes. Did I send them to Natalie AND Matt? Yes.

Doctor Awkward Touch and Sharpie Eyebrow Yolanda stitched me up after removing two pieces of my chest meat that looked like bloody cigarette butts. So now I have to reschedule a time to have the stitches removed.

Back at the front desk the Dream Team is trying to reschedule me. I have 3 days off every week and they're all weekdays. It shouldn't be that hard.

"Yeah." Miss Dream Team smacked her gum while talking "It's going to be hard. Because you have to come in two weeks from now to have your stitches out so the skin doesn't overgrow."

Okay. I can do any Monday, Thursday, or Friday. Just pick a day and I will be here.

"Yeah. Ummm . . . but nobody's going to be in the office because of labor day so we can't do Monday."

Be that as it may - I gave you a window that represents 60% of your business hours. You can find a space.

"Yeah. I'm going to have to check with my office manager because nobody's going to be here. Because of Labor Day."

Labor day is in ONE week. So when I come back in TWO WEEKS it shouldn't matter. Unless, of course you people get like 10 days off for labor day.

"Shoot." Blowing bubbles with her gum. "Did I get the wrong week?"

**********

So today when I got a message from Miss Dream Team saying that my biopsy showed abnormal cells I needed to schedule a biopsy.

I swear to God. I will kill this girl.

I know these cells were 'abnormal' hence the BIOPSY that you're calling with the results to. The results, I might add, that you have yet to give. Did I hear cancer or cancer free come out of your gum smacking mouth? Not yet!

So now I have scheduled a biopsy to see if there's any danger in the cells that they found abnormalities on in my first biopsy.

Does your head hurt yet?

If it's any consolation, that's nothing compared to how Miss Dream Team's head will hurt after I hit it with my shoe until bubbleyum starts leaking out of her ears.

AND my stitches itch so bad I'm sure that people at work think I have scabies. (the humiliation just doesn't stop.)

"Get Judgey"? Done and DONE.

2010-09-03T12:07:00.004-06:00

I'm sitting in a booth inside California Pizza Kitchen with Josheleh when I spy my friend Ana walk past outside. We wave -she comes in to say hi. Then she introduces me to the guy she's with (Edwin? Eggbert? Whatever.)

Anyway. Ana at one point had told my sister that after dancing with me one night she felt she needed to take a pregnancy test. Haha. Love it.

So what do I blurt out at Ana immediately after introductions?

"Hey Ana, ever get that PERIOD?"

Hahahahaha. I am so hilarious.

At least that's totally how I feel until I get a message from Ana on Facebook titled "Get Judgey"

So - nerdy or not, this guy scores major points because A) his disdain for flip-flops and B) totally making Ana look like top shelf goods just by comparison. (But mostly A, people. Mostly A)

August 2010

2010-08-30T19:33:00.003-06:00

The gracious thing for me to do would be to wipe my brow, turn to August, and say Well done, summer month. Well done.

However, being less than gracious I'm more apt to tongue kiss September on the mouth, while looking over it's shoulder at August just long enough to give it the bird.

August was busy.

1 car show

1 death in my immediate family

1 wedding in my immediate family

(with subsequently - 2 wildly awkward extended family get-togethers)

3 birthdays (1 penis cake)

1 scientific article submitted for publication

1 poem written about my joyous smile (Yay! go read it at jhartf.blogspot.com)

2 endangered species I mated (my very first time mating anything on the IUPC endangered species list!)

2 chunks of cancer cookie cutter-ed out of me (The stitches are driving me nuts)

3 times I completely exposed myself in front of someone in a completely non-sexual way

1 time was Matt, so it doesn't count (because he enjoyed it)

4 phrases i learned in Czech

1 conversation I had in German

You know, now that I look back - August was kind of awesome! (And warm!)

Oh, August. I can never stay mad at you. (February, on the other hand? Can suck my balls)

My Sleepwalking

2010-08-28T21:07:00.006-06:00

My friend Lindsey would get a kick out of this . . . so I'll just blog about it and figure it'll probably get around to her eventually. She loves how my logic evolves. What I do is I take facts as I see them and come to a logical conclusion, but if you weren't there for the whole thought process you'll think I'm nuts.

Example, you say?

Okie dokie.

Last night I may have killed a prostitute in my bed.

You think I'm nuts, yes? Case in point people. Case. In. Point.

NOW, lets take you through a very logical thought process.

So last night I fell asleep while reading about rabies. I slept fitfully for about 6 hours. Usually when I wake up exhausted that means I've been sleepwalking.

(Matt has come over early in the morning before to discover my . . . leavings. Like when I toasted a box of frozen waffles, placed them all over my kitchen, then ate a tube of toothpaste.)

After my shower I went to make my bed and noticed a fair amount of blood on my sheets. Blood. BLOOD?! After examining myself thoroughly I found no lacerations or abrasions. I had no taste of blood in my mouth.

You can believe that I went over every square inch of my body because after a night dreaming of rabies I was positive a bat was sucking blood from somewhere while I dozed.

ANYWAY - nothing.

So clearly - I fell asleep, then sleep walked outside, picked up a prostitute, came back to my bedroom, killed said prostitute, disposed of his or her body (My best guess would be that I stuffed in in the abandoned coal chute in my building. That's just a guess.), then went back to sleep.

See people? Logic.

Either that or I ate a bag of Hickory Barbeque chips and downed a Dr. Pepper slurpee then drooled like a sieve all night long.

The world may never know . . .

Why Yes, I DO have this much time on my hands . . .

2010-08-26T17:46:00.005-06:00

For the record - the phrase is "Don't judge a book by its cover" - it doesn't mention anything about accepting it unconditionally.

This is why I feel so justified in doing what I've done to the book I bought today. . .

I love David Sedaris. So when I stumbled upon this book in a used bookstore today I had to purchase.

Sadly - it wasn't Sedaris' name that caught my eye, but the absolutely HIDEOUS cover.

Call me shallow (okay - I kind of am), but I'm a sloooooooooow reader, which means I'd be carrying around the unibrow twins for an uncomfortably long time.

I don't deal with unibrows, or any other form of body hair very well.

A fellow zookeeper at work named Jaime refuses - REFUSES to shave her legs, yet insists on wearing shorts. After considering the most tactful way to approach the subject I said "Jaime! When are you going to shave your damn legs?! You're making me sick!!"

At first she said I was jealous because she had nicer legs than me. I told her to try again because she has legs like a ninja turtle.

So Jaime said she wasn't A) trying to impress anyone and B) uncomfortable with her bushy legs.

Oh, HELL no. If I'm uncomfortable - She will be too.

I slipped out of the back door of the animal rearing room and crept through the empty hallways on our slowest day at work. Collecting other employees as I went I finally came back to the rearing room with an army of educators, custodians, and gift shop staff.

Jaime turned around and was surprised at the people I had collected. She was probably also confused until she saw what I had brought them back for. To see Jaime's hairy legs.

See you guys! I told you she wears short jeans shorts with long loooooong leg hair. Look close!!

I treated Jaime like a sideshow freak.

Uncomfortable yet, Jaime?

(This may sound mean - but she had it coming after the umpteenth time she told me I was going to hell for various reasons)

So yeah. I'm not going to deal with the unibrow.

So I replaced the pictures. With black and white pictures I had stored somewhere in my email folders. They happen to be of Natalie and Matt.

And this? Is what I do with my days.

Well . . . and I got some peanut butter FroYo (AMAZING)

Czech, please!

2010-08-22T18:20:00.002-06:00

Haha! These titles write themselves!

Okay. Actually - my sister text messaged it to me today. So pretty much all I do is steal titles from those more witty than I.

Meh.

Let's move on.

We all remember my Czech phrasebook, yes?

Good.

Well last night I went to Old Chicago with Matt and Gina for trivia. I happened to have my little book in my pocket to show Matt. After Matt had set it on the table so he could stuff his face with pizza and Oktoberfest beer our waitress noticed the little book.

Our waitress just happened to be from Bratislava, Slovakia. Slovak and Czech are like American English and Canadian English. We say the same stuff, but Americans totally make fun of the way Canadians say "aboot". Hehe.

Anyway - she asked if I wanted to see a Czech tongue twister. Umm. Yeah!

So she wrote down Strč prst skrs krk

to which I said "I KNOW THAT! IT MEANS STICK YOUR FINGER IN YOUR NECK!"

Then I made her teach me how to pronounce it. (I'm pretty good too - but I've always been fast with my tongue)(Take that as you wish)

She then gave me another statement that is much softer: Lǎlǎ ho paplǔha ogrcal mi krpce.

It means Look at that douche bag who threw up on my shoe.

I wonder what tomorrow holds. Perhaps I'll learn how to say "hello." or "my name is Chad." or "my friend Matt's nut sac is full of jelly beans."

Guess what my money's on.

Czech Me Out

2010-08-21T18:08:00.004-06:00

I have to be honest. This blog title? Is not my own piece of brilliance, but a modified pick-up line that Matt invented about 8 years ago when we were trying to help a coworker ask out a sexy Czech chick that worked next door. But it seems applicable and due for a comeback. No?

ANYWAY . . .

I'm going to the Czech Republic for the first time next month so when I saw a teeny weeny Czech phrase book in the bookstore yesterday I decided I must purchase.

There are several reasons why I want to learn at least a little Czech (which they call Čeština) (Which is pronounced CHESH-tyi-nuh)

A.) The language is actually very beautiful

B.) I watched Inglourious Bastards yesterday and when Diane Kruger gets all snooty in Brad Pitt's face in her "would it to too much to hope that an American speak any other languages/ Miss Thang" attitude I wanted to slap that bitch (or at least prove her wrong)(Girl. She so ig-nant)

C.) I also want to be as far removed from Brad Pitt in that movie as possible. What's worse than Brad Pitt's awful Tennessee accent? His fake Tennessee accent trying to speak Italian. Bon-JOR-no.

D.) Actually A. is kind of a crock. My reasons are pretty much just B. and C.

So. Now I leave you with my findings.

Chad's very first memorized Czech phrase:

Chtěl pivo (KHUT-yel Pee-vo), which means "I'd like a beer"

Best thing about Czech:

Every letter has one way to be pronounced. None of this english nonsense where C can sound like an S or a K. GH is not either silent or sounding like an F. Nope if its a letter its the same as you always see it. which means I can totally just read the dictionary to people and be spot on!

Worst thing about Czech:

Have these people ever heard of vowels? Seriously. Do they know they're free?

I found this little gem in my phrase book: Strč prst skrz krk, which means "Stick your finger through your neck"

Thankfully I probably won't have to use it too often.

Although we all know that I'm gonna try to bust that bad boy out after a few pivos . . .

Things Matt Doesn't Want Me to Share: Part 1

2010-08-20T20:08:00.002-06:00

See what happens Chelsea? When you decide to have a wedding with an open bar. Look at iiiiittt.

This? Is Wine-drunk with a hot tub.

Yes, Matt and I are wearing matching trunks that are meant, not for adult men, but for fat children.

Yes, we look like Reese's Pieces with bad farmer's tans.

Yes, Zahra is wet because we pulled her into the hot tub with her clothes on.

Finally, YES - I realize I need to go to the gym.

Despite the fact that Matt will probably slap me in public after publishing a picture where he thinks he looks "squishy" - its not as bad as what Zahra would do if I posted the other hot tub picture where you can totally see her taint.

So . . . remember this the next time you think it would be fun to have a wedding Chelsea!

I am a Creepy Hypocrite

2010-08-05T23:58:00.003-06:00

Picture it:

Last summer I rebuilt my bathroom. Every wall, every fixture, floor to ceiling remodel. Needless to say I was at the hardware store like three times a day.

At one point I logged onto my facebook page and a girl I didn't know had asked to be my friend. Normally I would simply delete, but she looked somewhat familiar.

I enlisted my friend Zahra to help me find out who she was.

Here are the facts:

She was like 17

About the size of a small shed

Worked for Lowe's in Thornton.

The Lowe's that I had been going to for the past week.

The Lowes that employs slightly large girls who commit the name on your debit card to memory and then find you on facebook.

Bless her enlarged, tortured heart.

What. A. Psycho.

Well, the day I can no longer call her a creepy stalker is today. Specifically all afternoon. When I spent my day off with an anonymous friend creating a fictional profile on an unnamed dating website so we could use it to look up her ex.

The take-home message? Stalking is super fun.

So what if I'm going to hell as fast as that hand basket can carry me. At least MY stalking victim can't look at me and think you poor poor fat girl. No.

Hehe.

Besides. Karma has already nailed my ass. Fictional profile persona? Yes she's had more interest shown in one hour than I've had all summer.

Our fictional girl is kind of a bitch.

I'm just a creepy hypocrite.

ratemystudent.com? A Grand Idea.

2010-07-27T19:40:00.002-06:00

A few days ago at work I had to give a training session for new volunteers for our exhibit featuring tarantulas. I know, pretty much every job has this training session, yes? Which is probably why this volunteer gave me a 4/5 on the training evaluation. She's probably seen better.

Wait.

Not so.

This girl - who is like 16, has probably NEVER been to a "survey of tarantulas" training in her life. (who has?)

(well, me. But I'm the exception not the rule)

(by the way - my training was WAY better than any I have attended NOT instructed by me.)

Everyone else gave me a 5/5 because I'm great. Not this chick. Apparently she could have been a little more impressed with the instructor's knowledge.

I called my friend Lindsey to vent. I was hoping she'd make me feel better and she delivered like dominoes!

She works at NYU and has the standard, official class surveys at the end of a semester.

But she also has to deal with the dreaded ratemyprofessor.com

This website is absolutely absurd. Why? Because there's a "hotness meter"

How hot is your professor? This is ridiculous.

Of course we all like having super sexy professors so we can fantasize about sleeping our way to an A+ (just me?) but who needs this information?

This totally makes me feel better about my 4 out of 5 - but it also gives my warped mind ideas.

Like . . .

Before I realized this I thought: I should make my own survey on them and grade them as instructees.

Afterwards I thought: I should still do this AND include my opinion on how hot they were.

By the way - in case you were wondering - this volunteer (who was anonymous) seemed intellectually retarded and has a unibrow and b.o. I would not recommend her as a student.

If the Devil Wears Prada, Jesus should too

2010-07-26T19:20:00.002-06:00

Hello. My name is Chad. And I'm addicted to incredible footwear.

I'm not saying I'm a shoe whore like my dear friend Matt.

I am - but that's not what I'm saying. My shoe issue (I get points for NOT saying is-shoe, like I really really wanted to) is that a measurable portion of my life revolves around shoes.

Shoes make me feel happy. Shoes can make me feel sad. Most importantly: shoes help me see how douch-like the folks I encounter daily are.

Once again I should mention my thoughts on flip-flops. If you have a nice pair, wear them. Wear them sparingly though. Wear them when appropriate. Volleyball game? Yes. Picnic in the park? Yes. To a job interview at the bank? No.

Also - by "nice" pair of flip flops I mean they MUST be made of natural fibers. No foam. No rubber. If you got your flip flops out of a bin for $2.99 - you should probably kill yourself before I do because I will make it slow.

I feel now is a good time to relate a story.

Picture it: Last week I was helping my soon-to-be brother-in-law move some furniture. My sister and I were the best dressed in the storage compound (not a difficult feat). Davey? was wearing flip flops.

Chad: Hey Davey. I'm glad to see you're wearing your heavy duty flip flops to move furniture.
Davey: Hey. Jesus wore sandals and he moved furniture. He MADE furniture!
Chelsea: Jesus wore sandals. Not flip flops.
Davey: Flip flops ARE sandals!
Chad: Not Jesus sandals. Jesus didn't get his shoes out of a bin at Payless.
Chelsea: Jesus probably had a woven leather sandal. Maybe with a sling back.
Chad: A "mandal" if you will.
Chelsea. Right.
Chad: I don't like mandals either. But who am I to judge?
Chelsea: You're a good person to not judge Jesus.
Chad: Thank you. I am.
Davey: ???

Haha. You can tell Chelsea and I are related. You can also tell that Davey will probably be eaten alive by us within a year.

I should probably confess to something right now. Because Matt is a huge shoe whore I have discovered that when I want to buy shoes I can buy them for Matt. That way I get the thrill of shopping/trying on without the whole selfish feeling/buyers remorse problem! (Also - I know that if Matt should die in an industrial, mannequin-making accident before I can give him shoes, I get to keep!)

These? Are what I got Matt for his birthday.

Now can you see why its a confession?

But I love Love LOVE them!!

The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me

2010-07-14T17:47:00.005-06:00

So convinced, Kermit the frog is, that someday he'll find it - the rainbow connection - that he sings about it with banjo accompaniment.

That's pretty much how I feel right now. Only replace rainbow connection with the reason why John Paul hates me . . .

John Paul is this (fat) guy I kind of work with. I work in curatorial. He works in education. We don't have to deal with each other much but we do have to interact from time to time.

We used to be tight. "Buds" if you will. Then a few weeks ago for no reason known to me - he hates me.

Step 1: Confrontation.

Chad: What the hell is your problem John Paul?!

John Paul: (Rolling. His. EYES!!) You're too sensitive.

Then this jerk off turns and walks away from me.

Later . . .

I walked into one of our back rooms to find a fellow zookeeper and a 13 YEAR OLD volunteer with looks on their face that can only be described as "I just walked in on my grandmother whipping my grandfather while he was wearing a gimp mask."

NOW, I recognize the look as "Chad just opened the door just as John Paul (who is now behind the door) called Chad a fucking cunt."

Step 2: Tattle Tale on John Paul to my boss.

Chad: I don't know what his problem is - but that is absolutely uncalled for in front of a sweet 13 year old volunteer.

Mary Ann: I agree. I'll talk to him. Meanwhile just don't do anything to antagonize him.

Chad: Of course I won't!

Mary Ann: . . .

Chad: What?!

Mary Ann: Didn't you just describe him as "Jell-O with a belt"

Chad: Not to his face

Mary Ann: You did it over the loudspeaker.

Chad: . . .

Mary Ann: . . .

Chad: Well, when he sits down its takes five minutes for the whole mess to settle.

Mary Ann: . . .

Chad: Since when is his weight problem MY fault?!

Step 2 (Part 2): Tattle Tale on John Paul to his boss.

(I should mention that this was a completely normal circumstance and I acted the way I'm expected to.)( I should also point out that if I weren't pissed at John Paul I would have utterly overlooked the following.)

Chad: Hey Marcos. It's not that big of a deal. But whoever (John Paul) worked in the exhibit the past week hasn't been returning the animals. Not just that - they've been locked up and the key is missing. Whoever worked (again, John Paul) must have taken it home on accident. 5 nights in a row. I'm sure their fine - but they need food and water. . .

Marcos: HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN LOCKED UP??

Chad: About a week. I don't want to get anyone in trouble (pfft. Haha.) but I just want to make sure their okay.

Marcos: I'll take care of it.

Step 3: Denial of Cake.

My work just had its 15th Anniversary carnival. It came with games, events, bouncy castles and enough leftover cake to play soccer on. (Mmmmmm!!!) Now we all scuttle off to the breakroom for our secret stash of cheap, sugary sheet cake.

Mary Ann: Should we go tell John Paul we have cake up here?

Chad: No. He probably wouldn't want any. I think he's on a diet. And I for one think he looks great!

Marcos: Didn't you just say that they shove him through the Eisenhower tunnel once a month to clean it?

Chad: . . .

Mary Ann: . . .

Marcos: . . .

What? If the prick's gonna hate me I may as well give him good reason :)

Pizza + Cake + Cotton Candy = Speeches That Write Themselves

2010-07-10T18:55:00.003-06:00

Jen Lancaster, one of my favorite authors, likes to put things into timeline form. So because I feel that it is the BEST way to portray this blog entry - I'm totally swiping her style for a moment.

May: My curator at work asked if I would be willing to be a guest speaker at the grand opening of a new sustainable library (I don't know what makes a library "sustainable". Aren't all libraries? They're based on the principle of reuse, after all) Anyway. My topic? Beekeeping.

I say yes.

June: I briefly wonder "when is that speech? I should find out so I can work on it." I then put it out of my mind so I can focus on other things. Things like someone should create a bread bowl out of donut and fill it with pudding! Mmmmmmm. pudding filled donut bowl. :)

July 7: At my staff meeting (you remember: the one where they read The Lorax to us?) It is mentioned that I am giving a presentation on beekeeping on Saturday the 10th. Shit. The 10th of JULY? As in . . . 3 days from now? Shit.

July 8: I am REALLY going to write my speech . . . after I finish helping my sister move. And do laundry. And watch Psycho. And procure an apartment in Germany for September. And pass out at Martha's house after eating 6 pounds of buttered noodles.

July 9: I NEED to write my speech.

9:00 am: But first I promised Chelsea I'd help organize to make room for the stuff we had moved the day before.

3:00 pm: I also need to try to fix Chelsea's garage door (unsuccessfully)

4:00 pm: . . . and work on my Volkswagen (UNSUCCESSFULLY) and have a small breakdown.

7:00 pm: Drive to Boulder with Zahra to drop off Ophelia, the tarantula I've been babysitting while her awesome tattoo artist mommy is out of town. Awesome tattoo artist mommy got me a spider totem necklace. Squeee!!! Bad mood - going away! Squeee^2!!!

8:30 pm: Call Matt to apologize for his having to deal with my small breakdown.

8:32 pm: Matt didn't answer. Call Lindsey to tell her that I'm a shit for unleashing my misdirected fury at poor Matty.

8:35 pm: Move on to a detailed description of the hobbit across the alley from me who is sitting at his computer naked (except for a pair of very large glasses and VERY unkempt body hair) with the blinds wide open.

11:00 pm: I've opened my notebook. Step one!

11:01 pm: Decide I need some background noise. Cabaret is appropriate. It takes place in Berlin, which will inspire me to get all my stuff done before I leave in 2 months.

1:00 pm: Go to bed. After watching Cabaret and not writing down a single thing. I'll do it at work tomorrow . . .

July 10, 8:36 am: show up late to work. No one really notices (cares) because we have our 15th Anniversary carnival all weekend.

11:00 am: Eat blue cotton candy.

11:30 pm: Eat two pieces of pizza

12:00 pm: Eat chocolate cake

12:30 pm: Breed tarantulas

1:00 pm: Eat two more pieces of pizza

1:05 - 3:00 pm: food coma.

3:00 pm: cockroach races.

3:45 pm: one hour until my presentation. Scramble to write an outline of honey bee facts I already know well

4:00 pm: Leave for library opening.

4:45 pm: Give my half hour presentation. (It was OUTSTANDING, by the way)(My audience was something like 10 people)(I knew 3 of them)(Still OUTSTANDING)

5:30 pm: Try to escape super creepy ginger little man who is pestering me with his questions and telling me that he'll see me again. Yeah, stalking is illegal in all 50 states sir. What am I? Some novice apiarist whore? Sure. But I still have standards.

5:50 pm: Call Matty to tell him how amazing I am with my public speaking skills. He laughs at me when he finds out the size of my public. I let him because I was a douche yesterday.

6:00 pm: Decide to blog about my procrastination skills.

6:01 pm: Decide to actively ignore the irony that I was right on top of writing about my procrastination skills.

Movie Review: Eclipse

2010-07-09T18:04:00.004-06:00

Gina cajoled me into seeing the newest installment in the Twilight series "Eclipse" a couple of days ago. I reminded her that not too many husbands would sit through two hours of hormone-infused teenage romance blather, and that she should be pretty lucky.

The movie drones on about how mouth-breathing Kristen Stuart wants to become a vampire at graduation and her pasty vampire boyfriend will then have sex with her (with, I assume an ice-cold ding-a-ling). Tempers flare when werewolf other boyfriend Taylor Lautner (cromagnon man)tries to put the moves on bland, whitebread Kristen Stuart.

But wait! There so happens to be a vampire army (more like zombies) being assembled, up in Seattle. Beware of Dakota Fanning! She is a tiny carb-faced Darth Vader-type vampire!

Bella kisses the wolf man and the vampire. Why is anyone fighting over dumpy Kristen Stuart anyway? She practically has Rickets from living in the sun-less Pacific Northwest.

Can I have that two hours of my life back?

Go Team Victoria! Whoo!

Chad's All Staff Meeting

2010-07-07T22:24:00.003-06:00

I had a meeting at work today . . .

Our meetings are good because they give me time to reflect and brainstorm. Unfortunately, my brainstorms are all in my head and have nothing to do with meeting topics. Rather - they are a way to pass the time without A) falling asleep B) Getting nasty cases of "church giggles" and C) keep me from blurting out my opinions that are generally not considered to be "constructive" by the rest of the staff.

I would feel bad about not really paying attention . . . but . . . well, our meetings go something like this:

Today I showed up at 7:30 am so that Marcos could get us all motivated towards efforts in conservation. Which most of us already are. While I've spent 2 days trying to procure 2 critically endangered species for breeding - administration has been cooking up their own methods of conservation.

It involves Marcos reading Dr. Suess' The Lorax. Like we're in elementary school.

I love the story SO much and Marcos did a very good job of reading - but do I really need to be here at this ungodly hour for this?

I started texting Matt, but figured he wouldn't believe that my meetings are really this bizarre - so you bet your ass I took pictures!

Around the time the Lorax began speaking for the trees I decided to read the online news from my phone.

It seems that Leslie Van Houten - one of the members of the Manson Family - was just denied parole for like the 20th time (Why do they even bother?!)

With my (forced) downtime I imagined a more fair/entertaining punishment for people like those crazy Mansons. But before I tell you my idea I have to give you a little info on Karen - a coworker of mine.

Karen is hysterical and sassy and I like her.

What I don't like is how Karen shares WAYYYYY too much and is very detail oriented. I don't need to hear about Karen's pot smoking kids, her impotent husband, etc.

But because she's my friend I bite the bullet and pray that I have the strength to survive her personal accounts.

NOW for my hilarious punishment!

I imagine sticking Leslie Van Houten in a sealed room with no doors, windows, vents, whatever. The only other thing in the room is an assortment of potential weapons. Not guns and knives (that's too easy - we're talking punishment people) - I'm talking hacksaws and reams of barbed wire. Maybe some flasks of various strong acids.

Then, through a surround sound speaker system - pipe in a looped recording of Karen describing her latest uterus scraping procedure. (trust me. She has HOURS of material with that one)

Then the general population could watch and enjoy via the monitor that could be mounted from the ceiling! There would probably be bets and pools going on as to how long Leslie lasts or what weapon she decides to use.

It would pretty much be like the super bowl except I would totally watch this.

Ahhhhh . . . good times.

Time to tune back into the meeting? Maybe Marcos is done . . .

Nope.

Remember: "UNLESS someone like you cares an awful whole lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

I Scream for Ice Cream

2010-06-28T22:04:00.002-06:00

Foods that I love unconditionally:

Pudding

Home-Run Pie

Cheeseburgers & Fries

Iced Florentines (Technically, it's a drink - but I'm pretty sure I survived on them from 2001-2003)

All forms of delicious ice cream, gelato, frozen yogurt, etc.

Today? I was introduced to a delightful subspecies from the ice cream world.

Delicious Frozen Greek Yogurt.

I pigged down as much pomegranate blackberry frozen greek yogurt as I could stuff in my cheek at one time. That's the good news. The bad news is that I spent the rest of my day chasing the FroYo dragon.

I tried to take my mind off of my new addiction by watching "Under the Tuscan Sun".

It is an AMAZING movie. Possibly one of my favorites. (I'm watching it for a third time as I type.) (Are you sensing an obsessive streak to my personality?) (It's all in your head.)

That's the good news.

The bad news is that there is a character in it named Katherine who has a love for ice cream that she displays on camera several times. One scene even revolves around her ice creamy affair.

It's like trying to quit smoking and EVERYONE around you seems to, not only be smoking, but loving the shit out of it!

To get my mind off of it I needed to call someone to talk me down. My topic of conversation? How tremendous this movie is.

I almost called my sister - who used to live near where the movie takes place. I knew she'd just gloat so I opted to call my friend Lindsey - who has spent enough time in Italy to know the streets of Florence and Rome better than I know the streets of Denver.

I gushed about the movie. She informed me of how she hasn't seen it out of protest for how touristy Cortona has become since the release of Francis Mayes' memoir. I think I convinced her to netflix it.

Then I made the mistake of asking her what she was up to . . .

Well, she had ordered several things from the market, like blueberries and rhubarb, and she was now going to put them to use. In ice cream form. That bitch is making her own ice cream.

THEN she was telling me about how it could be a habit after just returning from Rome where she had gelato on a non-stop basis.

Right about now is when I started fantasizing about a scenario in the future.

In my fantasy I'm speaking on the phone to Lindsey when suddenly she goes into renal failure.

What do I do? Hook myself up to dialysis and describe it to her in detail. I'd throw in comments like "I don't even need it - but what the heck." or my favorite "God! My blood feels so filtered and clean!"

Lindsey started telling me that her ice cream was turning out "disgusting". Then she told me that she had just said that for my benefit and it actually looked DELICIOUS. This? Is totally defeating the point.

Lindsey is kind of a big bitch.

So I made her stay on the phone while I walked down the street and made her help me pick out what flavor of frozen yogurt to get.

Chad's Guide to Going to the Zoo

2010-06-14T21:06:00.003-06:00

When I was in Mississippi I met my dear friend, Natalie's cousin Kinna.

Kinna is a zookeeper in Kansas. She is in charge of pachyderms. How awesome is that?!

Kinna knew I was a zookeeper as well so we had lots to talk about. Thank GOD, because I was totally feeling like a douchebag poser when we first met. Our introduction went something like . . .

Kinna: Where do you work?

Me: The Butterfly Pavilion in Denver

Kinna: That's cool!

Me: What do you do at your zoo?

Kinna: I do husbandry and training of the elephants. What do you do?

Me: Spiders. (Shame)

I love my spiders and and I love my job SO much - but how do you compete with elephants?!?!

You can ride on elephants! My animals don't even have a backbone . . .

We seriously bonded over our mutual intolerance for stupid visitors who can't seem to read. If you can't read, an establishment with animals that may or may not be able to harm you seriously is not the place for you. There are places for those who can't read - it's called Six Flags.

I'm going to use a section of my work called "Water's Edge" to illustrate my point.

When I am atworking the "Waters Edge" section that displays underwater invertebrates I'm usually standing right behind a starfish touch-tank and a sign that says "touch gently with the back of your finger". If that is too confusing for you - don't worry - it's also illustrated with a picture of someone touching a starfish with the back of their finger.

However - half of the people that approach the little starfish just itching to touch it do one of two things. A) They poke it (and then I poke them) or B) they say "how do you touch it?"

This is when I roll my eyes and I show them, by reaching OVER the illustrated sign to demonstrate, how to touch a starfish. Then, as I pull my arm back, I show them the sign, just hoping that they'll feel stupid for not bothering to read something 6 inches above what they so badly needed to touch.

Morons.

Also at Waters Edge is a horseshoe crab. There's a sign above it, and guess what it says. HORSESHOE CRAB. Does that stop hundreds of people a day from saying "Look - a stingray!". No. No it doesn't.

I can feel the stupidity taking over me and I have to remind myself to breathe.

The last thing at Water's Edge that irritates me once every 4 minutes is a toy starfish. It's out on a counter and there for really little children to pick up and look at. Guess how many adults see it and ask if its real. Enough that we had to take a magic marker and write "TOY" on it. Guess how many people still ask. If I told you that the same amount would you believe me? One person actually told me that someone wrote "toy" on our starfish! Yeah? Those rascals! They also put copyright information on the bottom. . . You butt head.

One last little piece of advice that will prevent Kinna, myself, and zookeepers around the world from wanting to break your nose is to listen. Especially if you ask a fucking question.

Here's an example from MY job:

Visitor: What kind of turtle is that?

Me: She's a red-footed tortoise.

Visitor: (usually to a little kid that they are passing their stupidity on to) Look at the turtle! Isn't he pretty!

I'm sorry. Did you not hear me? She is a red-footed TORTOISE.

I want to call child services on these people and report that they are raising their children to ask questions without listening to the answer just to be as annoying as possible. Or perhaps to become reporters for Fox News?

Anyway.

Eventually zookeepers will meet their patience threshold and stop being as helpful and just start laying on the passive aggressive attitude.

Here's an example from Kinna's work:

(I should mention that the only species of buffalo in the world are water buffalo. The buffalo we think of are bison. Kinna's zoo has bison, but not water buffalo . . .)

Visitor: Excuse me. Where are the buffalo?

Kinna: We don't have any.

It's an honest mistake, but lets face it people. Those who don't read and don't listen have ruined it for everyone.

In Terms of Douchebaggieness . . .

2010-06-08T20:54:00.002-06:00

My writers block is a Kanye West. (Who scores somewhere between Kevin Federline and George Bush on the Douchebag continuum)

I'm trying to finish writing a scientific research article for publication.

For those of you who have never had the opportunity to do so . . . don't.

Writing scientific b.s. is a pain in the hooha. Remember in school when you had to write long LONG essays about stuff you just don't care about? Remember how agonizing it was? If you were like me you found yourself trying SO HARD to get through it.

I recall a high school discussion and debate class I took. My teacher gave us an assignment and I don't know what it was. It's not that my memory is bad - more likely I didn't know what the assignment was at the time. All I remember is that instead of showing up and giving a presentation like the rest of the class I created a 1 page flier to pass around to everyone illustrating my point.

"Save the Binturong" was my subject.

To make my assignment even more questionable? My "work" (1 page flier) didn't even really contain any information. I believe I had pictures of Golden Age film stars to whom I gave dialogue bubbles to promote the binturong.

Me: Why, hello Mrs Gibson. Here's my assignment!

Mrs. G: What is thi- - -

Me: I hope you notice that it's on time this week!

Mrs. G: This is just a picture of an animal.

Me: It's a binturong. I'm campaigning to save it.

Mrs. G: Is that Marilyn Monroe next to it?

Me: Yes. Yes, it is. She really takes this issue to heart.

Mrs. G: " . . . a binturong is a girl's best friend?" This isn't - - -

Me: And you? Are welcome!

Yeah. I'm not sure how I graduated.

To make matters worse. This assignment? (Or as I like to call it: My Binturong Debacle) was a team project! That means I was able to find someone just as motivated as myself to do as little work as possible! (Cue my cousin, Melissa. Laziness must be in our blood.)

I think we were hoping that our teacher would think we were suffering brain damage. Perhaps from a gas leak at home. And give us pity Cs.

I think she did.

ANYWAY. That's the same level of motivation I'm having right now.

I spent almost 2 years doing research. With recent news relating directly to the topic of my article this is the perfect time to submit. AND if I don't there's always the risk that I'll be "scooped". That means that someone will print my findings before I do. Because I'm unmotivated. Also - I think because I just used the word "scooped" I am an Ashlee Simpson (Who falls between Victoria Beckham and Kevin Federline on the douchebag continuum).

Well, I suppose I should get back to what I was doing . . . looking around my apartment trying to determine which of my inanimate furnishings like me the least. (I think it's the chair in the corner.)

Wish me luck.

**Cousin Melissa, if you should happen to read this would you help me come up with a plan? This is for publication, so we're going to have to pull out the big guns. I'm thinking it's shoebox diorama time.

Hello Again!

2010-06-07T22:57:00.005-06:00

For the 4 of you out there who haven't given up on my bloggy blog I offer an apology.

Sorry.

Poor sweet Chad has been living in and out of suitcases for several weeks. But now that I am back home I am at your mercy to help you live your life a little better by avoiding the horrors that I face daily. Teehee.

Right now I'm doing what I do best. Being very productive in every aspect of life except the one I'm supposed to be working on.

I'm sitting here writing my first blog in over a month and watching "Stranger Than Fiction" when I should be working on my article.

Case in point people. Case. In. Point.

I promised myself that I would lock myself in my apartment and get SO MUCH written! It was going to be a-mazing!

Here's what the world beckoned me to do instead:

I folded/hung about 80 pounds of laundry. Then for good measure I reorganized my shoes.

I picked up The Mists of Avalon again. It's taking me FOREVER to read it because I read it for a week and then I don't for five. I'm really into it today. Did you know King Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere had a threesome? If I had known about this I would have read it a long (LONG!) time ago!

I completed my passport forms so I can mail in my renewal instead of having to go into a post office to deal with their big bag of b.s.

This led to my having a small breakdown over my new passport photo. A good 20 minutes was spent trying to pinpoint who I reminded myself of in this awful picture. I have narrowed it down to 3 finalists:

#1 - Rodney Dangerfield after spending a winter in a Nazi concentration camp

#2 - Bobo from the movie "Nothing But Trouble"

#3 - That movie, "Supersize Me" (the one where the guy eats McDonalds for 30 days and his kidneys shut down and he gains like 30 pounds and his girlfriend is in serious need of some make-up?) if the star had been the movie character, Powder - then after the 30 day fast food binge . . . that would be me.

Hmmmm . . .

Anyway. THEN I sat down to write.

And by "write" I mean eat a quart of Brown Cow maple yogurt and watch Disney's Robin Hood.

Seriously? It's amazing and I'm really excited about it right now. (It could be that everything is just more entertaining than writing scientific articles.)

Oo De Lally, Oo De Lally.

Okay - it's time to write now.

But then Zahra calls and asks if I want an iced tea. She'll bring me one if I do.

Maybe Zahra is stuck in a terrible situation and needs an escape and I'm her only option, but she can't say so because people are listening so she must speak in code.

"Would you like me to drive downtown to bring you an iced tea from Wendy's?" is TOTALLY code for "I need a reason to leave and you? Are it."

Then I got around to thinking about work. I may as well research endangered tarantulas for the next thing I have to write.

(You know - because I'm doing so well with this one.)

Tarantula research brings me to looking into finding an endangered tarantula to procure FOR work!

Which also led me to go outside with a Kerr jar to hunt down insects.

I got 3 German cockroaches.

While I'm supposed to be writing I'm outside in a dark alley with my Wendy's iced tea scooping up roaches in a jar.

I double dare you to name someone that can procrastinate with such tenacity.

Deep South or Bust

2010-05-07T21:13:00.003-06:00

My dear, dear friend, Natalie is getting married. In Mississippi.

I'm leaving tomorrow for a 9 day stay on a plantation in Centerville located about 45 minutes North of Baton Rouge - or as I call it: Wyoming with humidity and sweltering heat.

How have I prepared for my trip?

Well, I was thinking about purchasing a white suit and black string bow tie to look over the grounds - but it would be incomplete without a white goatee (and I just can't accomplish that in time). So Matt assisted me in the next best thing: a quick visit to KFC.

I normally don't eat KFC, it gives me horrible projectile vomit nausea. But this is research!

I figured I'd better order the 'Double Down' - a bacon & cheese sandwich. Oh, except instead of bread there are two pieces of chicken. I opted for original instead of grilled. I'm eating a sandwich from a place with a deep fat fryer. I'm not about to pretend that I'm there for "grilled" anything. In fact - if you could then deep fry my made sandwich that would be great.

It was.

Phenomenal.

Matt had already had said sandwich except he had them add beef. The drive-thru girl called him gross. Look lady - you work in a KFC drive thru! Maybe you aren't the one to be passing judgement.

Now he finds himself at KFC again. With his best friend. Ordering the same thing. He used this opportunity to mention to the girl taking our order - that a drive-thru employee called him gross.

Cashier: I remember that! That was Stephanie!

Now, I feel the need to express my mind for three reasons. A) I'm practicing my intolerance for opinions other than my own in preparation for my Southern stay B) I have kind of a big mouth anyway, and C) fuck Stephanie!

Chad: (to Cashier) Incidentally, could you tell Stephanie that she's fat??

(I've never seen her - but calling someone fat gets to anyone with anything less than a level of self-confidence bordering on stupidly annoying)

Cashier: (Somewhat taken aback) Well, she is pregnant!

Chad: Could you call her a slut as well?

(totally watching them make my sandwich now)

There. I have successfully made a stranger uncomfortable by opening my trap, acted like the past 100 years of cardiac health research has never happened, and may or may not have ingested trace amounts of saliva from a white-trash pregnant woman whose last name may or may not exist.

I am ready for the South!!

(Actually . . . it wasn't all that different from a normal day for me.)

Chad and Matt's Night at the Museum

2010-04-26T23:20:00.005-06:00

Tonight was a special event at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science: Staff & Volunteer family night for the BodyWorlds exhibit. Woohoo!!

I took Matt and Gina and Chelsea and Davey. It was a total blast!

Even though we had so much fun I have compiled a mental list of things that will make our next plasticized dead body encounter even better because it will be A) hilarious, B) will totally bother those know-it-all science nerds behind me (serously? You're standing there telling your boyfriend about cochlea? I hope this isn't a first date.)(By the way - words like 'acetabulum' don't need to be brought up in casual conversation. Say 'hip socket'. Obscure words are obscure for a reason.)

Oh yeah. My list.

First: Beef jerky will need to be smuggled in. It would bring the queasiness that Davey was experiencing from the realm of mental to physical. Ha!

Second: Matt will be provided with a list of things he's NOT allowed to say. Example: When he sees a heart suspended in a glass case he is NOT allowed to start chanting "Kali Ma". To be fair - I should probably refrain from shouting out "that bifurcated penis just need a couple scoops of ice cream and chocolate syrup and it would look EXACTLY like a banana split!" . . . at least in front of old ladies.

Third: Gina and Davey need those little kid leashes (they totally kept wandering off. We found Gina forever drifting towards deformed organ displays and Davey was usually found on/under a bench)

Fourth: Cocktails beforehand are a must. Let's face it: tipsiness makes a good evening at the museum GREAT!

Ready to Eat My Own Shoes

2010-04-19T12:07:00.003-06:00

Last night I received a phone call from my friend Lindsey. She asked what I was up to- I said I was reading.

Reading The Mists of Avalon. After we discussed how both of our Arthurian knowledge includes Disney's Sword and the Stone and Monty Python and The Holy Grail - but not much else, I gave her my take on the book:

I think it's fantastic. It's very interesting - in the same way that Wicked is an interesting counterpart to The Wizard of Oz. And I loved Wicked (Actually - the book was more political than what I wanted - but the play? Amazing!)

Then I asked Lindsey what she was had been up to . . .

She just got back from Boston. While there she had the most spectacular breakfast of her life. Sweet potato fries, pumpkin pancakes, etc.

This is around the time that I went from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde and it was triggered solely by Lindsey's food talk.

I gave her a ranting supplement to my minutes-old Mists of Avalon review.

The book is around 900 pages long and I'm somewhere in the early 200s. And I am starving.

What the hell is wrong with these medieval times people?!?! Every other page is something like "my handmaiden brought me a dinner of bread and honey", "I broke my 3 day fast with some dry bread and cold water", "I barely ate the bread and cured meat I had in front of me"

These people? Are eating like they're in prison. Not like - US prison, but like North Korea prison!

I'll start reading and by the time I've finished 2 pages I feel faint from hunger.

Lady of the Lake? You have the ability to mix all kinds of herbs and shit for healing potions, yes? How is it that you can't conjure up an iced tea?

If you saw the calculating nature of most of the characters you'd be left wondering - but you never figured out how to make a hamburger?!?!

Take your bread and put your cured meat in the middle. You are on your way!

Yesterday while on break from work I ran across the street for a delicious iced tea. What did I get? Sweet tea!

Barf!

I still choked it all down though, because I was desperate! I now have to consume anything edible that crosses my path because I don't want to starve to death while reading this book!

"Bread and honey" for dinner. What the hell is wrong with you people?

By the way - I'm noticing that this is like a solid carb diet. I have a feeling that the table wasn't the only round thing in King Arthur's court.

I told Lindsey that I will be happy if (at least just once) Lancelot and Guinevere sneak away and just binge themselves on corn on the cob that's dripping with butter and salt.

Lindsey's response: Well, they didn't know about corn yet.

Suck it, Lindsey

***By the way - if anyone is in the mood for an awesome fantasy story that won't make you gaunt - I full heartedly suggest The Changed Earth by J Hart F at http://jhartf.blogspot.com/ ***

I Guess I Told YOU . . .

2010-04-16T18:27:00.005-06:00

This is one of those days where I accomplish something very dorky and then have an inner struggle about showing off my dorky thing. Lets face it: I'm probably not impressing anyone with anything besides how ridiculous I am.

Since I started volunteering at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science there have been several people who compare me to the nerdy entomologists in Silence of the Lambs who identify the moth that was shoved down a victim's throat.

They i.d. the moth as Acherontia styx - a Lepidoptera belonging to the "Death's Head" Hawkmoth family.

This is it:

So I was watching Silence of the Lambs today and was looking at the cover when something caught my eye . . .

This is where the mental conflict began

Nerdy Chad: Say . . . there's something off about the moth on the cover . . .

Awesome Chad: Leave it alone.

Nerdy Chad: I don't think that's a Death's Head Moth

Awesome Chad: So? Let's just enjoy the movie like a normal person. Yes?

Nerdy Chad: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That's a Tobacco Hornworm Moth! Tobacco Mutherfuckin' Hornworm!

Awesome Chad: I'm very proud of you. Now back to the movie.

Nerdy Chad: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . but that skull looks familiar . . .

Awesome Chad: I swear to God, if you don't-

Nerdy Chad: Is that . . . is that that Dali sketch?

Awesome Chad: I refuse to confirm anything for you because you use it to make us look nerdy later.

Nerdy Chad: Is it called "The Vanity" or something? That used to scare me when I was little.

Awesome Chad: No, it's "In Voluptus Mors"

Nerdy Chad: Ha!! . . . Wait . . . why the hell would they do that? Wouldn't it be easier to jus use the real thing?

Awesome Chad: Maybe they just wanted to find a way to sneak 7 naked women onto a video case so that children in Target can look closely and see uncensored nipples?

Nerdy Chad: The real question is: How can I work this into casual conversation with everyone I meet?? Perhaps I can walk into starbucks and say "Hi Josh! I would like a girlie drink and I deserve it because I'm a complete genius! Picture this-"

Awesome Chad: I forbid you from saying it out loud. Remember the looks you get when you tell people your little tidbits.

Nerdy Chad: I don't like those looks. . . it's a mixture of glazed over eyes and something else.

Awesome Chad: pity?

Nerdy Chad: Hmmmmmm . . .

+ =

An open letter to Rachel Ray

2010-04-12T07:43:00.003-06:00

Dear Rachel Ray:

We've put up with your cooking, your 30-minute meals etc. etc. But enough is enough. I can't go to the grocery store or a department store or drive down the highway without seeing your grinning face and muffin-topped mom pants. You don't need to show off every molar when you smile. And seeing you on TV is worse! Will somebody get that woman a lozenge?

So do us all a favor Rachel, you've made your mark, made your money - let's give someone else a chance...please.

Sincerely,

Matt

High Pitched and Nasal

2010-04-11T23:33:00.002-06:00

Fran Drescher.

Cancer spokesperson. Gorgeous jewess celebrity. Made famous by her voice.

I've loved Fran ever since I first saw Saturday Night Fever. ("Are you as good in bed as you are on that dance flo-ah?")(Hehe. Queens accents.)

What I love slightly less is when people compare my voice to hers. Especially when I'm sick.

Over the years my voice has also been compared to Gilbert Gottfried, Ned Flanders, a grocery store loudspeaker, Dori from Finding Nemo, some cartoon monkey from the Discovery channel or something, Chandler's girlfriend on Friends, the list goes on and on.

I don't know what's wrong with people. I don't go around telling them they look fat in those pants.

Okay . . . I might.

But still, my voice is virile and manly. (No matter what voice recordings play back. Those things are notoriously unreliable.)(Camera's add 10 pounds. Microphones add 10 octaves.)(And a severe adenoid problem . . . )

ANYWAY.

The other day there was a birthday party at work for a little kid. I walked past one of our utility rooms to see my friend Meghan filling balloons with helium.

Hel-lo! Brain cells be damned - I'm TOTALLY gonna inhale some and it will be AWE-SOME!

I took a good lung full and ran into the hallway to find my friend, Mary Ann.

Chad: (In total helium voice) Hi Mary Ann!!

Mary Ann: Hi.

Chad: Don't you notice anything different?

Mary Ann: Uhhhhh . . . no.

Chad: (Helium wearing off) Really?!?!

Mary Ann: Are those new shoes?

I walked away defeated. With my shoulders shrugged, but my voice held high.

Damn.

I'm going to need to embrace this voice of mine or it could be my downfall.

If only I had a hilarious accent to go with it. (Damn you, Colorado)

Today

2010-04-07T18:46:00.002-06:00

Today I will be efficient.

It's going to be a shit-the-bed-and-roll-around-in-it crazy day at work.

I woke up an hour early to make sure I started my day right

Today I will be ready.

Last night I figured out how to turn on my stove so I could boil water to french press coffee this morning instead of insisting on stopping somewhere.

I also packed a lunch for myself. Rosemary chicken breast and a caesar salad.

Today I will be amazing.

This week we have a visiting zookeeper from the Phoenix Zoo. We have to be incredible for our guest.

Today we also happen to be down to 60% staff (eek!) have like 6 school groups (that's insane, by the way) and a new exhibit hall to prepare in time for it's open house.

Today I will be on time.

When I got to work today (10 minutes early) I walked into the curatorial office and said hello to our visiting zookeeper. She said hello and followed that up with do you not have to go to the all-staff meeting?

Crap.

Yeah, it started like half an hour ago. Everyone's in the new exhibit hall.

Fuck!

Tomorrow I will be efficient . . .

Chad's Paternal Instincts?

2010-04-05T14:53:00.006-06:00

Awful Girl: What would happen if I catch a butterfly?

Chad: You will probably cry

Awful Girl: How come?

Chad: Because I will hit you

Okay - this didn't exactly happen at work - but it makes me smile?

Is that wrong?

I hope you don't think so, because you'll probably be upset to learn that it is my secret ambition to become the Hannibal Lector of The Butterfly Pavilion.

Not in terms of eating people - but remember in Silence of the Lambs when Hannibal Lector is heard whispering to "multiple Miggs" in the cell next to him and Miggs crying until he choked on his own tongue?

Why can't I have that power? Hee hee.

I just got giddy again.

Don't think that I hate all children - just stupid ones. Well, and sticky ones. And screamy ones.

In fact - for every kid I want to shove in a crate and ship to an island that will use them as sacrifices - there's probably three that I love to death.

I have come up with this ratio based on yesterday at work

1 awful girl: In a sing-songy manner showed me what she learned at school - R-A-P-E, get the heck away from me. This bitch? I hate.

3 adorable triplets: Suzie, a woman from Boulder comes in frequently. The woman has triplets and is in desperate need of a break. So whenever she comes in I take her ADORABLE litter away with me where we can have fun and give Suzie a break. My paternal instincts are there, but have to be coaxed out with cuteness.

Like yesterday, the triplets (who are about 3 or 4) wanted to smell Angel's Trumpet blossoms. I hoisted each one up into the air and let them stand on my shoulders so they could smell the upside down flowers. . . that happen to have a hallucinogenic nectar. . .

Hey, I said I loved little kids - I didn't say I was well-practiced.

What's the Buzz?

2010-03-30T22:06:00.002-06:00

Dear Stupid Chad,

Just so you don't make the same blunder twice, I feel I should make you aware of how a normal grown-up person's mind works.

When a coworker approaches you at work and says "Hey Chad, what's the buzz?" he means "what's going on?" . . .

He does not want you to explain: Well, that buzz you hear is our new bee swarm! It's kind of a pathetic bee swarm if you ask me. I mean, I don't even know if a queen is in there! Who drops off a new bee colony outside right before a snow storm?? Stupid! We tried to coax most of the workers in with honey and it worked for some, but . . . i dunnooooo . . ."

And for the love of GOD, Chad - don't see a puzzled look on this coworkers face and interpret it as "please, go on"

I think we should just get a nuc swarm. We'd get a couple pounds of bees and a marked queen. A marked queen!!

Lastly, Chad - when you see someone inching away from you, let them go and by no means continue talking, but at a volume that increases with their distance.

I hope you put this information to good use.

Sincerely,

Smarter Chad

P.S. Maybe consider getting a life...

Quick Thought of the Morning #2

2010-03-28T00:29:00.003-06:00

You know how if you have to speak at a public forum you're told to imagine the audience in their underwear?

What if your audience is a gathering of fitness models?

Wouldn't that just make you even MORE nervous in front of them and their obliques??

Or if you're an elementary school teacher on your first day on the job?

You could go to jail if people knew what you were up to!

Imagining people in their underwear is a piece of reckless advice.

My suggestion? Imagine your audience all holding in explosive diarrhea.

Problem solved.

Movie Review: Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

2010-03-27T18:08:00.010-06:00

. . . in 3D!!

My first 3D movie EVER! (What's the big deal??)(Oh - and why is everything coming out in 3D now??)

Anyway. The very second I heard that Tim Burton was making an Alice in Wonderland I was not overjoyed. I love Tim Burton and I LOOOOVE Alice in Wonderland. Know what I don't love? Being trendy.

Now suddenly everyone loves Alice in Wonderland.

Sorry, you pricks. I did first. Me. Not you.

(haha. just kidding.) (Kind of . . . )

Okie. First thing's first - my overall review: phenomonal.

It doesn't follow the book whatsoever and I guess it's not supposed to. It stands on its own and fully owns itself. It's a wonderful spin on a victorian fantasy that's been redone to. death.

That being said - the characters are very true to the original characters. It's like a very believable third installment to Lewis Carrol's first two Alice books.

Also - the Jabberwock is in it! Jabberwocky is a poem written by Lewis Carrol and I don't recall it ever interacting with Wonderland until now.

Also, also - the movie is very dark. It reminded me much more of my favorite video game, American McGee's Alice, than it did the Disney cartoon that most people use for comparisons.

Chad's 2 Lists of 3:

3 Things I disliked about it:

1. The mouse and the dormouse were combined into one character. It bothers me. creepy? sure.

2. Anne Hathaway. I can't stand that bitch anyway. What exactly is wrong with her face? She looks more and more like a charicature every time i see her.

3. Needles being shoved in eyes. A lot. Ouch!

3 Things I liked about it

1. Helena Bonham Carter. If only I had the ability to order around a pair of fat boys for my own entertainment!

2. The Mad Hatter totally looks like Madonna of late

3. Afterwards Matt and I went for a beer, fried cod, and a scotch egg.

Scotch egg: 1 hardboiled egg inside a thick shell of sausage meat that is then deep fried until my chest starts to hurt. Mmmmmmmmm.

(until this morning - then it was more like "what the shit did I eat last night?!?!)

Anyway - on Matt's 5 star movie scale I give it 5 stars and a "Squeeee!"

Teehee.

Go see it.

But not necessarily in 3D. The experience doesn't quite make up for how stupid you'll look in those glasses.

Saving the Planet One Fat Bee-otch at a Time

2010-03-24T22:58:00.004-06:00

I nearly witnessed a death today.

Was I scared? Yes.

Did I love it? Totally!

Picture it: Starbucks. 4 hours ago. This awful woman comes barreling in with an empty cup and a full figure.

While I was awaiting my wonderful green tea my friend Karen re-greeted the heinous big-assed woman.

Karen: Uh oh! Was something wrong with your drink?

Jabba: Yeah. I spilled it on the floor of my truck.

Karen: Oh, no! Let's get you another one!!

Sweet Karen turned around to throw away the cup and get another when the biggun' squealed

Jabba: NO!! I wanted you to RE-USE that cup!

Karen: Oh, that's okay. I can get you a new one that hasn't been on the floor.

Even though Karen is being very sweet, the snow cow is still ready to burst a greasy artery in her neck.

Jabba: I hate waste

(Yeah, lady. We can see that.)

Karen: Well, if you can waste a drink I can waste the cup!

(I couldn't decide if I should give Karen a mental high five or a lap dance in the middle of the store.)

Jabba: But the cup isn't biodegradable.

Shut. Up. Bitch.

Maybe preach about conservation when A) the person you're acting snide towards isn't doing you a favor by replacing a drink that you couldn't keep in the meat hook you call a hand and B) when I'm not angry with the environment for trying to bury me alive in snow.

I give presentations every day at work (with a microphone and EVERYTHING!) about conservation and protecting the environment. You know who I don't need a lecture from? This woman that looks like John Candy tooling around in her big rig.

Because I was sure Karen was distraught (after all - it probably sunk in that global warming is all her fault) Chelsea and I decided we should make a snowman on Karen's behalf to protest global warming.

With the snowman acting as our "Global Warming Sucks" reminder the biggun' can drop the stick up her ass and pick up a glazed ham . . . I know she's been wanting to . . .

Cozy By the, errr . . . Microscope?

2010-03-19T21:58:00.010-06:00

There's a slight blizzard outside which always tends to shift everyone's Friday night plans.

For many, a night out turns into a cozy night in.

Such is the case with me. The picture below is totally where I've been for the past 6 hours.

Well . . .

Almost.

You have to replace the fire with an 80 year old radiator and the wine for a can of 7UP.

(By the way - the prop person for this photo shoot should be fired. Nice cozy evening. Clearly there is a couple enjoying themselves in front of the fireplace and having some wine. Know why you don't see them? Because she left him when he busted out the party warehouse paper napkin for them to share. People who care about rings on their coffee table are the same people who own coasters. I'm just saying.)

Okay - so actually my night is nothing like this. I've been doing bee research. Because it's really boring I took pictures to explain what I'm researching at the moment.

This? Is the far end of my living room. Microscope, computer, and about 8 billion bees in vials of alcohol.

First I remove the bee from its vial and evaluate baldness and wing wear. (Exciting, yes?)

And I check it for Varroa mites.

Then I flip her over and pin her down under alcohol.

(Yes, I took a picture with my phone through my microscope eyepiece. Can we not focus on this and just move on??)

Then I pop off her little head so I can do a necropsy. (I should get a prize for working the word "necropsy" into a blog)

What I'm looking for are any Tracheal mites. See that thing sticking up out of the neck hole? ("neck hole" that's another prize methinks.) That's one of her trachea. No mites. It would be good news for her except she's dead.

Then I put her head and body in a centrifuge tube with some fresh alcohol and an ID label so I can send them all on their way to be blended up and checked for viruses and bacteria.

That's someone else's job.

I don't have the counter space.

Plus I've been known to accidentally eat blended up bee heads.

(Just seeing if you're still paying attention.)

(I have a feeling I lost most people when I started taking pictures through my microscope.)

(You'd think that you'd feel sorry for me instead of laughing at me for being a geek.)

(If you really want something to laugh at I could mention that while doing this I watched 4 hours of The Golden Girls)

(That I bought on DVD the other night)

(Let's move past that too.)

Vanessa's Blood Lust

2010-03-19T00:29:00.003-06:00

My friend Vanessa wants to hear a story about me spilling some blood.

Something must have happened to her recently because as far as I know - a blood fetish isn't in Vanessa's list of kinks.

Pee, yes. Blood, no.

Sadly, I don't have any truly gory stories. I've never broken a bone. Never had an invasive surgery. I didn't even get my first bloody nose until I was 22.

But I have a blood-ish story. Is that good?

It doesn't matter - that's all I have so that's what you're getting. If it doesn't make you queasy enough - go ahead and scroll down to my St. Patrick's day pictures. That makes me cringe.

Anyway - picture it: Cambridge college. 2005.

An X-Ray, Medical Assistant student is in class one Thursday. Thursday was called "stick day" because that was the day that we all practiced our injections and phlebotomy skills. On each other.

I started this school with an intense fear of needles and left well over my fear and now I LOVE them! I'm constantly eyeing people's veins and imagining how difficult it would be to draw their blood. Is that weird?

No. What's weird is that if I've met you I can pretty much guarantee that I've looked at your veins and imagined the ease or difficulty I would have sticking you. (Pleasant dreams people. I'm out there roaming free!)

ANYWAY - besides drawing blood from others I was a favorite target (especially for beginners) because I have enormous veins.

Towards the end of my schooling I had gotten over my fear and began volunteering to let beginners draw my blood.

It wasn't that bad. I'm such an easy target that no one ever had to dig. The worst that would happen is that they would be really shaky and that was *slightly* unpleasant.

Back to my story.

One Thursday I came to class and it was the first stick day for this new girl. She was very nervous - but everyone is. You can't help but be slightly alarmed at the thought of drawing someone's blood for the first time. (I've heard stories about people practicing on oranges and stuff - all I can say is that the first time I stuck a needle into anything - that "anything" was a sassy former prostitute with a weave named Tish. We became great friends!)

ANYWAY. This girl watched a couple of people draw blood from other students. The color was slowly draining from her face.

I told her to give it a try. I gave her my arm. Helped her tie the rubber hose around my arm, helped her prep the needle, swab my arm and get ready.

She stuck the needle into my arm. My arm has been tied off for longer than normal because we were going slowly - so I had a build up of pressure in my big veins. (Remember this - it's important later!)

I coached her along and told her she was doing a good job and told her to stick a tube into the hub and let blood collect. She barely got it done. Her face blanched and she was sweating like a virgin at a prison rodeo.

I told her to get ready to change tubes and she just looked at me blankly.

I asked her if she was okay.

No response. Just a vacant gaze.

I asked again.

Her only response was to roll her eyes in the back of her head and start to lean to the side.

Oh, shit!

She fainted in the middle of my blood draw. Falling sideways and off of her chair, twisting the needle 90º in my arm, puncturing through the other end of my vein.

I ripped the needle out and rushed to help her up. A few of the female students around brought her to the bathroom. I finally remembered the tourniquet and popped it off too. A little too late.

I developed the mother of all hematomas. A hematoma is a mass of blood in your tissue. In other words, I was bleeding (very pressurized blood) out of my vein but NOT out of my skin. It collected somewhere in between.

I just remember driving home from school that day and I could barely move my arm. It hurt like a bitch and I had a golf ball sized wad of clotted blood in the crook of my elbow. The next day I had a bruise that was almost solid black and purple at my elbow and followed my vein up and down my arm. Gross, eh?

Was that good enough, Vanessa? ;)

St. Patrick's Day with Chad

2010-03-18T23:23:00.007-06:00

I spent most of St. Patrick's day last year with a little drunk named . . . well, Patrick.

I can't really recall ever having been in the presence of someone so obnoxious about St. Patrick's day as Patrick, the inebriated leprechaun. It pretty much sapped the fun out of my excuse to drink and be merry!

I still did, it just wasn't as fun.

Well this year I decided to take back my holiday! Woo hoo!!

Rundown time, yes?

I showed up for work in my festive green (non uniform) outfit.

I walked in and made my case. It's St. Patrick's day - I don't want to get pinched! Of COURSE I need to wear my festive greens instead of my usual work polo.

But Chad, the work polo is gree - - -

Yeah, so I'm just gonna wear this! Bye!!

(Teehee. Totally taking back my holiday!)

I spent my day at work blending in with my rainforest surroundings and coming to the decision that I don't like green green. If it isn't naturally occurring it makes me sick. I call it "target green". Dark greens, light greens, all that stuff I like. Target green (you know - the color of a "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" shirt you'd buy for $7 at Target? It's awful. Do you know why you don't see that color in nature? Because nature has taste.)

Anyway. I then started to take note of people not wearing green. I think most of them did it on purpose in hopes of getting pinched. I suppose this because no one would pinch most of them otherwise.

It's the Irish equivalent of the gross fat guy who hangs out under mistletoe at holiday parties.

No.

Work ended and it was time for some hilarious green beer.

I met up with Chelsea and Davey, Natalie and Josh, and my date for the evening - Zahra.

We started with green beer and the brilliant idea that Zahra needs to document our fun night of all of us together (which doesn't occur as often as it used to) with her iPhone.

Never again.

As Zahra sent me the pictures she took last night I had an imaginary conversation with her that went a little something like this:

Zahra? What the hell is wrong with you? You weren't evening drunk when you took most of these!

Well, you won't smile like a normal person!

Hmmm. Are you saying it's MY fault that THIS picture happened??

Well, it isn't MY fault you look like an idiot. I only take the pictures. I don't mold the models!

Really? Was this brilliant piece of photography something that you felt needed to be documented? Is that the top of my hat bill??

You don't hold still.

Okay - then what about these? You can't get a picture of me looking normal - but EVERY time I gulp something down you're right there?!?!

It's not MY fault you're a drunk.

Fair point.

Quick thought of the morning...

2010-03-10T07:39:00.003-07:00

How is it that "Spork" the wiener dog from Lafayette, Colorado snaps at a Vet Tech, and poor Spork is in Jeopardy of being euthanized, BUT at the same time a killer whale eats its' trainer during feeding time (and has killed before) is in no danger at all?

WTF? Save Spork, kill the whale!

Join the Save Spork Facebook page....

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?v=wall&ref=search&gid=316314284010

Pre-order your Save Spork T-shirt!

ALL PROFITS GO TO HELP SAVE SPORK!!!

- Adult -- Small thru 3X-Large

- Youth -- Small thru X-Large for $10.00 each

They can be picked up at CB Shop & More 2752 SE Frontage Road next to Johnson's Corner, exit 254 off I-25 or add $5.00-$10.00 shipping and handling (depending on how many shirts ordered) for orders to be shipped.

SAVES THE DAY, Then and Now

2010-03-07T23:56:00.004-07:00

Matt and I just went to a Saves the Day show.

ACTUALLY it was a New Found Glory show - but Saves the Day is who I was there to see . . .

Matty and I have seen more Saves the Day shows than I can recall with ease, but last night I've noticed that we've entered the realm of the "fun one" when it comes to STD (heehee) concerts.

The "fun one" is a new concept of mine that stems from class pictures. Remember? You started off with the serious one and then you got to do the "fun one"? The pressure is off, everything has been accomplished, now it's time to make an ass out of yourself because you've earned the right?

Well, for 10(ish) years we've been seeing Saves the Day. Last night I realized we were no longer taking our concert experiences seriously. We were doing the "fun one".

Lets compare and contrast, yes?

Then: The show starts at 7pm. We don't end up leaving the house until 7 or later.

Now: The show starts at 7pm. I don't take a shower until 7:30. Then I run to the store for some corn nuts. Matt picks me up at 8:30ish.

Then: Matt and I look like a couple of mouth breathers. (yes, this phone was taken with the super awesome Razor flip phone!!)

Now: The Gothic theatre. Matt and I look gaunt. This isn't the fault of my (equally amazing) iPhone - we literally lost about 40 pounds of water weight while we were there.

Then: We snickered at people who sang along with the band.

Now: I don't beat around the bush. I get right next to them and mock them with or without their knowledge before I inform them "We get it. You know the words."

(Lets face it - only I look good singing someone else's music. Its because I'm aware you need a) a car b) a shower or c) alcohol.)

(Oh, yeah. That last option only applies to me. Alcohol doesn't make you a great singer. Just more annoying.)

Then: I used to convince Matt to get more drinks while he tried to convince me to get more numbers

Now: I try to bribe Matt to sexually harass a female cop my stroking her baton and referencing her handcuffs while Matt dares me to grab the fat girl in front of us by the love handles and say "Boy! You're thick!!" while giving them a good shake.

Then: We actually watched the show.

Now: We listened from the balcony while I decided it was hot enough to tie my shirt in a caribbean knot. Matt thought it was hilarious until I actually did it.

(Matt's jealous of my abs.)

(I'm jealous of Matt's arms)

What the hell was I talking about??

Oh yeah. Saves the Day concerts.

Basically, we're getting old, but totally having fun doing it. So there, fuckers.

P.S. Saves the Day is Matt's favorite band and I'm beginning to accept them as mine.

P.P.S. They've always been my second favorite band, behind the Dance Hall Crashers, but I think DHC is done for :(

P.P.P.S. If you have no idea who I'm talking about then that isn't acceptable and you need to let me email some songs.

P.P.P.P.S. Just sayin'

My Days Off

2010-03-03T10:17:00.006-07:00

tend to be a bit distracting for others. Because when I'm not working - you shouldn't be either.

For example: today I had to discuss something VERY important with a friend, but she's at work - making spreadsheets, getting those numbers, whatever it is she does - she's doing. So I'm forced to bother her via email.

Dear Lindseypoo,

As you know I would rather walk on my own lips than say something bad about someone. ESPECIALLY someone I don't know - but sometimes one has to make an exception.

It could be that I'm cranky after having to attend a meeting on my day off. It could be that I didn't get much sleep last night. I could be (read: definitely IS) that I lied before and I make fun of people as fast as my mouth will let me . . .

Lets take a look at the gentleman I was just in line behind at starbucks. While he wasn't picking scabs and playing miniature shuffleboard with them on an adjacent table - this guy DID give off such an aura that I dubbed him "Mr. Douche"

I should point out that I love Porsches. I would like to zip around town in my own little porsche! Specifically - a 1955 Speedster.

Matt has promised to keep an eye out for one for me (to add to my array of vehicles wildly inappropriate for Colorado winters).

ANYWAY. What I don't like about porsches is that about half of their drivers are d-bags. You can tell by their appearance how d-baggy they actually are.

Exhibit A: Mr. Douche's Car (yes I took pictures)

Exhibit B: Mr. Douche.

The beanie, the motorcycle jacket, the diesel jeans, would be fine by themselves. The driving gloves?? No. Driving gloves = douche.

Haha! I should have my camera phone taken away!

So, we are in agreement, yes?

I'm off to be productive. And by productive I mean play Plants vs. Zombies.

Chad

Chad's Shitty Day at Work

2010-03-02T21:51:00.003-07:00

So, recently I posted a status update on Facebook with the above picture making reference to my chore of cleaning a dung beetle display. I've had more than a couple of people ask me what goes through my head when I do the unusual tasks I do at work.

Here it is, for one and all to see your your curiosities can be laid to rest.

What exactly was going through my head when I was sifting through poo.

9:15 am: well, let's see what is left on the checklist for me to do this morning. "Check millipedes. Feed if necessary". Check. "Check on hermit crab on the counter". Check. Woohoo! I'm totally brezzing through these chores today! "Check water levels in bramble containers". Check. Crap I'm awesome! "Clean scheduled exhibit". Well, I haven't done that yet. Lets see . . . what is scheduled to be cleaned today? Dung Beetles. Hmmmmm. I'd better ask Khanh what type of cleaning is required.

9:25 am: Chad: Khanh? I'm going to clean the dung beetle display. Does it get a half-assed cleaning or a deep cleaning?

Khanh: Uhhhh . . . they're dung beetles. Probably a deep cleaning.

Crap. I was hoping for a half-assed. That's where you open the lid and fill the water, stir the soil, remove anything dead and replenish their food. Deep cleaning is . . . well . . . you'll see.

9:30 am: After I've wheeled my cart to the dung beetle display I unplug the display light and incredible hulk the giant aquarium onto it. Then I push it into the back room and unlock the lid.

Hmmmm. How exactly should I start this? I know! I'll use that empty aqaurium right there and just start anew!

9:35 am: Let's see. I'll add some substrate to the bottom, this fake plant will look nice, some rocks, and finally the little metallic dung beetles. What's next? Food and water. Food. Poop.

9:40 am: Chad: Hey, Khanh? Where is the horse poop?

Khanh: It should be in the fridge.

Chad: I looked there.

Khanh: Did you check the refrigerator door?

It was in the door. Right under the gatorade/Pabst Blue Ribbon mixture, next to the fruit fly larvae meal. Silly me.

I think one ziploc bag of horse poop should suffice. Here you go little beetles! Chow time! At least cold poop doesn't smell that strong otherwise I wouldn't be able to drink my mocha. Mmmmmm. Mocha. Girlie drink totally makes bad poop seem great!

What else? Water. Reverse osmosis water. Water that is exponentially cleaner than what I drink. These beetles are eating poop yet drinking heavenly pure water. Hey, if it ain't broke. . .

9:55 am: I wheel the new clean exhibit out to its display stand and plug the light back in.

Beautiful. I should take a picture of this, it's so pretty! *click*

Now for the really icky part.

10:00 am: Where are those rubber gloves? Here we go. Rubber gloves? Check. Aquarium full of used soil and poop? Check. Mocha? Check.

I dip my hand into the poo and pull up my first handful. Before the soil can be thrown away it needs to be frozen. But first - check it thoroughly for larvae, pupae, etc.

Okay. This smells WAY worse! I almost can't drink my mocha. Almost. (sip)

Nothing in this handful. Nothing in this handful. Nothing in this handful. Hey! Look at this nugget of poop! I finally get why they call them "road apples"! I wonder if I have to break it up and check inside. Might as well while I'm already wrist deep.

Who was that fabled giant that roamed the countryside with a large ladle, cleaning outhouses? Honeydipper Dan? I wonder if I could get my nametag to read "Honeydipper Chad". Then, I'd probably need to get a ladle too. I doubt anyone would know what I was talking about and they'd just think I was crazy, yes?

Hey! What the hell just wiggled? Pupae. You can go on the counter.

. . . 45 minutes, three pupae and one larvae later . . .

Time to wash out this empty aquarium. Scrub scrub rinse rinse. *Sigh* That is beautiful.

Now I will set this aside for the next time I clean them.

10:50 am: I walk out to the displays and as I pass a family I hear the little girl talk about how nasty the case of dung beetles is.

I wonder if I could get away with smacking that little girl.

Little girl is molesting my nice clean glass with her sticky, gravel hands!

I wonder if I could smack her hard enough that it would stun her out consciousness.

Mother is telling little devil girl not to touch the glass. It's disgusting and filthy.

And the mother. I should smack the mother too.

Really, people? Yes, they're eating poop. Yes, that's gross. But that aquarium? Is squeaky fucking clean. It's my morning's masterpiece! Realize that some of the things you're criticizing are the products of hard work. Hard work done by someone standing in smacking range, you little bitches.

Well, now I'm off to mount some dead butterflies. Only slightly more glamourous, no?

An Awkward Moment

2010-02-25T11:42:00.003-07:00

This is Cary Russell. In addition to being my Home Depot customer service representative today, he was also a kid I went to high school with.

It was a somewhat awkward situation because in high school Cary and I got drunk and made out at a party. While my reputation for being - uhhhh - more likely to perform a homoerotic act for the enjoyment of others was common knowledge - it wasn't so good for mormon Cary.

Basically, thanks to me (and NOT jungle juice or drunken girls cheering for us) Cary was going to mormon hell or something.

How do we handle our Home Depot interaction? Ignore it. I don't know you and you don't know me.

Wonderful.

I was thinking to myself at least I don't run into these people when I'm at my WORST.

I have a scenario in my head that is the epitome of my worst fear - well - awkward moment-wise.

This is a true story. The only way my fantasy/nightmare is different is that I am the ptient and the X-ray tech is someone - well, like Cary the mormon

Once, when I was an x-ray tech I was called to a state run nursing home in Commerce City. The exam was for an abdominal series of a middle aged woman with schizophrenia. I had to rule out an intestinal obstruction.

(Apparently she was VERY constipated. Ewww)

I arrived and was met by an odor plume of diarrhea that nearly knocked me over.

Is that . . . ? Please tell me that isn't coming from the room I'm on my way to. Please. Please.

It was. I pushed my x-ray machine next to the room door where a team of orderlies were combatting large smears of liquid brown before I decided to stall going inside by instead going to the nurse's station to copy and sign my orders.

I saw a nurse who was choking back vomit from the smell. After exchanging hellos she informed me that the terrible fecal explosion came from MY patient.

Well, this could be a good thing, yes?

"The order is for an abdominal to r/o obstruction. Looks like the obstructions gone! Do you still need the exam?" says a toothy grinning Chad with his fingers crossed

The nurse said "yes". One of my crossed fingers was flipping this nurse off now.

I slowly walked into the room of doom and saw the scene. most of the shit had been cleaned quickly - but not very well. It had to be cleaned from the bed, the floor, the walls, the door, and the patient herself.

The patient - we'll call her "Lois" - was a behemoth. Towering over me and weighing at least 4 of me. Great. The orderlies gladly rushed away while I got her positioned and took the first shot. I had her sitting in a wheelchair while I put the x-ray plate behind her and shot my first picture of her unobstructed GI tract.

It seems that while she was sitting in her wheelchair she was also shitting in her wheelchair because the smell made me start to dry heave and she stood up, lifted her hospital gown, and stuck her hands down the back of her XXXL diaper and started removing barely solid poo.

Orderlies rushed in to prevent a repeat attack. I was just trying to get my plate back without getting crapped on.

Eventually, Lois got tired of swatting orderlies away like King Kong and just shoved them all away. Then she took off her diaper. Took it the hell off and smashed it to the floor with a very heavy sounding splat.

Then she turned around to fight with a nurse who had crept into the room. The nurse was trying to physically move Lois, but she was like a mac truck. Wouldn't budge. Well - she did start to chuckle a little when diarrhea began to ooze from her uncovered sphincter and drizzle down her leg, plopping on the floor.

I gave up. I walked out of there, missing 2/3 of my exam.

It turns out they were able to use my one image to rule out obstruction. Oh, and the fact that she was a hydrant of runs.

This? Is what I think of when I imagine how I NEVER want to run into someone. A towering, mentally disturbed beast with a flowing rectum - flinging my diaper around with my poopy hands.

It would be kind of entertaining if I were the tech though. You know - for the stories afterwards...

You'd better stay regular, Cary.
(How much do you LOVE that I'm standing there, taking pictures of Cary?? Haha. Its like I have no shame!)

My Secret Fear of Spiders

2010-02-22T21:01:00.005-07:00

Yesterday Matt called me - and even though I was at work - I needed to answer so he could distract me from how I almost gave myself a heart attack and/or crapped my pants with 4 hours left before I could punch out and change clothes . . .

Lets meander towards my story, yes?

First of all - I'm a zookeeper at an invertebrate center. I specialize in entomology and arachnology. I teach little kids about spiders and bugs, I show them how to hold tarantulas, I let them touch starfish, etc.

But my favorite things to do at work are my back room chores. Helping newly emerging butterflies, feeding miscellaneous creatures, and cleaning their little homes for them.

The way our cleaning schedule works is on a basic rotation. Monday mornings means you feed millipedes and clean an aquarium of Madagascar hissing cockroaches. Monday at midday you feed tarantula spiderlings. You get the idea . . .

Well, yesterday was the first time ever that my shift fell on something I was subconsciously dreading. Cleaning the display spider cages.

My mind started going through all of the numbers I have stored in the "nerd" section of my brain.

34,000 species of known spiders in the world

4 number of medically important spiders in the world

2 number of medically important spiders in the exhibit I'm about to manhandle. All alone. Locked in a back room with only an audience of tarantulas to rely on for help.

6.5 average number of spider-related deaths in the U.S. each year

100% of those were children, the elderly, or someone with an already compromised immune system (at least as far back as 1986)

53 average number of bee/wasp related deaths each year in comparison

Millions dollars to be made if drug companies could harness the venom of the Brazilian wandering spider (deadliest spider known). Their venom causes elevated levels of nitric oxide in the human body which causes involuntary erections in males that can last for hours.

I'm psyched. I take the four spiders I'm scheduled to clean into the back and open them each one at a time.

Cellar spider: No problem. Check

Jumping spider: Piece of cake. Check

Black Widow: Kind of nervous. I should say that their tanks are 1 gallon. About the size of a shoe box. And they are in there while I have to change their water, clean up a bit with long forceps, and the worst part. Cleaning the glass - inside and out - with my bare hands. In a one gallon enclosure with a black widow.

Check.

Brown Recluse: Holy crap. All my reassuring numbers have left my head and been replaced with the following:

A brown recluse bite will cause a necrotic ulcer that can take months to heal. There has, however, been one case recorded in 1966 where the reaction was not localized - but systemic because the spider punctured a vein. The victim was a man who lived for nine days after the bite.

First - brown recluse venom is hemolytic. It kills blood cells. The blood cells literally burst in your circulatory system, releasing hemoglobin. Hemoglobin is was carries oxygen inside the blood cell, but released into the open is toxic to the kidneys. Hemoglobin in constantly increasing levels will eventually cause renal failure and the lack of working blood cells will cause asphyxia to every part of the body. Skin turns blue and organs shut down one at a time.

Back to me: need to clean the recluse tank. I remind myself that they are non-aggressive animals and I thrust my hand inside. Clean clean. Scrub scrub.

There's an expression of crapping oneself in moments of fear. I was ready to crap myself, people. But I'm totally getting over my fear! This isn't so bad. If I don't bother it - it wont bother me!

Then a renegade fruit fly buzzed into my face while I was concentrating so hard on the recluse.

Crapping myself? We're past this. There is proverbial diarrhea exploding out of my ass.

I couldn't have thrown a more girly fit if I was being attacked in the shower by a deranged, cross-dressing motel owner.

This? Is why we have fly paper in the back room. It not a tragic irony - its to prevent me from peeing myself.

I ended up cleaning them all without incident. At least I got my first time out of the way.

Phew.

Matt's response when I told him about my bravery: What kind of insurance does that place have?

Matt and Chad

2010-02-19T21:36:00.004-07:00

You know - those little chipmunks from Disney?

Have you ever wondered how they came to be such a pair? More to the point - why the more straight laced Chip would put up with the seemingly more immature Dale?

I think that they balance each other out.

Oooooh!! Or like Peter and Sidney from "I Love You, Man"!

(Awesome movie!) There's the career and relationship oriented Peter and his complimentary buddy Sidney - the guy with a puggle and a masturbation station.

They have a lot of common interests and enjoy the other's company - but their personalities are completely opposite.

Such is the case of Matt and myself.

I give you email correspondence from today between Matt and me...

From Chad to Matt. 2/19/10 8:49 am

Hey Bub-

Well, here I am at the Dodge dealership. Since no one in the free world carries after market battery cables or splicing kits large enough for a Dodge Ram- I'm here having the terminal repaired.

The last time I was here was awkward for me- remember?

We were next door at the VW dealer to drop off your car for service after hours- but we didn't have a pen to fill out the drop-off form?

So I came over here to borrow a pen and they couldn't believe how bold I was?

Remember?

More awkward than that.

I'm wandering around inside, waiting for the service department to come get me, when this sleazy car salesman struts up to me (reaching chin level so I got a perfect view of the BAD dye job of his oily hair)...

In mid-beeline to me he breezes past the girl at reception.

"Hold all my calls! They can wait while I help this gentlemen pick out his DREAM"

Uhhhhhh...

He can't be talking about me right??

Crap. He totally is.

After politely telling him to scram (Chad: Get outta here!) I got sad. I totally could have killed time telling him that I need a vehicle to go with my "Tough girls have tough toys" bumper sticker!

Hindsight is 20/20 my friend.

So out comes my cell phone so I can sit in a chair and not be bored INSTEAD of wandering around the sales sharks waiting for one of us to walk away annoyed.

Chaddy

P.S.

How's the job going? Get any mannequins to take home yet? Save one for me

Sent from my iPhone

From Matt to Chad. 2/19/10 8:23 pm

Awesome.

Work is going good. They won't let me take home any broken mannequin parts. My job is to make a negative mold of the original sculpture then to take a mold of that negative to make a positive "master". The master is then highly polished and finished to then make a tool. The tool then makes thousands of units. Right now I am working on a project for Nike. I molded Ronaldo Cristiano from a clay sculpture. Pretty fun. It is a mandatory 48 hour week with as much overtime as possible. If I end up staying there after 2 months, there will be lots of hours.

Talk to you later.

Matt

From Chad to Matt. 2/19/10 10:01 pm

Remember when I wanted to get that kit to make a dildo from my penis so I could mail it to Heather for her birthday! (Should STILL totally do it . . .)

Your job sounds just like that!!!

Fun!

Call me when you get a second to breathe. I'll be feeding spiders. Or making penis molds. Maybe even looking up who Ronaldo Cristiano is . . .

Bis bald!

See what I mean?

P.S. It turns out that Ronaldo is a soccer player from Portugal (or something)

P.S.S. With a six pack that I totally wish I had (I wish in one hand and cram Doritos down my throat with the other)

P.S.S. Oh. And he's 4 years younger than me. (Which means he's pretty much a little prick. I hope Matt gives that mannequin a tremendously small bulge.)

Gone With the Wind vs. Twilight

2010-02-18T15:37:00.005-07:00

Here I am - working diligently on Davey's truck in the snow.

Which means the hood is propped up, but I'm inside watching "Gone With the Wind" with my sister.

I forgot what a good ass movie this is!

This is how romance should still be portrayed. Mind games, pride, clashing personalities, roaming desires, and the occasional prostitute. In a word - attainable and realistic.

I think that people set themselves up for failure when they strive for the "romance" found in movies today - especially for the youngins.

Twilight.

Fucking Twilight is what people want. I just saw the first Twilight recently and still haven't seen the second.

While I enjoyed it more than Matt advises I should admit to - I don't watch it and swoon.

I don't think now that is true love.

Know what I think? I sit and watch and wonder:

"Hey. This guy has been claiming to be 17 since 1918. So he must have been born in 1901 which really makes him 109. What does a 109 year old man have in common with a 16 or 17 year old girl?"

Everyone looks at Edward Cullen and says: Ooooh. What a sexy sexy vampire!

I look at Edward Cullen and think: Ewwww. What a dirty dirty old man.

Well, back to the car fixin'

fiddle dee dee.

Settling

2010-02-15T08:52:00.002-07:00

In this economy....

Right away sir.... the bathroom is this way... can I help load that in your car?.....it's my turn to empty the trash again? Absolutely, I'll wear blaze orange everyday.... Chad and me and a LOT of other people these days are stuck working jobs for far less than their potential.

Where 40 years ago, companies were hiring right out of college, these days you have to claw your way out, grappling to each stepping stone as if is your only hope - and it might just be.

I recently was offered a better job with potential - after 2 interviews months ago, printing resumes, portfolios, touring factories, countless emailing and a little networking. Because of the (maybe temporary) nature of the new job, I couldn't justify leaving my current, lesser, job. I had to have a meeting with the head manager at my current job.

The Jaba-the-Hut-esqe man proceeded to give my both financial advice and general life advice when all I asked for was a temporary schedule change. Thank you for the unsolicited advice you 300-lb douchebag.

This all goes back to the difference between a job and a career. These people have settled. They have decided to make their job their career. That's fine I suppose. In a way I envy these people, they are happy working for $9.00/hr. And we need people to clean our bathrooms, empty garbage, be cashiers and unload trailers full of merchandise etc. etc. Jobs only leave the career-bound restless and hungry for more.

I feel sorry for those who get backed into a corner financially and have no other choice, but there are those out there who can do better. A co-worker of mine has been working this job for 10 years! My restlessness/dissatisfaction has spread to her thinking and now she is looking for something better.

So don't huddle in a corner everyone, keep looking, don't lose your motivation people!

Why Chad Can Never Be a Barista . . . Again

2010-02-14T18:31:00.004-07:00

Okay. Ordinarily I rule out career paths from simple observations I make while observing others. (Remember my AMAZING "Why I can never be a mailman" blog??)

Barista, however - is one that I have some hefty experience with.

I spent nearly half a decade working in coffee shops.

I loved it.

Well . . . I loved the atmosphere and the people I worked with.

The reason I can't ever be a barista again is for the good of mankind.

I'm going to need to break this down chronologically.

I was first hired as a barista when I was 19 at Peaberry Coffee.

I was incredible! Perky, talkative, and sucking down more iced florentines (chocolate milk and iced coffee) than I care to remember. My previous job was at Gunther Toody's Diner so I totally already had the training for dickhead customers. Smile while your serving their food that you sneezed on.

It's a simple gear shift from food to drinks. If you are a dickhead I can still get back at you - so don't.

We used to use Puro Caff to clean our milk pitchers and backflush our bar. A white, tasteless powder that strongly resembles vanilla powder when put in a shaker. It's meant to clean portafilters, steam wands, and bar heads - but it also gives people the wicked shits. Or as MSDS says: "gastro intestinal reaction. Do not induce vomiting if ingested."

I usually closed - but when i had to open I was not happy. (Usually because I had closed the night before)

When someone is hard at work so they can have everything primed and ready for your ass to come in before work or whatever - have some respect and don't be a prick. I had to get the bar primed, fill a pastry case, set out newspapers, clean whatever had to be soaked the previous night, fill 5 urns of drip coffee, count up two registers, do paperwork for the previous day's sales, God knows what else - all by 5 am. The least you could do is not coat the condiment bar in a fine layer of nutmeg and half & half.

ANYWAY - eventually I left my Peaberrys for a new one. A mall Peaberrys!! This was where I got an added benefit! In addition to my normal petty get-backs (like giving awful cheerleaders whole milk when they want skim or giving someone decaf shots when they bitch about how tired THEY are when I've been up since shortly after they went to sleep . . . )

What the hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah - my extended arsenal. In addition to Puro Caff we had a roach problem (thanks to the Wetzel's Pretzels next door)

Did I ever put live cockroaches in people's drinks? You bet your ass I did.

You see, Matt (who ALSO worked with me at Peaberrys) took the passive aggressive route. If someone asked Matt for a cappucino in a snooty way Matt would make it as dry as he could until it felt like an empty cup.

I've never been as good with the passive aggressive stuff.

Enter my roaches. We had a ton of drinks that came with crushed up Heath bar.

In the case of "Dan", the douchy shoe salesman from Dillards - he got a cup of frozen coffee treat, chocolate, caramel, heath bar, and an American cockroach.

Drink up, dick.

Admit it - you've either done the same thing to these assholes who have it coming or you've wanted to. Go ahead. Seriously consider it. . .

If, after really thinking it over, you haven't ever wanted to do this and you think its absolutely wrong no matter what - that probably means its because you're one of those asshats and you've probably consumed someone's bodily fluids without your knowledge.

And maybe a bug.

Matt's Crazy Theory #1

2010-02-12T08:33:00.002-07:00

I grew up watching the Indiana Jones movies, particulary the Temple of Doom. For those of you who may not recall, the movie takes Indy on an adventure through the orient, on a plane which is then abandoned mid-flight to a remote village in India. The villagers have these three egg-shaped stones that were stolen by the creepy guy in the Temple of Doom who is busy leading cultish chants, force feeding the hypnotized victims blood-like hallucinogenic juices and ripping out their hart through their ribcage, and dipping the victims down into a firey pit of fire.

I was more thinking back to the 'McGuffin' of the movie the three glowing rocks. These rocks, when combined, would start to heat up and glow white hot until they caused a fire. You may recall at the end of the movie Indy is making his getaway with the 3 stones across the rope bridge, when the stones catch fire! It was only when the stones were in close proximity.

This leads to my theory. Being as it is perpetually winter here in Colorado, I thought about designing a suit with a number of long, tube-shaped compartments. Each of these large compartments would hold 1 wiener dog. 1 person may need 4 or 5 total wiener dogs inserted into these compartments all over their body to create enough warmth to survive the Colorado winter (assuming you don't want to contract Ricketts by staying inside for 8 months out of the year). This design concept led me to wonder that if like in the Temple of Doom, you got too many wiener dogs together and a person or wearer of the suit, may spontaneously combust, contracting 2nd and 3rd degree burns to the wearer of the suit (the wiener dogs will be fine). You then would fall off a rope bridge to hungry crocodiles below. Hmm, something to think about...

Lapsing Into a Food Coma

2010-02-11T00:57:00.003-07:00

Last Saturday I woke up to a text message from Natalie suggesting lunch at Parisi, my absolute favorite Italian place. I'm in.

I showered and went to my sister's to do laundry (for free) and waited in anticipation for Zahra to meet me.

Zahra and I met Natalie and Josh at Parisi at noon.

I ordered a mammoth plate of creamy pesto gnocchi. Half way through my plate I got the inkling of being full. So I pushed my plate back because I TOTALLY need a canoli and I have to leave room.

But that gnocchi is so good! One more bite - just to have the taste in my mouth again.

Maybe one more.

One more.

Crap. I ate all that gnocchi. Now I'm full!

Natalie: Want to get some dessert?

Chad: Absolutely, I do! (Hey, I don't want to disappoint her!)

Zahra, Natalie, and I walk up to the grocery end and eye the canolis, the tirimisu, the macaroons, and Natalie remembers that she needs to pick up a balsamic glaze. While she's waiting I make my way around the corner to find Zahra picking out gelato.

She's sampling and I don't want to be seen as some kind of frozen treat lurker - I'll sample too!

Chad: Could I try the bittersweet chocolate? And maybe the sea salt caramel?

I taste them.

Chad: Could I get a scoop of each?

I sneak back over to Natalie.

Natalie: I thought you were getting a canoli.

Chad: I am! (Like I said - just trying not to disappoint Natalie) I'll take a canoli please.

Zahra: (Having just followed me around the corner) You're getting two desserts after you ate all that gnocchi?!?!

My eyes darted from Zahra to Natalie and finally to the cashier, who was eyeing my slightly showing food baby.

Chad: Oh Zahra! Of course not! I'm only thinking of Josh here! He's all alone at the table. He NEEDS some dessert.

I ran back to the table and shoved canoli and gelato in my mouth before anyone could question which one was for Josh.

Zahra had gelato. Natalie and Josh split a canoli. I had a heaping pile of shame.

Thank GOD I didn't have to feel it for long because I felt the food coma that only a stomach stretched to its limits with Italian can bring coming on.

Off to do a few wedding errands.

Then off to Old Chicago for an afternoon cocktail. It's mainly for Josh, who has been such a good sport during wedding planning. I'm probably going to sip an iced tea. Maybe one beer

Waitress: Can I get you guys someth---

Chad: I'll have a Sunshine Wheat!

Just trying to drown my food baby here, people.

20 minutes later . . .

Waitress: Is everyone doing oka---

Chad: I'll have another Sunshine please. And some pepperoni rolls.

Natalie: Are you kidding me?

Chad: What? They're for everyone!

The plate of pepperoni rolls arrived. It was like I was bobbing for apples. Except instead of water there were pepperoni rolls. And there were no apples.

The rest of my day was spent in the most severe food coma I have experienced since Matt and I ate our way through Oktoberfest in Breckenridge.

Not a bad day.

Matt and Chad Fight Hate in Their Own Ways

2010-02-10T18:58:00.006-07:00

Today I got to see the results of a photo campaign that I went to with Chelsea and Zahra. I don't remember anything very eventful happening. Except the guy painting "NO H8" on my face kept calling me "baby" and telling me how cute I was - and while I was actually standing in front of those bright lights, following instructions to look this way, tilt that way, and tugging down my Hugo Boss v-neck so you could get a good gander at the tooth around my neck. . . uhhh. I forgot what I was taking about . . .

oh yeah. (sometimes I need a trail of breadcrumbs to get back to my original point)

While I'm standing there under the lights and being blinded by flashes my pocket was vibrating like mad.

When I walked away from my white background and into reality I pulled the duct tape from my 5 day beard growth (ouchy) and checked my phone.

While I'm campaigning against hate, Matt is solving it on his own.

Maybe people would like Haiti more if it were called Likey

That's what my phone was vibrating at me.

Oh, Matt. This is why you're my bestie. Text messages like this.

Now Kitchen, Point Out On This Doll Where the Bad Pastries Touched You

2010-02-09T22:24:00.012-07:00

I'm somewhat domestically challenged.

It's not that I don't know how to cook (I don't) - its that I hate the task of grocery shopping. If I'm going to go shopping it's NOT going to be for produce or frozen meats. Grocery shopping = painful for me. So my kitchen is pretty barren.

Shall we begin my photo tour? Yes.

I used to keep shoes in my oven at my last place - but after someone came over and decided to make me dinner and almost ruined them I have decided I'd rather risk my Organic Chemistry textbook than my beloved Ferragamos.

Lets pull back a smidge and get a lookie at my kitchen. It's immaculate. Not because I clean much. Honestly, I forget its there half the time.

Wanna see the contents of my refrigerator? Okie!

Maybe you're assuming I keep my food in dry good form? You're right!!!

See there! That's a box of oatmeal in that cabinet! Woooooooo!!!!

Wanna see the epitome of how pathetic my kitchen is? My silverware drawer. It would be empty except the day I moved in Matt got me top ramen. So I took a fork from my sisters house. I put a fork in my pocket because I knew that while I have almost 100 pair of shoes I have no eating utensils.

I have no issue with eating at home - I just never have anything in my house to eat. Until tonight.

Karen and Josh. The loves of my life - sent me home with enough pastries to feed a truckload of teamsters for a week. My poor kitchen has had its cherry busted. If it could it would probably take a rape shower.

My kitchen is most likely very confused with this new development. Probably doesn't know what to make of it. Like when a baby boy first discovers his penis.

Movie Review - World's Greatest Dad

2010-02-09T08:55:00.003-07:00

I just saw this movie the other night - without any warning. This Sundance festival movie was written and directed by nervous/spastic comedian Bobcat Goldthwait. If that's not 2 red flags right there...

This movie stars Robin Williams (Lance Clayton) as a failed writer-turned-English-teacher at the local high school. His son, Kyle, a student at the school is unruly, rude, perverted and hate-able loser. The opening scene, Lance catches his son auto-erotic asphyxiating/masturbating to internet porn. The plot thickens when Kyle takes it too far one night when Williams is out on a date with the art teacher. Kyle accidentally hangs himself in his bedroom.

Being the World's Greatest Dad, Lance makes the auto-erotic activity look like a cliche suicide, writing a deep, descriptive note about why he had to leave this world. Until only now was Lance a failed writer. The note gets published in the school paper, Lance's true writing talent is not recognized and shenanigans ensue.

Best Line: "If you don't act right at dinner, I'll stab you in the face" - Lance Clayton

I give this movie 2 out of 5 stars for uncomfortable/creepy scenes and because it was not as comedic as I had hoped.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5PkGTjZccNE (sorry embedding the trailer was disabled)

Unisom Haze

2010-02-06T22:17:00.004-07:00

My new favorite thing in the world is over the counter sleeping pills.

I've always been something of an insomniac and a night owl. My mind just wont shut off at night.

Several weeks ago I was hit with the flu. (Plague.)

I hit the point where I could no longer rely on vitamins and holistic measures and I had to drag myself to the grocery store (leaving a trail of mucous behind me) for some cold medicine.

I've also always had an issue with cold medicine. It makes me strung out. I'm talking crawling out of my skin, meth addict crazy. So, in tandem with my cold medicine, I purchased some Unisom. (Benadryl)

I found that not only do I sleep, but I'm not as big of a douche the next day!

So what if I need to be jolted out of bed - I've gotten more shut eye in the past week than I did in 2009.

I am mildly concerned about non-physical side affects...

Like my level of trashiness.

This is me showing Matt what I learned from The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe. I'm using my bug squad sheriff's badge from the Butterfly Pavilion to pierce my Unisom capsule. It works faster that way! Oh Marilyn Monroe - should I be taking drug use advice from you? Yes. Yes, I should. It's Unisom - not nembutol.

My bigger concern: while I'm waiting to be knocked out my brain goes through an amusing little jog through mental neighborhoods I normally wouldn't venture.

Examples of what Chad does in the hour between taking sleeping pill and actually sleeping:

1. Alienate myself from neighbors by practicing my German. My voice tends to carry. It also tends to be slightly high pitched and nasal. I'm pretty sure that my neighbors think I'm watching "Beautician and the Beast" in German. God. Is that Fran Drescher? Why does she keep saying "Der frau isst einen apfel"?

2. Internet shopping. D0 I need to bid on a copy of "The Ugly Dachshund" on DVD from eBay? It's $2! Can I afford NOT to?!?! I need to start hiding my wallet.

3. Out of the ordinary grooming. Why, hello shaved chest!

I need to start hiding my razor in the same place as my wallet.

Jerkin' Around in the Antique Mall

2010-02-02T19:56:00.009-07:00

Today Matty and I went to grab some sushi for lunch and decided to stop by the Brass Armadillo Antique Mall afterwards to see if I could find anything hilarious to give Natalie and Josh for their wedding. We ended up "stopping by" for over 4 hours . . .

I have never seen so much Nazi paraphernalia or blatantly racist tshatshkes in one building. (I'm totally going back to buy Matt a "Mammie" cookie jar - is that wrong of me?)

There are some legitimately awesome things there! We actually got some cool stuff - a straight razor, some toy cars, old VW ads that I can frame and hang on my painfully white walls!

But my favorite part of the day was just joking around the mammoth antique mall with Matty.

Here's Matt making me laugh!

(Matt and I are both Team Lucy)

Here's Matt creeping me out . . .

(He called it FDR's office chair)

Then it was on to business. Wedding presents for Natalie!

(Well . . . at least something to wrap up and give her and watch her face when she opens it)

Here are a few highlights

Mrs. Butterworth lamp? I'd probably end up just keeping it for myself...

Question: What is scarier than this clown?

Answer: This clown.

This is Matty standing next to a very large bust of Beethoven. (Matt is the one on the left)

Well, we've found Natalie's wedding gift. This strange, crotch-level granny statue. I only hope she doesn't already have one.

Chad's Guide to The Bible

2010-02-01T23:23:00.003-07:00

The Bible.

The best selling book of all time is a hefty read.

This is all what I've come to understand, but may not be gospel (hehe) I'll have to have Matty confirm this, seeing as how he is my Christian authority. . .

The bible is split into two testaments. The first testament was written as a guide to Judaism. Jewish folk call it the Tanakh. This makes sense because they only have the one testament, so why call it "Old"? Nobody would refer to World War I as World War I if there was no World War II, would they?

The Tanakh has three parts. The first, The Torah is totally the best one. It's made up of the five books of Moses. The first, Genesis is the story of Creation. The 7 days to create everything, Adam and Eve, and the first appearance of Lucifer. Pre-Devil Lucifer! (Right, Matt?) The second book is Exodus - or as I know it - the inspiration for "Prince of Egypt"! Moses parting the Red Sea, the Ten Plagues of Egypt, the burning bush. It's a good read!

The rest of the new testament is so boring. I'm sure there are messages imbedded in the stories, but it's hard to get anything through two drooping eyelids and a glazed stare.

Christians took the Tanakh and use it as their Old Testament. A prequel of sorts. In addition, Catholics and Eastern Orthodox Christian religions threw in some more books that were part of the Jewish society, but not the Tanakh. I think they were found in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Chad's Guide to the Old Testament:

It is my understanding that the Tanakh was written as a guide to get people to straighten the hell up and fly right because until then they had been living like a pack of wild baboons. It was not written as an account of history. It is filled with stories with morals, not a textbook. There's even a massive support in both Christian and Jewish faiths that the book was inspired by God, but written by man - who is fallible and gets shit wrong.

The New Testament . . .

Never ones to be outdone, Christians wrote a new book. They have a new, better character, you're gonna love him!! Jesus Christ. Christ isn't his last name, but a title that means King of the Jews. He's like an ancient Barbra Streisand.

This book has its moments, but is a very random read. Sometimes you find yourself thinking Why the hell is this in here? Were they trying to hit a page quota? It starts of with the story of Jesus. Then another story of Jesus, then another, then another . . .

I'm pretty sure that I'm going to hell because I'm about to explain what I understand the New Testament to be using Star Wars.

Lets say that Jesus is Luke Skywalker. The New Testament starts off telling Luke Skywalker's story from Han Solo's point of view. Then from Princess Leia's. Then from R2D2's.

We get it. The man was selfless. Lets move on.

The next part is a mess of letters from Chewbacca to little Luke Skywalker(ian?) churches all over the universe.

There's songs. There's prayers. There's shit you skip over because it is just redundant.

The book of Revelation. As it turns out, we're all fucked. Sometime in the future there's going to be a holy shit storm and you can kiss your ass goodbye. So be good that way you can get into heaven!

Chad's Guide to the New Testament

If I can compare it to the Old Testament I would say that they are completely different in most ways. While the OT is really interesting in some parts and really boring in others, the NT is pretty much just ok the whole way through.

My favorite difference between the two? I guess that having a son really calmed God down because before before that he (or she) was out of control. Demanding sacrifices, torturing people, destroying cities, all kinds of nasty shit! The new God is much more chill.

Chad's Guide to Western Organized Religion

I hold strong to the idea that the Bible is a book of stories written as a vehicle to deliver morals before 70s sitcoms. The morals are all good ones. It's the golden rule, people. The Bible is teaching you the golden fucking rule. It is NOT telling you that God created shit from start to finish in 6 days. If that were true than we could all gather around "The Flintstones" as if it were a documentary. It could be the science that my mind tends to be supported by, but that's what I think.

Organized religion, especially Christians is violently skewed. The intention behind organized religion is for like-minded worshippers to be able to congregate. It has become a reason to constantly judge others for being wrong.

Matt and my sister, Chelsea are my favorite Christians because they don't do this. They don't preach, they don't judge, and they don't attend church barbecues. They realize that religion is for faith. Faith being the operative word. You believe something because you believe it. Not because somebody told you to.

I guess my moral would be that faith is a fantastic thing to have and is going to be different for every person. Religion is an organization with strict rules and regulations and meeting times. The Bible? It's a good book to read at least once, like The Divine Comedy or Paradise Lost. It has good messages that anyone, no matter their belief system can value. But don't treat the Bible as gospel.

Also - don't ever invite me to a church barbecue. I may bite you.

Or slap you until you bleed.

Nazis Are Still Bad Guys . . . Right???

2010-01-31T21:54:00.007-07:00

While my friend, Karen is watching Channel 7 News and laughing at journalists for making up words like "courageousness" I was two channels away having the proverbial rug pulled out from under me. I had come to find out that Nazis are doing good just North of metro Denver.

Nazis.

It seems that the American Nazi Party wants to make the world a better place and they're starting off by cleaning up the side of the road. Highway 85 - which connects Denver to Brighton, our sticks neighbors to the North - has been, and will continue to be, cleaned and maintained by the world's most famous advocates for eugenics.

I feel cheated. Robbed.

Every day when I wake up I feel assured that no matter what unforeseen things are in store there are a few constants in the world. One of them is that Nazis aren't picking up roadside trash without shackles and orange suits.

I'm not just disoriented with this news, I'm a little sad. I find comfort in the black and white and Nazis as the ultimate villain was very black and white. No gray areas here! The Nazi regime is responsible for an estimated 9-11 million merciless deaths since their first appearance. Furthermore, they took the idea of eugenics to form the idea of a plausible "super race" of humans. That's all. Nazis = bad.

No gray area. No "Nazi's are pretty bad . . . but they also do some good . . ."

I like my Nazis crazy. I like them with thick german accents (virtually slaughtering the letter "R" and not even grasping "W"). I like my Nazis with their SS garb and foaming at the mouth. That? gives me someone I can whole-heartedly hate with no question.

These "new Nazis"? They must be up to something. Their official statement to 9 News was

"The goal was to get together as a group of like-minded individuals, enjoy each other's company and camaraderie for the day, enjoy some warmth and sunshine and we got lucky in that respect, and clean up some things. This just kind of took off from there. I don't know why boy scouts don't get this kind of notoriety, I mean, they're an awesome group."

What. The. Fuck.

What's next? Is the KKK going to release a statement saying that they are no longer burning crosses, but "lower case t"s for tolerance?

Whores, Cops, and Sumo Wrestlers

2010-01-29T22:29:00.002-07:00

My friend Zahra came over for pizza tonight.

Well, that's what I'm hoping the employees and patrons of Benny Blanco's Pizza infer.

Actually she just stopped by my apartment while she was waiting to meet some out-of-towners for dinner after they arrived at DIA. We (I) decided to walk down the block for pizza. Here is where the most illicit block long walk of my life took place. I blame the moon.

I walked out of my building to meet Zahra, who had just pulled up and parked across the street. While I stood on the sidewalk and waited for her to slooooowly climb out of her car (I think she just had bilateral hip replacements, but I thought it would be rude to ask . . . ) this girl walked by me on the sidewalk. There wasn't anything noteworthy about her except she kind of reminded me of that British bitch from "The Devil Wears Prada". You know - that red-head who talks like she's chewing her face and you just want you take off your shoe and start hitting her in the face with it? No! Bad British girl!

Actually, I really like her. I understand that she's supposed to be a villain - but she's living out my fantasy of being nasty-for-no-reason to that creepy Anne Hathaway. . .

What the hell was I talking about?

Oh. Right. The girl on the sidewalk.

Like I said, nothing notable about her except, well . . . you know. Oh, yeah. And as she passed me she asked me very loudly "Would you pay me to fuck me?"

Zahra is still getting out of her car at this point so I just turn and roll my eyes.

This is one of those times where I have SO MANY snide remarks to spout back at her, but they all cause a traffic jam in my head. Instead of trying to loosen up the bottleneck of snarky retorts (which I'm really good at) I just give off the nastiest look I can muster. (which I'm REALLY good at) (I've developed a range of facial expressions that are unrivaled by anyone I know.)

As Hooker McNasty trawls down the street a cop pulls up next to Zahra (finally out of her car and joined me across the street) and myself. Does he inquire as to whether anyone here had been propositioned by a whore? No. In fact, he was very pleasant and just wanted to know if we had seen anyone running past us. Oh. And he was wearing handcuffs. Um, no. No, we haven't.

So the cop had him in handcuffs and then . . . blacked out? How did he get away with such a head start that the cop needed his cruiser? I dunno. I'm still pondering the hooker. (I never get hassled by hookers! I'm not some fat and/or old creeper. Right? If anything I, myself should be a hooker.)

Anyway - on our way to Benny Blanco's . . .

After some completely random guy gave me a dollar because, as he put it When you got somethin' you give somethin' (Oh yeah? Tell that to the streetwalker down the street) we finally arrived in the little pizza take out spot. And we were just. in. time. for Zahra to be hit on by what I believe to be a real live thalidomide baby all grown up. Never the one to cock-block I didn't want to ruin his game. Besides - I had pizza to order.

Because Zahra was on her way to dinner I was the only one eating. But since no one else knew that I decided to take advantage of my situation. I ordered 4 pieces of pizza because clearly there's two of us. I also got two drinks. This is must when you are convincing someone that all the food you just ordered is for more than one person.

Sometimes when I go too long without eating and I get fast food I also order 2 drinks. I may also elaborate (like any truly bad liar would) to the the fast food employee.

Fast Food Worker: "Okay, so you want 37 hamburgers? That'll be $4.50."

Me: "Thanks! Don't forget about my two drinks."

Fast Food Worker: "Oh, right. That'll be $7.00"

Me: "Great. It would have been awful to not get both drinks because clearly I'm not the only one eating"

Fast Food Worker: "uhhhh . . . "

Me: "I mean - what kind of person would order two drinks for himself? Not me! (nervous laughter)"

Then I usually run away.

The worst part about my block long adventure for pizza? When we got back to my apartment I started to wolf down my pizza and casually mentioned to Zahra that I hadn't eaten today. Zahra's response was You know - that's what sumo wrestlers do to slow down their metabolism and stay fat.

Zahra's kind of a bitch.

Now I can't even enjoy my pizza.

I still ate it though.

After all I suffered through it only felt right.

Crisis Averted

2010-01-29T00:17:00.002-07:00

My building was built in 1928.

In 1928 people had style.

Hardwood floors. Solid doors. Cast iron radiators and bathtubs.

What people in 1928 apparently didn't have are A) More than two possessions that need to be plugged in and B) shit.

I've filled 4 closets already. I've crammed most of my DVDs into those book things. My next major hurdle? Books. I'm like the Library of Congress.

Not just books either - magazines, newspaper articles, notebooks crammed FULL with notes that I don't even remember making. (I took Ancient Art History?)(I couldn't even tell you who Pliny was - but I wrote a 25 page paper titled "Plato, Pliny, and Mimesis". Hmmmm.)

I need bookcases and shelves and I need them fast before a nosy neighbor turns me in and I find myself on the next episode of Hoarders.

Shelves? Check.

Brackets? Check.

Screws and anchors? Check and check.

Drill? . . . crap.

So I schlepped across town to retrieve my drill from my garage that I have retained because I also have a lot of tools and car parts. (I'm slowly visualizing myself on Hoarders right now trying in vain to convince everyone that I'm not one of those people.)

All the way back to my apartment.

Drill? Check!

Drill battery is dead. Muther F - - - - -! I didn't bring another battery or even the charger. Good thing I'm resourceful! I hold the drill where I want it and instead of pressing the trigger I turn the chuck manually. Just like my ancestors did! I told you - resourceful! (Okay, a bit lazy - but mostly resourceful)

My brackets aren't centered exactly where they should be, but there's a brick wall that I'm not going to deal with - so it's good enough.

Now - you may already know that I just finished reading a book about terrible inventions. One of the later chapters was about lead additives. As I'm stirring up all of this plaster and 80 years worth of paint I remember the "lead paint disclosure" I had to sign along with my lease. Crap. What's that funny taste in my mouth? Oh, yeah. Quiznos. But there's something else . . . is that the taste of a slow forming mental cloudiness?

Quick! Is there any way that lead poisoning can ruin my weekend? What are the symptoms? Hyperactivity, clouded judgement, and trouble focusing? Well I'm already there! Woo hoo. Take that lead! I'm immune to you! I could probably rip a chunk of this wall off right now and eat it like hand fruit and no one would ever notice.

AND! Now I have some shelves.

Crisis averted.

Movie Review - The Invention of Lying

2010-01-28T10:16:00.003-07:00

I waited for this movie to come out to video - and now I'm wondering why. The Invention of Lying starring Ricky Gervais and Jennifer Garner is an interesting tale which involves a magical present-day land where nobody has ever lied or can lie. They say exactly what's on their mind. For instance: when Mark (Gervais) shows up for a date with Anna (Garner) she can't help but make him aware that she is not attracted to him whatsoever, stating that he is a bit short and fat. Mark is told ahead of time by his boss that he will be getting fired.

Five minutes into the movie you will be thinking to yourself that you love this movie.

It truly would be hilarious if everyone told the truth and always said what was on their mind. Imagine your next family holiday dinner. You may remark on how bland the food is, or how your parents have aged horribly and raised you all wrong, or how your sibling's life choices are a joke to you.

Good thing this only exists in the movies.

4 out of 5 stars on the Matt scale.

What's Worse: Chemical Warfare or Hoop Skirts?

2010-01-26T23:39:00.000-07:00

I'm currently reading History's Worst Inventions. It catalogues inventions throughout history that are bad for a number of reasons. The invention didn't work in practice, killed its inventor, was a commercial failure, unforeseen consequences, was used for evil deeds, or was a success born of failure.

Reading this book while I'm under the weather will be catalogued in its follow up, Chad's Worst Ideas.

I've been fighting a bug for about three weeks now. Started off as a head cold. Relapsed as a chest cold. Now tonight I'm wondering if my sudden fever could be the sign that I've actually been fighting a mild flu (plague?)

Inventions? What could be so bad about inventions?

Well, if you'll settle down I'll tell you.

It's not all gunpowder and hilarious flying machines. I would say that a majority of the topics that made the list should NOT be read while you're feeling under the weather.

Here I will catalogue of what is making my head spin and stomach turn from the book that catalogues the strange shit people have brought into my little world. You'll see . . .

It all started with Chapter 2 . . .

Chapter 2: Asbestos. It started off as a funny read about Charlemagne's asbestos tablecloth that he would throw on the fire to clean after dinner to delight his guests. (I just fill mine up with wine that someone left at my house) It ended up telling of the damage asbestos has done post industrial revolution. Particularly to lungs and mesothelial linings in your body's chest, abdominal, and uhhhh . . . testicular areas. There's scarring, shortness of breath, mucous secretions. Keep in mind I'm reading this while coughing up lung butter and wiping my nose on my sleeve (like the gentleman I am). I'm now convinced I have asbestosis or maybe mesothelioma.

Chapter 5: Smoking. It used to be called "drinking smoke". Same old stuff about the lungs but with the addition of hypertension and heart disease. Now I'm recalling my days as a smoker and making mental note that even on my most stressful of days I'd rather not spend my life choking up what looks like creamed corn from my throat hole. I'll just drink away stress! teehee

Chapter 7: Arsenic. True, it's an element and not an invention - but in 1250 European alchemist Albertus Magnus isolated the compound arsenic trioxide. Odorless, tasteless, and a murderer's favorite because the symptoms were identical to food poisoning. Ready for the symptoms of arsenic poisoning? I wasn't. Stomach pains, excessive saliva, dehydration, hoarseness and difficulty of speech, excoriation of the anus (just adding insult to injury now people), burning pains in the urinary organs, convulsions and cramps, clammy sweats, pallor of the hands and feet, and delirium. Because I have half of these signs - I'm now pretty sure that I may have arsenic poisoning in addition to mesothelioma.

Chapter 9: Chemical Warfare. Leonardo DaVinci resurrected this idea that had been dead for a millenia before him, the prick. He proposed using projectiles made of chalk, arsenic, and verdigris - catapulting this big mass of shit over enemies - and letting them die of asphyxiation. Is this the same adorable man that I saw in "Ever After"??? World War I was chemical warfare's time to shine. Chlorine gas and phosgene gas were used at first to attack enemy soldier's lungs. (MORE lung stuff! I remind you people that I'm already on my death bed. How much more can I take?!) Soon, with the implement of gas masks the two popular means of immobilization were rendered useless. Enter mustard gas. Ahhh. No lung stuff. This shit doesn't need to be inhaled. If it touches your skin, hair, or clothes you will break out in puss filled sores as soon as 6 hours after exposure. If more than half of your body is affected you're probably dead. Oh - it lingers in the air for days too. I love me some mustard, but puss inducing gas? Not as much . . .

Chapter 14: Biological Warfare. Chemical warfare's evil twin. In the middle ages, before anything of bacteria and viruses was known, people would catapult diseased corpses over castle walls and moats. It could be in hopes that the "bad air" that killed the person (or livestock) would afflict the enemy or that they just ran out of conventional forms of ammunition. Europeans definitely knew what they were doing when they "donated" small pox infected blankets to the hostile Delaware tribe and killed them off. Other biological warfare used over time? Typhus, measles, whooping cough, anthrax, tularemia, brucellosis, and botulism toxin. I think I would've catapulted midgets. I may have lost a lot of wars, but at least I'd be laughing all the way. Flying midgets = gleeful giggles. Maybe both sides would have forgotten their differences. "Hahahahaha!! What were we even fighting about?!?!"

Chapter 18: The Crinoline. This one snuck up on me. It took a diminished-lung-capacity Chad by complete surprise to find that victorian undergarments could spike my fever. (Not in the hot way.) The crinoline, originally a fabric made of linen and horsehair, was what came to give victorian skirts their girth. It was accompanied by whalebone corsets and padded bustles to give you that high ass (Do they still make those? I could be in the market for that last one!) They eventually evolved into a metal cage that the skirt could fit around - but originally the crinoline was made of crinoline fabric that was made into petticoats. It would take at least six petticoats to achieve desired volume. Then you had the ankle length bloomers under that. Six layers of horsehair? In the summer? Forget the shear weight of that for a moment. Imagine the heat! Holy. Shit. On top of that these women would have their corsets pulled and tied to give them an 18 inch waist - and diminished lung capacity. Victorian women were known for fainting at the drop of a hat and now I know why. What I don't understand is why they aren't also known for being the biggest swarm of foul mouthed bitches the world has ever seen. If I had to go through this nonsense I would last about seven minutes before I started cursing, ripping off articles of clothing, and throwing the heavier pieces at people. I would be the victorian Courtney Love.

Well, I'm all showered and ready for chapter 22 - high explosives. It turns out that the first high explosive was discovered by accident when German chemist Christian Schönbein was experimenting with nitric and sulfuric acids on his kitchen table. He accidentally spilled and grabbed his wife's cotton apron to wipe the table before hanging over the stove to dry. The nitric acid/cellulose combo caused a spontaneous explosion. The book doesn't say what his wife said about his ruining her apron. I'm hoping she was the German Courtney Love and threw her shoes at Herr Schönbein.

Hey, it would take my mind off my black plague riddled body.

Anybody recommend any good books??

Somedays . . .

2010-01-24T22:45:00.008-07:00

When I woke up this morning I knew I was going to have a completely unmotivated day. How exactly does one go through a day doing nothing without anyone looking at you and thinking "Pfft. Lazy."?

Well . . . here's how:

6:45am: Wake up and stare around my bedroom for about ten minutes.

6:55am: Read. History's Worst Inventions and the People Who Made Them. Right now I'm on landmines.

7:30am: Make executive decision not to shave (I can go weeks before anyone notices - so what's the point?) Move directly on to brushing my teeth.

7:34am: Decide I need a soundtrack for my shower. Spend next two minutes hitting the next button on my iPod's random play until I find something just right for lathering.

8:30am: Leave for work at the Butterfly Pavilion.

8:42am: hit gridlock traffic on I-25. When there's a traffic jam it gives neighboring cars ample opportunity to catch me singing Miley Cyrus in my car. I still do it though. Damn.

9:25am: Text message Butterfly Pavilion to say I'm going to be late for my shift . . . that started twenty-five minutes before . . .

10:00am: Executive decision. I'm already late. I may as well get a delicious iced mocha.

10:12am: Walk into Starbucks. The long line of church going folk gives me enough time to work myself into sweaty panic when I see Josh is the barista. Josh judges girlie drinks. I'm considering putting a kibosh on the mocha and ordering a shot of whisky and an open can of beans. I will then eat said beans while scratching myself and spitting on the floor.

10:13am: Order mocha out of habit. Crap.

10:15am: Josh gives me my drink and tells me its not a girlie drink (read: it's TOTALLY a girlie drink)

10:27am: Strut into Butterfly Pavilion like I'm not an hour and a half late. You just can't control traffic jams, people.

11:00am: My supervisor, Kris, asks me if I'd be available to mentor a new girl, Alicia next week. Because I? Am amazing. Not unmotivated, not late, and certainly not sipping my iced mocha while I'm telling everyone how I was stuck in traffic all morning yet somehow was still able to obtain caffeine. (Alicia - just don't do what I do. You need a certain panache to get away with the crap I get away with. It also helps if you can cry on command.)

12:00pm: Sit at Tide Pool, our exhibit for aquatic invertebrates, for an hour. May or may not have fallen asleep.

1:00pm: Gossip with Khanh about how absolutely creepy Patrick, the new janitor is. This takes about 20 minutes. The guy is creepy.

1:21pm: Off to lunch. Khanh tells me while I'm at lunch to find her a key lime pie. Haha.

1:30pm: Whole Foods. Delicious turkey wrap. No Naked juice for me. I refuse to pay four bucks for juice.

1:36pm: Wendy's. Delicious Iced tea.

1:45pm: Whole Foods again. TOTALLY getting Khanh a key lime tart. I'm just awesome like that. I also pay four bucks for a Naked juice (What? They're good!)

2:00pm: Re-strut into Butterfly Pavilion with enormous iced tea, Naked juice, and Key Lime tart in tow.

2:10pm: Take Sunshine, our tortoise for a walk through conservatory. Zone out for next 30 minutes.

2:45pm: Wander through conservatory with Khanh. We're trying to decide the perfect place to hang a rotting orange for the butterflies to suck on. That tree? No. That tree? No.

3:25pm: Leave conservatory before Khanh makes me do a "Butterfly Encounter" for the visitors. I decide my time will be better spent in the gift shop talking, once again, about the creepy new janitor, Patrick.

3:35pm: We decide that we're going to always refer to each other as "Heather" whenever Patrick is around to see if he's confused.

3:37pm: Patrick is sweeping near Kim. I run up to Kim and squeal "Hi Heather!". I run away giggling.

3:38pm Kim comes over to all of us and tells us how Patrick said "Did he just call you Heather? I thought your name was Kim." Kim stared blankly at him.

3:40pm: There is now 6 of us huddled together in the gift shop discussing how someone walked into the family bathroom to discover Patrick inside with his pants off. Creepy janitor.

3:50pm: There is an event in our ballroom. A funeral . . . or wedding . . . something. I'm not sure. I decided my time was better spent giving Sunshine, the tortoise a bath.

3:53pm: Bathe Sunshine then make her a delicious cobb salad. Spend next 20 minutes staring at wall of tarantulas. Literally just staring at a wall of tarantulas. 20 minutes. And I couldn't be more content.

4:20pm: Find wounded Atlas moth. Cuddle it like a baby for 15 minutes then place it on a tree. The perfect tree. I know because it took Khanh and I a while before we placed our orange there almost two hours ago. The Atlas moth doesn't seem impressed by our orange. Smug little prick.

4:40pm: Feed Crustaceans and horseshoe crabs. Talk to them in baby talk using words like "num-nums"

4:45pm: Instead of answering questions from visitors I get involved in much more scientific conversation with Khanh and John. Who, out of the three of us, would provide the most enticing poo for the dung beetles. I let them argue, knowing secretly that it's mine. (Naked juice people. Naked juice.)

5:00pm: Go home. Check Josh's blog to make sure there isn't a new post that says anything about girlie drinks. (There wasn't. Phew! Just more haiku. Love them.)

9:45pm: Decide to take a break from doing nothing and walk the two blocks to Whole Foods for dinner.

9:54pm: Walk right past Whole Foods and directly into 7 eleven. Whole foods three times in one day? That's insane. (Actually, that's just how I rationalized my decision to have pizza combos and Reese's dark chocolate peanut butter cups for dinner.)

10:00pm: decide to document my day. From now on when someone asks me what I've been up to and I say nothing - here's the proof.

Cheers!!