A ray of green in a lab overwhelmed by grey

May 28, 2009 By Jessica

By yesterday I reached my threshold for caca del toro (bullshit) at the lab, stopped at Taco Bell for dinner, and then knocked out while watching CSI on Spike.  I finished the Nacho Supreme, Beef and Potato Burrito, and a Cheesy Gordita Crunch, then got cold enough to curl up in the blanket lying on the couch.  Perhaps out of a fat induced coma, the next few hours were spent coming in and out of consciousness until heading up to my room to call it a night.  Taco Bell probably played a part in my drowsiness, but all the stress from the lab and pressure to finish graduate school essays probably deserve the real credit for tapping out so early.

The same thing happened to another co-worker last night.  She was out like a light and refused to wake up even after her fiancee begged her to take a shower before officially going to bed.  Her answer to his pleas was to continue sleeping fully dressed.  I can definitely relate.  It could be that we spent the entire day trying to coordinate 18 plates for nine PCR machines between the two of us, make enough gels for our plates, and then proceed to check those 18 plates on those gels.  Feel free to throw in a rude PCR machine nazi that feels the need to remind anyone even looking at a machine that she is signed up for it until after 2 pm, along with finding an overdraft fee hanging out in my checking account, and you get a very, very crabby Jessica.

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Filed Under: People, Personal, Writing Tagged With: , , ,

plop with green tea essence

May 25, 2009 By Jessica

For those of you not familiar with the acronym “T.M.I”, it stands for “too much information”.  People usually bust this abbreviation out after hearing about bodily functions, a grotesque story, or anything they didn’t really want to hear in the first place.  Today, I am going to share not one, but TWO T.M.I.s with you.  Exciting.

After my shift at the pub I decided to run some errands to finish out the day.  It had been rainy all morning and was close to a drizzle when I began driving over to Target.  Along with the rain came a welcomed cool breeze that made me want to roll down the windows despite the risk of water coming into the car.  As I’m driving there is suddenly a significantly large brown “plop” on the window.  Less than a second later I noticed an even bigger condensation/steam ring encompassing the “plop”.  Since when did plummeting feces arrive hot enough and large enough on a windshield to actually make a steam ring?  Already grossed out enough, I turned on the wiper fluid to get rid of this steaming pile of crap obstructing my view.  I figured that the fluid, in combination with the rain, would completely remove the feces from the glass.  Not the case.  Instead, I rinsed away all the semisolid matter and was left with various worm shapes gathered on the outer sides of the windshield.  For the remainder of my errands I was distracted by all the fecal leftovers.  It wasn’t the most pleasant drive.

Moving away from avian bodily functions leads me to my own, more specifically to my burp.  I spent all of Friday thinking about sushi and vegetable tempura.  For dinner I decided to assuage this craving by heading over to Oishii.  After I was finished eating, the waitress asked if I would like anything else, “You want more?  You want green tea friiiiied iiiice cream?”

I answered truthfully, “I would love some, but not today.  Thank you.”

“Okaaaay, thaaaaank yooooou.”  She brings me the check.  I pay and leave.

On the way back to the house I stopped by Barnes and Noble to assuage my green tea latte addiction.  To avoid binging on any literary purchases I booked it (pun intended) back to the car and continued driving home.  After sucking down the latte during the drive, I burped.  Of course there were remnant flavors of dinner, luckily only fried tempura, and the taste of my current beverage, green tea.  After the burp, I thought, “Hmm…that kinda tasted like…”  Well, let’s just say I didn’t quite get the actual fried ice cream, but I still got the essence of it.  Delicious.

Gross?  Yeah, I know.  “T.M.I, Jessica, T.M.I.”  I still thought I should share.  You’re welcome.

Filed Under: Out, Personal Tagged With: , , , , ,

A flame with disclaimers

May 22, 2009 By Jessica

Oddly enough for someone that doesn’t really cuss, I’ve been asking myself one question for the past few weeks, “Jessica, what the f— are you doing?”, sometimes extended by, “Really, What Are you doing?!”

The answer is pretty simple:  I am playing with fire, and I know it.

After certain events, perhaps not so recent, my figurative heart has morphed into an object that would fit in perfectly between a set of brass knuckles or an RPG.  Add to that a little shrapnel, barbwire, steel plating, and a temperature of somewhere around -1,000 °C and you now have an accurate idea of how willing I am to be vulnerable.  Basically, my heart says, “Don’t play with me, and I pity the fool who tries”, or something pretty close to that.  I should apply the “don’t play” part to my actions but have possibly done the complete opposite.  Instead, I warily strike a match just to see how high the flame will go.  I’m allowing this emotional pyromania to happen simply because this box already comes with a bright red warning label reading, “YOU WILL GET BURNED.  IT WILL HURT.  YOU KNOW THIS.  DON’T FORGET THE WATER.”  Ouch.

How did I get this warning, this convenient disclaimer?  I already played with these matches once.  It hurt then too and earned the brutal knowledge of exactly who this person is, that he will disappoint me, and he won’t care when he does.  Instead, he’ll respond with, “J, commme on.”

If every time you meet a guy there was already a label stating the issues to expect, “he’s flirtatious”, “he’s dishonest”, “he’s flaky”, would you want to read it?  I naively believe in and look for the best in people even when I know better.  A “disclaimer” doesn’t change that, but it does avoid disappointment, tears, and the feeling that you invested in a person that never intended on returning the effort.  Already knowing the consequences doesn’t classify pursuing attention from this person as a smart move, but it does make it an informed one.  That might not be much solace in the grand scheme of things, but definitely better than nothing.

If I mention the situation surrounding my box of matches, it is met with head shakes and “Oh, Jessica…” or “not a good idea, my fren”.  Another example of this response happened when a buddy called to catch up.  She says, “Jessica, can I ask you something?  You probably won’t like the question, though.”

I sigh.  “Alright, man.  Go ahead.”

“You do know this will probably turn out badly.  Right.”

I sigh again.  “All I know is what I can expect from past experience.  If I’m surprised…well, that probably wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yeah, man.  I know.  I don’t want that either.”

New question:  Does fire always burn?

Past experience says, “Uh, yeah, it does.”

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: , , ,
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