Purple haze...

*I will note for the record that I only saw the aftermath. However, this story is too funny not to share.*

Yesterday, a little after noon, I received a phone call from Crazy. She sounded strange. I mean REALLY strange. Like drunk. And I was thinking to myself, "Has she been drinking? It's way too early to be drunk." So here's the story.

Crazy was at a morning long meeting off site with a couple of her workmates, listening to talks and evaluating science. During a break, she went in search of Advil because her back was hurting. One of the people with her, Mitch, said, "Hey, I have some Advil. Take 2." and hands her 2 little orange pills with an 'A' on them. About a half hour after taking them, in Crazy's own words, "The speaker has 3 heads and all the slides are in 3D... I don't think that was Advil." After doing a little searching, and evaluating, Mitch realizes that he, indeed, did not give Crazy Advil. Instead, he gave her Ambien. Two of them.

Briefly, Crazy has absolutely no alcohol or drug tolerance. None. Squeeze a grape and she's drunk. So taking 2 Ambien, and then trying to stay awake. I have to say. When I stopped by to pick up Mitch from Crazy's house, she looked pitiful. Pit-i-ful. Totally high. And sleepy. And slurring speech. It was altogether sad and hilarious at the same time.


I just stopped by Crazy's office, and not surprisingly, she said she had a great night's sleep...

Mommeeee?

It doesn't happen often, but when it does, I almost always fall out of my chair laughing. This time, I call and the teeeniest little girl voice answers the phone. And when I ask to speak to the consultant, all I hear is the the teeeny little girl voice fading away saying, "Mommmeeeeee? The phone is for you."

Things like this make my day brighter.

Seriously, you can't make this crap up

We decorated our Division Christmas tree today. When I was nearly done putting the finishing touches on the tree, one of our secretaries (SM) comes by for a chat:

SM: It's so nice that you guys are decorating.
Me: Thanks. It's our pleasure.
SM: You're doing a really nice job.
All: Thanks.
SM: (to me) You've done a nice job on the tree. It looks really nice.
Me: Why, thank you very much.
SM: Of course, I'm nearly blind, so you really can't take my word for it.
Me: Oh! That's rough.
SM: I'm just kidding (giggles as she walks away)

General collective groan from all.

Seriously, though, she is actually almost blind (trust me, the irony that she works in the Division of Ophthalmics has not escaped us). I just couldn't believe she said it.

Really. Did we ever think to call Thor a big dog?

We can also call this post - being locked out of the house can be an awesome adventure.

Pictures have been posted, so now it's time for amusing stories from the weekend... thanks for all the pressure, Magenta.

Let me start by saying that Chewie CANNOT possibly get cuter. Absolutely impossible. Terribly cute. Almost painfully so. Also, Thor - totally enormous compared to Chewie. Never in my life would I have thought Thor was a "big" dog. Yeah, I guess everything really is relative.


The puppies were good together. It was a little tough in the beginning - Chew was a little shy. But that could have something to do with the fact that he was almost eaten by another dog the evening before (Magenta can fill you in on that story). But after a walk, they were all good. Thor was chasing ChewChew as he scurried around the house (and scurry is definitely the word to describe it).

But one of the more entertaining parts of the weekend, besides the puppy clothing making debacle, was Sunday morning. It was early, Thor was grouchy, overprotective dog during the night(howling a warning while drunk people were passing by at 1:30am), so sleep was not terribly good, to say the least. We took the dogs out for a walk at around 7am (yeah, I know. I wish I wasn't up that early, but Thor wanted to eat, so whatever). After walking around the corner of the building, Magenta's all, "Shit. I didn't bring my key." We check the back and front doors. Shit shit shit.

Miraculously, I had my car keys in my coat - this never happens. Usually, they're in my purse until I need them, so this was total random chance stroke of luck. And we're off on some crazy college-like adventure to Trish's house, two dogs in tow, to get the extra house key. Careful not to get pulled over, as I was driving without a license. While we're in the car, MS, seeing a Dunkin' Donuts and wanting to answer the call of caffiene, asks if I have money. Just for meters... possibly enough for 1 coffee. A little digging, and a $5 bill magically appears out of MS's pocket. We're rich now!!

Rich enough for coffee. Oh, and did you know that you can buy munchkin's individually? Well, you can. For 14 cents each at this Dunkin'. Yeah. We were caffinated. We had 3 munchkins each (because really, that is the perfect number of munchkins, don't you think?). And we were on our way to get a key for Studio 120.

It was early. I really felt bad. We really felt bad. So bad that when there was no answer to our first knock, we sat in the car for a little while longer with our coffee and munchkins. And when Joe came to answer the door, with Little A in his arms, the look of total confusion was priceless. There was some question about whether the key was even findable. It was touch and go for a while. But 15 minutes and 2 key options later (and $20 in case the keys didn't work and we needed food while waiting for the locksmith to show up - thanks dad), we were back on the road with hope.

MS tried the unlikely key first, because there's no suspense in that, and besides, why not get the known entity out of the way, right? It obviously didn't work. The second one did. Heehee. We did the surprised little hop and hug move, followed by a little dance while singing, "We're in the hou-ouse! We're in the hou-ouse!"

We had a really fun time that morning. Seriously, it was like one of those college guerrilla adventures when you need food or alcohol in the middle of the night (not that I would know about such things, but theoretically).

Whenever I'm at my Dad's place, I try to run as many errands for him as possible. I have the car. I have the time. And it's certainly not a big deal at all. One of the things that he usually sends me for is rice. Big ol' 20lb bags of rice. And there are usually 2 bags. Most of the time, his wife comes with me. But if there's nothing else to buy, there's really no point. How hard could it be to pick up a couple of bags of rice?

So, right before I leave to meet MS, her mom, TC and PC for dim sum, my Dad's wife hands me money and asks me to buy these bags of rice:
Now, I'm Chinese. That's pretty obvious. But I'm only a little more Chinese than General Tso's Chicken - created by Chinese people, looks Chinese, has a Chinese flavor, but definitely Americanized for public consumption. I speak what I call "Restaurant Chinese," which is enough to order food, pay the bill and generally fool the waitstaff up until the point they ask me a real question. And I certainly don't read Chinese (except for numbers and recognizing my last name).

PC and I are in the store trying to match characters and obviously not making any headway, when MS takes the list from my hand and says we're going to ask someone. Right. Yeah, well, when we asked for help, I realized just how sorry a person I was since I wasn't even close to choosing the correct bags. At least now I will have forever embedded in my memory the type of rice my Dad and his wife prefer. I'm only slightly afraid that next time she's going to give me an entire shopping list in Chinese and say, "Go."

(BTW, did you notice the 11 o'clock dollars? Yeah, me too.)

Hot Potato (the final word)

Well, I knew it was coming. Here is the final report emailed to everyone in the building about the "event" yesterday:

To: 9200 ----- Occupants
From: ---- Health and Safety Office

Subject: Emergency Evacuation at 9200, April 23, 2007

On Monday, April 23, 2007 fire alarms sounded in response to a "smoke event" from a microwave oven on the second floor. This alarm triggered a call to the alarm monitoring company and in turn Montgomery County Fire and Rescue was dispatched.

According to the alternate Occupant Emergency Coordinator, all emergency evacuation procedures were followed and "there was a good evacuation with all floors reporting in". It was reported that security did not immediately unlock two of the three glass doors at the main entrance at the building. It is unclear why these doors were locked at all during normal business hours. --- security has been notified and we have requested that all three doors remain unlocked while the security guards are on duty.

After a review of the situation, the --- Safety Office feels that the current evacuation plan worked as intended and would like to thank all occupants for their cooperation.

If you have any questions, please contact the --- Safety Office at 301-***-****.

A "smoke event." That just seems so... dull.

Hot Potato (one more thing)

... I forgot to mention one more detail. When the 3 firetrucks showed up, the firemen actually got out, dressed in full gear, with oxygen tank and all, and made their way into the building to check for the source of the alarm. The weren't exactly rushing. It was more like they were on a Sunday stroll... if you consider wearing all that gear on an 80 degree day to check out a smoking tater tot a Sunday stroll.

Hot Potato (or how to evacuate a building)

So, today I am responsible for, literally, clearing out the building. Who knew that tater tots + microwave = 3 firetrucks? Seriously.

What happened? I was just heating up part of my lunch (the aforementioned tater tots). Our microwave in the office, well, it sucks. The tots were in for maybe 45 seconds when they started to smoke. Took them out, peeked in the container. Then the alarms started going off. And the alarms are LOUD.

Co-workers standing outside on this beautiful spring day either were congratulating me or just laughing it up. When the third fire engine showed up, I started to get a little sheepish... But only a little.

Happy Easter Casserole!

Sometime last year, there was some discussion among a few of us about "Caucasian Culinary Curiosities" aka "White People Food". You know, food that us, well, ethnic people, weren't exposed to during our childhood. For example, I had never eaten a casserole until well into adulthood. And I certainly had never made one.

That is... until now. As a part of my birthday gift, as a joke, Crazy (a very proudly self-proclaimed "Mid-western white person") gave me the Campbell's Casserole & One-Dish Recipe Cards book. Probably one of the funniest gifts I ever got. Well, she and Sweet Pea invited us over for Easter dinner, and I insisted that I should make the green bean casserole*.

Here is the casserole before the oven:


And ready to serve:


It was surprisingly quite tasty!

*Note: This casserole falls under two different "white people" food categories - "casserole" and "food wet with Campbell's cream soup."

I don't need to prove how big mine is because I don't have one!

So, I've apparently been drawn into a pissing contest. Over the stupidest thing. And I certainly didn't start it and have no intention of continuing it. But I've been drawn into it nonetheless.

Here's the deal. We're migrating email servers, and because of this, everyone has been told to reduce their mailboxes to below 200mb. With some of these people, this will be impossible, but that's not where I'm going. Anyway, during our Division meeting yesterday, we were chatting about ways of reducing, saving, downsizing, etc. At a certain point, MBE (the director) looks for Patsy (he's supposed to be our IT point of contact), and asks a couple of questions. Then she looks to me (who has been an unofficial point of contact for several specific people in the Division, including MBE) and asks me a few questions about setting up local folders and whatnot (something I did for her a long time ago). After a little bit of conversation, she asks me to research the problem further and to have a chat with our office IT person and get back to the Division. Now, during the entire time of our conversation, Patsy is sitting behind MBE kind of grumbling to himself - I'm guessing he was upset that I was asked to do something he technically was in charge of.

Anyway, I shoot off an email to the IT manager for the office and await a response. Before I get a chance to talk to the IT manager, Patsy has sent an email to the Division on the subject about which I was asked to research. No sooner had I read his email (and was laughing my ass off since it was clear what he was trying to do), did I get an email from the IT manager to come have a chat. To make a long story short, everything that Patsy had just advised everyone to do, the IT manager said was not advised (unless there was no choice) for a variety of reasons. As a result, I had to send an amendment to his email, explaining everything I had just spoken to our IT manager about.

I had a feeling that it would not end there. And I was right. When I got in this morning, there was another email in my inbox from Patsy. All I could do was laugh. It basically gave everyone advice about reducing their mailbox size (which I had briefly outlined in my email) and a reiteration of what the IT manager had stated and what I had already sent in the previous email:

"Having said all of that, local folders are still okay, but it should be stressed not to move then entire contents of your email over to it. If you’re close to 200MB, you could set up a local folder and move some info into it for items that you may not want lost during email migration, etc., but please refrain from moving too much. As J------ stressed, IT folks are worried that users will back up their entire inbox onto a local folder.." (J----- is the IT manager)

The reason why I find this hilarious is that everything that was in his email was already in mine, but written in a tone which made it seem like it was either new or insightful because he wrote it. The other reason is because, when I amended Patsy's email with the correct information, I responded to it, keeping the original copy attached so that people would know what I was referring to. His email this morning had all other previous responses deleted.

I have no intention of continuing this idiocy. I didn't realize I was dealing with a 5 year old. I thought this kind of shit stopped in junior high. Why is it necessary for a 28 year old man to jump up and down, waving his hands screaming, "Look at me! I can do it better!!"?

Wedding dress follies

Before anyone goes nuts - no I am not engaged. However, Crazy and SweetPea are. So Nancy and I went dress shopping with Crazy today. She's very low maintenance, so it's really come to no surprise that she's found her dress and ordered it. What's funny is how the decision on the dress came to be.

After trying on 2 dresses (the second of which we thought would be the one), she came out in a beautiful, sparkly number, which Crazy admittedly said looked much better out than in the dressing room. Anyway, we were trying to decide between the sparkly one and the second dress. Well, in the store was another bride with her family. The grandpa asked if we wanted a male opinion. We said yes. He very bluntly said that when she came out in the sparkly dress, "That turned me on!" At which point we all start laughing. He went on to describe why he liked it: it's about the placement of said sparkles - not too much througout the dress, but enough in the right places. He then leans over to Nancy and me and says, "In the end all men are titty men."

No shit.

Things one should never overhear while eating lunch

"No, I didn't drink yellow coffee... oh, wait. There was that time I drank my own urine..."

Starting the New Year fresh

There are certain times when a conversation is so funny, that there is no other way to describe it except to just give a transcript. So, here is the "Happy New Year" conversation I had with my Dad at approximately 12:02am on New Year's Day:

N'il: Happy New Year!
Dad: Happy New Year, how are you?
N: Good. Were you asleep?
D: No, I was watching TV.
N: Good. How are you feeling?
D: Not bad. Not bad.
N: Well, that's good.
D: I just moved my bowels.
N: Really?! Well, that's good. You're starting the New Year off fresh.
D: Yeah, I moved them 4 times today. I did just before you called.
N: Well, that's really great Dad. As I said, you're starting the year fresh.
D: Yes, well...
N: I'll give you a call later this week, okay?
D: Okay. Have a good night.
N: Good night, Dad.

I guess when you're nearly 81, there are some things which are just much more exciting than watching the ball drop.

Random and freaky

So, while at dim sum yesterday, sitting and having conversation with TC, PC and JS, I see a woman bee-lining toward me, smile on her face. Someone from grad school whom I haven't seen in years. Totally random to be in the same restaurant and being seated at tables next to each other. So, cool. She gave me her card and we have a pending brunch date.

Because of this encounter, I began thinking of people with whom I had not spoken or emailed in a while. About an hour or so ago, I thought of someone, also from grad school, and was trying to remember her email address. About 15 minutes ago, I got an email from her, simply asking what's up. That's a little freaky... okay, a little more than a little freaky.

Maybe I should start thinking about winning the lottery or something and it'll happen.

Sleep eating...

I am so glad that I am no longer an insomniac. For the entire span of my graduate studies, all 7 years, I did not get a full, uninterrupted night of sleep. Not one. I would just wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes several times, for sometimes no reason at all. However, through all of it, I never invested in any kind of sleep aid. Why? 1) I hate taking drugs. I avoid it as much as possible. 2) For reasons like this.

I've heard of some strange/scary side effects from drugs before - but sleep eating? Not only just sleep eating, but gorging, ravenously. And then not remembering the next morning.

No cause has been found for sleep-related eating disorder, but Dr. Schenck says he believed that it happened when the brain confuses two basic instincts: sleeping and eating. "Those two become linked," he said. "In the sleep stage you eat. I think two instinctual behaviors become intertwined."

So strange. I would love to see what the brain scans of these people while they are in this state. It must be very strange to wake up in the morning with a Snickers bar in your hand, not knowing where it came from. I guess the cupboards and fridge should be locked up before bedtime.

Astrological coincidence

JS and I were in the car the other day, casually chatting about random stuff. Our impeding trip to Vegas to celebrate SA's upcoming 30th birthday, my Dad's upcoming 80th birthday, which happens to be the day after, etc. JS then says, "My Dad's birthday was yesterday." I asked if he called his mom - he had just talked to her the day before, so all was good. Then, I had a thought...

Me: When is your Mom's birthday?
JS: September ... (I don't remember the date he said). Why? When is your Mom's birthday?
Me: September 15th
JS: Huh. So that makes both our Dads Pisces. Both our Moms Virgos... And we're BOTH Sagittarians! Holy crap!

I'm laughing at this point

JS: How did it take over 9 years of being together and 15 years of knowing each other to figure THAT out??

How did it take that long? It's strange the things that are overlooked. I always knew our parent's birthdays were near each other. And the fact that we are both Sagittarians was never a secret. It's funny how these connections are there and evident but not observed, until one random conversation in the car.

Cold warmth...

... and I can't deal!! Okay, so we get the snowfall of the century (or at least you would think it was, by the way the news was going on) on Saturday-Sunday. Lots of snow... lots of fun. I even built a little snowman on my balcony (from a "Snowman in a Box Kit (just add snow) courtesy of TC). I can deal with the cold if there is snow on the ground. It just seems to make the cold worth while.

What I can't deal with is the fact that yesterday, a mere 4 days after this snow, it was over 60 degrees outside. Why can't I deal? Why can't I just enjoy the lovely weather? Well I could if my sinuses didn't rebel every time there is drastic weather change! I would enjoy it if the weather didn't turn my winter wonderland into a slushy, muddy mess. Having snow then 60 degree weather in the span of 4 days is just not natural.

Okay, I'll stop complaining now. In the meantime, here's a picture of a snowman:

Do you hear what I hear?

I am always interested and amused by strange research. Having been a lowly PhD student for a *ahem* few years, I have run across all sorts of interesting (to put it mildly) research - things I have read in journals, seen at conferences, read in newsclippings, etc. And in seeing all the different things being researched, I have become convinced that ANYTHING will be funded as long as there is one person interested.

Genetics has always produced a great deal of interesting work, especially recently with the "completion" of the Human Genome Project. Completion is a relative term, because even though the genome is mapped, people are still trying to figure out what these genes do. (I personally don't believe the project is truly complete until they figure that portion of it out... but I digress.) Anyway, with a map of genes available, geneticists have been able to determine such important things such as the genes which, when mutated, could cause cancer.

So when I saw a news article entitled, "Scientists Find Gene That Controls Type of Earwax in People," my interest was a little more than peaked. Who researches this kind of thing? Why earwax? There are apparently two types of earwax - wet and dry (who knew?) - which are controlled by a specific gene. According to researchers, a single DNA change causes the inactivation of an export mechanism in cells, therefore resulting in dry earwax. Wet earwax is prevalent in the African and European populations, while dry earwax is dominant in East Asians. There is also apparently a correlation between the type of earwax, sweat and armpit odor, where those who have dry earwax tend to have sweat less and have little to no body odor. Eeeen-ter-est-ink

What does this mean for the rest of us? What can we do with this information? Who the heck knows. Maybe at some point there will be gene therapy for people with really bad BO. I think that would be a great step forward for humanity. It will at least make riding in a packed subway a little less gross.

But... I don't have a lawn

Happy Holidays to all! During every holiday season, as we give and receive gifts, there are always the ones that you look at and just go: HUH? In my family, I'm always the one who gets that gift. I always seem to have the weird Christmas gift story.

BACKGROUND: Three years ago, I got, possibly, the worst Christmas gift in history - this is no exaggeration. My sister's family gave me... wait for it... a tissue box. Your eyes do not deceive you, I indeed got a tissue box - with a Mickey Mouse car cover on it. There have been many theories abound as to why I received a tissue box. Regardless, I got no explanation, so there it is... and my sister appears to have been making up for it ever since, as her subsequent gifts for birthdays and Christmases have progressively gotten better or more fun.

Anyway, that was just the background. Everyone knows about the tissue box, so when I arrived for Christmas dessert at TC's mom's place and announced that I had a weird Christmas gift story, everyone at once replied: AGAIN??

After Christmas Eve dinner, my family retired back to my Dad's place to finish opening gifts. My oldest brother left presents for my dear brother and sister-in-law, J and Ang, and for me. Now, our older brother is generally off the mark with Christmas gifts - J and I usually end up swapping. I open my gift, stare at it curiously... Ang asks what it is. As if I wouldn't have one, a 3 cup rice cooker, like the free gift you get from the bank when you open a savings account. I'm a Chinese girl who has been living away from my parents for over 10 years - why wouldn't I have a rice cooker? Well, I said to J and Ang that if they wanted, we could swap. They open their gift - a DVD player. There seems to be a disparity in the quality of the gifts. We ended up swapping since J and Ang have 2 DVD players and one of ours is dying. Well, good.

Now time for the gifts from my Dad's wife. My gift is rather large - a box about 4ft x 2ft big. I tear the wrapping off curiously... and stare unbelievingly.

Ang: What is it?
Me: A lawn reindeer. (Note: not only is it a lawn reindeer, but it's one of those with a moving head... so a really quality lawn reindeer)
Ang and J: WHAT?
Me: It's a lawn reindeer... I don't have a lawn. Do you want it?
Ang: Let's open ours and maybe we can switch.

J and Ang open their gift - a silver coffee server set (coffee pot, sugar bowl, creamer, and tray).

J: This is nice. Ang, should we switch?
Ang: It doesn't matter to me. We'll have two creamers and sugar bowls.

(and because J is always funniest when he doesn't mean to be)

J: Yeah, but look at coffee pot. It's nice. We don't have a coffee pot... (looks at the lawn reindeer)... But we DO have a lawn.

This was the point that Ang and I start hysterical laughing - uncontrollably. And in his confusion as to what is so funny...

J: What? What's so funny? I mean... we do have a lawn!

Well, there was a bit of debate as to what to do with the lawn reindeer. But in the end, J and Ang decided to give it a home at their new house.

So, just in case the image isn't clear in the mind, here it is:




Note: There was a suggestion from P-boy that we just take the head out and mount it on the wall like some prized game, being sure that the animation still works... just to freak people out.