More rants. I hate my chemistry teacher. She makes me loathe chemistry class. Just utterly drains me being there. She's so antagonistic, teacher vs. student mindset. And she always talks down to you. I ask her a question, "so I shouls just add 5g there then?" She doesn't understand for 2-3 different explanations, then SHE goes into a long-winded explanation of what I obviously already know, acting like I didn't. Lady, stop talking to me like I'm stupid. Professional evaluators say I get to talk down to you, so fuck off. So rude, so arrogant.
Fucking tenure.
Driving home, an SUV is driving straight down the dotted white line, swerving between lanes. "Drunk or dying," I say to myself. Nope. I dared to get close enough that at the stoplight (figure Mystery Driver can't kill me if MD is stopped.) I pulled up next to the SUV and LO AND BEHOLD: middle-aged woman reading her mail. She had a fucking stack of letters on her steering wheel. So I get her attention and start (politely, which is amazing considering how my day has been) telling her that she's endangering herself and needs to pay attention to the road. "What?" She can't hear me, and apparently she's to dumb to guess that maybe I take issue with her driving. I should have maintained safe distance and let natural selection take its course, but it was an undivided 4 lane with posted Speed Limit 45, and it was about to turn into highway 100. I don't like it when stupidity causes splash damage. How dumb do you have to be, and what the hell were in those letters that reading them now is more important than not dying? What activities could I perform while driving and still pay more attention to the road than she was? Build a model train set? Fix a toaster? Shave my nuts? Hell, whippits. I'm willing to wager that 9 out of 10 could drive better than she was while huffing Lysol.
Fucking tenure.
Driving home, an SUV is driving straight down the dotted white line, swerving between lanes. "Drunk or dying," I say to myself. Nope. I dared to get close enough that at the stoplight (figure Mystery Driver can't kill me if MD is stopped.) I pulled up next to the SUV and LO AND BEHOLD: middle-aged woman reading her mail. She had a fucking stack of letters on her steering wheel. So I get her attention and start (politely, which is amazing considering how my day has been) telling her that she's endangering herself and needs to pay attention to the road. "What?" She can't hear me, and apparently she's to dumb to guess that maybe I take issue with her driving. I should have maintained safe distance and let natural selection take its course, but it was an undivided 4 lane with posted Speed Limit 45, and it was about to turn into highway 100. I don't like it when stupidity causes splash damage. How dumb do you have to be, and what the hell were in those letters that reading them now is more important than not dying? What activities could I perform while driving and still pay more attention to the road than she was? Build a model train set? Fix a toaster? Shave my nuts? Hell, whippits. I'm willing to wager that 9 out of 10 could drive better than she was while huffing Lysol.
I am convinced in my own mind that last night my waiter was Jonathon TeBeest (of Rasputina fame). This blows my mind a bit. One the one hand, it's hero worship (I think he's a great drummer). On the other hand, why is a guy who's toured nationally serving me a chicken sandwich? Growing an extra hand for this question, how do you tip him? 
With new classes come new faces, and with new faces, come new rants. This semester shall be no different:
I'm underwhelmed by my chemistry class so far. Today we talked about the model of the atom, the "gold foil experiment", particularly.
The experiment is such: make a thin foil of gold. Shoot alpha particles at it. ... Profit.
Ok, so the result of this famous experiment is that most alpha particles go straight through the foil. A very small amount are actually deflected or even reflected back in the opposite direction. This disproves the previously believed "plum pudding" model of the atom. Some asshole apparently likened all matter to Jello with negatively charged raisins.
Now, the point of this is that shit actually went through the foil, indicating that an atom is not one homogenous (if tasty) blob, but structure of some discrete, dense parts and a whole lotta nothing.
The TEACHER, on the other hand, believes the point of the experiment is "WOWIE ZOWIE, SOME OF THE SHIT BOUNCED BACK!" Now, unless I'm totally off-base here, any doofus who accepts the whole "equal and opposing forces" bit of physics or plays billiards - fuck, if you play *raquetball*, you fitness club yuppie - they will take this statement and properly conclude "so...matter has mass." My chemistry teacher is excited about the part of the experiment where I say I punched a brick of gold and it hurt, ie. it bounced back, my hand did not penetrate gold. This overlooks the other perspective, which to me is more surprising: "...dude, my hand just passed through solid fucking gold."
On the other hand, this is the teacher who yesterday declared that if you turn in the lab sheets without clearing off the little scraps from the spiral-bound lab book, she's going to dock you points. Good to know that my grade this semester won't be based on my mastery of curriculum skills and concepts, but on minimizing the teacher's exposure to inconvenience. I hope there are no papers to write for this class, because if I force her to read for 10 minutes, she'll probably kill my first born child.
I know what you're thinking, but there's only one other chemistry professor, and he's a douchebag too. Side rant: I'm not calling his actions douchebaggery, I'm calling him a douchebag. THAT is namecalling. I totally 'fess up.
Bright part of my day: saw some students with Terror Alert: Dihydrogen Monoxide!! papers. I haven't seen those since high school. That joke is nerd cool.
I'm underwhelmed by my chemistry class so far. Today we talked about the model of the atom, the "gold foil experiment", particularly.
The experiment is such: make a thin foil of gold. Shoot alpha particles at it. ... Profit.
Ok, so the result of this famous experiment is that most alpha particles go straight through the foil. A very small amount are actually deflected or even reflected back in the opposite direction. This disproves the previously believed "plum pudding" model of the atom. Some asshole apparently likened all matter to Jello with negatively charged raisins.
Now, the point of this is that shit actually went through the foil, indicating that an atom is not one homogenous (if tasty) blob, but structure of some discrete, dense parts and a whole lotta nothing.
The TEACHER, on the other hand, believes the point of the experiment is "WOWIE ZOWIE, SOME OF THE SHIT BOUNCED BACK!" Now, unless I'm totally off-base here, any doofus who accepts the whole "equal and opposing forces" bit of physics or plays billiards - fuck, if you play *raquetball*, you fitness club yuppie - they will take this statement and properly conclude "so...matter has mass." My chemistry teacher is excited about the part of the experiment where I say I punched a brick of gold and it hurt, ie. it bounced back, my hand did not penetrate gold. This overlooks the other perspective, which to me is more surprising: "...dude, my hand just passed through solid fucking gold."
On the other hand, this is the teacher who yesterday declared that if you turn in the lab sheets without clearing off the little scraps from the spiral-bound lab book, she's going to dock you points. Good to know that my grade this semester won't be based on my mastery of curriculum skills and concepts, but on minimizing the teacher's exposure to inconvenience. I hope there are no papers to write for this class, because if I force her to read for 10 minutes, she'll probably kill my first born child.
I know what you're thinking, but there's only one other chemistry professor, and he's a douchebag too. Side rant: I'm not calling his actions douchebaggery, I'm calling him a douchebag. THAT is namecalling. I totally 'fess up.
Bright part of my day: saw some students with Terror Alert: Dihydrogen Monoxide!! papers. I haven't seen those since high school. That joke is nerd cool.
My. . window was just shot at. It only looks like a bb, no shattered glass, just a clean hole through the outer window. Line up the angle that it hit the window through the bug screen and it wasn't aimed at me, but holy shit did that freak the fuck out of me. I am not used to things exploding in parts of my apartment that have no right to explode. So there's no immediate danger and, more importantly, neither of my phones work right now...do I wait until morning to report it?
WTF.
WTF.
Had a dream about a Liz Phair song, but now can't remember which one. Searching begins.
Why must there be so much LEARNING!!
I'm going over my next semester, and it's difficult enough planning ahead switching from music to bio/chem/fuckwithyerbrain without being tempted with Political Science, Philosophy, Anthropology, History, and yes, Music!. GRRR. With the change of major, everything up to this point is now nothing but years of electives, and I want to add 2 or 3 more years to that. Oh, and I hate that when transfer curriculums rear their ugly heads, somehow they always try to sneak in Minnesota History. I've had that forced on me for how many years of education, and it's never seemed more interesting as time went on. "Dudes in canoes, dudes in canoes! A guy named Pig's Eye, he made us booze! Dudes in canoes!"
Probably the worst of it is that I keep seeing myself at the same school that I hate so much for at least another year, if not more. THAT just gives me a feeling of "Shoot me", but that's probably the depressive episode talking.
I'm going over my next semester, and it's difficult enough planning ahead switching from music to bio/chem/fuckwithyerbrain without being tempted with Political Science, Philosophy, Anthropology, History, and yes, Music!. GRRR. With the change of major, everything up to this point is now nothing but years of electives, and I want to add 2 or 3 more years to that. Oh, and I hate that when transfer curriculums rear their ugly heads, somehow they always try to sneak in Minnesota History. I've had that forced on me for how many years of education, and it's never seemed more interesting as time went on. "Dudes in canoes, dudes in canoes! A guy named Pig's Eye, he made us booze! Dudes in canoes!"
Probably the worst of it is that I keep seeing myself at the same school that I hate so much for at least another year, if not more. THAT just gives me a feeling of "Shoot me", but that's probably the depressive episode talking.
I had an excellent evening with Talisman, hor, and Talisman's old roomie at movie night tonight. Didn't get around to watching a movie, but the company outside on a warm summer night was nice. Pleasant chat and not very buggy conditions, bonus.
I've discovered that someone responsible for the condition of my car decided that duct tape was an acceptable solution to broken masking (is that the word?) of my car's undercarriage. It was, until today. I wonder if I can rig up a more permanent solution with some epoxy. Hrm.
I've discovered that someone responsible for the condition of my car decided that duct tape was an acceptable solution to broken masking (is that the word?) of my car's undercarriage. It was, until today. I wonder if I can rig up a more permanent solution with some epoxy. Hrm.
Freaky ass toes, freaky as toes, I want you to see my freaky ass toes. (That should be a Les Claypool song. Kinda works for Iowan Girl.) I've been watching my toes heal one foot soak at a time, and it's kind of cool to watch them change, especially as the edges unfold. I'm always fascinated with how the body works, I'm the guy that would watch surgeries on public access and such. Right toe is healing better than the left toe, which isn't surprising, because I kept kicking the wall in my sleep with my left foot for the first few nights. Pain is down to a 1 tops, and I don't feel the drainage anymore. Gods, what a creepy and uncomfortable sensation that was.
By the way, if you're ever in the market for first aid gauze pads, the words SUPER ABSORBANCYon the package is a bad thing. It's a nice marketing way of saying "this will dry and pull off whatever remaining flesh you until now had kept intact." My mother bought them for me (she was my surgery buddy) and I forgive her for it, it's no big deal, I just would have thought that she'd realize this. I know this, and I don't even have experience with tampons.
Toe pictures may be on the way, for those interested. Properly spoilered, for those uninterested.
By the way, if you're ever in the market for first aid gauze pads, the words SUPER ABSORBANCYon the package is a bad thing. It's a nice marketing way of saying "this will dry and pull off whatever remaining flesh you until now had kept intact." My mother bought them for me (she was my surgery buddy) and I forgive her for it, it's no big deal, I just would have thought that she'd realize this. I know this, and I don't even have experience with tampons.
Toe pictures may be on the way, for those interested. Properly spoilered, for those uninterested.
