Posts
Now, I know this is just a picture of a happy baseball player spilling the last of a celebratory bottle of champagne.
But it sure is one unfortunate photograph...
(from today's metro express)
The Birmingham Church Bombing
6 hours ago
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Wrong. Just wrong.
Now, I know this is just a picture of a happy baseball player spilling the last of a celebratory bottle of champagne.
But it sure is one unfortunate photograph...
(from today's metro express)
A snake in hand is worth...
That's my palm. With a curled baby boa constrictor in it. Few points about this encounter:
1. They are really shy. Or maybe this one was sluggish because it had just eaten a mouse. (Fed to it dead by the owner, so it didn't have to kill it)
2. The boa goes by Igor or Eva, depending on whether its owner needs the company of a male or female. No, I did not look (well, I did, but I couldn't tell).
3. The snake was shedding big time.
4. Snake skin is a prime breeding ground for salmonella.
5. I was informed of this AFTER I handled the damn thing. I washed/rinsed/disinfected 3 times (my palm, not the snake), but I'm still feeling a little queasy about it.
I don't know what to think of pet snakes. I guess they're cool, but not this one. Non-threatening + salmonella infected + indeterminate sex = not-so-cool, in my book.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Harold and Kumar go to the NASCAR race
Now, America is a land of many, many experiences. But there are few experiences as truly enlightening as a NASCAR race. Now, people who don't know NASCAR would tell you that its just a bunch of cars on steroids running around in circles and occasionally into each other (yes, you F1 snobs, I'm looking right at you). Well, it's WAAAY more than that. Now there's absolutely nothing that can equal actually going to a race, but after my most recent trip to Dover, I decided to tell you my
Top 10 reasons why I love NASCAR
#10 Size
This thing is HUGE. Dover is a 1 mile track and can seat 160,000 people. Thats a LOT of people, and they're all having fun. You can fit 10 football stadia into Dover Downs.
#9 I represent India
About 159,000 of these 160,000 people are white. So when Tim Lee and I show up, its the "Harold and Kumar circus" that's come to town. The burden of being ambassadors of 2.3 billion people is crushing. We speak impeccable English, and make no references to computers or graduate school. Also, no Osama Bin Laden jokes.
#8 The flyby
At the end of the national anthem (which everyone belts out - while eyeing me suspiciously), jets from the nearby Air force base scream overhead. At 300 feet above your head, they give you mild heart tremors. Very good to jump-start your love for this country.
#7 Weed
There's lots. You can take a walk in the car parks, especially those a little away from the field, and literally swim through clouds of the good stuff.
#6 Cops
Oh, they know. But they don't care. Also see #3.
#5 The race itself
Now, I do like racing. And so for me, watching these monsters whiz by at full throttle is pretty cool. My eardrums will never be the same, but thats OK.
#4 Chicks
NASCAR chicks are something else, I tell you. I befriended a couple this last time, an they were begging us to finish their beer. Which is really fantastic, and almost as good as them begging us to, well, you know.
#3 Alcohol
In the land of NASCAR, beer flows like water. I mean, it might be natural ice/bud light/MGD for the most part, but hey, who cares? They let you take your own beer to the stands, yo. (Hear that, NFL and MLB?) There was also this one time when off-duty cops had brought a breathalyzer. Sure enough, it turned into a competition of who would blow the highest, with charts and bets. I blew a 0.25, much to everyone's amazement (I wasn't staggering. Yet), and they all celebrated by, of course, giving me more beer.
#2 Rednecks
RVs with 8 by 6 foot confederate and US (and of course, #3) flags, pickups with bullet holes, cut off T shirts, sun burn, mullets. You get to see the whole thing here. But you know what, these guys are the most fun fans I have ever come across. Seriously. Way cooler than any other sport. With all the craziness that comes with the territory, I have never seen a fight, or even raised voices. There is a certain core decency with these people that is truly endearing. Sure, a bunch of them think that India and China are near Iraq, and they would rather stroll across the track during a race than vote Obama. But basically they're all right. If you're cool, they're cool.
#1 the Dover Monster.
The Eiffel Tower and pride of all NASCAR fans. Yep, that's a life-size car.
Top 10 reasons why I love NASCAR
#10 Size
This thing is HUGE. Dover is a 1 mile track and can seat 160,000 people. Thats a LOT of people, and they're all having fun. You can fit 10 football stadia into Dover Downs.
#9 I represent India
About 159,000 of these 160,000 people are white. So when Tim Lee and I show up, its the "Harold and Kumar circus" that's come to town. The burden of being ambassadors of 2.3 billion people is crushing. We speak impeccable English, and make no references to computers or graduate school. Also, no Osama Bin Laden jokes.
#8 The flyby
At the end of the national anthem (which everyone belts out - while eyeing me suspiciously), jets from the nearby Air force base scream overhead. At 300 feet above your head, they give you mild heart tremors. Very good to jump-start your love for this country.
#7 Weed
There's lots. You can take a walk in the car parks, especially those a little away from the field, and literally swim through clouds of the good stuff.
#6 Cops
Oh, they know. But they don't care. Also see #3.
#5 The race itself
Now, I do like racing. And so for me, watching these monsters whiz by at full throttle is pretty cool. My eardrums will never be the same, but thats OK.
#4 Chicks
NASCAR chicks are something else, I tell you. I befriended a couple this last time, an they were begging us to finish their beer. Which is really fantastic, and almost as good as them begging us to, well, you know.
#3 Alcohol
In the land of NASCAR, beer flows like water. I mean, it might be natural ice/bud light/MGD for the most part, but hey, who cares? They let you take your own beer to the stands, yo. (Hear that, NFL and MLB?) There was also this one time when off-duty cops had brought a breathalyzer. Sure enough, it turned into a competition of who would blow the highest, with charts and bets. I blew a 0.25, much to everyone's amazement (I wasn't staggering. Yet), and they all celebrated by, of course, giving me more beer.
#2 Rednecks
RVs with 8 by 6 foot confederate and US (and of course, #3) flags, pickups with bullet holes, cut off T shirts, sun burn, mullets. You get to see the whole thing here. But you know what, these guys are the most fun fans I have ever come across. Seriously. Way cooler than any other sport. With all the craziness that comes with the territory, I have never seen a fight, or even raised voices. There is a certain core decency with these people that is truly endearing. Sure, a bunch of them think that India and China are near Iraq, and they would rather stroll across the track during a race than vote Obama. But basically they're all right. If you're cool, they're cool.
#1 the Dover Monster.
The Eiffel Tower and pride of all NASCAR fans. Yep, that's a life-size car.
Confession of the day
You know the Metallica song "Sad but True", yeah?
For the longest time EVER, I thought the damn thing was "self control".
Hey,
1. English isn't my first language.
2. It *does* sound a little like self control.
3. I thought it fits well in the song. Actually, I think it fits better than sad but true. Yeah, take that, James.
For the longest time EVER, I thought the damn thing was "self control".
Hey,
1. English isn't my first language.
2. It *does* sound a little like self control.
3. I thought it fits well in the song. Actually, I think it fits better than sad but true. Yeah, take that, James.
Sarah Palin can also be funny. Without intending to be.
Sarah Silverman can be funny
Yep, old Floridian Jews are a super-important demographic this time around...
Un-gay photos at Dover
So Tim Lee and I headed over to the NASCAR race at Dover last weekend. the whole experience will demand a more detailed posting, but here are photos of us in front of the "Monster" (Dover is the "monster mile", get it?). We *could* have taken a photo with the two of us together in front of the monster, but we decided that would be too gay. I mean, a towel head and a chink at Dover is one thing. But a gay towel head and chink at Dover? Nope.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Unintended Hilarity - Erectile Dysfunction Ad
So you know how the industry is targeting poor sods who have genuine health issues. And so in one of their ads, the guy on TV goes (I'm paraphrasing): "I found out recently that I had type 2 diabetes. I didn't know that diabetes could also lead to ED. "
"So I spoke to my doctor, and I decided to take matters in my own hand..."
HAHAHAHAAAA.
oh, I am so juvenile.
"So I spoke to my doctor, and I decided to take matters in my own hand..."
HAHAHAHAAAA.
oh, I am so juvenile.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
aaaaaaaaaaaaaagghhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can see why people wither away in front of their computer screens. The thing is cyber-crack.
They should blog in solitude instead. Like me.
I can see why people wither away in front of their computer screens. The thing is cyber-crack.
They should blog in solitude instead. Like me.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Rock Concert story (2004)
From another mass mail (unsent, I think)
... which reminds me of my other adventure; the American rock concert experience. I have been to a few of these now, so I feel the need to tell the uninitiated about what happens. (Even if you aren't a rock concert virgin, read on anyway; this section will contain the word boob). Anyways, there are a couple of things you should know.
1. The air at any rock concert will be saturated with the smell of weed. You'd think with all the brouhaha about marijuana, there would be some control. There isn't. Which is OK if you're trying to bum a joint, but not OK if you're an ex-asthmatic actually trying to get a look at the stage through the haze. Short and shallow breaths work though...
1a. Watch out for the puddles of spilled beer/vomit/urine. There's a lot of alcohol at social events in America. And a rock concert is very social.
2. People will be dressed funny. Weirdness of attire is a function of hardness of music, as a general rule of thumb. Also when in doubt, wear black and include some metal. if you show up in bondage attire (whip and all), paint your face white and color your mohawk electric blue, you've arrived, baby.
3. Watch out for the surfers. Crowd surfing is becoming a bloody pain. Instead of people going from the front to back, its the reverse these days. Which is bullshit, because people are just hoping to get their asses carried by other people all the way to the stage. So as you face the stage, watch for flailing arms and legs as people get flung on you. Move if you can (there was this guy built like a house next to me and he kept throwing these surfers from 8 feet high. One chick was in mid air when the crowd in front of her parted, somewhat inexplicably. Chick met ground. S-p-l-a-t. She didn't crowd surf very much after that...)
4. Moshing. You need to know this to survive. Sometimes, in the middle of a concert, people will, for no apparent reason, start moshing. Now this isn't your usual jostling for space in front of the stage, oh no. This is people throwing their (and others') bodies around epileptically, to convey their heartfelt appreciation of the music, with scant regard for their own - or others' - safety. As this happens, well meaning and more sane people form a ring around these dozen-or-so morons and watch the fun unfold. If someone gets clotheslined and lands on you, you do your bit and helpfully push the poor sod back into the fray so he can get piledriven by some other socially maladjusted idiot. Alcohol numbs not only the part of your brain that makes decisions, but also the bit that senses pain, apparently. Awesome for the Indian dude who drew the short straw and had to be designated driver for the day. There are some rules, though. Punching and kicking is frowned upon, unless in retaliation, and biting is definitely a no-no, unless its between two lusting adoloscents (though with all that moving, you might rip an artery out, so masticating on your girlfriends neck is probably ill-advised as well).
5. You will see boobs, and sex in the bathrooms (you need to be lucky for the latter though). This bit is the revenge of the ladies. Since they cant mosh - well, a few do, but they're usually scary or ugly or both, and you don't want to see their boobs or have sex with them, unless you have NO other option - they will flash the star on stage. Or you, if they're drunk enough and don't know the stage from the parking lot. Either way, you get to see some. Or a lot. Which could be good (drunk hot college chick), or very, very bad (old ugly drugged out mosher lady).
And in the midst of all this, there's some poor guy whose trying to belt out his angst-laden lyrics while gyrating earnestly on stage hoping to convince you he's doing his best to justify the 50 bucks you coughed up to be there so he can pay for his next coke binge.
Fun, no?
... which reminds me of my other adventure; the American rock concert experience. I have been to a few of these now, so I feel the need to tell the uninitiated about what happens. (Even if you aren't a rock concert virgin, read on anyway; this section will contain the word boob). Anyways, there are a couple of things you should know.
1. The air at any rock concert will be saturated with the smell of weed. You'd think with all the brouhaha about marijuana, there would be some control. There isn't. Which is OK if you're trying to bum a joint, but not OK if you're an ex-asthmatic actually trying to get a look at the stage through the haze. Short and shallow breaths work though...
1a. Watch out for the puddles of spilled beer/vomit/urine. There's a lot of alcohol at social events in America. And a rock concert is very social.
2. People will be dressed funny. Weirdness of attire is a function of hardness of music, as a general rule of thumb. Also when in doubt, wear black and include some metal. if you show up in bondage attire (whip and all), paint your face white and color your mohawk electric blue, you've arrived, baby.
3. Watch out for the surfers. Crowd surfing is becoming a bloody pain. Instead of people going from the front to back, its the reverse these days. Which is bullshit, because people are just hoping to get their asses carried by other people all the way to the stage. So as you face the stage, watch for flailing arms and legs as people get flung on you. Move if you can (there was this guy built like a house next to me and he kept throwing these surfers from 8 feet high. One chick was in mid air when the crowd in front of her parted, somewhat inexplicably. Chick met ground. S-p-l-a-t. She didn't crowd surf very much after that...)
4. Moshing. You need to know this to survive. Sometimes, in the middle of a concert, people will, for no apparent reason, start moshing. Now this isn't your usual jostling for space in front of the stage, oh no. This is people throwing their (and others') bodies around epileptically, to convey their heartfelt appreciation of the music, with scant regard for their own - or others' - safety. As this happens, well meaning and more sane people form a ring around these dozen-or-so morons and watch the fun unfold. If someone gets clotheslined and lands on you, you do your bit and helpfully push the poor sod back into the fray so he can get piledriven by some other socially maladjusted idiot. Alcohol numbs not only the part of your brain that makes decisions, but also the bit that senses pain, apparently. Awesome for the Indian dude who drew the short straw and had to be designated driver for the day. There are some rules, though. Punching and kicking is frowned upon, unless in retaliation, and biting is definitely a no-no, unless its between two lusting adoloscents (though with all that moving, you might rip an artery out, so masticating on your girlfriends neck is probably ill-advised as well).
5. You will see boobs, and sex in the bathrooms (you need to be lucky for the latter though). This bit is the revenge of the ladies. Since they cant mosh - well, a few do, but they're usually scary or ugly or both, and you don't want to see their boobs or have sex with them, unless you have NO other option - they will flash the star on stage. Or you, if they're drunk enough and don't know the stage from the parking lot. Either way, you get to see some. Or a lot. Which could be good (drunk hot college chick), or very, very bad (old ugly drugged out mosher lady).
And in the midst of all this, there's some poor guy whose trying to belt out his angst-laden lyrics while gyrating earnestly on stage hoping to convince you he's doing his best to justify the 50 bucks you coughed up to be there so he can pay for his next coke binge.
Fun, no?
Fungus feels soft and soapy
I just drank a gigantic glob of greenish gray growth. It was in my rice milk (it smelled OK, so I chugged straight from the container). I sloshed the milk around in my mouth and I felt something v soft, almost slimy/soapy. I thought it might be a chunk of curdled milk. Except that rice milk doesn't curdle. So I spit.
Out comes a nice big chunk (about the size of a dime) of life. Grayish on the outside, distinctly green in the middle. Which is about how I bet I looked when I saw it.
I have then chugged more rice milk (fresh, no fungus), eaten four after-eights (this is a British mint), and some candy. Still feel vomitous. Bleaurgh.
Moral of the story: Don't just smell before you chug. Pour the perishable beverage into a clear container upon which you may inspect the contents for evidence of floaty fungal (or other pathological floaty) events.
Out comes a nice big chunk (about the size of a dime) of life. Grayish on the outside, distinctly green in the middle. Which is about how I bet I looked when I saw it.
I have then chugged more rice milk (fresh, no fungus), eaten four after-eights (this is a British mint), and some candy. Still feel vomitous. Bleaurgh.
Moral of the story: Don't just smell before you chug. Pour the perishable beverage into a clear container upon which you may inspect the contents for evidence of floaty fungal (or other pathological floaty) events.
Life of an Indian graduate student in America
You know what, I found a bunch of little things that I had written here and there about my somewhat eventful life here in the US the past few years here; perfect for my blog! ha!
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Male nipple discharge Pt. 2
I DO NOT HAVE MALE NIPPLE DISCHARGE.
Yeah, I know what you were thinking. Jerk.
Yeah, I know what you were thinking. Jerk.
Male nipple discharge
So continuing with the whole estrogen meme, I looked this up - I have heard of this. Not cool.
1. It is associated with a bunch of thyroid issues and possible duct problems.
2. You should read some of the descriptions: "... squeezed the other and it looked like squeezing icing out of a cake decorating funnell (sic) ..." aaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!! I mean, I feel for them, but still: aaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!!
3. Its now etched forever on my google search, and in my brain. aaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!! (I know, I know, I could delete history, but how can I ever forget icing from a cake decorating funnel from an old dude?)
1. It is associated with a bunch of thyroid issues and possible duct problems.
2. You should read some of the descriptions: "... squeezed the other and it looked like squeezing icing out of a cake decorating funnell (sic) ..." aaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!! I mean, I feel for them, but still: aaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!!
3. Its now etched forever on my google search, and in my brain. aaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!! (I know, I know, I could delete history, but how can I ever forget icing from a cake decorating funnel from an old dude?)
Soymilk makes you a woman
Well, not really, but I was buying my multivitamins today (btw, don't waste your money on the cheap stuff. It does you no good. I have special things in my tablets that make my prostate shrink and everything else grow).
So, there was this dude buying whey protein, and I asked him why not Soy. He looks at me horrified, as says : "That shit makes you a woman man, there's estrogen in that shit!"
I do have v patchy hair growth and a less-than-manly voice, so I was most mortified. I looked it up. Well, soy *does* have phytoestrogens, and at high doses, does indeed cause a transient upregulation in thyrotropin in men; long term effects are somewhat uncertain, but can lower thyroid output. Hm.
More rice milk, then.
Oh, and since I'm a dork, here's the ref:
So, there was this dude buying whey protein, and I asked him why not Soy. He looks at me horrified, as says : "That shit makes you a woman man, there's estrogen in that shit!"
I do have v patchy hair growth and a less-than-manly voice, so I was most mortified. I looked it up. Well, soy *does* have phytoestrogens, and at high doses, does indeed cause a transient upregulation in thyrotropin in men; long term effects are somewhat uncertain, but can lower thyroid output. Hm.
More rice milk, then.
Oh, and since I'm a dork, here's the ref:
Short-term effect of soy consumption on thyroid hormone levels and correlation with phytoestrogen level in healthy subjects.
Hampl R et al, Endocr. Regul 2008Yr 1 of a PhD (2003)
I used to (and still occasionally do) write mass emails to all the people in my address book. This used to piss them off endlessly, and now I see why. I dug this email out from way back, and I present this gem of bad writing to you.
I used to be one angry kid back then.
So you've been wondering what I've been up to?
PhD, Hopkins, Baltimore. Waste of time and effort.
For all the work (yes, there was lots), I barely broke the curve in most exams (for the record, I didnt get a single A+ ; these were handed out to 5 people out of some 180, and we had about 15 asian students. So I didnt even try.) but I was enthusiastic enough in class that people invented a card game where the backbenchers would bet on most questions asked, worst dressed, loudest in class etc. I'm proud to say I was a star card ("most questions asked" category). Always the popular one...
Not so popular with the TA.
Me: Uh, you know, I could give you something really nice if you give me an A on that exam...
She: Scram,kiddo.
Me (persistent): Ahem, you know what they say about Indian men...
She: Yep. I know. THEY'RE TINY. HAHAHAHAAAAAA.
Me: Sod off.
I got a B-.
Still, as part of a PhD, you get to do a lot of lab work in addition to cramming or meaningless exams. I'm doing Immunology, so this has involved (at different times) staring at flourescent cells for hours on end on a microscope in a dark subterranian cubbyhole, injecting afore mentioned cells into the tails of very uncooperative mice - this, being a novice, I did horrendously - and then analysing survival curves, which basically means you watch the mice waste away and die a painful death as a result of your experiment. You note which day each one died, and plot these data. All this will somehow magically become a cure for cancer few years from now.
In addition to all this, there is this steady stream of
- talks (where you go for food and sleep/pick your nose for an hour as some idiot blathers on about how he's been wasting his time and his boss' money and ended up with crap results anyway),
- presentations (where you watch ingrate colleagues stuff their faces with free food and sleep/pick noses in full view for an hour as you try to explain to the imbeciles on about how hard youve been working and utilising your boss' resources in the pursuit of higher scientific goals),
- journal clubs (all of us pseudointellectuals trash some poor sod's data)
- lab meetings (we trash each others data, but more politely)
- happy hours (sad meetings of lab rats where we drown our sorrows - mostly ruined experiments and singledom issues - in an ocean of alcohol to the sound of 80s pop) These are the only gettogethers that last way more than an hour - unless you have a gel running - and where you learn more about anything than anywhere else. Lurid gossip about co-workers? Happy hour's your place, baby. Boss ran out of money? This is where you cry your heart out. Plus of course, all the women look vastly prettier after 4 beers...
So thats pretty much how a first year in a grad program in an elite university in the US looks, academically.
Right now, I'm settling in one of these labs (the only one that would tolerate me), working on something called "antigen presentation". The learning curve is steep. Of course, I've made a great start - I screwed up my labmate's experiment by swapping labeled tubes (honest mistake, I swear), and I also got caught by my boss looking at a pic of a naked woman - an attachment sent lovingly by one of my moron middle school friends. So clearly, they love me here already.
And I got 5 more years of this.
I used to be one angry kid back then.
So you've been wondering what I've been up to?
PhD, Hopkins, Baltimore. Waste of time and effort.
For all the work (yes, there was lots), I barely broke the curve in most exams (for the record, I didnt get a single A+ ; these were handed out to 5 people out of some 180, and we had about 15 asian students. So I didnt even try.) but I was enthusiastic enough in class that people invented a card game where the backbenchers would bet on most questions asked, worst dressed, loudest in class etc. I'm proud to say I was a star card ("most questions asked" category). Always the popular one...
Not so popular with the TA.
Me: Uh, you know, I could give you something really nice if you give me an A on that exam...
She: Scram,kiddo.
Me (persistent): Ahem, you know what they say about Indian men...
She: Yep. I know. THEY'RE TINY. HAHAHAHAAAAAA.
Me: Sod off.
I got a B-.
Still, as part of a PhD, you get to do a lot of lab work in addition to cramming or meaningless exams. I'm doing Immunology, so this has involved (at different times) staring at flourescent cells for hours on end on a microscope in a dark subterranian cubbyhole, injecting afore mentioned cells into the tails of very uncooperative mice - this, being a novice, I did horrendously - and then analysing survival curves, which basically means you watch the mice waste away and die a painful death as a result of your experiment. You note which day each one died, and plot these data. All this will somehow magically become a cure for cancer few years from now.
In addition to all this, there is this steady stream of
- talks (where you go for food and sleep/pick your nose for an hour as some idiot blathers on about how he's been wasting his time and his boss' money and ended up with crap results anyway),
- presentations (where you watch ingrate colleagues stuff their faces with free food and sleep/pick noses in full view for an hour as you try to explain to the imbeciles on about how hard youve been working and utilising your boss' resources in the pursuit of higher scientific goals),
- journal clubs (all of us pseudointellectuals trash some poor sod's data)
- lab meetings (we trash each others data, but more politely)
- happy hours (sad meetings of lab rats where we drown our sorrows - mostly ruined experiments and singledom issues - in an ocean of alcohol to the sound of 80s pop) These are the only gettogethers that last way more than an hour - unless you have a gel running - and where you learn more about anything than anywhere else. Lurid gossip about co-workers? Happy hour's your place, baby. Boss ran out of money? This is where you cry your heart out. Plus of course, all the women look vastly prettier after 4 beers...
So thats pretty much how a first year in a grad program in an elite university in the US looks, academically.
Right now, I'm settling in one of these labs (the only one that would tolerate me), working on something called "antigen presentation". The learning curve is steep. Of course, I've made a great start - I screwed up my labmate's experiment by swapping labeled tubes (honest mistake, I swear), and I also got caught by my boss looking at a pic of a naked woman - an attachment sent lovingly by one of my moron middle school friends. So clearly, they love me here already.
And I got 5 more years of this.
Question of the day
Q: What do you call a comet that hits you in the arse and pops a blood vessel?
A: A meteoroid.
(h/t jessi for calling a meteorite a meteoroid)
A: A meteoroid.
(h/t jessi for calling a meteorite a meteoroid)
Lactation consultant
So I just spoke to a friend of mine some time back. He and his wife (she's preggers) paid a 150 bucks to consult with a "lactation specialist" for half hour.
No kidding. 30 minutes, 150 bucks. Apparently, its more than just:
1. Lift child
2. Pop boob out
3. Stick in child's mouth
I mean, how did our civilization survive without lactation specialists to help us along?
No kidding. 30 minutes, 150 bucks. Apparently, its more than just:
1. Lift child
2. Pop boob out
3. Stick in child's mouth
I mean, how did our civilization survive without lactation specialists to help us along?
Friday, September 12, 2008
NARCISSISM
I spelled that right first time round. I could really wither away in front of this, typing and watching it popping up a second later on my "Stretch Denim" template. I dwell at the very bottom of the self-esteem barrel. And I have no friends.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Pt. 2)
I write something, and there it is!
This is so bloody narcissistic.
This is so bloody narcissistic.
Glub, glub, glub...
This is more complicated than I thought. Blue background or black? Arial or Times? Size 10 or 12?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
