What's the Buzz?

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

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

. . . 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

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?

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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?