Moby Centipede

A week ago there was a gigantic centipede taunting me from the ceiling, but I was having a Rolling Stones underwear dance party so I couldn't be bothered to kill it. By the time I was done, the centipede had stopped peeping at me and gone back into hiding. I have been trying desperately for these past few days not to think of it predating the corners of my quaint apartment while I sleep.

Tonight, it returned: (Actual size of insect = approximately 2 inches)



You'll be pleased to know that I didn't even scream when I saw it. I let out a cry of outrage that it would dare flaunt its vulnerable position (an obvious insult to my integrity as an insect assassin) and aspirated it to the oblivions in my vacuum cleaner. Centipedes are predators, but I think this victory over arthropoda reiterates that I am a more accomplished predator than most natural things. TRY ME.

Vodka

I'm 25% Polish, 50% German, and 25% mystery. When all these genes combine, you get a human being that runs more efficiently on hard liquor than any other substance in the world. Vodka got me through college. It helped me dance, it helped me date, and it helped me break up. It helped me forget the C- I got in calculus, Egyptian history, organic chemistry, and genetics, and the C+ I got in almost everything else except Russian Lit and Neurobiology courses. Vodka is my hero.

Last week I found out that vodka can work without damaging your liver. Some kids were climbing on me earlier in the week and pinched a nerve in my neck. (It was sort of cool. If I put pressure on the right point, it felt like my skin was on fire. That is how I self-diagnosed my neck pain as a nerve problem.) I was pretty miserable at work because I've found that I don't get very much done with my head on my desk. I took this gigantic, squishy green pill called "Aleve", but it didn't alleviate my pain. Someone should rename that pill. Maybe "A-LIE" would be more appropriate.

The Russian I work with said that vodka can cure pain. We didn't have any vodka in lab, but we had 100% ethanol for cleaning lab surfaces, and that's probably even better. It's everclear, baby. So the lovely people I work with prepared a poultice of vodka and taped it to my neck. Guess what! It worked!

Now I profess to you, my handful of readers, that vodka is a true panacea that can solve nearly any problem. And whatever it can't solve... try tequila?

The daily disrespect for Sarah Palin

elyse (12:42:57 AM): yeah why do families gotta kiss?

chris (12:43:05 AM): I don't know

chris (12:43:07 AM): It weirds me out kind of

elyse (12:43:09 AM): that's weird

chris (12:43:12 AM): Especially my grandma

elyse (12:43:43 AM): the weirdest is when you have to hug or kiss family members who aren't actually related to you

elyse (12:43:50 AM): like an uncle or aunt who is married in

chris (12:44:24 AM): Yeah

elyse (12:44:41 AM): in the palin family they call that matchmaking

(Hopefully) The only post I will ever write about Facebook

I almost never add people as my friend on Facebook. I wait for them to add me. Playing hard-to-get over the internet is a challenging and rewarding game. I get this cheap, dirty thrill from the rejections and selections that happen over Facebook.

When I add people, I almost always regret it. Sometimes I add guys I've dated and never see them again (only their updates, like irritating ghosts of the relationship I aborted). Sometimes I add the new girlfriends of exboyfriends (to freak them out). Sometimes I add the boyfriends of girls who don't like me (to piss them off). None of these things are very productive! I should have a hypnotist give me an aversion to the words "Add friend."

I love the creepout feeling I get when someone adds me. What makes someone who never talked to you in high school decide one random afternoon that they would like to cybernetwork with you? When I was at home last month, I went to a bar and saw a lot of these cyberalumni-- all of whom had mysteriously requested my friendship years ago and said nothing to me since. And then what do you say? "Long time, no see... your facebook status tells me you split up with your boyfriend, how sad!" "Remember that time in high school when... umm... we didn't hang out, did we? Remember that picture you uploaded last month? HILARIOUS." "No no, you didn't get fat!" Awkwardtown.

The best of all Facebook feelings is when you get to reject someone. I rejected someone once because I didn't recognise him. I thought he was going to creep my photos and write scary "compliments" on my wall. I realized later that I'd had a science class with him in high school, and he'd just altered his name as a joke. He friended me again a month later with his name changed back to the real one. But he didn't send me a note or anything to clear up confusion, and I'd never even had a conversation with him... so I rejected him again. All in all, he requested my friendship over 10 times, never once trying to decreepify the situation. Toward the end there, I got so much joy rejecting him that I think I descended to yet a lower level of hell. Sorry, dude. Don't be so creepy.

The worst is when you are unfriended, or when you have to unfriend someone. The actual unfriending process is quite satisfying, but the decision to completely cut someone out is sort of difficult. Actually, last year I was living with this disgusting guy and wanted to unfriend him for months before my social situation permitted me to click that glorious button. My most recent ex boyfriend unfriended me because he "didn't want to see my updates, they make me feel horrible." Well, the dumb bastard should feel horrible, but I totally understand. I've unfriended my exes before because I don't want to see when they are in a new relationship. I also unfriended everybody I was obligated to be friends with during college, but whose life I didn't really care about. It's annoying to see pictures of parties you know were boring and trite on your newsfeed, am I right?

In summary, I'm a bitch on Facebook. It's good practice for real life.