I Hated Magic Before it Was Cool

[Disclaimer: I’ve been asked by the BBC to write a series of articles that have little to relevance or importance to the modern day world. This is the first entry in a 6-part series.]



Let’s look back in time for a moment. A happier time when people were not afraid to be themselves. When people were not filled with hatred for something they just didn’t understand.

Do you remember these classic lyrics to the popular 1965 Lovin Spoonful song hit:

'Yeah, do you believe in magic
Yeah, believe in the magic of a young girl's soul
Believe in the magic of rock and roll
Believe in the magic that can set you free'

Now, let’s walk forward in time again and contrast that with the following more recent Sunset Rubdown lyrics:

'Was it magic or Midas that touched you?
And by magic, I mean “trickery.” And by Midas, I mean “faith.”
By magic, I mean “trickery.” And by Midas, I mean “faith.”

What does this mean, Spencer Krug….By magic you mean “TRICKERY”??????? What madness do you speak, I beseech you, TELL ME! Since when was magic synonymous with trickery? I always thought that magic was the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces. That’s certainly not trickery in my book (my book, by the way is Webster’s).

In my own personal life (as opposed to my public (health) life) there are 2 people that I know for certain hate magic. As I’ve stated in a previous blog, the number of friends that I have is only outweighed by the number 5. In other words, I have 4 friends. If two of those friends hate magic, then in epidemiologic terms, we’re looking at a magic hating prevalence (MHP) of close to 50%.

I’m not sure where these negative emotions are coming from. Was it The Never Ending Story perhaps? That movie has always freaked the shit out of me. But, I’m probably not a great example considering my love for magic is only outweighed by my love for beet farms. Maybe it’s something more recent like Harry Potter or the economy. Or have some of us simply lost our ability to imagine?

A great divide is developing in the world today. On one side of this chasm you’ll find those people that would like magic to never be taught to children in schools or referred to in movies and books and the like. On the other side you’ll find those of us that dream of a world filled with unicorns and dragons and potions. I know what side I’m on. Do you?
And so, go on then you non-believers. Keep thinking that hating magic is cool. But watch out, as I might just have to go all D & D on your ass.

Not even a Level 5 Protection Spell can save you from the wrath of Trex.

I welcome your questions and comments. But not your concerns.

For those of you who woke up this morning...

and were thinking that Trex and her sister were totally normally and functional...please refer to the picture below to help clear up this case of mistaken identity (and I do apologize for the Inappropriate Childhood Nudity or ICN...someone should notify the EPA or the FDA or OSHA or maybe the Forest Service, I'm not sure which one exactly).If this is not enough evidence to convince you, please consider the following points...

Common topics of conversation between Annie and T-rex:
1. Geez, when was the last time my dog bit your dog and you or me or mom had to get stitches?? It's been a while! It's always so funny when that happens though!
2. Bret, are you bulimic? No Germaine, I just want you to pay me a compliment. (Please read in a Flight of the Concords-esque kiwi accent).
3. Trex, is it okay if the house gets cleaned and the electrician is in your room around 8 AM tomorrow morning? Annie, you are the devil. The devil I say.
4. So, what's your Wi fit age??
5. ANNIE! Doesn't your set of Hostroff knives remind you of the Austrof Center from Gossip Girl??

Common Annie and T-rex activities:
1. Annie cuts off half of one of her fingers cooking some strange vegan meal. Trex scoffs silently in the background and runs into her room so she can shove 4 pieces of Rusty's pizza down her throat without Annie finding out.
2. Annie and Trex sit on the couch and silently watch Lord of the Rings. They both cry when Aragorn tells the wee hobitts that everyone should bow to them at the end of the Return of the King and not the other way around.
3. Annie and Trex quote an entire episode of the Office to each other and talk about how that show changed (saved?) their lives.
4. Annie and Trex play the popular board game "My family is more dysfunctional than yours." Naturally, they always end up tied.
5. Annie texts Trex using T9word and doesn't proofread...she mistakenly tells trex that "the old family photos are in the living room underneath the yak." Trex spends the remainder of the day worried that the family's pet yak has escaped.

Until next time,

There won't be a next time,

Yes there will, shut up,

You shut up,

Quit being a douchebag,

At least I'm not a dickweed,

Trex/Tracy

Dearest Secret Diary...

I can't stop thinking about that boy that swept me off my feet 6 short years ago. Every day I wake up in my sketchy south Berkeley neighborhood and wish that I could be transported back to that perfect night. Every day I wake up and think...if only I could be making out in the back of a taxi cab right now with that special someone.

Instead I am all alone in this town filled with people that don't shave their armpits and smell like fennel and beets.

At least I have Stella to spoon me and my ollaliberry to keep me company.

I will leave you, my sweet diary, with the following words of wisdom...

"Dark times call for darker measures."

"If you can't beat em, hit them over the head with a can of minestrone soup."

"Your caliber is only outweighed by the size of your gun."

"If I had a gun I wouldn't have needed this horse."

"If it weren't for this horse I never would have spent that year in college."

With much trepidation regarding the state of Santa Barbara, I bid you adieu and goodnight,
Trex

I AM ELATED, but...

When it comes to the outcome of last night's election I have no complaints. I've been a disgruntled American since birth and, last night, for the first time since I remember I was (and still am!) so proud to be a part of this country. Even my renegade cousin grace that was deported to Mexico is fired up right now. EVEN THE FRENCH said "Everyone wants to be an American right now." Did you EVER think you would here the French say that?? THEY might even start calling them Freedom Fries too!

Although I could speak at length about my jubilation, my admiration, my exultation, and every other 'ation word with a positive connotation, I have to throw one BUT in there...


This is a picture, not of people celebrating Obama's historic win, BUT people celebrating the fact that Proposition 8 has just officially passed.

These guys are THAT hysterical over the fact that we just took one big step back. And this is ef-ing CALIFORNIA. It's hard for me to accept. I know that change takes a while. I know that 30 years ago we never would have elected a Black president. Clearly, last night we NEVER would have elected a gay president. But maybe, in a way, it's a good thing. The hypocrisy of Obama's victory on the same night as the passage of a proposition that keeps this country in the dark ages will hopefully open a few more people's eyes. We have a long way to go, and without the equality-hating ignorant assholes pictured above that think an INSTITUTION is more important than a PERSON, we might forget how much work there is to do.

VOTE OR I WILL SMACK YOU

This is not a threat. I would never threaten you. But I swear to God, if you don't vote tomorrow I will personally make your life a living hell. Again, I'm not trying to threaten you or anything.

Of course OBAMA will win CALI by a landslide...but don't think you're vote doesn't count...there are some CRAZY propositions that might get passed if you don't get off your ass.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT PROPOSITIONS YOU ARE GOING TO VOTE FOR??????

I don't want to inject my own politics into this blog but...vote YES on PROP 8 if you HATE the GAYS! Don't forgot to also vote YES on PROP 4...don't try to protect whorish girls!

Get The Hell Out of My Row

Ah, a good morning to all of you. Top of the morning if you will! I've had my morning cup of chai and even threw in a shot of espresso to really get things going. It's really working. I'm typing 103 words per minute right now. So, I'm writing you from biostatistics this morning. I always get to this awful 8 am class between 4 and 12 minutes late. It's at the very, very top of campus, as far away from my house as you can get. I like to sit in the very top row so that I can play on my computer instead of paying attention. You might be thinking..."Trex, you need to grow up and start focusing in your class." To that I say: "Ef you!" Seriously though, our teacher wrote our textbook and literally just reads the textbook to us to teach the class. However, I digress. What prompted me to blog this early is my recent realization that I HATE people sitting near me. When I first sat down today this is what MY top row looked like:

Now, that is a beautiful sight to me! A veritable sight for sore eyes. When something like this happens to me, I find myself thinking, "God dammit, if the next person that sits down sits in this row I swear to god I'm gonna f-ing, jesus, holy crap." Clearly, I'm channeling Grandpa.

Since I first started writing, 3 people have already sat in my row.

If someone takes the seat next to me I'm probably gonna lose my shit.

Have a lovely rest of your day
and try not to sit next to anyone in case they are as misanthropic as your author

Trex

Dead Baby Possum Update

The other day I happened across a very frightening scene. Stella was lying in my backyard next to a mutilated dead baby possum which, it seems, she herself perpetrated untold crimes against. In a moment of panic, I picked up the dead baby possum (with an empty flower pot) and chucked it into my next door neighbors yard. It has just recently been brought to my attention that, in some circles, this might be considered a somewhat malicious act. I'd like to publicly apologize to my neighbors and make it clear that I am not waging a secret war against them. I promise you, this was no act of sedition on my part. Twas only an irrational decision made in the face of my hysterical angst. It was clearly a direct result of the deep seeded fear of dead baby possums I seem to posses.

Sunday Evening Questions of the Day

1. If nominated to be one of Irish Magazines “Top 100 Irish-Americans in 2008” will I garner the #7 or the #36 spot?

2. Have large festivals and gatherings in San Francisco (I won’t name any names here) caused me to become even more of a misanthrope than previously stated?

3. If I could become the physical embodiment of any television show on the air what would it be?

4. What three phrases did I utilize most this weekend?



Answers

1. it’s moot
2. absolutely they have
3. The Office
4. a) “This is career-making work”
b) “I’m multiethnic and not afraid to say it”
c) “If I’m not studying, I’m probably just drunk…or blogging…or blogging drunk”

Addendum 2: I love lasers (possibly tied for magic)

I recently was needing to "pair" my apple remote with my macbook...they became upaired after i installed the new leopard operating system on my computer (or is it jaguar??). I need my apple remote when I watch dvds on my computer. What's significant about this is the fact that, while laying in bed watching a movie, my computer is usually on my lap and at arm's length and yet I still feel the need to use a remote. When trying to determine how to "pair" them up again, I found a note on apple's website saying that you can check to see if your remote is is working by taking a picture of your remote while holding down one of the buttons. This way, you can see if the infrared sensor is functioning, which you can't see with the naked (slut!) eye.
I don't know why this is so exciting to me. Maybe because my dad is a physics geek? Once I found out this was possible, I couldn't stop doing it! If I know my sister, she's going to do the exact same thing with her remote as soon as she reads this, and she will probably be equally overjoyed.

Why you should vote for Sarah Palin (Addendum to most recent post)

1. she looks a lot like tina fey and my mom really likes 30 rock, so, essentially, you are supporting my mom if you support sarah palin

2. she's white, and thus, more trustworthy

3. she knows how to abuse power, get caught, but then not get punished in anyway - a quality that every president should posses

4. if she can shoot an f-ing wolf from a moving helicopter she's probably got excellent aim and is more likely to stay on target (next target = iran)

5. she doesn't reprimand any of her supporters when they yell out, in reference to barak obama; "terrorist" or "bomb obama" or "kill him" at her rallies. in other words, she has a deep appreciation for freedom of speech

6. she's absolutely unqualified for her job and thus VERY qualified to be in washington

7. she's not only nearsighted (wears glasses), but also, extremely farsighted (can see russia from her house)

8. her love for women's rights is only outweighed by her ability to answer Katie Couric's interview questions

9. she reads EVERY newspaper in the country

10. she is a pitbull, my dog is a pitbull, i love my dog, therefore, by association...i love sarah palin (note: this also works in the case of sarah palin as joe six-pack, e.g i drink six packs, dot dot dot)

Arguments For and Against Doing Crack

My plight of trying to be cool in the face of adversity continues to be a lifelong struggle for me. I've decided to take up (electric shock) therapy which will hopefully prove helpful. Perhaps it's something in the water? I recently learning about the E. Coli 0157 outbreak that happened in Canada about 10 years ago...turns out, in that case, it really was in the water. That wasn't too helpful for all the people that were being told to drink lots of water to keep hydrated. Bloody diarrhea, apparently, is quite dehydrating. Anyway, I digress. What I mean to say is, not that I'm having a bout of bloody diarrhea right now, but that I don't understand why I can't be more slick? Case in point: I've recently enrolled in a MCAT prep course (as a side note: don't ever take one of these things for fun, they are, quite simply, awful), and my first night was this past Tuesday (or, Tuesday past, depending on your era of origin). So about halfway through our 3 hour class, our teacher let us out for a 10 minute break. Naturally, I took this opportunity to go purchase a garden salad for myself so as to quell my voracious appetite (nothing like a few pieces of lettuce and a cherry tomato to satiate oneself). Because of the short length of our break, I felt compelled to take my salad back to our classroom and eat there. So, there I was, learning about verbal reasoning passage strategies and calmly enjoying my delicious salad. Unfortunately, things quickly went downhill from here. As I placed my salad in my lap to pour some ranch dressing on top, I somehow manage to flip the entire thing over, effectively pouring an entire side of ranch onto my black yoga pants (I wear yoga pants just in case we do a break-out yoga sesh in the middle of class as a stress-managing technique). Naturally, I panicked. I didn't want any of my new classmates to see what had become of me so I took the paper bag that my salad had come in and covered up the mess I had made. At the same time, I was trying to stealthily clean the ranch off of my pants with a smallish napkin. Unfortunately, this was just making it all worse. Then, as if I wasn't embarrassed enough, the rest of my salad fell out of my lap onto the floor. My one cherry tomato (why do they always only give you one??) rolled to the other side of the room and there were red onions and carrots everywhere. The girl sitting next to me had to help me clean it all up. Needless to say, this is the last time I'll be eating in my MCAT class.

Moving on to something more exciting... I have finally found a boyfriend! It turns out, my dating website is an absolute winner. The amount of stellar inquisitions from quality boys I have gotten as a result of that website is staggering. It was hard for me to decide who I would end up with, but I think that I've made the right decision and I hope all of you will agree. His given name is Hellotoyoutoday (I think it's French) and he is a 22 year old business/entrepreneur. In his profile under the category I SPEND A LOT OF TIME THINKING ABOUT...he wrote: "Would I become a jackass if I suddenly inherited a billion dollars?" To that I say, honey, I think you're already there, estate tax-free. Please see the attached picture to get a better idea of his true beauty.




What a great photo to have on your okCupid profile, right. I've always wanted to date someone that has face that looks like a camera.









In further news, I have resigned from my post as cookie deliveree. I know this may come as quite a shock to many of you, considering that this was the whole reason I moved to Berkeley, but I've decided to pursue my other passion of online gaming. More on that later though.

I think that Stella has possibly swallowed one of her squeakie toys. I cannot be sure as of yet but I will definitely keep you posted (via intermittent radio broadcasts that will be announced by sirens and flashing lights). I tried to induce the noise by pressing on her this morning (Stella, is the pain reproducible?) but, unfortunately, this just caused her to fart on me.


Which one of these toys has Stella ingested??













After much deliberation, I have decided not do crack. Thank you for all of your support on this matter.

With all the knowledge in the world,

Trex

A dedication to my favorite dickweed OR How to survive 5 days with my Uncle Judy

After much deliberation and forethought, I decided that the best and most productive manner by which to detail my experience this past weekend at Fallen Leaf Lake with my Uncle Geoff was by way of audio and visual displays. I feel that this is the most effective way to get my point across. My point being that, not only is my Uncle one of the most insane people on record, but he is also one most entertaining, insightful, and lovable persons I know. In other words, my adoration for my uncle is only outweighed by my fear of him...







Before we could even get to the lake we had to make a much deserved stop in the city at the Elbo Room. Geoff taught all of us that you REALLY can text someone's landline. Your cell company will text you back and say "this is a landline, would you like to send a message to this number for 25 cents?" I think Geoff texted his sister to remind her that she's a dickweed.


















Our latest album cover...The Talking D-weeds.









#1 in a long (or is it short?) list of Geoff's favorite things to do when it's too cold to go swimming....

















Note that Geoff left for Stella when Grace and him headed to the lake the morning before Stella and I left...it says "Bye Stella: We need to talk, I'll call you from the lake."





I never knew I was a dickweed until this past week. Dickweed is clearly Geoff's all-time favorite word. According to Geoff; Grace is a dickweed, Pete is a dickweed, my mom is a dickweed, I am a dickweed, and Stella is a dickweed. Stella is most certainly the biggest dickweed of them all. But that is only because she broke Geoff's heart (more on that later).
















The second of Geoff's 3 favorite activities...I'm not sure how many birds he'll see with his binocs points in such a direction. They'll probably see him first.
















Here is a photo that I thought very representative of Geoff and Stella's relationship. Geoff, sitting in the shadows, staring longingly at Stella who refuses to even look at him. Things got off to a rocky start between the two of them from day one.









An entire family of dickweeds...














Last but not least on the favorite activities list.








"In light of the quality of your oeuvre, I am temporarily suspending your moniker - dickweed, pending future dubious, problematic activity on your part which of course is inevitable, you dickweed!!!! I'm pissed, I'm Judy, I shoot cats from helicopters!!!!!"
-Recent email message from the undersigned (I have no comment, I don't even understand half of these words)



Uncle Geoff, although you have not authorized any of the materials I have made publicly available (and you are a lawyer, so that could be a mistake on my part). I hope you've enjoyed this tribute to your person as much as I enjoy your endless antics.


Tank of gas to get to fallen leaf lake....$55

Stocking up with fruit, veggies and frosted flakes at Raley's...$97

Trying to fall asleep in the same room as your cousin Grace and your dickweed Uncle who is in his sleeping bag on the floor sending both of you texts that say "goodnite d-weeds".....Priceless

With much chagrin,

Trex

Ahem,

T-weed

A sidenote from UJ's sister who is currently missing, and at-large:

When Uncle Judy was about 7, his sister, J, now living in the Columbia Gorge, and at the time, about 3 and a half years younger than UJ and sadly, sharing a room, resented the fact that UJ got up earlier in the morning to got to school (he was later expelled). In an attempt to prevent him from rising the next morning, she piled all (ALL) of her toys on top of him one night, in the middle of the night. It was the beginning of UJ's lifelong struggle with mental confusion, for which he is so benignly and lovingly known. For J, it was an early realization that strange behavior could reap untold rewards, whilst going largely unnoticed in the SFS.*

*Stearns Family System

The amount of friends I have is only outweighed by the number 5 OR We should probably refer to the literature OR When good things happen to bad people

It's been a whirlwind of a week I must say. What with the alien abduction and subsequent return of my person to the earth and all. Just when I thought things couldn't get any crazier, they did. Because I am too lazy right now to write in paragraphs the following blog will be a bulleted list of important points or events that I felt the need to discuss.

• I'd like to start this off by saying, the stealing of my camper shell off of my truck has affected me both emotionally and spiritually. I'm really not ready to talk about it yet. Please see attached flyer and distribute amongst the community at large.
• Nextly, a few nights ago I may or may not have had a bit of champagne to drink. The result of this was a flurry of drunk texting and dialing. Sorry about that call mom. I just REALLY needed to know if that was Sandy Koufax in that old picture of you. I also sent a blank text message to my dad's home phone number. I'm not sure if he got it. It was really important though.
  
• Furthermore, I've joined an internet dating service called ok-cupid. I'm not really sure what I was thinking. Maybe I just haven't had time yet to have that internal monologue that should sound like this: "Trex, what the hell are you thinking?" It's been pretty funny so far. Lots of potential for awkwardness. And we all know I deserve 5 stars for awkwardness. In case you think we might be a good match you can check out my profile... (http://www.okcupid.com/profile/trex_c). When I view my own profile it tells me that I am an 89% match to myself.
  
• I met this awesome person yesterday...a friend of a friend of a friend (FOAF). The original friend being someone who I'm not really contacting anymore. Anyway, I was at this brunch thing in the city for Dania's birthday (HBDD!) and talking to some people when this guy came up to me to tell me that I looked really familiar. I was so happy to hear that from someone because I'm always hearing from people that I look really unfamiliar (even from people I know pretty well). But we chatted for a bit and, it turns out we didn't actually know each other in a familiar way. After he left, the awesome FOAF guy was making fun of the conversation I had just had with the other familiarity guy (is this making too much sense?). He came up with the best line EVER...."You look just like a girl I kind of want to sleep with." I'm definitely using that one. It should probably be somehow incorporated into my online dating profile. I'm sure that would attract some really top-notch gentlemen.
  
• I'd now like to direct your attention to a different topic. I recently was speaking with my lovely Mexican cousin Graciela. She informed me that she will be visiting me, along with her father Uncle Judy, this coming Tuesday. My excitement for Uncle Geoff to be hanging out with me in Berkeley is only outweighed by innate ability to juggle. I hope he says "dickweed" more than once.
  
• In further news, I would like to cordially and precipitously invite everyone to the 2008 Checker's Chunks Chase Birthday Bash (C x 3, B x 2). This will be held at my abode in Berkeley tomorrow at noon. I would come down to Santa Barbara, but it's more convenient for me if everyone could just drive up here in the morning. You should probably plan to leave around 6AM. We will be eating raw dog food and fake plastic vegetables for lunch. Also, everyone will have their own bowl of water. We'll play a really fun game called "Stella Chewing on Checker's Paw." This reminds me of the three little pigs video when Pete tells Grace (in a moment of some of the most brilliant childhood acting I've ever seen).."You better not be lying to me or I'm gonna come back here and chew on your face." This, in turn, reminds me of the book I've always wanted to write: "Living in Fear of My Brother and his Baby Blue Scooter - The Grace Stearns Story." The sequel would be about me..."Living in the Crack Between Grace's Bed and the Wall."
  
• Lastly, it was discovered by myself today (after a 14-month deleterious investigation) that my roommate Ramsey Wright Penn (no relation to Sean) has an uncle (named CIII...maybe he's also a robot?) that went to Crane school with my beloved mother. How's that for the alignment of the stars. Mother Chase (no relation to Mother Jones) also related to me that she knew Ramsey's grandmother as well. What a small, shaded world we live in. Unless you live on my street which isn't exactly what you would call "tree-lined." I do hope to live on a tree-lined street someday. Also, I want a Viking Stove.
• Annie, I'm really sorry but I accidentally severed my right leg and left it in your bathroom. My bad.

Over the bridge to nowhere you will find a dead moose and a cop that tazered his stepson "because he asked me to," also some books that nobody would have read anyway.

I bid you adieu.

Trex

Mom, I've been abducted by aliens, please call Sarah Pallin

She'll know what to do. She always does in situations like this.

Apparently my ass (on account of its ever increasing froot loop induced size) decided to drunk dial my mom while I was riding my bike to school today. My buttocks was only able to leave a garbled message to said mother and apparently it was somewhere along the lines of "We have your daughter, we haven't hurt her...yet. We demand 24 dollars, payable to our B of A account. You have 7 hours." I, of course, was the last to know about my purported kidnapping, brought to my attention after my venerable mother left 2 frantic messages saying "honey, i think you've been abducted, i hope you're okay, call me back when you get a chance and let me know if there's anything I can do in terms of a ransom. Also, I forwarded your car insurance bill to your house."

Quite touching really.

It turns out the whole incident this afternoon was just a ruse. I wasn't actually kidnapped this afternoon by fictitious Berkeley hooligans. But, in a completely random and unrelated occurrence, I WAS abducted by aliens about an hour ago. I don't really know what to do at this point, I've been confined to a small holding cell with D.B. Sweeney. It's been pretty scary so far. They made me take the picture that I've included...I think they are trying to brainwashing me into thinking I am one of them. I won't give in. Luckily, they've allowed me to bring my mac and they have pretty good wireless up here. It actually might be a good thing because I've really been procrastinating with my school work, so maybe I'll get some done up here. Although, blogging seems to be a fairly effective distraction.

I'll keep everyone posted if I find anything out about when I might get released. I'm not sure what the logistics of that will be, but I'm hoping, at the least, they'll provide me with a parachute and a compass.

Confessions of a Cookie Delivery Girl (or Lady), Part I

After a 15 month, intensive and rigourous certificate program from Phoenix Online University (www.takeclassesonline.edu) I have begun my first official job as a cookie delivery girl (or, as we call it in the biz…a Late Night Snack Delivering Associate). My new part time (physically)/full time (mentally) job began on Thursday night at 9 P.M. I can honestly and modestly say this is the greatest achievement of my life to date. My job not only provides me with a competitive salary (plus benefits) but also a sense of accomplishment and the feeling that I’m truly making a difference in this troubled and tumultuous world. My first night was not only challenging but also intellectually stimulating. My boss had told me when I was first hired that he wanted to just “get my feet wet” on my first night, but he pretty much threw me in the proverbial stream instead. He had me baking new cookies, warming up previously baked cookies, preparing new orders, answering the phone, and even mopping up at the end of the night. On a side note, my boss (a recent graduate of Indiana University) was recently listed on Forbes’ list of Small Business Owners to Watch in 2008, and, based on his management style, I’m not surprised at all. Don’t get me wrong though, there were certainly a few lighthearted moments in the night. Like when I was wrapping balls of raw cookie dough (yeah, we deliver that too) for an order and Dylan was describing to me how to “pack the balls in there so they didn’t flop out over the side of the wax paper” or how to check to make sure if the cookies in the warmer are ready by “lifting them up a little bit to see how limp they are”. It’s the Limp Test. In addition to all of the other demanding tasks I was asked to perform on Night One, I was also able to make a few deliveries. This was made interesting not only by the fact that I’ve lived in Berkeley for less than a week and don’t know my way around but also because everyone I was delivering too was either drunk or stoned, naturally. They were also all college-aged girls, naturally (I don’t really see the middle-aged businessman ordering snickerdoodles at 2 A.M).
I know that I moved up here to deliver cookies but, after a bit of thought, I’ve also decided to enroll in classes in one of the little colleges here and get my Master’s In Public Health. My main focus will be cookies of course (as it should be) but I thought this would be a fun thing to do in my spare time. I started that whole thing this Wednesday and so far it has been truly amazing. My professors are incredible (their brilliance is only outweighed by my earlier stated sense of accomplishment) and my classes all seem very interesting (Principles of Infectious Disease, Epidemiologic Methods, Introduction to Public Health, and Food Borne Diseases). There are only 12 other first year kids in my division (which is Infectious Diseases and Vaccinology) and about 9 awesome Infectious Disease professors. One of whom (or is it who) happens to be the Director of the UC Berkeley/UCSF Joint Medical School Program. This is a somewhat new (and very small) program that allows you to take your first 3 years of med school classes at Berkeley and then finish up your clinical work at UCSF. Being here has certainly renewed my desire to go to med school eventually and this program would basically (and acidically) be a dream come true. So needless to say, I’m going to make it Priority One on my long list of 273 Priorities to become best friends with the previously mentioned but not yet named Dr. Swartzberg. This makes my life complicated because I thought when I first came up here that delivering cookies was going to be Priority One but now it seems that I’m going to have to have a Priority 1A and 1B, which will be A and which will be B is yet to be determined as such.
In further news, the dog (Stella Bumps) has adjusted quite well to her new surroundings and new roommates (Ramsey and Jen) who, incidentally, are both great (their greatness is only surpassed by the fact that they are paying me rent). I’ve also adjusted well so far, despite a few days of an upset stomach (which, not to go into too much detail involved a bout of “loose stools” as my sister likes to call them). I was always confused by that phrase as it invokes for me an image of instrument of sitting that has become wobbly as a result of being overused. Moving in was a bit of a stress considering that the family I’m renting from perhaps thought they were only renting their house out for a few days rather than 12 months and failed to clean the house or remove any of the crap that one wouldn’t really consider to be part of a “furnished house” (e.g. their children’s artwork, old food in the fridge, their 40 year old fax machine, etc.). But now we are a bit more settled in and so Stella and I have been getting a chance to explore the neighborhood a bit more. This also seems to be a great way for me to pick up on the men that live nearby (I’ve already had a few people ask me if I wanted to be their girlfriend, one guy just shouted his phone number at me and told me to call him as soon as I got home, and let’s not forget the guy that works at Extra Space Storage that offered to show me around town and “took the liberty of taking my phone number off my storage unit application” and then proceeded to text and call me a few times a day for about 3 days after the fact).
My neighborhood may or may not be one of the nicer neighborhoods in Berkeley, but it certainly is conveniently located. It takes me less than 15 minutes to bike to school in the morning. This is fantastic but the only issue is that it’s a bit uphill. I try to plan my wardrobe to be less revealing of the sweat running down my back by the time I arrive on campus but this has proved to be a bit of a challenge. The ride back is even faster considering it is downhill but one might argue that this makes it a bit more dangerous. Yesterday on my way home I stopped at Jamba Juice for a refreshing and tasty smoothie. I was blazing down the hill, one hand on a handlebar, the other holding my smoothie. When I approached a rather busy intersection I tried to simultaneously brake with one hand and take a sip of my smoothie with the other. Unfortunately, my brain sent a bit of mixed message and I accidentally slammed on the brakes, went flying over the handlebars, but miraculously landed on both feet with my smoothie still in hand and intact. Everyone at the intersection saw it happen, I think a few people even honked. It seems that any attempt I make to act suave and cool ends in disastrous defeat. It’s like whenever I have one of those uber-confident moments and want to walk with my head held high and shoulders back I end up tripping down a flight of stairs. I had a memorable incident like this during my long ago trip to India on that lovely mountaineering course. I was checking out a book from the tiny library in a little hut at our base camp and successfully flirting with all the cute instructors that happened to be helping with the book distribution (you know, impressing them with my vast knowledge of the three Hindi phrases I learned) and as I was walking out grinning and feeling generally successful in my attempts, I failed to notice how low the door jam was and smacked my head really hard against the top of the door in front of everyone.
Well, I think that I have discussed all of the topics that I set out to cover today. I apologize for the excessive length and will try to keep things shorter next time. Any questions or concerns can be directed to me via email (trexc42@mac.com). Please keep any negative comments to a minimum in light of my fragile self-esteem.

Until next time,

As soon as possible,

Stay focused and you will succeed,

With love and admiration,

Just do it already and get it over with,

That’s what she said,

Trex

A Disclaimer, as always

I have finally decided to get on the whole blog bandwagon. About this I feel excited, apprehensive, radiant and a bit gassy and bloated. There are myriad topics that I would like to discuss. Like, for example, why it's proper grammar to just say "myriad" and not "a myriad" which would sound so much better. I would like to stress that, although I have many thoughts on many things, I will make no attempt to write about things that are either truthful, politically correct, or intellectually important. Despite my aforementioned interest in grammar, my sentence structure often leaves something to be desired and I frequently try to use large words that I don't completely understand the meaning of (see above: myriad, aforementioned). I refuse to make any apologizes for myself in this regard. But I'm very sorry that I do that.