You Know You're Being Productive at Work When...

You are having facebook conversations about fake family reunions with your mom from your dog's perspective...

Jeanne Chase
Friend Requested by Stella
Today at 2:01pm

Message
Stella,
I am not sure I know who you are, but interestingly, we are starting a Chase family reunion in the Black Hills as I speak. What family of Chase's are you related to?
Jeanne


Stella Chase
Today at 3:23pm
Hmm, Jeanne eh? That name sort of sounds familiar...if you posted a PICTURE maybe I would have a better idea of who the hell you are. Actually, now that I think of it, perhaps you are somehow related to a dog I used to mutilate...I think his last name was Chase but I'll have to refer back to my records. If it turns out we are somehow connected...I would LOVE to attend the Black Hills Reunion. In terms of my lineage, my great great grandfather was John Arbuckle Chase III and his wife was named Susan B. Anthony. My parents are Trex Margaret Chase and Gepetto Rocko Anderson (they aren't married and my mother decided to give me her last name instead of my father's for tax purposes.)
Hope this clears some things up for you,
Stella

Summer Speed Blogging

(Not to be confused with Winter Speed Skating…totally different thing).

Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Sorry Blog, it’s been so long since we’ve last spoken!

Well, a lot has happened since my last dead baby possum update…in fact, I’m going to have to revert to the days when we did things in outline format (just like when I wrote my hard-hitting report on Hernando De Soto (famed Italian explorer) in the fifth grade). I actually have a lot of really interesting stories about my childhood (especially from when I lived in Summerland but nobody ever seems to let me finish that one).

(IMPORTANT NOTE: I have tried very hard to format this blog so that proper indents were displayed...alas, blogger.com is sort of flukey. Thus, my outline may seem convoluted at best. I'm sincerley sorry. I can send you a more formal word document in case you wanted to print this out).

HEADLINES:

A.I’m pregnant
a.Wait no, that’s my sister
i.Yes, she’s doing great - thanks for asking
ii. No, I have not yet learned how to get around the baby-proofed cabinet
drawers in the kitchen

B. I’ve mastered the art of acting like I’m doing work at work when I’m actually doing nothing
a. This blog is case in point
b. Work is really fun at the public health lab…ESPECIALLY if you like POOP
i. Everybody knows I like poop
1. I just realized that I’m a sucky outline writer (you probably figured that out at A.a)

C. One of the best parts of my job is receiving emails from our office
assistant like the following:
a. “Hey Cyndy, I’ll work on the bleachy thingy tomorrow, but I did you a
favor and got you 10,000 new lab requests (2000 for scratch paper, and
8000 for toilet paper)….Let me know if you need anything else.! -Jin Nim
b. explanation: I’m putting in an order thru my lab for 80 gallons
of bleach…it should arrive just before my time is up here so I’m
going to take it with me and sell it on the black market (bad joke
interlude: all that bleach is really gonna turn it into a white
market!)

D. I’ve gotten obsessed with the idea that I can actually do a triathlon
a. This idea is in no way based in reality
b. 7AM pilates is my worst nightmare
c. I took my first fall on my bike last night while clipped in
i. Megan was there…she saw it
ii. Luckily I landed on some soft grass
iii. This occurred right on Cabrillo Blvd.
1. there were myriad cars driving by…a lot of which were probably
operated by legitimate athletes because we were just on our way
home from Night Moves
2. I got stuck with my bike on top of me and couldn’t get my foot
clipped out
3. this was one of those top 10 embarrassing moments for me
a. can’t really put it in my top 5…if you knew me you’d know
why
i. you probably actually do know me if you’re reading
this

E. Stella is thriving at Astrocamp
a. I’m able to send her emails but she can’t write back
b. I’m pretty sure she’s learning a lot about space
c. I just hope that when she returns she will not want to become an astronaut
i. Actually, then she would FINALLY HAVE A JOB

F. Sailing class starts this Saturday
a. I’m sure there will be more on this in a future blog titled, “How I crashed
a 42 foot sailboat and almost drowned in the Santa Barbara Harbor”

F. Drinks of choice this summer
a. Old fashioned’s
b. John Daly’s
c. Whiskey, water, and wine (in one glass)

G. A picture is worth a thousand words
a. Please see attached (obviously)

Sincereley,

Thriving Scientist

Yet Another Possum Murder that Has Yet to Be Avenged or Dead Baby Possum Update 3

WARNING: this blog contains images that some readers may find disturbing (others may find them quite entertaining) (and still, there are others that may be completely indifferent and unperturbed)

This morning, in my backyard, I happened upon the grisly and yet increasingly common scene that is pictured below.

Another possum dead.
Another life taken before it really even started.
A perpetrator still on the loose.

The frequent appearances of dead baby possums in my backyard is becoming, in my own brilliant mind, one of the great unsolved mysteries of the 21st century.

Here are the facts...they are indisputable:

1. There have been 4 murders that have occurred in my back yard to date.
2. All of the victims have been less than 1 year of age.
3. All of the victims have been either female or male.
4. The night that each murder occurs, Stella is usually heard (by my own person) to be awkwardly barking at something or someone; I say awkward because it is not a bark of joy, fear, or anger, but rather one of innocent curiosity.

From the above facts I have deduced the following:

A small mythical creature called a leprechaun has been sneaking into my yard and battling against its greatest known enemy, the baby possum.

Clearly, Stella’s curious bark is but a reaction to the strange scene she witnesses on some nights when I let her out to go to the bathroom. I am more than certain that Stella is not the perpetrator herself; we all know that she has long been a friend to the possum's (just as Gandalf is a friend to the hobbits!)

I will be sure to parlay the evidence that I have so painstakingly collected to the proper authority.

If you have any other information, I have set up an emergency hotline where anonymous information can be left: 1-800-DEADMARSUPIAL

Thank you for your time.

Does someone have a personal vendetta against me...or pehaps I have a secret admirer?

The evidence stands as such (Megan, please read in great detail):

Since I moved to Berkeley, I have had both my camper shell (see an earlier blog) and, more recently, my bike seat stolen (I tried to ride my bike the other night sans seat...it only took me a (painful) moment to realize that a crime had been perpetrated).

Either someone out there hates me and is enjoying it every time I have to spend money that I don't have on Replacement Vehicular Accessories (RVAs).

OR (the more likely scenario): I have a secret admirer that is assembling all of the necessary parts to create a one-of-a-kind T-REX Mobile. They will most likely be presenting me with said car sometime in the next 2 weeks. At this time, they will also reveal their true identity.

I will keep you posted.

Before I was a werewolf I was Dyf painting

(Please note, this is the #2 installment of the commercially-sanctioned BBC blog entries that I have agreed (contractually) to write)
(Warning: this blog is rife with introspectively used vocabulary words (see: this sentence))

Before specifically addressing the topic at hand, I would like to, for the moment, delve into the notion that I have a bit of a history of purporting to be something that I'm not (e.g. dinosaur, IRA member/potato-famine survivor, frat boy, Bret from flight of the conchords, etc.).

I have recently come to the painful conclusion that my desire to be someone other than myself is a way for me to mask the sorrow that I feel when I reflect on my somewhat boring day to day life (as in, if you can't find me spooning with with my most probable life-partner Stella, I'm probably studying in Barnes and Nobles while debating whether or not see a movie by myself next door at the Emeryville AMC theater with one of my 10 free movie passes that I received as a credit card reward). Don't get me wrong here though, I'm certainly not complaining, just searching for some sort of reasonable explanation. And it's not as if my life isn't interspersed with the occasional exciting holiday and vacation activities (e.g. nighttime zip-lining in Whistler or 4AM unplugged, solo keyboard playing jam sessions) (see below).

Sadly, today things progressed to the point of: "if [insert exciting event here] happened to me, I would write a blog like this [see below]:

"Staying Strong in the Face of Adversity: How to Cope with a Severed Middle Toe"

I was riding my bike today (with Stella in tow), calmly enjoying a sunny afternoon and trying not to pereseverate on my pending infectious disease exam. All of the sudden, I was distracted by a semi-cute guy driving a purple Isuzu SUV. In the midst of debating with myself over whether or not a guy can still be considered cute if he drives a purple Isuzu SUV, I ran into a nearby curb, foot first, trapping my left middle toe between said curb and previously unmentioned bike pedal. This effectively sheared my toe clean off.

Luckily, there was a gentleman nearby in his front yard doing some gardening. I approached the man, toe in hand, and calmly asked him for a bowl of ice..."Whatever for?" he asked. And I responded; "It's just that, I've severed my toe off and, as they say, 'get in ice as fast as you can.'" (For those of you that don't know me well, I'm an expired EMT so I know things like this. Also, I'm an expired notary if you need my [clandestine] services).

THE END (Sorry to cut it short, this was as far as things got in my head. I'm hoping that the toe was re-attached and I was still able to live a normal, albeit boring life with no change in my gait or disposition.)

And now, in an effort to succinctly address the topic by which I am being "paid" to discuss:

1. Had I been a Dyf painting I would have likely been privy to some of those "family secrets" that we've all been dying to discover (you'll know what that means...actually, probably better than me).

2. It's possible that I am still a werewolf now. As with borderline leprosy (and CA-MRSA/HA-MRSA for that matter), the distinction is always blurring. We all know how much common mysticism and folklore tradition tends to confuse the mythological dinosaur/werewolf creature (yeah, I don't know what the hell this last sentence means either).

Sincerely and apologetically,

The were-rex (or T-wolf) formally known as Dyf.

Talking to Yourself While Driving is ALWAYS a Hands-Free Activity...

On a scale of 1 to 10, the amount of entertainment that I am able to provide myself after drinking 3 cups of coffee is about a 14.

I discovered this fact on my drive home from Starbucks tonight after a few extremely focused hours of studying...I did not stop talking to myself for a second throughout the duration of my 12 minute drive.

Topics that I discussed...

• what the ticket dispenser at the parking lot would say to its girlfriend if it wanted to break up with her
• how long the CIA has been accessing my computer
• if it would be better to be hit by a train or shot by a sniper rifle
• when I open my own bar, I'll name it Kitty's (and we will have Lazer-tag there)
• whether or not people think I'm crazy when they see me talking and laughing hysterically and they realize I'm not talking to another person on the phone (the conclusion I came to: even I think I'm crazy while this is actually going on, so those other people (and those of you reading this) must think I'm crazy too)
• if I should be worried about the emerging pattern in my life of people mistakenly assuming that I'm either drunk or high (more on that in a future blog...tentatively titled; "When 10 years of controlled substance abuse starts to catch up with you...")
• if I should I wait until my heart rate is above 100 to call for an ambulance or just give em a shout now (preemptively)

I would say goodnight, but I'm pretty sure I'll be up for the next 72 hours. Unlike my friend, Samuel*, pictured below

Sincerely,
A dinosaur disguised as an armadillo dressed up as crack-dealer

*Samuel is also a reservoir for the bacteria that causes Leprosy (M.Leprae)

Another Test...Sorry for the Convenience