I’m suffering from a lack of information. Its driving me NUTS!
My best friend lives in another town about an hour away. She hasn’t returned my calls or emails for weeks. I’m sitting around wondering: Did I piss her off? Did James Dobson round up all the neo-pagans in town and lock them away? Did I piss her off? Did she run off to Mexico with the milk delivery person? Did I piss her off?
No clue to what’s going on at work. My PCR’s aren’t working (Polymerase Chain Reaction. I think it really stands for Pain Confusion Resentment.) The rumors of our department head is leaving for Canada still persist. The DH hasn’t made any offical annoucements. :mad: My boss, one of DH’s collaborators, is frantically writing grant applications in case DH leaves and we losed the NIH money DH brings in. Rumor has it that DH will leave in February. We won’t know about the grants until January. Should I apply for a job in another lab?
I really want to tell DH to get off his ass and let us know what’s going on. (Yo, SOB with Phd. You bouncing or what?) Until that happens, I spreading rumors that DH is actually leaving to star in the Las Vegas production of Spamalot as the French Taunter.
End my misery! Someone tell me something!! anything
I’ll chant this over my PCR tubes a few times and let you know what happens.
That’s fine. I could use a good giggle.
As for serious responses: If anyone knows of an opening for a mouse breeder/pathologist in the Denver/Boulder area that pays a living wage. Please, let me know.
What are you talking about? You are Mouse_Maven! My god! Pull yourself together! ‘What will you do?’ Is this a question? You will show him that you remember that he’s Mr. Incredible, and you will remind him who you are. You know where he is, go and confront the problem. Fight. Win! And do call me when you get back, Darling. I enjoy our visits.
Your missing friend isn’t a State employee working downtown Denver, is she?
My missing friend is a pagan in Colorado Springs :eek: She went to DragonFest for the first time a few weeks ago. I didn’t go, but I have been told that the Fest was an absolute cluster fuck. I just want to make sure she’s alright.
Now I know not to eat herring. Gotta love the Dope!
Thank you for the cyber-hug.
I have a couple of in-house mouse tasters . My oldest cat, Jake , tells me that the research mice are very stringy and not very good. (The mice I work with are very inbred. Twice I have brought one home as pet. Between my housemates and I, we had 12 cats. The poor things didn’t stand a chance. They didn’t know what a cat was. Both ended up getting munch. How the cats got into the cages is worthy of Houdini.)
Don’t know if it doesn’t happen to everybody, or if your digestive system eventually adjusts, or what (the bathrooms in Denmark didn’t smell any worse than bathrooms in the States, and they eat a lot more herring than we do). But I know that, if I eat herring, my poo smells really awful, and the same happens to Mr. Neville.
Awwwwww!!!
Soooo… they’re the mouse equivalent of a few European royal families that I could name?
(I have been trying to straighten out someone else’s mistake. Guy makes three strains of neato mice; guy looses funding. My boss offers to take over guy’s research. Three strains of neato mice are shipped across country to Boss. Identifying cage cards are put in the shipping boxes with the mice. Mice ate the cards, then the animals are moved from our old facility to a new facility. No way to tell who’s who. Ask guy for genotyping primers, many, many times. Get primer sequences, all three neato strains have the same fucking primers. :smack: PCR’s aren’t working either. I can see why this guy lost his funding. . .)
Our dog threw up in my husband’s lap yesterday while he drove to work.
Blaire colours her hair–she isn’t really blonde. And there’s some grey in there.
Celine got lucky on the weekend. As in, had sex, baby, for the first time in a long time.
Sometimes at work, I go to McDonald’s for lunch. I have a quarter pounder with cheese meal. I pretend to eat healthily, but it’s not always the case.
I go sit in my car at lunch and smoke one cigarette, too.
If my husband leaves for work before I do, sometimes I have a cigarette in the house, then make sure a window is open when I go. I get home first, and the house is aired out.
Most of this stuff is secret, but I’m telling you. Just so you’re in the loop about something. Don’t tell anyone else.
They didn’t know what a cat was. Both ended up getting munch. How the cats got into the cages is worthy of Houdini.)
