I am finally in the end stages of my big experiment. I learned that the fume hoods in all the labs have a vacuum nozzle to which you can hook up tubing or whatever else turns your crank. I have a large desiccator now so I can wait until all my samples are ready and ship them off to Cornell together. Next step is to research a new GC-FID method to measure acetylene reduction to ethylene.
The nice old man that runs our analytical lab is retiring in two weeks and his replacement is the power trippy guppy that refused to help me last Thursday night because he was teaching. He answered his cell phone though so how busy could he have been? It's not like he was in another building. He was down the hallway from me on the same damn floor. He didn't even offer to come by after class. That guy is going to be a thorn in my side until I'm done. I refuse to pander to his ego. This is not a matter of principle. I have no problems stroking egos when I need something. Especially male egos. It's often the only way to get results. But I can tell this guy won't respond to that so I'm going to be a bitch to him. As long as he's scared enough to stay out of my way, I can figure this stuff out on my own. With help from Baby, her analytical chemistry textbook and the internet.
I really have to work on my presentation and poster for the conference in June. I'm starting to get anxious. It doesn't help that one of my supervisors is away for two weeks.
I realize this is making no sense to anyone but myself so I'll stop. While I'm not quite ready to go back to work, I can't wait for this to be over. I can tell that I am starting to yearn for the office again. The president of the Canadian operation sent out an email today that we won a big contract in the west and I'm anxious to go back and work on it. Do I have to finish this stupid degree?
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Ms. Behaviour, M.A.Sc. (and it is an applied science, believe me)
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-Henry David Thoreau-
5 comments:
Sounds like you've got plenty going on, EB. Please don't feel the need to take any of the plump, juicy bait I plan to float in front of you with this bobbing commentary.
First of all, I see that our mutual friend, H, is back. His blog is habit-forming, evidently, for us as well as him. I've been tempted to join in again myself, but could never do it as Ernest. Then again, the feedback is not usually what you might call edifying. (Present company excepted, of course.)
Actually, that's a segue to my next point. You (the previously mentioned present company) let us in on one of your little secrets -- that male egos are strokable and, by implication, manipulatable. This was consistent with a previous post where you hypothesized that the male of the species was not as fully evolved. Certain subtleties are lost on us. I don't doubt it's true, but you might not want to taunt us with these facts so openly. It's a good thing I'm so self-assured [insert half-sarcastic half-ironic wink/smile] or else I might perceive any favorable things you said about me as disingenuous.
Hmm...how else can I prod you? Oh yeah, about the lamb you had the other night. Maybe in the future you can specify that only the mangy looking ones be served up. Any like Daisy* would be strictly verboten.
And one more observation from the stochastic grab bag: Part of the appeal of science, it seems, is the chance to use your own secret language -- recondite in the extreme.
* Daisy was Gene Wilder's ovine inamorata in Woody Allen's movie Everything You've Always Wanted to Know About Sex. Truly an inspired performance, by both man and sheep.
This is a real problem with the internet. It just doesn't translate well the subtleties between sincerity and sarcasm, humour and irony, tongue-in-cheek and meat cleaver subtle. You'll just have to get to know me better. Suffice it to say that I don't want anything from you. Not yet, anyway ;)
Science might be recondite but I certainly am not. I can't sit through Woody Allen movies. I've tried but I just can't. Perhaps I'm not old enough [insert half-sarcastic half-ironic wink/smile].
I've made it through a couple Woody Allen movies, but I couldn't possibly make it through an entire Masterpiece Theatre Jane Austen presentation without the promise of some big reward of sex or food at the end. I imagine you'd say that only goes to prove, in your subtle and recondite way, that all men are monkeyfuckers*. It's hard to argue that point sometimes.
*A "pudsniffer," Ernest.
Likewise with me and the mock sincerity. I was only having a little fun, too, winding you up for using your fully evolved feminine wiles. I never truly thought you were out to manipulate me. Besides, guys like me who are married and old enough to appreciate Woody Allen movies are more immune to that sort of thing anyway.
BTW, I think you have good potential as designer of compound emoticons yourself. I liked your distinction between sincerity and all the things that aren't. [Is there such a thing as an anti-winky I could apply here?]
Silly E, older men are far more susceptible than the younger guys ;)
Asshat, I've never actually watched P&P with a man (well, not a single man, anyway, just a girlfriend and her poor, sweet, romantic, love-smitten hubby-to-be) but I daresay that even I wouldn't make it through without frequently punctuating the Darcy scenes with hot, verboten Victorian sex. Besides, I only ever watch the second half.
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