Ruh-Roh

I'm back from the wilds of New Jersey, and I thought I might get a chance to relax for a while today. Unfortunately, I feel like crap and we think my leg might be infected.

Sigh.

Back to the emergency room...

 

P.S.: No funnel cake, but I lots of photos and a pumpkin donut. I'll have more photos of my mom's art up on her blog soon, too.

What The...?

Y'all, the last week has been doggone crazy. As if the unfortunate Cart of Dooooommmm accident wasn't enough, being out for that one day put me all behind. I think I did alright on the Intro to Vet Tech quiz, despite falling asleep while studying that afternoon and thus being late for class (no blue workbooks, though; I guess my dreams aren't that psychic). But then I had to stay up late that night to finish some materials I promised to design for my mom's art show, and thus ran late this morning, stumbling into Chemistry class to find out we were having a surprise quiz - O, Joy! I don't think I did very well on it. It wasn't that I didn't know the material, per se, so much as I was so exhausted and frazzled that I couldn't tell where the donkey should go, how significant those places between him and the f*ck-chain were, and whether his name was Kelvin or Celsius.

THEN I get my Chemistry homework back, and Yay! because I got all the answers right, but Boo! because the prof took 30% off my score for "lateness." So, I had to follow him around for ten minutes until I could get him to pay attention to the fact that I had contacted him the morning after my night in the freakin' emergency room, so it had been an excused absence. He said he would change it back to 100%, but I have a feeling I'm just another face in the crowd to him, so I'd better watch him like a hawk.

NEXT it turned out that there was a message on my voicemail that I could make my missed lab class up, after all, but ONLY IF I RUN RIGHT NOW TO THE OTHER BUILDING AND TAKE IT CHOP CHOP RIGHT NOW DON'T STOP JUST GO! So, I did. And it was... fine. Like being in junior high once again, really, including having the partner who seemed a little slow and thus I ended up doing everything while she watched and copied my notes, except for the one thing she did do which messed up the experiment and would have ruined our results, had I not gone back and doctored the numbers.

Are we having fun yet?

Then, it was RACE back to Brooklyn to meet with my pet sitting partner, who had been circling in her car for over a half hour with two little dogs, waiting for me to meet them. They are cute, but I am not convinced they won't gnaw my face off when I go to walk them without her. I'm planning to Shake 'n Bake myself in a leaf bag full of crushed dog treats, hoping that they will then decide I'm worth sparing.

Now I'm late to get to my mom's house before the massage she's giving tonight, so I have to pack and await a call from her. Then it's schlepping to New Jerseyfor one day full of hanging her show, printing her materials, doing some store returns and hanging out at some harvest festival for a few hours while she gives chair massages. If there is a God, there will be fair weather and funnel cake.

Finally, on Sunday and Monday, I have to catch up on all the studying I'm behind on, try to do some of the neglected housework, and let Mrs. Nator know I'm still around, as well as resuming pet-sitting duties.

One day, and everything's backed up. And I'm only taking three classes right now (well, more like 2 and 1/2, since the student seminar is a gut course of sorts), y'all. God forbid I get the flu, or something, in Spring, when I'll presumably be taking at least 4 or 5.

Oh, and now my wound and shot site are beginning to hurt pretty regularly, thanks for asking.

And my Mega Millions ticket was not a winner.

Sigh.

 

...funnel cake?

Your Dreams Explained!

1. If you dream that you are flying, but suddenly start to fall:
You are afraid of success, or that your success and happiness will end. Is there someone or something in your life holding you back?

2. If you dream about turtles:
You will make slow but steady progress. You need to slow down and pace yourself. Alternatively, it indicates that you are sheltering yourself from the realities of life.

3. If you dream about your teeth falling out:
Either you are feeling powerless, or you are lying. Cut that shit out.

4. If you dream there are rocks you must climb:
You are taking too much Prozac. Also, you have issues with shoes. Stay away from pigs, if you know what's good for you.

5. If you dream you are a pirate bearing an uncanny resemblance to Angelina Jolie:
Alright, now you're just making shit up.

6. If you dream you are suddenly back in high school, where you have to take multiple exams you didn't know about in those infernal blue booklets, and you are late for all of them and don't remember how to do anything, and all the kids are teasing you and trying to tell the teacher that you are cheating:
You have returned to school later in life, and most of the students are 20 years younger than you. You just had an unfortunate and unlikely accident with a shopping cart that kept you out of classes that, little did you know, were to prep you for your first Chemistry homework and your first Intro to Vet Tech quiz, which requires extensive memorization of medical terms. Also? You can't ever make up that lab you missed. Oh, and you're so stressed about studying that you're procrastinating my writing stupid blog entries. Nervous, yet?

Or, you will soon come into a big fortune!

Your mileage may vary.

I Left My Leg... In Brooklyn, New York!

And my laundry in a bar on Fifth Avenue. Okay, it was just part of my leg. What the hell am I talking about?

Well, I had a little accident last night. I was wheeling my laundry home, thinking about Chem class the next morning and grumbling to myself, when I came to the well-known fucked-up curb ramp on 16th St and 5th Ave. "There's that well-known fucked-up curb ramp," I thought briefly to myself. "I hate that thing. Now I'm going to have to dykehandle my laundry cart over the big holes in it." Which I proceeded to do, while looking away from it for oncoming traffic. And that's when I had the accident.

If you are familiar with New York, you probably know about the Ubiquitous Metal Cart, or UMC. Because most New Yorkers walk everywhere and many don't have laundry facilities in their buildings, on a daily basis you may see dozens of people pushing their UMCs full of groceries, junk, or bags of laundry. What you did not know is that, apparently, the UMCs should also be known as The Carts of DOOOOOM!!!

All of which is to say that my cart wheel wedged in the hole, tipped over forward, and somehow gouged a large chunk out of my leg. I wasn't even sure what happened at first - I was just mad it fell over and thought I had a scrape. Then I saw the blood filling my shoe.

Fortunately, a very kind stranger named Cathy happened to be just behind me with her shopping cart, and saw the whole thing. She righted the cart, helped me fish an old towel out of the laundry to staunch the flow, let me use her cell phone and wheeled the cart into a local bar for safekeeping. If that weren't enough, just a few moments later an ambulance happened to be passing by, and she hailed it so they pulled over to help me. She even hopped into the ambulance with me, asking if I needed her to go to the hospital with me for "emotional support"! By then, I had gone from pissed but calm, to blubbering mini-panic when I actually saw the severity of the wound, and back into bemused but calm again, so I told her thank you and I'd buy her a drink at the bar sometime, but she could go.

I was very lucky during the whole thing, besides the weird sort of foul luck that allows one to get disfigured by a runaway, nine-dollar shopping cart, that is. The truth is, I had almost no pain the whole time, until they did the lavage and numbing shots, and even that was just a sting now and then. I had a kind stranger look after me, some very nice paramedics who just happened to be there at the time (guardian angel, much?) and a cast of cute young doctors out of Scrubs cast by a fashion shoot. I expected to finally be in pain this morning, both from the 29 stitches (8 inside, 21 out) and the infamously sore-making tetanus shot, but so far, barely a twinge. In fact, the only bad consequences so far have been missing my first Chem lab (boo hoo), a probable very ugly scar to come, and the loss of a blood-soaked sock (the paramedics' advice of washing the sneaker in hydrogen peroxide seems to have done the job, which FN might appreciate knowing). Well, those things and a lingering feeling of nausea after seeing my leg open down to the muscle (I'm hoping I'll be able to better handle seeing animal injuries than this, or vet tech school might be a mistake), and washing out my shoe to find sizable... bits of me still clinging to it. You're welcome for that image, by the way.

And that's my story, kids. My lessons learned?

1.) Be careful where you're going, especially when pushing a cheap, sharp metal cart.

2.) Relying on the kindness of strangers really isn't so bad
&
3.) God as my witness, from now on I will have my laundry picked up and delivered!

P.S.: Do you think I can sue the various nurses who kept walking by and recoiling, then commenting how bad my cut looked, for emotional trauma? What about the one who gasped and said, "oh, that looks so bad! And you had such beautiful skin!" Do they teach that kind of bedside manner in nursing school?

P.P.S.: Can I sue the city for the fucked-up curb? I don't think I was being inordinately clumsy, and I have a witness! Plus, then I wouldn't have to work while in school. Hmmm...

This Just In - Pigs Can Now Fly

My mother, a woman who, after seven years of not being able to get her computer to work properly, finally gave up on connecting to the Internet, is on YouTube.

Finding this out yesterday was a total surprise. I was doing a search on her in order to decide some things about how I want to update her art blog...

Let me back up here a minute and explain: my mom did not set up the art blog, nor does she know much about it. I set it up for her, when she started painting again after many years, and was considering showing her work to galleries and/or selling it. I think she's only looked at it a couple times. It's also due for an update, which will happen after next weekend, when I visit her to photograph her new works and help her hang them in her first show. Go, Ma Nator! I'm proud of her.

Anyway, long story short, during the search I found that my mother came up in some videos on YouTube. It turns out that she appeared in some short videos the massage school she works at produced, and the videos were posted on YouTube to educate viewers and promote the school.*

Once I got over the shock at seeing my mom on the Intertubes, I called her up.

DN: "Mom! I didn't know you were on YouTube!"

MN: "I am?" (Well, this sounds more like her.)

DN: "Um, yeah. I saw you in those massage videos..."

MN: "Oh, yes. I knew we made the videos, but I forgot they put them on YouTube. How did you find them?"

DN: (Still surprised that she even knows what YouTube is,) "Completely by accident. It's a great video."

MN: "Oh, thank you - I'm told I have thousands of hits!" (Here we both giggle, somewhat incredulously.)

DN: "Yeah, and you have lots of great comments, too. Everyone says your voice is very soothing."

MN: (Chuckles) Really? Well, I have been told that before. I'll have to remember to go check it out, sometime. I've never looked at YouTube before." (Now that sounds more like the Ma Nator I know.)

So, now I have to adjust to a world where, although my mother still hasn't ever actually seen YouTube, she not only knows (sort of) what it is, but is becoming something of a CeWebrity. Now if only I can track down and beat those assholes who are commenting that they want her to give them a blowjob...

*I'm neither going to bore you nor threaten my usual semi-kinda-anonymity on this blog by posting the videos she's in, but if you really want to, you can see one of them here.

Chemistree fore Eediots!

Hello, and welcome to Chemistree fore Eediots! Our first installment is on significant vs. insignificant figures. And by a significant figure, we don't mean this:

I'm as significant as you get, bitches!

No, by significant and insignificant figures, we are referring to the figures in measured numbers that count for something, like this:

Remember, children: "Clickie pickie makey biggy!"

Confused? Let's try a simple similie analogy hominy:

Say you're having an orgy.

Oh, where do I begin?

Imagine that each mammal person is a number, except zero, which would mean no person is there, like so:

fig.1

To have a good orgy, you want everything arranged so that everyone is having a good time. To do this, you want everyone to be sexually engaged with at least one other person at the party. Then, each person will be having a significant relationship, and thus will count as an significant figure.

fig. 2, whoop-de-doo!

"But," you may interject, "doesn't Chemisteree have fancy things like decimals involved?" Indeed, it does. So, let's imagine your orgy is taking place in Tijuana. Therefore, the decimal point shall be represented by a donkey.

fig. three-haw

Thus, we may also include people on either side of the donkey as significant, and picture a number with decimals like so:

fig. 4: "Qué sucede en México, permanece en México."

So, from looking at these figures, we can determine the rule that All non-zero numbers in a measured number are significant.

Unfortunately, as we all know, Chemissterry can get even more complicated than that. Yes, numbers in Chemisorry Chem include zeros. So, how are we to handle these in our hominorgy? Well, let's imagine they are empty spaces where no one is. This leads us to the next rule: "Sandwiched" zeros occur between nonzero numbers and are significant.

See, for example, this doohickey here:

fig. 5, or is that 5.0?

As you can see, we count each person as significant, on either side of the donkey. We also count the empty spot in the middle as significant, too, as it is in-between the first significant person and the second... or, in this case, the donkey, and thus is a sandwich. Well, it's not actually a sandwich, or we'd have to search Google for images of a sandwich. What we mean is, a space between people, or other mammals, is okay for our purposes. It's probably just because one person needs a little space right now, or is a voyeur.

Um, okay. So next we have another another kind of zeros. These are the kind of zeros that appear at the end of numbers, and are called "trailing zeros." Our rules about trailing zeros are: Trailing zeros follow non-zero numbers in numbers without decimal points, are usually place holders, and are not significant.

Meaning, no matter how many people you have in your orgy, or spaces between them, they are all significant. But, as you'd expect, the space between the last person and the wall or door is not significant, because that's the end of the f***-chain.

fig. sex

Similarly, Leading zeros precede non-zero digits in a decimal number and are not significant.

So, as you will see in fig. 7, like trailing zero empty spaces, leading zero empty spaces are kind of the space between the f***-chain and the other wall, and don't count, despite the donkey, who is off practicing his lines for A Midsummer Night's Dream, or something.

fig. newton 7

Finally, you may well ask, "but aren't there more complicated numbers in Colostomystery? Like, this thing I've heard of, 'scientific notation'?" Well, yes, but it's really not that complicated at all, as our last figure will illustrate.

fig. whatever, I can't be bothered.

As you can see, the multiplication symbol acts as a rift in the space-time continuum, turning the spaces between the people (and donkeys) into trailing zeros by eating the sandwiches. In addition, the midgets or children or whatever at the top right don't count, because they have no legal standing in Tijuana.

We hope you enjoyed this installment of Chem 4 Idjitiots. Tune in next week for Intro to Vet Tech for Total Morons!

Morris, is that you?

I'm Under Her Spell

If being excited to go to the midnight Buffy, The Musical Sing-Along this weekend makes me a giant goober, well... just bring it on!

Now to finish up my chemistry reading...

P.S.: We also got tickets to see Kathy Griffin at MSG in January! WOO!!!

Not AARGH?

Holy shit. I actually just got into one of the required chemistry courses! W00T!

Wow. It's going to be really hard. I didn't do well in chemistry in high school and my math schools are seriously atrophied. Uh, w00t?

I'm disappointed I won't be taking biology, now. I was actually looking forward to it. So much so, that I feel bad that I'm going to have to return my books. They looked so pretty!

Now I just need to make sure my credit count is high enough for my student loans... which, I hope so, because anything more would be quite a strain.

After that, getting the correct books and assignments should be easy. Now, doing the assignments...

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!

School? Things are not going well.

So, I thought my schedule was all set. Not so, grasshopper. Once again, it proves that no one in admissions, financial aid or the bursar's office at that school knows diddlysquat. Oh, they may proclaim in loud, indignant tones that they know diddly and they know squat, but it is all smoke and mirrors, my friends. Those, and giant turds.

The bottom line is, after finding out in my first Intro to Vet Tech course that 1.) the way my schedule was set up would basically disallow me from being considered for the clinical vet tech program until next fucking year, and 2.) Intro to Vet Tech is probably going to be a brain-draining asskick of a course, I spent the ENtire day today trying to get things in order. I got a person with half a brain in admissions to override the glitch in the system that was not allowing me to register for Vertebrate Anat & Phys in the Fall II semester, even though I was qualified. Now all I need is one measly chemistry classes: one in one of three courses - that's seventeen sections, total. And how many seats are available in these classes? None.

So, let's recap. After months of misinformation and incorrect advisement, I've missed out on getting into the one class that will qualify me for the program. If I take the class after the Fall I semester, I do not qualify for the program this year. Which means, they took my money and gave me a spot in a program which has no room for me to participate. Rage, anyone?

I'm still working on my options. I had a sudden rush of joy when it looked like someone had dropped the course and a slot was available, but then it turned out that it had already been filled, and the online system was lagging behind. I'm still trying to reach the head of the science department, who I'm told used to authorize "over tallies", i.e. shoe-horning people into already full classes, up until last year, when she decided she wasn't going to do it anymore. I'm hoping that either she will reconsider once I tell her my sob story, or a bunch of people will get knocked out of the classes tomorrow when they do automatic drops for outstanding bills, and I'll get in. But if I don't? I don't know. I'm not sure it would make sense to continue going to school this year. Not that they're going to give me my money, much less my wasted time, back, for sure.

Anyway, please send me giant wooOOONNnnns of good luck for this, and tune in later, Natorettes. I'm trying not to let this make me question whether the universe is telling me I'm supposed to be going back to school or not, and figure I should accept that I'm supposed to be a desk jockey for the rest of my life. Melodrama! But that's me. Must've been all that Morrissey I listened to in high school.

Further bulletins as events unfold...

Now My Life Is Complete

Clicky Pickie Makey Biggie

Lassie Come Home

Sigh.

I hate lost pet cases.

I wish I could make everything better.

Sometimes being an animal communicator is hard.

Haircut 100

Anybody remember that band? Yes, I am old.

I got a new haircut today. I've had pretty much the same hairstyle for a number of years now, and it was time for a change. Mrs. Nator likes it when my hair is a bit longer, so I let it go for a while, until finally the shagginess drove me mad (and I got some money for my birthday I could spend on a hair cut).

So, rather than my old, outdated gay boy-style haircut, something like this:

I now have something between an emo cut like this:

and a twink cut like this:

My hairstylist totally rocks, and Mrs. Nator and I are both happy with the results.

I only hope that when I go back to school the cool kids like me! I'll just die if they don't...

Red Surprise

I found this photo in early 2005 on the downtown platform of the 66th street 1 station. I've meant to turn it in to Found magazine for some time, but I've never been able to do it. I think I like having it in my possession and just sharing it here and there.

I love the lurid quality of the overabundance of saturated red, the metal elevator doors juxtaposed with the gritty cinderblock, the glare of the flash. The girl in the picture is completely anonymous, so I can make up any story I want about where she is, why her picture is being taken, and why she is hiding her face. It's probably a simple reason, like a friend or family member was fooling around with her and snapped a picture when she didn't feel pretty. There are two high schools and a low income project nearby, so that wouldn't be surprising. But there's still that element of mystery: what if there's something more interesting or nefarious going on here? She's a victim of a killer who takes snapshots of his prey; she's a celebrity; she has an over-sensitivity to light; she was caught exiting a crime scene; she saw something she shouldn't have; she's had a surprise; her rival caught her wearing the jacket of the man she's having an affair with; she doesn't want you to see her tears; she was supposed to take the stairs; she's a stranger, and someone snapped her just because...

Make up a story. Go ahead. I'll listen.

Anbesaaaawww...

OK, you know that commercial where the baby is crying, and someone shoves a fingerful of Anbesol in his mouth, and he immediately shuts up? Well, I tried a similar product for a toothache today, and now I know why the baby stopped bawling. That kid's pain didn't stop - his whole mouth went numb. The look of shock on his face is because he's totally gobsmacked that he's lost all feeling in and motor control of his entire mouth and throat.

I wonder what non-indicated uses people have gotten up to with this stuff...