And so ends another year, and what have I learned

I am watching television from my couch, covered in blankets, surrounded by used tissues, and feeling a little nostalgic. Montage after montage flicker on the tv: best and worst of 2009, people who died, people who inspired, the economy.... Much has happened, but what can I take away? Is there always a lesson to be learned?

Incident:
In January, I make out with my student. Well, technically he was not my student because I stopped working in the lab earlier that night.
Lesson:
Anyone is fair game.

Incident:
In February, I sold all my stuff on Craigslist for the grand total of about $400. The rest of my worldly belongings fit in a half full minivan.
Lesson:
Freeing myself of stuff was pretty awesome. Pretty awesome, because I had nothing. Apparently, no matter how adult I pretend to be, I will always exist in a semi student sort of life.

Incident:
My facebook page started to gain speed. People from my elementary school days start to email me.
Lesson:
Amazing how little I have changed since I was 6.

Incident:
Moved to Baltimore. Spent a few months miserable, and desperately went to every all Ivy league event, every Groton reunion event, every community service event I could find.
Lesson:
The fundamental to making friends never changes. Basically, all it ever takes is a willingness to ask someone to be your friend, and then willing to spend awkward time with them until you become part of their everyday fabric.

Incident:
An old boyfriend begs to be forgiven and stalks me for a while.
Lesson:
It feels good to yell at people. No matter what your mother says, calling someone an ass and having them cry about it feels fantastic. It is also true, that time heals all wounds and my capacity to forgive is a lot larger than I thought.

Incident:
The move to Baltimore also let me experience two things from the past I loved and somehow over the years had left behind. This year, I joined a squash thing and a trivia team at my local bar.
Lesson:
I am a lot stupider and slower than I was 10 years ago.

Incident:
My boss pulled me into her office for our yearly evaluation.
Lesson:
Bosses can be great. They can actually guide you through your work and help you be a better and more efficient person.

Incident:
Joined a Fantasy Football league.
Lesson:
No matter how much research I do, I will always bomb the draft in these Fantasy games. Also, some boys take these things way too seriously.

Incident:
Stopped consistently posting.
Lesson:
I'm really lazy.

How Cute Are These Boots

I watch a lot of TV. Even more so now that I DVR everything. I like to think of it as being more efficient -- I can speed through an hour long show in about 42 minutes since I fast forward through all of the commercials. There is one exception to this lately. The BF and I are highly entertained by the latest Gap Kids holiday commercial -- the one with the hyper little girls that "love my comfy sweater". We much prefer it to the one with "adults" dancing around in red and black plaid. I saw this today and can't stop giggling. Happy Holidays, indeed.

Evil Twins Take on Wire

Did you miss us? A month and a half hiatus is a long time. I blame the poor blogging to my new schedule. Every Wednesday morning I have to present at a lab meeting leaving my Monday mornings stressed because I am trying to figure out how to cram a week's worth of work in two day. Excuses, excuses.

To prepare for her second trip to B'more, Evil Twin #2 watched season 2 of the "Wire." Actually, the true test of ET#2's preparedness was wearing and packing only pants that were either too big for her or that had an elastic waist.

Evil Twins have know each other for almost 15 years now and in this case familiarity breeds not the most interesting post. No longer are we going to get wasted and get hit on by some strange characters. We are no longer playing pranks on contemptible vegans. Yup, 15 years later, we are dare I say...adult like.

On Saturday, we had brunch and took a water taxi around the Inner Harbor. We walked the safer streets of Baltimore, and went for a leisurely drive to see the last of the fall color. After a brief pit stop, at the Korean supermarket, we parked the car and went for the main event: steamed crabs.

The walk to Obrycki's on Halloween night was a lot less scary had it been any other night of the year. As two small Asian ladies, we passed through a few unsavory neighborhoods unharrassed or mugged. We got to the restaurant and ordered. Within minutes of ordering, steamed crabs landed on our brown paper table cloths. We spent about 45 minutes in silence as we worked on our crabs. Perhaps we should have stopped at 3 crabs a piece, but we decided to split 4 more. Needless to say, it was too much. After a leisurely walk home with a brief stop at the ice cream store, ET#2 and I watched the only TV station I get: CBS.

It was a pretty perfect weekend.

Head scratchers

America and chicken:
My Aunt and Uncle were in the area this past weekend. They are old and retired, and like to travel. This fall they wanted to do a tour of the American Northeast. They are German with very little English skills so they decided to take an organized bus tour. In 10 days, they went from NYC-Niagara Falls-Toronto-Ottawa-Quebec City-Montreal-Boston-NYC-Amish country-Washington DC. Phew. I am exhausted just typing it.

I drove down to Washington to see them. Their bus was about to leave for Alexandria, VA for dinner and the tour guide admonished them for missing out on such a wonderful place to visit. He, also, said they should not walk around because DC is very dangerous. I was about to call him a Nazi, but realized saying that in German has a whole different context then here in the US.

We had dinner in DuPont Circle instead. I asked what they wanted to eat and my Uncle replied "Italian." I, of course, ignored his request and got called a friend for a suggestion. "Hank's Oyster Bar," she said. So that is where we went. I told them that I was taking them to an American restaurant, and they seemed very apprehensive. We ordered some fantastic seafood and split them like tapas. My Uncle seemed relieved when he saw the food and had a huge smile on his face. My Aunt and Uncle started to laugh. "We were so worried. We had a lot of American food on this trip. We did not know Americans ate seafood."

[And here is the head scratcher] Then they asked "Why do Americans like chicken so much? There is chicken on the menu of every restaurant we have visited."

I had no answer. I was completely stumped. When I went to work yesterday I asked the everyone I work with (since only one of them besides me was born in the US), if they thought there was more chicken on the menus in the US, then in their countries. Everyone except the Indians said yes. And then they demanded an explanation why chicken was so popular here. Still answerless.

Cathy:
For some reason the Cathy comic strip has been in the forefront of my mind. I find myself saying "Ack!" a lot. I see imaginary heatwaves emanating from head. Complaining about housework that needs to be done. Having my mom say passive aggressive things to me about marriage and the way I dress.

Also, I have noticed it referenced in pop culture a lot more. There is a skit on SNL with one of the male actors in a Cathy costume saying things like he wants chocolate. Or in the show "Greek" when one characters says "You look like Cathy," and the reply by the other character was "Ack!"

I googled Cathy this morning to see what she was up to.

[Head scratcher] Cathy got married? What? Now the comic strip is based on the trials and tribulations of a newlywed couple.

Maybe it really is not that confusing, but I had no idea. It put my world in a tizzy.

FYA (For your amusement)

Since I have been driving more, I have been noticing vanity plates. I used to think it was the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Now I am certain of it.

I saw this one this weekend. I'm pretty sure the irony was lost on the owner.

Under construction

Poverty and racial inequality issues are far more prominent in Baltimore, than any other city in which I have lived. Maybe it because it is impossible to avoid as you drive from one yuppified section to another pocket of yuppiedom through some pretty tough neighborhoods. In cities like, Boston, New York, San Francisco and Chicago the stretches of "good parts" are connected so you can go years without seeing any problems.

I went to DC this weekend to celebrate A's birthday. A's sister lives near DuPont circle, and so that is where we started our day. We drank a pitcher of beer outside in an outdoor cafe, watching the white folk walk pass in their weekend dresses and khaki short uniforms. After some time in the Smithsonian, we trekked our way to the Metro to go to the DC Waterfront fish market. All in preparation of a special dinner for the birthday girl.

The joke goes: Two blond girls and an Oriental girl get off the Metro in a black neighborhood....

Actually, since moving to Baltimore, I have not felt as much paranoia as I once did, although in this case the torrential rains was making the neighborhood seem fairly gloomy. A needed a poncho/umbrella so the three of us ducked into a CVS. While A was debating what she wanted, I overheard a pretty awesome conversation.

Touristy old white couple with bags of food:
Excuse me [to a white lady], do you know this area well? We were wondering if that Safeway next door would sell wine. Or of a wine store nearby?"

White lady:
I think the Safeway might have a few bottle of wines, but I would not say it is a good selection. This neighborhood is under construction so there aren't any wine stores nearby. Your best bet is to go to the Harris Teeter[yuppie store of MD, DC, and VA] by Capitol Hill.

I don't know if the couple understood what "under construction" meant, but I thought that was an incredible diplomatic way to put it. I was feeling so superior that I got the code.

I woke up this morning and it was 68 degrees. I could not believe it. So I traded in my car for the bike to go to work. I should point out that my route to work does include some of the roughest neighborhoods in the country. And as I was pedalling through, I noticed a number of boarded up houses and signs that read "house under construction." Guess it really is more of an accurate term than a politically correct one. Guess who is the rube now?

When your opinions make you a bitch....

Topic: Michael Vick backlash.
Popular opinion: He is a scumbag. He should not be allowed back into the NFL.
My opinion: People are irrational. Why are people all up in arms about this guy? I would be okay with people being upset because he was involved in gambling, professional athletes can't cross that line. My issue is that everyone is angry because he was cruel and killed a bunch of dogs. Admittedly, this is the behavior of many serial killers, but as long as he is not killing a bunch of people I'll let it pass. These same people have no issue with meat, leather, or my area of expertise, animal research. Actually, these people don't even have an issue with Donte Stallworth or Pacman Jones. Why have we drawn the line at Vick? Is that going to be the new criteria for criminality, how much cuteness is harmed? Ridiculous.
Tangent: I am also maybe the only person in the state of California that voted to allow horse meat to be sold legally.

Topic: When is the right time to have babies?
Popular opinion: When a woman/man has found that perfect someone and both are well established financially and in his/her career.
My opinion: As close to their 20s as possible. When did we blind ourselves to basic biology? It is true women can have children into their 40s, but that normally occurs when it is not their first child. But having a first child, in your 40s will be statistically be difficult. (I'm talking statistics of a large population here, not anecdotes.) Women's fertility rapidly declines in their mid 30s unless there has been prior pregnancies. Luckily, with modern medicine there are IVF treatments to overcome that, but it can be a heartbreaking process. It infuriates me that we don't talk about these things in our society, because young women should be informed about the decisions they are making. In many east Asian countries if I repeated what I said here it would be fine, but among the overly educated American elite it is offensive. Really? The worst part is that they try to argue about it. These are facts. And lastly, children can survive a wide array of socioeconomic circumstances delaying the event does not make your child smarter, happier, more beautiful, or any less yours.
Tangent: Watch the movie Idiocracy.

Topic: Hypothetical sports match-ups
Popular opinion: Athletes of the past would be able to compete today.
My opinion: Don't be ridiculous. Athletes are far superior today than they were 30 years ago. That's just the way it goes. 30 years from now they will be better than the athletes today. I believe these match-ups are a complete waste of time.
Tangent: I really wish they showed less ESPN at bars, otherwise this topic would have never entered my radar.

One more strange work thing

For the past week, the boss of my boss has had the same urination schedule as me. Which I find strange because I do not have a set schedule. It would not bother me so much, except he always says "hi" to me as we both enter in our respective gender appropiate bathrooms. Today, he even started a conversation. I may have to start using the bathroom on the 5th floor if this continues.

Walk like an egyptian

Around 4:30pm, the office is filled with the sound of cell phones. I don't think there is a scientific correlation with elaborate ringtones and foreign scientists, but I feel like there is one there. The postdoc with a desk close to mine has "Walk like an Egyptian." Every 5 pm, I find myself humming this song in its entirety. Sometimes if I am in the tissue culture hood, I will go through the whole catalog of Bangles songs. Calgon take me away!

Grumble Grumble

It's been really hot and humid out lately. People are sweaty, smelly, and generally cranky as a result. Especially on the subway. Behavior that I can typically overlook really gets under my skin when the weather is this steamy. For example, people that block everyone else from holding on to the vertical poles in the subway cars really tick me off. Some of us can't reach the overhead bars without practically dislocating a shoulder. That pole is not just for you, buddy, it's for as many people that can grab on to it. A variation on this is when I am already holding on to said pole and someone gets in the car and proceeds to wrap themselves around the pole, crushing my hand. To the lady on the D train this morning, I would have appreciated you not enveloping my hand with your sweaty boob when there was plenty of space for you to position you boob elsewhere. And don't give me dirty looks when I try to reposition my hand. If I wanted to go to second base with you, I would have done a better job of it. Thanks.

Go see this

The BF and I went to see "In the Loop" last night. It is a fast-paced British political satire set during the Tony Blair administration that had me alternately cringing from the awkwardness of some of the interactions between the main characters (this is intentional -- the same sort of cringing as when I watch The Office) and laughing out loud at the stinging dialogue.

Here is salon.com's review. I really hope this movie does well. I'm not sure if American audiences will get it, mostly because some people won't be able to understand what is being said. There are some heavy Scottish accents, and the dialog really is quite fast. I was ok with it, but I think it's because I lived in London for a while. It may need subtitles (a la Trainspotting) for it to really take off. Oh, and if you don't like profanity, then this movie is not for you. You've been warned...

An Evil Twins' guide to eating out alone

I find myself eating out alone often. I am a bachelorette and this is my way of life. If you watch a movie from the 30s and 40s you will often see a single man in the background eating his dinner. So why do we see less of this now? Is it a lost art? Is there a stigma attached to eating alone? Or is it that people are just intimidated? Here are some simple tips to get you through it.

1) Do not bring reading material, your computer, or an iPod. If you want to do another activity order take out and eat at home. Part of the experience of eating in a restaurant is enjoying the ambience. However, if there is a sporting event on the television, that is acceptable to watch.

2) You do not have to sit at the bar. If you want a table, then ask for a table. I like to mix it up. When I am feeling social, I'll sit at the bar. It is an easier environment to talk to people. But sometimes I just want to sit down and have a little bit of peace, then I take a table. Please tip your server at least 20 percent if you take a table in a busy restaurant, it is fair.

3) Do not harrass the staff. If you are sitting at the bar, do not make the bartender talk to you. They are there to work, and you could be distracting them. If things slow down and then they come to you, chat away.

4) Do not rush through your meal. There is no need to scarf down your food just because you are not talking to someone though your dinner. There is no need to give yourself indigestion. No matter what you do, you will still be finished in half the time as with friends.

5) Be confident. You can always spot a newby. They normally do not pay attention to rules 1-4 and are constantly checking out the room to see if anyone sees they are there alone. Take a deep breath. You would not act so crazy if you were eating alone in your house, would you?

6) Just try it, even if you have a significant other, with whom you cannot bear to be away for a millisecond. It is more pleasant that you might think.

7) The best times to go out by yourself is on the weekdays or the restaurant's not uber busy day. I like to go out on Wednesday. It is less busy for most restaurants and it is not the throwaway days of Monday and Tueday. The only reason it is nice to go on a quieter day, is that the staff will be kinder to you on average. If they are in the weeds, the last thing they want is a table of one, because as one person you will order less food, ie tip less. But don't be limited by this rule. If it is Saturday night and you want to go out, go out.

8) Try to explore new restaurants. Newbies often restrict themselves to solitary dining at diners or burger joints. Treat yourself to somewhere nice once in awhile. Sometimes I even order myself a champagne cocktail as an extra indulgence.

Go out and have some fun. Bon apetit!

Time to Eat the Doughnuts

I must say that I am a little too excited about this. I have only ever been to Tim Horton's three times in my life. The first time was with D and H (during the Maine Lobster Festival -- stuffing myself with three lobsters, fried seafood and fried dough is not enough food for me, I had to have a doughnut and coffee after gorging myself at the festival). The second and third times were on the drive between Boston and NYC, which actually involved a slight detour to get to the Tim Horton's. I can hardly wait for them to be within walking distance of my office. Actually, maybe this isn't such a good thing (for my waistline).

Evil Twin #1 versus Craigslist scammers

I'll admit, I have fallen for more than one scam. Ones like, "Evil Twin #1, you are the only girl for me," and "No, I am not dating anyone else."

In my search for an new apartment, I have run into a number of scams. Ones even more tricky than those crafty boys I dated.

So for example, I replied for an ad for an apartment at the Lighthouse. The response asked me to come to a showing of the apartment ready with a credit report in hand. Seems normal. Even ET#2 thought it was legit. The scam was that the website he recommends for the credit report is not legit.
Click to read the email

Thank you for your interest in my condo for rent. I am booking appointments to view the condo and would be interested in having you take a look at the property, if you can suggest a date and time that works well for you this would be helpful.

Due to my previous renting experience I am requiring that you verify you have an acceptable credit score and would like to know more about your employment situation to avoid dealing with unqualified renters.

I would recommend getting a FREE credit report from http://www.creditgradegroup.com which takes less than 5 minutes and has no cost to you. This is required before I will consider you as a serious applicant. This will also be useful for any other properties you are looking at and is a standard in pre-rent screening procedures.

I am asking that you complete the report and provide me with the numerical score, please DO NOT send the report as it contains sensitive information, you can print it for your records and bring it with you to the viewing.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Some are a little more obvious. I mean any email from Africa has a twinge of suspicion. (Apologies to my scientific collaborators in South Africa. So when you get a grammatically erred email response it raises all sort of red flags:
Click to read the email

Thanks for your email an interest in renting our home,we are small christian family Volunteer working for Unicef and we arrive West Africa Two days Ago in supporting long term needs for clean water in Kenya, Sudan, Mali, Liberia, Burkina Faso, Gambia, Benin, Republic, Nigeria and Ethiopia - providing the everyday needs of more than 389,500 people. Also Committed to mitigating the impact of HIV/AIDS, which kills more than 6,000 Africans everyday, we are supporting community garden programs for AIDS sufferers and their families

We need a clean responsible person that we can trust to take a proper care of the home at all time because we will be spending a long time around the world and also we we are renting it Permanently,All Utilities are included in the rent and Below is the rental application please fill it and get back to me ASAP if you are interested renting our home..

RENTAL APPLICATION
Pls let me get this answer.
1) Your Full Name:
2) Your Full Address & Phone Number:
3) How old are you?
4) Are you married?
5) Do you have a pet?
6) Do you have a car?
7)Occupation?
8) Our prefer method of payment? Western Union or Money Gram?
9) When do you intend moving in?

Looking forward to hear from you with all this details so that I can have it in my file incase of issuing the receipt for you and contacting you. Await your urgent reply so that we can discuss on how to get the document and the keys of the house to you. We are giving you all this base on trust and again i will want you to stick to your words, you know that, we do not see yet so please do not let us down with our property and God bless you more as you do this.
Regards.
u.
N:B:please note this that you cant go inside the house because the keys are right here with us but feel free to go view the exterior of the house and upon approval the keys will be send to you.

But quite frankly, I think some of the scams were quite sophisticated like this one. The woman says she is using a legitimate website to scam you.
Click to read the email

Happy to hear of your interest.
I moved to London, UK and I've decided to rent this apartment. The apartment is located at 951 Fells Street Baltimore, MD 21231 with 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom, 1 kitchen and a living room. I'm asking only $775/month with all utilities included because I need a serious and trust worthy person who not only will pay me the rent on time but also will take care and preserve my property.
I'm looking to rent the apartment for six months with an option to renew for another year, but I'm flexible, so please let me know your thoughts.
I decided to rent the apartment through Rent.com, a eBay company, whose service we'll use to carry out the transaction. Rent.com has the possession of all the necessary documents (rental contract, proof of ownership...) and apartment keys. If you want to learn more about how this Rent.com service works, let me know.
Thank you,

The worst part is that the rent's they are asking for are not that incredible all within normal range. Anyhoo, on with the hunt.

The first of many...

Note: Please do not give me crap about my grammar and spelling on this post, as I am rather intoxicated as I type.

My gut kind of hurts from laughing so hard. I probably should be crying, but lets be realistic I am not capable of realizing how ridiculous I am.

Earlier today I convinced the nice quiet girl in the lab next door to mine to go the postdoctoral fellow happy hour. M is adorable, under five foot, Chinese, with a gentle high pitched voice. Anyway considering I did not get to work until 10:30 today, we did not leave the lab until 8pm. When we got to the happy hour, I randomly asked every group there if they were from the NIH. Alas, our group was long gone.

So we drank our Coronas a little disappointed we had missed out on the festivities. "Hey is this your first time here?" said the asian dude in polo shirt.

"Umm yes," I replied

The three of us continued with the same old conversation about work, where we lived, etc.. Mike was a resident starting his periodontist fellowship. I will say that he was adorable like an anime character. He had spiky hair, a baby face, and spoke softly. He kept on leaning into my ear to speak.

When I went to go get another beer from the bar Mike and his buddies disappeared. M told me they went, but I was not really concerned. We decided to enjoy my beer (because M stopped drinking like 4 beers ago since she felt dizzy) outside despite the dreary weather. As we were chatting, Mike reappeared.

"Hey, ET#1, you're back! I just wanted to tell you two that we are eating dinner 4 blocks away. When you are done here you should come join us."

"Oh thanks, " I replied.

"I know this is a strange question, but did you know any people that graduated from Stuyvesant? I know some of them went to Columbia." He said.

"Of course I do, " I said.

"What year did you graduate," he asked.

"1998" I replied. This is the moment I saw fear in his eyes.

"Wait did you go to Stuyvesant?" He asked.

"No," I said, "I went to high school in Massachusetts."

"You graduated college in 1998?" his voice was an octave higher.

"Um yes and you" I asked

" I graduated from Styuvesant in 2001." he sort of choked. I saw him taking a few steps back. "Well I need to get back to my friends." he said.

"Nice meeting you," I said. And off he went.

Poor thing. It must have taken a lot of balls to come back and invite us out to dinner, only to find out how ancient we are. I hope this does not scar him for life. As for me, I cannot stop laughing. I have never seen anyone run away so quickly after bad news.

The Evil Twins Take Maryland - Part 2

A Q&A between ET#1 and ET#2:

ET#1: You seemed to be fascinated by the architecture of some of the restored buildings in Baltimore. Did anything in particular stick out?

ET#2: I didn't realize how much of Baltimore's housing stock is comprised of 2 and 3 story rowhouses. So many of them are intact -- I hardly get to see so many large blocks like that in New York. Your neighborhood didn't have any buildings over 4 stories tall. It's nice to see the sky. Although, by mid-day, it would have been nice to have some more shade. It was so hot!

I was pleasantly surprised by the city's historic districts -- Fell's Point, the area surrounding the Walters Art Gallery, and the area near Canton Square are all lovely. What a contrast with the... not so nice parts of Baltimore.

ET#1: Scarier: ghetto in NYC, ghetto in Baltimore? Justify.

ET#2: Baltimore, by far, mostly because there is so little foot traffic. And there were far more burned out, boarded up buildings in Baltimore than in the areas of NYC that I've seen. Safety in numbers, as they say. Also, what's with all of the plastic bags blowing across the streets like tumbleweed? It's creepy.

ET#1: You had fried chicken twice in the weekend. Which was better: at Lexington market served with white bread or in Canton with country gravy? Who made better crabcakes: Woodberry Kitchen or the Lion's club?

ET#2: Hmmm... it's hard to choose. I have to break this down into two categories: value and tastiness. Lexington Market takes both categories -- 3 hot and spicy wings for $3! And there was live music! The Chicken Fried Chicken was sooooooo good, so good that I didn't need to eat anything 24 hours... I think they must put crack in their country gravy.

Woodberry Kitchen was in such a cool space (a converted mill) and their food was excellent, but the Lion's club had the Crustacean Station and Miss Crustacean! It's hard to compete with that.

ET#1: Did the BF enjoy any of his Maryland treats?

ET#2: He enjoyed the cookies that I bought at Lexington Market very much. Unfortunately, he didn't get to try the Crab flavored Utz chips. I ate those for dinner on Tuesday. You snooze you lose.

ET#1: Was the 160 mile drive to Crisfield worth the softshell crab sandwiches?

ET#2: For the softshell crab sandwiches only? Not really, but taken together with Smith Island, Tastee Post Office and world's largest sea captain, definitely! Also that old lady that helped dock the boat was pretty bad ass. I am pretty sure that I would have fallen off the boat.

ET#1: Will Miss Crisfield make it all the way to the Miss Maryland contest?

ET#2: Correction -- you mean Miss Crustacean. She is cute, but I saw her mother. She should work it while she can.

ET#1: How scared were you that you would have to spend the night on Smith Island? Can you estimate how many bug bites we would have sustained?

ET#2: I wasn't really that scared. I figured that we could buy bug spray at the little general store by the dock. After dousing ourselves in DEET, I estimate that you would have 15 mosquito bites, and I would have about 35. There was NO WAY we were missing the ferry back to Crisfield.

ET#1: Contained more sugar: Smith Island cake, orange creme doughnut, Pitango gelato?

ET#2: No brainer -- Smith Island Cake.

ET#1: Estimate the number of showers you took. How many did you want to take?

ET#2: I think I took 5 showers over the course of 2.5 days. It was about right.

ET#1: Of all the many activities, what was the most story worthy? Why?

ET#2: During our drive to Crisfield, I was fascinated by the lack of stand alone post offices. Combination Tastee Freeze/Post Office/Tastee Chicken and combination Post Office authorized Precious Moments vendor. I've never seen that before. Also, I won $1 from that scratch ticket I bought in Fruitland!

ET#1: Is Natty Boh still your favorite beer?

ET#2: If I don't want to get drunk off of 1/2 a beer. Yes. I also really like the mascot. He's cute.

Addendum: I liked Baltimore a lot more than I thought I would. The last time I was there was about 20 years ago and all I remember is how pissed my mom was that our minivan had been broken into while parked in the hotel parking lot. Also, I have started watching The Wire. Thanks, ET#1for pointing out the project where they filmed it while driving me to the train station. It's nice to recognize places on tv shows.

The Evil Twins take Maryland part 1

In retrospect, I should have taken more pictures. Here are some highlights for our adventure on Sunday.

Sign of our weekend plans.

Evil Twin #2 wins the lotto in Fruitland, a town with a Walmart and no fruit.

A post office and so much more.

The only motel/hotel on Smith Island, otherwise known as the greatest incentive to get to the ferry on time.

A unique Natty Boh.

Car trouble

Ack! That is the only word that can come out of my mouth .

Here is the story. When I moved to Baltimore, my parents came along to help. When they saw where I was working and an illicit drug transaction right in front of the complex, they marched me into a dealership and told me to pick out a car. They would not have their baby walking a mile through gang territory, or by the three nudie bars that are right next to the hospital. My mom wrote out a check for a down payment on the car and told me that the rest I could handle because it would improve my credit score. "Great!" I thought. Then my mother said these fateful words, "Evil Twin #1, we will add you onto our insurance, we know what we are doing."

The conversation between my mother and her insurance agent, F, a kindly overweight lady my parents have for over 30 years and who has been to our house for dinner with both of her husbands, will never be known. I imagine it started off with the two women comparing notes on their grandkids and ending with my mother telling her I was planning on moving back to California some day. In the end, F insured the car in the state of California.

Back in Maryland, I dutifully changed over my license and put on my Maryland plates. I sent my mother a check for the insurance. All was good in the world until I received a letter from the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration (MVA). Summed up: you are not insured, stop driving your car, and pay a hefty fine. "What!" I thought. I immediately called F and she told me my mother told her that I was moving back to California and just assumed the car was registered in California. My mother of course has a different account of the situation.

But this was not the frustrating part of all of this situation. My solution was just to find an agent in Maryland, give my info, start getting insurance, and pay the fine. My solution took 20 minutes. My mother had another idea. She called the MVA, she called F, and for all I know she called the Pope. She was going to fix things. Instead, she left chaos in her wake. I had three insurance agents call me saying that they would handle things for me. F called me to see what was going on. Then my mother called me. And after her longwinded explanation of things, I said, "Mom, this was my fault. I am 33 years old and I should take responsibility for myself. If I had from the beginning, none of this would have happened. Please stop calling or doing whatever. You are only making things worse. I've got it under control."

The other side of the phone got silent. Then I heard it. I made my mother cry. Her words came tumbling out in her quivering voice: she was sorry and she did not mean to make my life harder. It was terrible. When our conversation ended, my sister called and I recalled the events. The only way I could express my mix of irritation, guilt, and more guilt was "Ack!"

Word of the Day

BF and I went to see the documentary on Mike Tyson last night. I didn't know that he was such a chatterbox! My favorite word from the movie (which he used at least 3 separate times)?

"skullduggery" - noun. verbal misrepresentation intended to take advantage of you in some way

If you have a chance, you should go see it. Or, at a minimum, add it to your netflix queue.

Insecure shminsecure

“You know you are a lot hotter now than the last time we hung out,” said the random drunk frat boy, who went to law school with my new friend, S.

“Ummmm thanks?” I replied. What I really wanted to say was “What? Is that supposed to be a compliment? Was I such an uggo when we first met? Are you really a lawyer and end your sentences with a preposition?”

Sigh. I was a little disappointed with myself, for taking that comment so seriously. I am sure the boy was black out drunk and had no idea what he was saying. Unfortunately, I am 33 years old but still riddled with the insecurities. I spent about an hour analyzing what he said. “Okay so now that I am hotter, does that mean he thinks I am a hottie or just not disgusting. Is there threshold? What was I wearing the first time I met him?”

Wasn’t I supposed to have gained some wisdom over the years? Isn’t there supposed to be some personal growth? Wasn’t this incident exactly like the E incident?

E was a law school friend of ET#2. Back when ET#2 lived in Boston, I used to see E from time to time in group settings. Now I should preface this story by saying, E is probably a very nice person, but I have never given her a chance. She is slightly enamored with ET#2. And most importantly for this story, she is about 50-70 pounds overweight. (ET#2 and I tried to come to a consensus but both of us are not good with weight estimations. We do agree she is on the clearly heavy side.)

One night, we were in ET#2’s apartment. Most of the night was completely unremarkable. I think I was there because I was playing scrabble with ET#2’s roommate. ET#2 and her law school friends came in from some event (I think). We were all sitting in the living room having a pleasant conversation. C, another female law student, said something. And while I can’t remember what C said, the response E gave is forever emblazed in my mind. She turned to me and said “ET#1, us big girls need to stick together.”

That one sentence “us big girls need to stick together” was something I obsessed about for years. That one sentence is the reason I still don’t like E. That one sentence was bandied about for years by ET#2’s ex-roommate, who thought it would be hilarious to constantly tease me.

As a matter of fact, when I g-chatted with ET#2 for an accurate estimation of how overweight E was, she knew exactly why I wanted to know. Yes, “us big girls need to stick together,” had taken a life of its own.

So will my impression of the frat boy be forever marred. Yes, it will. If history has taught me anything, it is that I am incredibly petty and can carry a grudge for a very long time.

Pusser's is not a dirty word

I'll admit that I am stuck at the mental age of 14. For instance, when my friend C, who was flying to Baltimore to attend our friend's shower, said, "Hey let's kidnap S after the shower, and have umbrella drinks at Pusser's," I could not help but giggle.

"What? I didn't think I heard you right," I replied.

"Pusser's, we'd have to head South to Annapolis after the shower," she said between my now full on guffaws.

Okay clearly this conversation degraded into more laughter and raunchy jokes with C, who by the way for full disclosure sakes I should tell the audience is a Unitarian minister.

The shower was Saturday. I begrudgingly wore a skirt, and an appropriate top. C was already there when I arrived. She was 6 months pregnant and showing it. To be fair, like most showers I now attend, most of the party members are married pregnant with like one child at home.

At the party there was salad and tea sandwiches. We all brought pictures to add to her scrap book with small notes with wise marital advice. "Don't go to bed angry." "You do not have to win every argument, just the important ones." "Something Something squiggle line squiggle line (which I think was in Tamal)" I added a picture of her dancing in my dorm room 12 years ago. My advice: Don't ever let your house get this messy.

Then there was the ceremonial opening of the shower presents. Because the shower was with her very conservative Indian in-laws, we were instructed to bring no naughty things. But that means very little to a 14 year-old-at-heart:

Breakfast tray - One aunt says, "This is a huge marital aid."
Massage oil and edible soap - One aunt says. "Why would someone eat soap?"
Smart stick - no comment needed to make this one funny.

While I was sputtering and trying to hold in my giggling fit, I could not help but notice the 16 year-old girl in her grown up sari, acting perfectly angelic.

The shower ended with cup cakes, end everyone cooing at a baby who was brought in by his father who was patiently waiting outside for the shower to end. I saw the baby and took in a sharp breath. Besides the one baby I saw that had a huge hemangioma on his nose, this was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. He has a monobrow and looked like a 40 year old man's head stuck on a baby's body. He had hair all over his face, and huge bald spot.

When we got in the car, I said to C, "Seriously, that was one ugly ass baby." In which she replied, "He kind of is." And that was the end of that.

We drove the 45 minutes to Annapolis with the music blaring. I kind of wished we had slurpees but considering I had just eaten 3 cupcakes I thought the extra sugar might put me in a diabetic coma.

Pusser's is, in fact, the name of a British rum company and not just a funny sounding name. It used to be what sailors drank and were rationed in ye olde times. Also, it is located right on the water with a spactacular view of the harbor. I bought myself a Pusser Pain Killer and C a virgin Cuba Libre. I convinced to guys to give us their table. C was pregnant after all.

We chatted and soon S and 2 of her friends arrived. They were impressed by our ability to score a table. C and I let them praise us. We then proceeded to order ever item on the apetizer menu along with umbrella drinks. After two drinks, everyone but me switched to water. One girl asked me how I did it. I replied, "I stayed single. It makes it easier and necessary to deal with dating boys when you are half in the bag all the time."

P, one of S's friends, said, "Your sister gave this to me. She said it was for you." She handed S a book. In gold lettering, the cover read, "The Pop-up book of Sex." S opened it to a page with a naked woman stradling a naked man in an office chair. She pulled one of the tabs, and the woman fell back as the man held her back. "Oh my. It's interactive." She blushed then giggled.

Soon all five of us were flipping through the book laughing hysterically. Good to know I am not the only one with a dirty minded inner 14 year-old.

Happy Birthday, Evil Twin #2

Celebrity

I was driving 40 miles an hour on the Pulaski Highway heading east towards the lab. My hands were gittery from all the excitement or from the glass of wine I drank 4 hours earlier. I couldn't tell. I called my sister. My brother-in-law answered the phone "Whazzup?" he said. "S, you'll never believe who I just met today? Gwen Ifil!"I screamed into the phone. "Who is that? Is she famous?" he asked.

Friday afternoon was 65 degrees with a slight breeze and no clouds in the sky. I wanted to get a little Vitamin D ans some fresh air. I had been cooped up in the lab all morning, setting up real-time PCR that was doomed for failure. I knew this and frantically finished it anyway. It was not until 1:45 until I was able to get lunch. Okay for most, but for some reason I get cranky when unfed. This lunch would have to be large and substantial. I opted for a gyro at Samos, which is 0.7 miles away.

During my walk, I dialed A. I wanted to tell someone about my fabulous night. "Okay so I had to pay like 40 bucks to go to this library fundraiser. By the way did you know that Baltimore has the olders public library system in America? Anyway this event was like 90 percent women."

"Of course it is. It is a library event," A said.

"Oh it was not just a library event it was a library fundraiser plus wine tasting. I think that effectively meant no men allowed. So there were a bunch of bankers and doctor's wives at this event. You know the fabulous kinds with pearls and handbags. I went because my new friend volunteers to raise funds for the library while she searches for a paying gig. I digress. I go to this event in a pair of wide leg jeans and a sweater, so I might be a tad underdressed. The main speaker for this event is Sharon Ifill, who is a prof of South African law at U. Maryland. So apartheid, constitution, equality and whatever. After the talk, I was standing with my friend and Gwen Ifill comes up to me and says, 'I love your shoes, I noticed them a while back and just wanted to tell you how fabulous they are.'"

"O my God, that is even better. A famous person complementing your shoes," A replied.

"Well I was like yeah I really like Washington Week. I was such an ass. Anyway, I was so super excited but my brother-in-law was like who is that?"

"Your brother-in-law and sister are from LA. I'm sure they saw real celebrities all the time," A said.

"Oh like Linsey Lohan? But I rather meet Gwen Ifill anyday."

"Celebrity is relative," said A. "Gwen is big to those of us who watch PBS because we still have rabbit years on our television.

By this time, I had already reached the restaurant and said good bye to A. While waiting for my sandwich, I ran into my boss's boss. He and I made awkward small talk as we waited for our lunches. Then we were interupted by a blur of grey permed hair.

"Hallo, Hallo remember me?" said an older lady frantically waving her hands.

"Oh, Hi," I said after checking around me to make sure she was talking to me.

"From the train," she said. Ah yes, I sat next to her on a train to DC.

"Well, it was nice to see you again," I said.

As the crazy old lady was leaving I overheard her conversation with her husband "Who was that girl?" he asked. "Remember the night of the Lincoln Center event. She is the one I have been telling you about," she replied.

My boss's boss gave me a strange look. "Guess your famous," he said.

Two for One

As you know, I am horrible about posting in a timely fashion. To make up for that, this post is two posts in one -- a movie review and one you can add to the list of random (and sometime scary) things that happen in New York.

Story Number 1:

BF and I had just finished watching The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (btw, read the book and don't bother with the movie) and grabbing dinner at one of the restaurants in the NY Times Building. It was miserable out and we made our way to the subway entrance just outside of the NYT building. I was telling BF how disappointed I was in the movie's lame attempt at depicting Pittsburgh (my hometown) in 1983. Why was Siena Miller's hair being held back with a somewhat tasteful jaw clip (which did not exist in 1983) instead of the more historically accurate banana clip? Why was everyone dressed as though they had just stepped off the L-Train? The only attempt that the movie made to capture 1983 was to put the old yellow license plates on the movie's cars. As an aside, I was back in Pittsburgh for Easter and it's not hard to find cars circa 1983. Pittsburgh is pretty much stuck in the late 1980's/early 1990's as it is. I'm sure the costume designer could have gone to a few thrift stores and found tons of clothes from the era instead of dressing everyone in stuff you can find in Urban Outfitters/American Eagle. BF didn't even realize the movie was set in 1983. I definitely preferred the book to the movie. My suggestion, read the book, don't waste your time or money on the movie. The one exception was Peter Sarsgaard (but I think that's because I generally like him and not necessarily because of his performance). Siena Miller and her weird accent gets a big thumbs down. For a much better portrayal of Pittsburgh in the 1980's, go watch Adventureland.

Story Number 2:

We were walking north in the subway corridor towards the turnstiles for the A Train, discussing whether or not Siena Miller is too skinny, when a random very large African American dude in his late 20's or early 30's makes a beeline for BF and me. This guy is walking with a purpose, hands in the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt which is pulled up over his head, and is muttering to himself. We start veering to the side to stay out of his way, but then he comes straight at us, calls BF a "pus*y a**" (or something along those lines -- he was mumbling) and kicks BF in the shins and continues walking down the corridor, still muttering to himself.

There were lots of other people in the passageway and I'm not sure why he focused in on us. It was pretty scary, especially since we couldn't see he his hands. I was worried that he had a knife and would stab BF. I was frantically looking around for a station agent or some cops, but none were around. The other people in the corridor gave us concerned, sympathetic looks (thanks for nothing, people). I'm just glad that BF was ok. Definitely shaken up, and sporting a bruise on his left shin, but still in one piece. Whew.

Mail time

Amongst the many TV shows that Evil Twin#2 and I enjoyed, one is Blue's Clues (with Steve not the creepy cousin Joe).

So what does Mailbox have for us today?

ET#1 sent ET#2 an article from Science magazine about the neurobiology behind experiencing Schadenfreude.

ET#2 sent ET#1 a clipping from a West Elm catalog with a quotation from Mike, the moped rider, who thinks "there’s something sexy about living low to the ground."

When the cherry blossom blooms

After a two months of bitching and moaning about Baltimore, I've realized I don't mind it so much any more. I still don't have any friends here, but that does seem to bother me. I think the transition has been okay, because so much of Baltimore is like Boston.

Running along the Inner Harbor: running along the Charles.
Cherry Blossom run: Run to Remember.
Safeway 10 minute walk away: Stop & Shop 10 minute walk away.
Polish Deli at Broadway Market: Russian grocery store on Beacon.
H-mart food court: Super 88 food court.
White frat boys: white frat boys.
Sunning on the back deck: sunning on my porch.
Nieman Marcus Last Call: Filene's Basement (Downtown).
Gossipy old Irish lady neighbor: gossipy old jewish lady neighbor.
Excessive drinking of Harpoon IPA: excessive drinking of Yuengling.
Erratic drivers along Eastern Ave: erratic drivers on Beacon.
Crazy Orioles fans: crazy Red Sox fans.

The list could go on, but since I have legitamate work to do today I will leave it at that.

Wise Beyond My Years

One of my clients has been indirectly screwed by the whole Madoff thing and I actually said "We're in quite a pickle..." to my boss today. When did I turn into a little old lady??

Happy Birthday ET#1

Today is Evil Twin #1's Birthday! Back in college, we (ET#1, myself, Teacup Girl and Hula Girl) used to force the birthday girl to wear a Happy Birthday tiara for the day. It was incredibly embarassing. Since we can't be in Baltimore to make ET#1 sport a sparkly and frilly tiara, I'm posting it here instead. Happy Birthday, ET#1!!!!

D visits my 'hood

My leg will not stop fidgeting. Maybe it is the sugar from the third peanut butter cookie I ate, or maybe I am just anxious. D called me 2 hours ago to remind me to pick him up from the airport. I laughed on the phone. The date had been circled on my calendar for weeks.

As the last speaker ends, I bolt out the door. I do not even wait for the clapping to subside. I could not understand a word he said anyway. I look at the tray of cookies and walk away. I get in my silver Nissan Versa. It was sunny in the morning and now it appears the clouds have moved in. Not to worry. The airport is only a 10 minute drive.

I find a parking spot and wait for D to come through the hallway. Unfortunately, the AirTran terminal is set up so I am staring into the entrance of a Men's restroom. I, unconsciously, meter the time it takes some men. I debate whether the man in the gray windbreaker has a prostate problem or had other reasons to linger. I see a man with his Italian leather hold-all, dark jeans, a military jacket over an orange sweater. It is unmistakably D.

D is the Felix to my Oscar, the AJ to my Rick, the Will to my Grace. After being surrounded in Natty Boh drinking dudes, D is a refreshing bit of Boston snobbery. He has tickets to the Boston ballet, and to the NY Met opera and flew down to Baltimore to see me.

We drive straight to his hotel so we can get all of this check-in nonsense out of the way. Now, for those who know me, know driving is not my strongest ability. As a matter of fact, all of those negative stereotypes of Asian women drivers may have stemmed from me and my family. I give my new iPhone to D and ask him to navigate us to the hotel. Not realizing it would make a difference, he does not type in South as part of the address. I am blindly following directions, only to realize that we are at the JHU medical center. And as if it could be distinguished, we are in the scary part. There are teenagers at one corner and older men drinking out of paper bags on a stoop of a building that is boarded up. Welcome to B'more, D.

Once we get back to the white part of town, D still feels uneasy. He wants to know why every boy he sees is wearing a striped or checked button down shirt that is untucked over a white tee and jeans. Oh and shoes, they all wore ugly shoes. I did not have an answer for him, mainly because I never noticed it before.

Everything is more upbeat once we get dinner. We go to a brew pub and everything comes with bacon. mmmmm bacon. Brunch comes with bacon. Dinner again more swine. D comments he is going to have to take double doses of his cholesterol meds.

Between hours of gorging ourselves, we walk around the town. We go to Federal Hill, walk around the harbor, and we even get to see Ft. McHenry. At Ft. McHenry, we walk the barracks and through the barricades. We see reenacters practicing marching with their bayonets. D like the epaulets on the Colonel's jacket. They are a little gaudy for my taste. I sing the Star Spangled Banner under a flag in the fort. I find myself amusing.

The weekend whizzes by, and by Sunday afternoon he is off to Boston. His departing words, "Make sure if you date one of these Baltimore boys he has good shoes. Or at least buy him some."

I need a vacation

I am horrible at posting things in a timely fashion. The BF and I went on a lovely extended weekend trip to Paris over President's Day weekend. This is Part One of the post, as some interesting things happened before we even got to our destination.

The younger sister of one of my good college friends was staying with me. This is relevant because I had to figure out how to get my keys from her since she would be staying at my place and leaving before BF and I returned from Paris. I had forgotten that my front door should not be set to lock automatically when you shut it -- the reason being that if you are inside the apartment, then you get LOCKED INSIDE and CANNOT GET OUT.

BF and I were heading to the airport straight from work. I only realized that we were locked in before we were about to leave for work. I tried the turning the knob, but the door was stuck. I tried turning and pulling on the knob several more times, I tried using a credit card, then a knife to pry the lock open. Nothing was working. BF was about to try "brute force" but I was afraid that my doorknob would fall off completely. Then I had a MacGuyver moment. Going out the fire escape, re-entering my building and opening the door from the outside was my only option.

I took off my suit jacket and climbed out my kitchen window onto my fire escape. My co-op board recently hit us with a major assessment to "replace the roof and upgrade the fire escapes". I used to resent having to pay an extra $200/month this year, but now I have first-hand knowledge of why they need to upgrade the fire escapes. They are extremely rusty and look like they are about to dislodge from my building's facade. Board, you are more than welcome to my $200/month.

I live on the 3rd floor of my building and had to climb down one level of the fire escape before I got to the ladder which is supposed to slide down so that you don't have to jump 15 feet to hit the ground. It was rusted solid. I tried pushing on it, but then the entire fire escape started creaking and moving so I stopped. BF was encouraging me to jump, but I was afraid that I'd land wrong and that I'd spend the next 4 days hobbling around the streets of Paris.

Instead, I assessed my options. I could try to hang off the fire escape and lessen the jump by about 5 feet. Or, I could try to reach the hopefully open hallway window by shimmying along a ledge. I opted for the latter of the two options. This wasn't that far, maybe 2 or 3 feet, but it felt like a lot more. Thankfully, the window wasn't latched shut. I was able to cling to the window frame with one hand while pushing the window open about 8 or 10 inches with the other. Thanks to lots of yoga and pilates lately, I was able to get one leg up and through the window without losing my balance and cracking my head open on the pavement below. I managed to squeeze through the window (it's an awning window with a hinge on the top that allows the window to swing in towards you if you are opening it) and without ruining my work clothes! I sprinted up the stairs to my apartment, opened the door, was a bit winded, but thrilled that I had figured out a way to get the door open. Then I heard the door slam behind me. And I had to do it all over again. Doh!

On the upside, the second time around took far less time than the first. BF was none to happy when I told him that we were locked in. Again. I told him that he was welcome to climb out the window onto my disintegrating fire escape and squeeze himself through the neighboring window. Then he was quiet.

So, that's the story of the time leading up to my vacation. I'll blog about the actual vacation (with pictures!) separately.

Cat Fight

I am sad that Project Runway will not be airing this season because of lawsuits between Bravo and Lifetime. Make me a supermodel just isn't cutting it, Bravo. At least past contestants are keeping things interesting.

Kickball and Flipcup

Phone conversation from last Sunday.
ET#1 - Isn't it nice to know that after 15 years of not doing something, you can still retain that muscle memory?
ET#2 - Ummm yeah okay. I'm not so sure I ever played that game.
ET#1- Oh I don't think we ever played in college. It was definitely a high school thing. You know that and Hour o' power.
ET#2 - Maybe your high school.
ET#1 - I was going to tell them that I played this game while they were in elementary school, but I decided not to.
ET#2 - That was a good idea. I think you should post about this.
ET#1 - About Flipcup or about kickball?
ET#2 - About all of it. And include a team roster with nicknames. I can imagine it all now....

When I moved to Baltimore, it was extremely lonely. I missed my friends and it getting adjusted to driving and trying to meet people was taxing. I sent a million e-mails whining about it, and called everyone I knew for a little sympathy. But then it was enough. As part of a proactive move to meet people, I joined a kickball team.

On a chilly March morning, I donned some long underwear, sweatpants, and a white t-shirt that said "kickball" on it. White was our team color. (how appropriate) When I got to the field at 9:55am, I found the other white shirts: 11 boys and 2 girls. As soon as I got there, I introduced myself, and a fellow in a headband and yellow sunglasses passed me a red plastic cup. "Drink up, and let's be friends," he said.

Here is the line up:
"the Hulk" - He is a bouncer at a bar. He is large and very Aryan.
"Johnny" - He is the "funny"one. 6' and weighing 150, he wears a terry headband and matching wristbands.
"Captain" - She is tiny and speaks only from the side of her mouth like Joey Potter (Dawson's people!). She made me touch her leg "muskles."
"Mouse" - She is a slighter plumper gal, who likes to chew on her hair.
"Irritating Southerner" - He is the stereotype for a frat boy that went to Duke.
"Americorps" - He is from Kansas, and just wanted to meet some friends. He is geeky and okay with it.
"Band of generic white boys" - the rest of them are friends of Johnny's and kind of are hard to distinguish from each other. Case in point, I introduced myself to one of them 3 times.

We lose the first week, and win the second, but no matter what the morning ends the same way: everyone in the kickball league congregate at a local bar. It is enormous with over two hundred people in colored shirts milling about. And inevitable there are several fold up tables set in rows on the side. On each side of a table is 5-6 people in same colored shirts facing off of people in different colored shirts. This is the real competition: this is flip cup.

For those of you have never played, here are the rules. You drink a shot of beer in a plastic cup and then you try to flip that cup upside down. When you have successfully done this, the next person on your team can do so. First, team to finish wins. Now, there are variations to this game. When I was in high school we used to line the cups up and one person had to go down the line by themselves. So I have a little experience in this game.

Being a woman of Asian descent, it was assumed I did not know how to play. Irritating Southerner kept giving me pointers throughout the afternoon. I got mine on in maximum two flips, he took forever.

At some point during the high fiving and taunting, I looked around. I got a little sad, then a little giddy. Maybe it was the beer but I could not stop laughing at the absurdity of it. I'll be back next week though and the game will go on.

In the meantime, quarters anyone?

Inapropriate or not?

When I was in an university, I used lament that some of the male postdocs would openly look at porn on their laptops. I felt like that was inappropriate. If I could I would have blocked their habit, but alas I could not. However, now I have changed my mind.

I would gladly run into a porn fiend, in exchange for Facebook and Fantasy Sports access. Repeatedly, I get the message seen above.

My argument, besides that free speech 1st amendment crap, is this: I would be a BETTER worker if I had full internet connection, because in my job longer hours correlates into more work product. Unlike television and shows like CSI, real biological assays take several hours. While waiting for these assays to finish I sometime will partake in a little internet frivolity. However, without full internet access, I want to go home and postpone what I have to do another day.

A strange meating

Sunday is cleaning day. Or better known as pretend to clean and at the very least throw-out-all-the-old-food-from-the-fridge-day. Inevitably, I am left with a dilemma, "Do I throw this plastic container of food out? Or do I dare open it and throw away its contents to use for another day?"

In effort to be environmentally friendly, I decide to wash the containers. My reward, the garbage disposal freaks out and I am left with a sink full of water and tofu stir fry. This combination is possible the most barf inducing site, so I speedily go into action.

I grab my keys and go to the drug store. Walgreens is 7 blocks away from my house: 6 going east and one going north. I decide to drive, the 5 minute walk would be grueling.

In the parking lot, I see a mob of people. They all seem to know each other. I think to myself how strange it is to see a sea of flannel. Did I time warp to 1992? Inside I find Draino and Liquid Plumber. I can't decide so I buy both. I will use the Draino first. It is 40 cents more expensive, and it is called "max gel." I think it must be better.

The lady working the front desk, rings up my items. "Here you go ma'am," she says as she hands me my change and two drain cleaners. I thank her. It drives me a little nuts that everyone in Baltimore always use miss and ma'am, but after a month and a half, it is getting better.

Outside the crowd has thinned out. I can finally see what everyone was gathered around to see. A black and brown van that read "Capitol meats" in white letters surrounds by flames. A man in blue and white trucker hat is sitting on the edge of the van. When he sees me he opens the back door to his van. Gulp. I see steam coming out of it. It is the cold air from a refrigerator that is hitting the wet air.

"Hello, there," he says. "I have some nice porter houses still left. And I'll give you a discount since it is the end of the day."

"Oh no thank you." I reply. "I just came for the Draino."

"I see ma'am. Well, I am here every Sunday and if you have anything special in mind I can put it aside for you next week," he says.

"Ummmm. great. I'll be sure to keep that in mind," I reply. "Have a good day."

"You too ma'am," he says.

Summary: there is a man that sells meat out of a van in the Walgreens parking lot by my house. Baltimore, you are living up to all my stereotypes.

Feelin' a little crabby

Baltimore, crabs ... get it? Truth be told, even puns are not making me giggle anymore. The transition to a new city has been a little harder than expected. Things like I had to buy a car, and I cannot walk anywhere really irks me.

And this negative attitude seems to have permeated to other aspects of my life. For instance, right now my chinese office mate is smacking some kind of chinese candy. She does this every afternoon, and it drives me crazy. I want to buy her something crunchy or something quiet so I do not have to hear her slurp and smack her lips constantly.

Filling the hours outside of work can be difficult. To amuse myself I like to go to Ikea, which is only 8 miles away. My favorite part of the store is the food stuffs, Anna's ginger cookies and Wasa crackers. But last week, I was just irritated as I was mobbed by a million couples. Normally, I would never begrudge a couple their coupleness, but I was feeling a little bitter that at least if I had a significant other I would have someone to talk to everyday.

Being crabby, can also translate into being bitchy. For instance, I went to an all Ivy mixer in DC. I brought along a friend of a friend who wants to go out more. I have never met her before. We met at the bar. She was friendly, and genuinely nice. We had a pretty good time considering we were the only people at the event under the age of 40. Let me reword that, we were the only people at the event who looked like they were under 40. However, even though I should have been happy to have this night out, I was put off by the friend of a friend's comment. She said, "Oh this was fun. But next time I am going to help you get ready. I am really good with makeovers." Hrrumph. In my mind, I replied "Listen, bitch. I am wearing jeans and a cashmere t because in my line of work that is considered dressed up. I rather that then wear your nasty polyester black pants and your dowdy ass cardigan set." In reality, I said, "Oh that's a thought."

Hopefully, now that the weather is getting better and the real Maryland blue crabs are coming into season, I will be less of a crab. We'll see.

I Lego NY

For those of you that miss New York City, or just like legos, you should check this out.

Romance Evil Twin style

It is Friday afternoon, 4:18pm to be exact. I am sitting on my desk chair with my legs propped up on my lab chair. I see a medical student potential walk out of the lab with her black Ann Taylor pant suit. My balding kind temporary boss walks her out. As soon as the lab door closes, he turns to me and says, "So are we drinking?"

"Hells, ya," I reply. "I was waiting for you to finish all of your interviews."

He laughs. "Nah you should have come in and poured yourself a drink. Maybe then she would have gotten the hint the interview was long over."

"Went that well, huh?" I say.

"Eh. I just rather be drinking." he says. "Well ET#1, I guess this is your official last day at Harvard. So which one do you want to start off with?" He points to the row of Scotch and Irish Whiskeys on his desk. Nothing younger than 12 years. I knew I liked him better than my own adviser.

I plunk down on his couch as he plays bartender at his desk. He calls out to the lab and tells them working time is over. One by one students, technicians, and postdocs pour into his office. Most of them are not drinking, but find it amusing to us do it. Amongst the students, there was one of particular note. He was our first Roton of the year. (Tangent: Rotons are first year Ph.D. students who are rotatating in different lab to find a match.)

After about 5 whiskeys, we all walk down the hall for departmental beer hour to get a little food in our stomach. Every Friday afternoon at 5pm the Microbiology department gives out free beer and snack foods to encourage socialization. Socialization... liver failure....tomato....tomato. Anyway, I start drinking some Mike's Hard lemonade, because that is all that is left when you come to beer hour too late. One of the adorable Kewpie-esque Tawainese postdocs asks to have a sip. She likes it and downs the bottle. And so starts the chain of events to a demented romantic story.

"Oh crap are you okay?" I ask. The adorable postdoc whole face is beet red and she can't seem to stand straight. We walk her to our lunch room. Because it is my last day, I emptied out my liquor cabinets and brought all of it to the lab. Mainly, I brought it for one of the students. He is in his fourth year, and I know he will need it to fortify his will. While we watch the adorable postdoc recover, the rest of us keep drinking. Now we move onto gin and tonics. I tell the Roton to get the post doc some crackers from the vending machine. It works and the adorable postdoc has the ability to stand,so we all decide to get dinner.

We sit down at the table, after an intricate musical chairs number. I am sitting next to the Roton. this benefits me greatly, because I mistakenly order a salad because it had the word steak in its title. I proceed to eat all the mashed potatoes off of his plate. He asks that I help him steal the glass he is given. It has a gnome on it. Since I am especially adept at restaurant thefts, I throw it into his bag.

Finally, it is 12pm and it is time for us all to go home. I start walking and chatting, but I realize I should have no one to chat. I tell the Roton, "Isn't your apartment over there?"

"Yeah, but no woman should walk alone. It's no big deal, I'll just walk you home," he says.

Now were I not a moron I should be suspicious because two other female postdocs just left alone. But I thought fair enough. After all, after the last party we had in the lab he walked me home from the South End (approx 3.5 miles) in sub zero weather. As we were walking, put my hand in the crook of his arm. Okay, I think, he is a gentleman. He did this for me last time to keep my hand in the splint from freezing. Oh except this time I had no splint.

He points into shop windows as we walk by them. Isn't that funny, who would ever wear that, why flying pigs? At my stoop, I thank him. He asks if he can use the restroom, so I let him in. When he gets out, I am in the foyer reading my issue of Science. Now for all those who know me, know I love being the first one to a magazine. So I am standing there reading it and he is standing next to me. He leans in and kisses me. First priority is to make sure my magazine does not get crumpled. Then I assess the moment. In a flash it become clear. Him constantly hanging out in my part of the lab, always sitting next to me, him jokingly putting his arm around me, and walking me home under inclement conditions. "Oh I'm sorry, but I thought it was my last chance. I know you said you would never date another scientist, but....," he said.

Really, I said I would date another scientist. Ahhh yes. Many months ago I said that, but who thought people were actually paying attention to what I said. "Put your bag down and take off your coat," I say. He does and goes to the couch. I follow him with Science in tow. He has his arm around me and is playing with my hair as I read my magazine. "Seriously," I say, "why the Medaka fish, who do these people think they are?" He just kisses the top of my head and says he does not know.

Epilogue
I call the Roton on Monday night to see if he want to go out on Tuesday. He does not call back. In fact, he disappears and does not show up to the lab. Sigh. Back to drinking.

A message from V

My lab spouse of 5 years now lives across the country. I went through a little bit of separation anxiety over it. With whom would I discuss the nuances of the latest crap paper from the Karin lab,and in the same conversation inject my opinion of Golden Globe fashions? I guess she was thinking of me too because she forwarded a comic to me. Hmmm, I can't imagine why though.

My lab

As much time as I spend in the lab, I realize how little I talk about it. It is a place I feel comfortable to watch television online, nap, and read a copy of the Scientist (think of a People equivalent aimed at researchers). I drink my coffee in the morning, and eat most of my dinners in the break room. For instance, this morning I toasted my Eggo waffles and drank tea for breakfast, and I just heated up some food a postdoc brought for lunch but decided not to eat. Yes, it is my home.

We are sectioned off into little units called labs. It makes us a little defensive of our fellow labmates work. It makes us band together against mutually offenses like administration. It makes us identify ourselves with the name of our Principal Investigator, our boss and he is our mascot.

Our PI carries little to no authority. He is kind of like the bumbling dad in so many romantic comedies. Slightly bumbling with an occasional wise word. I'm sure he has the power to fire me, but if it hasn't happened yet, it will never happen.

As for us lowly peons, we spend our time going to lectures, designing experiments, drinking hot beverages, drinking various forms of cold EtOH, and chatting. Everyone in the lab plays their role dutifully. There is the organizer, the social chair, the annoying braggart, the uber scary nerd, the calm leader, the cheerful postdoc and the confused student. There is an inexplicable bond between you and the other members in the lab. A twilight zone in which they are your family, but you know nothing about them. I wonder if this is what it is like in other workplaces. But I can only imagine other workplaces being like the Office and Dilbert.

Most biological wet labs look the same. Benches that stand higher that your waist littered with tubes and pipettes. Above my bench, I have the same set of chemicals I always like, my buffers and salts on one side, special chemicals on the other. Unlike in the movies, all the rows of bottles and conical tubes are filled with colorless bottles.

While houses have creaks and whistles, the lab has its own set of noises. The whir of 5 refridgerators, the gentle hiss of the vacuum, ocassional beeps of the hood and the bustle of people. People seem to be in constant motion here. Tubes are in one bay, centrifuge is accross the room, the water bath in the center, the freezer at the end, and the laminar flow hood is in another room altogether.

Right now its quiet. I can only hear the machines singing their gentle songs. But soon any minute now, my alarm will ring to remind me to plate my transformations and I can get the F#$@ out of here to see some of the real world again.

Say it ain't so

Continuing with my fashion rants of late, I read this article and am afraid that this potential trend might actually be picked up and that I will see the young associates at my firm, as well as the tourists that swarm the Times Square/Rockefeller Center area, sporting these. Good God, no. Bike shorts should only be worn by serious cyclists. Period.

Kids These Days

Excuse me while I vent. I am constantly astonished at how "kids" -- meaning anyone more than 5 years younger than me -- these days are so ill prepared for the workplace. What is up with all of the inappropriate office wear?

While the fashion magazines may be telling young women that it is ok to show some skin at the office, if you expect to be taken seriously by me, then you'd better cover up your cleavage and your derriere and do some good work. This is not The City and you should not be dressing like Whitney Port.

There is a junior associate on my floor that seems to think that our hallways are in fact fashion runways. The other day, she was wearing the following: black platform stilettos, semi-shiny black super tight leggings with zippers at the ankles (fully unzipped), a super short "kilt" that barely covered her behind, and an oversized cowl necked sweater -- so oversized, that it periodically exposed her bra straps. I recognized most of her outfit from various ads I have seen in Vogue. However, just because something is obscenely expensive doesn't mean that it's appropriate office wear.

I am trying to figure out why her unprofessional outfits bother me so much. It's not like what she wears has any bearing on how I am perceived at the workplace. I accept the fact that I am a corporate lawyer, working at a BigLaw type of firm and that means that not every day is a fashion show. It's ok to try to inject your own fashion sense into your outfits, but you've got to remember that this is a conservative environment. Dressing like you're an extra on Gossip Girl or one of those semi pornographic American Apparel ads could give one of the older partners a heart attack. Talk about liability...