Friday, October 15, 2010

Adventures in Science

So my roommate Kerri is a genius. She's a PDBio major and is ridiculously good at science and math.

Today she had to drop something off to her food science professor, and I went with her because I had nothing better to do. (And she had to use my ID card to print said paper.)

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The Eyring Science Center," she replied.

I've been on campus for two months now, and I don't think I've even come close to going into every single building. However, there are some buildings that I hoped never to have to enter. Ever. These are the science and math buildings.

Kerri walked in with great ease, but I immediately tensed up. I don't belong in left-brain settings. It's like putting a lump of tofu in the middle of a bunch of hungry vegans: bad news bears.

To try to make me more comfortable, Kerri led me around to some cool displays they had, kind of like a parent leading their child gently into shark-infested waters. There was one where you could feel the weight difference between lead and nylon. You couldn't even lift the neuron star one cos it was glued down. I was bitter. She pointed out that it was funny because neuron stars are uber dense.

I hate science jokes.

And then she had me stand on two little yellow feet painted on the floor in front of a display. Everything about it screamed "SCIENCE TRAP!"

[Science trap (n)- an exhibit in a scientific setting that is designed to expressly make the everyday person look like a total goob.]

There was a pedestal in front of me that appeared to have a dollar bill behind a lightbulb. Trap. There was also a huge concave mirror not three feet away from that. Trap. Kerri told me to walk forward and try to grab the dollar. TRAP.

I didn't fall for it.

But it got me thinking; if sciency and mathy people really wanted to embarrass all their mentally inferior peers into never coming into a building again, why not screen IQs at the door?

[Begin scene: KERRI and BECCA are again walking into the ESC:
there is a contraption that looks vaguely like a metal detector flanking the door]

KERRI: (walks through the door)
MACHINE: Ding!
KERRI: Come on, Becca.
BECCA: (hesitating) I dunno, K-sho. This looks spurious at best.
KERRI: (rolls eyes)
BECCA: All right.... (walks through door)
MACHINE: BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! Security breach! Someone with an IQ less than 100 has entered the building! Security! Security!
BECCA: (sulking) I told you so.

[Scene closes on BECCA being escorted out of the building by a robocop.]

Although the robocop part is pretty cool, I'd better make sure this idea never falls into the hands of any Brains. They can keep inventing ways to make gas cheaper.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Irony Never Faileth

I went to the dentist last Thursday. I was really excited, too, because they usually tell me what a dismal flosser I am, and since my last visit I've flossed EVERY DAY to show them who's boss. Also, to cut down on my cavities. My dad makes me pay the co-pay for getting my cavities done and last time I had three. Yikes. I was determined not to let that happen again. (Not to mention I hate that terrible shot they stick clear down into your jawbone to numb you.)

The hygienist asked me how my flossing had been; I told her I never miss a day. I am a religious flosser. I brush morning and night. I've been cutting down my soda intake.

She could tell I wasn't lying because my teeth looked so good; she even said how I'd made her job easier by keeping my teeth in such good shape.

Then the dentist came in to look at my X-rays.

I held my breath and crossed every appendage in the hopes that, finally, I'd conquered the Great Satan (my cavities).

Five.

I had FIVE CAVITIES.

That's worse than when I wasn't flossing! I felt cheated! I felt indignant! I felt furious! It's enough to make me sell my teeth and live on liquefied food the rest of my life! (Not really; that's gross.)

But really? There is no way anyone can tell me that all teeth are created equal.

Mine are out to get me. Haters.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Don't Do It!

Today I saw a girl decked out in running gear standing at the bottom of the stairs of a ridiculously steep hill. Her hands were on her hips and one could almost hear her thoughts,

"Should I run the stairs? No one would care if I did. It's unseasonably hot, and I'm half dehydrated anyway. I think I will..."

Her body automatically shifted into a ready-to-run position.

At this point I wanted to shout,

"No! Your life is still worth living! Don't run! I'll call the campus police and counselling center and we'll help you through this. Stay there! Just. Don't. Run."

It was much like watching someone poised at the top of the Chrysler Tower, ready to jump-- it could only end in tears and great bodily harm.

...

I'm not much of a runner.