duermemucho's diary

duermemucho's Diaryland Diary



My elaborate experiment planned for today had to be scrapped, because I arrived in the lab yesterday to find my cells (all sixteen plates of them) filled with white slime. Yeast. Into bleach they all went, every last one of them, and out went an email to all the incubator users, warning that contamination had been found therein, and to use another incubator until the device had been sanitized.

Cleaning a water-jacketed tissue incubator is really a lovely way to spend your morning. On your knees Cinderella-style with your head and shoulders inside a metal box, meticulously removing all the detachable metal parts and only then noticing all the dark dusty spots in the hard-to-reach areas..."holy shit, no wonder my cells are contaminated...this thing looks like the inside of Jack Black's colon." The interior of the device, which can never be switched off, is at a constant human body temperature of 37 C, which means that your scalp starts itching and sweating after you've been scrubbing for two minutes, adding to the contamination. And then you have to finish it off with a spray-down with 70% ethanol, followed by another scrub. Inhaling the fumes literally makes you feel intoxicated. Hardly a worthwhile compensation for doing work that undergrads should do.

Speaking of science, some jerkoff on "Who Wants...Millionaire" this evening defended his choice for the common name of trimethylxanthene as follows: "well, methyl is a type of alcohol, and caffeine doesn't have any alcohol...and nicotine doesn't have any alcohol...and penicillin is, like, a spore...so I guess the answer is A, kerosene." The douche bag got $100,000 for pseudoscientific reasoning that nearly made me shit.

And now I have to explain what I was doing watching "...Millionaire".


I should get one of those lame little count-down banners like pregnant women have, saying "only 15 days until my balls get disconnected!" Joy to the world. I haven't decided how I'm going to announce that I'll need two days off from work. Maybe I'll say I inhaled some yeast and need to go to Seattle for holistic therapy. That or I could just announce my purposes boldly, and hope for the best. We just had someone take time off for a sex change, so how bad could they react? They'd probably be most stunned just at the thought that I get laid, unlike 90% of the hopeless sacks at my work. Life, indeed, is unfair.

8:41 p.m. - 2006-09-25


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