Kyle Doesn't Get It

That's right. You better believe it. It's the truth. The word of God. ...I'm sick! So sick that, despite all efforts, I couldn't manage to finish that LOVELY little GSI orientation today. So sick that I'm not concerned that my advisor is looking for me (according to Ben). So sick that even my razor wit, usually resistant to viral invasion, has been filed down to something resembling a rusty shank. So sick that I'm listening to Dave Matthews Band. Oh yeah, it's hot stuff! I'm jammin' hardcore. The ol' DMB shimmy. Feel it. Crash is a good song actually, sick or not. Now on to phrases with names in them that Kyle doesn't get:

Heavens to Betsy
-Who is Betsy?

For Pete's sake (or the other incorrect form, For Pete Sakes)
-Who is Pete?

Steve scared the bejesus out of me!
-Who, or what, is this Bejesus?

---------------------------------
Some quick Google research revealed the following:

Bejesus: A substance found in the human body that determines how close one is to becoming Jesus.

Pete: Most likely it is a reference to the Catholic Saint Peter.

Betsy: It is almost exclusively an American expression, associated possibly with mature females of the Prohibition era or earlier. As to where it came from, nobody has the slightest idea.

Ten

Ten Things I Want to Accomplish Before I Graduate:

1. Watch all episodes of Faces of Death back to back, lights off, heat on full blast, and holding a knife or some sort of hatchet. Naked, of course.
2. Cleanse my brain of morbid thoughts. Bleach up the nose should do the trick.
3. Dance on a tabletop. Any tabletop. Batman outfit and nothing else (of course).
4. Blow midwestern fairwell kisses to Tyson from afar. Was he there when Liz got nekkid at my wedding?
5. Find out if Tyson was there...
6. If so, pump bleach up his nose.
7. From afar.
8. Bake like fifty fucking cakes and eat em all in record time
9. Tell off all of my enemies
10. Steve, you son of a bitch, where were you when I was being beaten to a bloody pulp by those biopsych gangsters? I was dying, Steve, and you hardly batted an eye. I'll KILL you. ----------------One down, thirty-two to go.

Kyle is supremely lazy

Why am I being lazy? I'd tell you if I knew. There are a few things that might be contributing here...hot weather, abundant alcohol, prelim exam finished, students self-sufficient, no working electrodes in the aldridge lab which means postponing my pilot experiment over there for another week, stupid electrodes, I can't work in the summer, ever, knowing that the shit will hit my fan in two weeks when school starts up again, cats rubbing off me (and on me), etc.

Yesterday, for example, I just decided not to go to work because I was absinthe-toxified and wanted to explore EMU with Dee. My lovely Dee...so pure, so delicate...

Let's talk about my fan, shall we, and the shit that will be hitting it in two weeks:

I have to teach three discussion sections for Intro Biopsychology
And attend the 2 x weekly lectures
And hold office hours and grade papers and answer slurries of emails
The Aldridge study will be up-and-running, with luck
I will be putting the final touches on my paper, redoing graphs--again--yep
I will be making a poster for the neuroscience meeting in San Diego
The meeting will take up Biopsych discussion sections, which I'll have to cover somehow
I need to do a lot of work for that poster....
...Fan

Kyle on last night.

"Got tight last night on absinthe. Did knife tricks."
-Hemmingway

I didn't do knife tricks, but I did get tight.

And by that I mean to refer to my GI tract. Nothing, I mean NOTHING, came out of there last night. But today....ho ho ho!

I'm hungover. A weird tingly sort of hungover.

Reasons why today is a good start to the week:
1. My absinthe arrived this morning. Finally!!
2. I've just returned from a relaxing vacation, so I feel fresh (down there...)
3. The Panchero manager punched my frequent-Panch card twice for what he called "Good for my business"
4. Steve is wearing that blue shirt that I like so much.

Highlight #1 of my trip: Hunter S. Thompson
We went to a book signing/social engagement for HST, which we found out afterwards was an invitation-only event. There were about 30 people there and the room was a small living room of sorts, nicely furnashed with couches and carpet. Plus there were free drinks and snacks, which we abused with utmost resolve. HST was a mess. But an entertaining mess! He was ordering drink upon drink, but only sipping them before ording two more. After awhile he became surrounded by a semicircle of water, coffee, gatorade, fruity drinks and whisky. He'd let out a "Whoooo!!" or slam the table with his fists every so often for no reason. He grabbed someone's gatorade, slammed it down, then yelped and pounded the bar as though he had just done a shot. He smacked some guy in the nuts as the host was relating a story of HST smacking some other guy in the nuts. A lady asked him to read a poem from her book, but instead he grabbed the book and began smashing it into the edge of the bar. Another lady gave him a pen to use for signing a book, which he grabbed and then jabbed her breast with it. Another time he signed a guys book, then turned away, then turned back to find a new person there...which made him jump and scream. He later grabbed some guy on the shoulder then hollared "Vote Goddamnit!" Someone asked him to sign a CD, but instead of signing the insert or something he tried to sign the CD case, but couldn't and then just stabbed the CD a few times in anger.

My brother and I both got yelled at once. HST refused to make out to my parents a signature with To Ann and Greg because, as he said, "Nope, too many letters."

After a mumbling rant about terrorism my brother asked him, "Anyone in Aspen that needs terrorizing?"
"Here?", HST replied, looking around and sounding just like Johnny Depp from Fear and Loathing, "Everyone."

Pretty entertaining event overall.

Long Gone

I'm going to visit my friend Snowmass St. Rockymountain for one week, so you'll have to find another deliciously witty blog to keep yourselves entertained until I'm back. My friend Snowmass is crazy. He skydives and does drugs. Pot, coke, H, E, XXX, crack, the plague--I've seen him do it, man, he snorts that shit.

Where did the name "Hot Rod" come from, and why is it a name for cars? It would work better for people. Like Steve! He's a hot rod for watching my cats while I'm away visiting Snowmass. Did I tell you about Snowmass? He's crazy.

Kyle on xylene

My skin is welting up due to rat scratches---jealous?

An essay on Steve's xylene troubles recently:

Websters Dictionary defines xylene as, "Any of three toxic flammable oily isomeric aromatic hydrocarbons C8H10 that are di-methyl homologues of benzene and are usually obtained from petroleum or natural gas distillates; also : a mixture of xylenes and ethyl benzene used chiefly as a solvent." Steve didn't ask those xylenes for no trouble. But trouble he got--in spades. Steve dipped his tissues in cresyl violet, then water, then alcohol for dehydration. Then came for xylene dipping. Steve lowered in the tissue ever so slowly, carefully, as though rocking a child to sleep (in xylenes!). But the xylenes didn't bubble like they should. Steve was concerned. After a few minutes, Steve removed the tissue and found them to be flaking apart. "What did I do to deserve this flakey tissue? I am a good man and attend church regularly; why can't I catch a xylenes break, God?" With that, Steve shed a few tears and died a little inside. The end.

Kyle's anniversary

This is what it's like to have a first anniversary: It's like way cool.

We woke up and watched some tv in bed, which I rigged up the other day. Then we ate some gormet breakfast/lunch at Cafe Zola. I had a 5 egg omelette with polish sausage and potatoes, a light breakfast in other words, and Dee had a tasty salad. After a little while, we exchanged gifts. The theme for first anniversaries is paper: I wrote Dee a story and Dee made me a really nice shadow box calender of events from the past year--very cool. Then we drank champagne and joined some friends at Conor's for trivia night. After that, it was back to bed and television, where we played pattycake and ate a lot of cashews.

Now for some dated news quirks:

Racist wins Tenn. congressional GOP nomination (from Joe):
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=684&e=16&u=/ap/eugenics_candidate

The Dutch are sick of unsolicited toe-licking (from Ben):
http://www.cnn.com/2004/LAW/08/06/crime.toes.reut/index.html

It's just a little alligator swinging (from Tom):
http://www.stpetetimes.com/2004/07/18/State/Man_accused_of_taking.shtml

Drunken blog

Want to see what I do for work?

http://www.lsa.umich.edu/psych/research&labs/berridge/researchteam/kyle_smith/index.html

Want to see what I really do for work?

http://www.synthetictom.com/video/life/laundry.mov

That's right, I'm a laundromat for hire. I'll do your laundry reeeeeeal nice. Know who does good laundry? Ashton Kutcher, that's who. He'll brighten yourwhites and darken your earthtones. He'll have fifteen loads done before you even sit down to eat dinner, no kidding. And I do mean loads. Picture a regular load, then multiply it by fifty....that's a Kutcher load for ya. Ever wonder why he screams so much on his Punk'd television show? It's because he's doing a load of laundry. Right there on the set, believe it or not, that'show dedicated to clean clothes he is. Yeah. Ok, this metaphor is goingdownhill. Time to change the subject:

Ashton Kutcher is one hot man-wad. I'd like to roll him up in breading, bake him at about 450, and sink my teeth into his succulent Kutch.

Kyle

Kyle ordered some absinthe from Germany and it should have arrived 2 days ago, so he may have to raise hell with U.S. customs soon....which is always a good idea.

Kyle went to a Tiger's game yeserday. He ate peanuts and cheared on the team, Chet Lemon, Lou Whittaker, all of em. Gibbie hit one out. It was a good day at the ballpark.

Does Kyle know how to spell Whittaker? Maybe not...

Kyle's gonna stop writing now and maybe do a little pocket-politics. Dee is back, so his gastrointestinal system is flowing nicely.