Monday night houndism

When it hits, it hits. That's the nature of the weather, diarrhea, and pop trends. Sunday night on the Penn shuttle I heard a catchy little riff with typical rhythmic hiphop beat. The jingle was heard again this morning as spin-rimmed Ford Taurus' rolled by the bus stop. And then again on the way back from the gym. I'm in love with a strippah has suddenly become the hottest song on the scene, blaring from radios, cars, Walmart public anouncment systems. For a song with effectively 3 lines of lyrics, it's surprisingly, um, entertaining. I'm looking forward to its availability as a mobile ring tune so that when a real badass calls, it run the turn over, and up da da da pole portion.

An afternoon conversation with Rainaabout hot food turned to who Kristin, still a hot topic, looks like. I'd suggested Natalia Imbruglia, though in hindsight, they are quite far apart. My initial submission was actually Jane from the BBC series Coupling, but without the beaky nose. But since no one watches the BBC, or knows of actress in question, I gave up on that one. In searching for a photo of Natalia to post on the blog for Raina to make a now moot comparison, I came across this, a real test for any true hound. Apart from the fact it's written in some exotic latin language (i.e. either Portugese or Spanish), it shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

megawatts

Megawatts. What was I thinking? Three days ago, I started a blog entitled Megawatts. Now I have no clue what I was writing about. But that's alright. I'm down wit it. On a day where T-Pain continues to stream through my head and rolling over takes on a new wicked meaning, everything seems surprisingly good. A good workout, a productive morning, and even more productive afternoon, no emergencies. Problem is, another day has just passed by. Yep. Another one that will never come back, that I'd wish I were somewhere else doing something else on. Ken's little entry about priorities as seen through the eyes of a terminal patient is definitely precise - they care precisely about things healthy people have taken for granted and thus forgotten. After all, what are the chances of disaster and calamity befalling if your life is as exciting as watching sand blow across the desert?

Problem is, boredom is a much tougher challenge than it seems. What can one do about nothing? Could castles be built in the air without clouds? What would the ocean be without waves or monsters? That's where creativity, foresight, and believing in the possible comes in. Tonight, I will dream a possible dream...In the meantime, reality continues to click and tax season is approaching - keep clickin those ads.

Under down under

The only thing better than milk before going to bed is to have milk before and after bed. But like having a cake and eating it too, that is rarely the situation. Thus, without prejudice, I wound up with a fortune cookie typecast that read: the only rose without a thorn is a friendship. Kristen, Raina's hot friend from Long Island, quickly pointed out that fortune cookies only hold true if the cookie is consumed. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear her over the crunching sound of my teeth against the sweet eggy goods.

The occasion tonight was two-fold. The first to celebrate the coming Chinese new year [of the dog]. The second was to spend some happy moments with Wenkai for his birthday since these two coincide. Good food, spiced up to the nines, was to be had as was a good time. It's good to know that such gatherings are still possible, even if they are increasingly hard to come by.

My only regret was that Justine Henin didn't have szechuan for dinner before her final against Amelie Mauresmo. Instead, her decision to have the shrimp (a lá Airplane) literally cooked her and sent me back to application writing a full hour before I'd wished to. On the bright side, Mauresmo's achievement, i.e. winning via three surrenders, shows that diligent counterpunchers eventually have their day. The reminisces are now with Mats Wilander, Thomas Muster, and Mary Joe Fernandez.

Having survived the ride home with newbie Jian at the helm, I am simply glad to be able to write about this. And while I wasn't particularly frightened there were plenty of reasons. Nonetheless, I reminded myself that my mortality had already been addresseded during the summer and that reopening the issue was pointless. What was important, however, is that I continue to write - be they blog or grant application - so that there is a record, a final voice. Just in case that moment does arrive, like spring, a little earlier than expected.

Both Marcos and I are praying that tonight's final will last a little longer than last night's

Stick with the schickt

One of those strange days. Meetings, pause, meeting, then some hazy science before trudging myself home. Trying to figure out if it's just the fatigue of recent days or a winter phenomenon, but fell asleep upon arriving home, and now everything has been shifted back 2 hours. Yep, that nap was more like an unannounced coma. It was serious, because I'd missed half of my surrogate Tuesday show Love Monkey while House is on sabbatical from American Idle.

Apparently, I wasn't the only thing out of commission as I woke to find that the computer did not respond. Computers don't suffer from winter depression, so it must have been the bad basketball bets made recently. How bad? Comprehensively robbed would be the most accurate description. The good thing to come out of today has been the salvaging of my bank fees over the last two months, which somehow tallied to nearly $200 (that's not a typo). A good 25 minutes of hustling at the bank pays roughly five times as much as my day job, but that doesn't compare yet to a stint at Club Wizz. My afternoon soujourn also saw the renewal of my university ID, hospital ID, tax ID, and some other regulatory requirement, signaling a full year now that I've been here. "A full year, wow." raved Eun-jin as she thought of it's connotations. Yes, still alive and walking, if only barely.

Lastly, a happy birthday to Eliza and a nod of recognition to Xiao, our customer of the month.

Good mourning London

It's both curious and sad to see how much is needed to make people see how wretched an impact humans have on their environment. And while the entire population of London laid hope that their temporary visitor would be rescued and trawled out to sea to rejoin its pod, there would be no celebration. Whale and many hopes passed away in transit to the ocean.

Duke's defeat will make the headlines on NBC news tonight, but not the scream of nature that something is rampantly wrong again. And though the former cost me my lunch, it doesn't upset me nearly as much. Now that emotions have been stirred, I am angry that the world's foremost consumer nation doesn't have an emissions policy. I am apalled that Philadelphia does not have a citywide recylcing programme (individual counties make their own policy). If economics is our pure motivation, why do we value the earth so lowly when the very real estate we covet is but a spot on its surface?

One shouldn't blame the good residents of Chelsea who only live on reclaimed land, drive gas guzzling SUVs, and have eaten the Chilean bass to extinction.

Order in the court

Andy Roddick's prayers pay off as rumour has it that he has reeled in Maria Sharapova. Even Roger can't beat that.

He may have lost his mojo, but this is much more rewarding. Then again, look what Anna Kournikova did for Sergei Federov, who is now in limbo in Columbus (albeit with a $5 million per year contract). And where is Enrique these days? Meanwhile, Martina Hingis' daliance with tennis makes things interesting all again. Unfortunately, the bookie doesn't make odds for the women's matches. With all the upsets in both competitions though, maybe it's better for me that they don't.

Tired and out today as things are beginning to shape up at the lab. The good side to having experiments work is obvious. The down side is that data begets data, which means that there is an exponential growth in the amount of work to be done, even if neither salary or hired help expand accordingly. Highlight was a visit to the gym where candy was in action again. Surprisingly however, my high comes from knowing that I can still run a 4.5 minute mile, even if it is only just one per evening.

Eye am the loser

My eyes hurt. I think it's from the nearly 6 h in front of the screen at work, then at home, then watching the Flyers lose to Carolina (even though I had no money on it). Multitasking is the epitome of modern man. In between typing, watching Love Monkey (with that guy from Ed), shopping for a Vday present, and doing the dishes plate by plate. All the while, I'm completing the annual quiz required by the Penn lab safety crew whose website is just simply too slow. It's probably too late to protect any of the labrats from our years of exposure to say, formalin or industrial grade ethanol, but with the thought of lawsuit impending, I can imagine why they require us to do this annually. One would have thought that our mere presence would indicate that we've passed the chemicals survival test. The entire contents of the course can be summed up with 911 (or 511 if you're on campus already).

Seems like everyone is stressing out these days. Just days from his hot tub heroics, Ken is spiralling. Lifeng claims stress. And everyone else seems just near the edge of a really big cusp. Slowly but surely, I'm beginning to feel a fire lit beneath my ass as well, but wonder if I'll move fast enough not to get burnt. Ouw, the thought!

Blown away

The operative word for today is blow. In all senses of the word.

Where the wind blows
I should start learning how to actually take into consideration what I read, especially if it's from a reliable source. Last night's forecast on Yahoo weather should have been heeded as the temperature dropped a stunning 30F in the afternoon, followed by sudden gusts and an inch of snow. Trying to shiver and stay on my feet while running to Leo's car from the gym, the thought I knew that was going to happen kept resonating in the breeze.

Blowouts
Another thing I knew was going to happen, but did little about was that United would not fare too well against City in the derby of Manchester. Thus, being lazy in this case was good, since Cristiano Ronaldo got sent off on a ludicrous call, and the Blues toppled the Reds. The real surprise, however came on the game that should've been bought but wasn't (as are all great wins) as Arsenal ran rampant and stuck it up the middle for Boro. As if that weren't enough, they then stuck it even deeper, leaving a 7-0 result in which Henry's hat trick didn't even account for 50% of the scoreline. Smart money was on Vancouver, but who would have thought they'd destroy the Islanders 8-1, while supposed Cup contenders LA were bowled for...wait for this...10-1? And by Buffalo of all teams. As long as Ottawa wins later tonight, I'll have recovered from the United gaff earlier this week and that silly bank charge I found in my mail today for ignoring my account for months at a time.

Blown fuses
All those extra hours at the lab, and the apartment has run amock. A blown bulb in the living room, and a return visit by mighty mouse are beginning to make this place look like a cheap motel room. All that is missing is the flickering neon signs outside and peeling paint. But wait, there is peeling paint already. So it's just the signs now.

The one that didn't blow over
And finally, there was actually a bet that I forgot about. A bet that I had one too. And had Anderson not reminded me that I owed him dinner, then realized (verbally) that he had lost our bet, I would have forever forgotten about. Now, instead of having to buy him two durian milkshakes, he will have to buy me the equivalent of about 3-4. Yumm. There are few better feelings than winning, even if it's at the expense of your friends. Unfortunately I've vowed secrecy to the the best part, ie what we bet over in the first place. At least until I can't keep my mouth shut any longer...

The photo depicts:

a) organically grown landmines at a Jakarta market

b) elephant nuts after being stored in a refrigerator

c) monstrous fruit known as durian, also known as nature's own mace ball. Part of the aptly named Bombacaceae family their distinct odor seconds as a anti-personel weapon.

Can't beat the system

Almost 20 years ago, this little cartoon made itself to my desk one morning. It had been distributed by our teacher, Joan Kerley, to all the students in our primary 4 class which was part of the East York board of education's talent program. Ironically, or perhaps moronically, I had no idea why it was funny at the time. I have come a long way since, only occasionally walking into doors, prodding my fingers into naked flames, and sniffing volatile concoctions. Interestingly, less than a quarter of this class ever finished college. Half never even made it past high school, though about five got multiple graduate degrees which sort of compensates for the rest.

Thus, imagine my surprise when I saw the exact scenario, to the dot, played out on the bus ride home. Penn generously runs a shuttle bus for its students and employees - though more for its students, because it can afford to replace its employees as evidenced by their scant salaries. The reasons became clearer as the female [Asian] Penn student valiantly tried to open the back door by pushing, pulling, then kicking at the door before making a general ruckus. And while this future Wharton alumni found "press here to open" too cryptic for this particular evening, she will still likely to make my body weight in cash, annually. The rationale for protecting [albeit from themselves] prized students by shuttlebus is thereby economically justified.

And there I was, sitting on the bus with a bag full of porkchops after Ian and I hit the New Deck for cheap appetizers while discussing our business plan and how we would fleece Dave the Indian (not his real name) of all his money over the next 6 months. Working with Ian has come naturally as we seem to reach consensus quite easily. We both agree 1) importing hot products will make a profit, 2) spilling salt is in fact lucky, rather than unlucky, as our half-pitcher came on the house, 3) great career = hot tubs + champagne + chicks. Therefore, achieving a great career while neglecting the chicks will only give you an champagne and a an empty hot tub. I'm grateful for Gary Larson, and the East York education.

Project uplifting

The undeniable processes of nature have conspired against me again. Pulling out my guitar from the corner of the room where it has lain idle for weeks now, I'm reminded that time and rust wait for no one. Probably as a backlash against too much Franz Ferdinand, Lit, or Arcade Fire which seems to be everywhere, I plucked out some milder riffs. Where Cyndi Lauper's Unconditional Love came out of is still beyond my comprehension. A quick rummage through the recesses of my recent thoughts unravel that it was also the song that sank her, despite it being arguably her best. And the one that propped her up in the first place? Girls just wanna have fun. Which lead me to the original thought - one that I realize I can't write about here.

On slow nights, i.e. ones where I don't do anything particularly productive after 9pm because I'm so tired out from the previous 12 hours of work, I try to give the mind a little latitude to think and imagine. Brilliant idea of the day: construct a virus that will turn any plant into a bushel of ganja.

White little slip

The second installment of my trilogy on little slips is that of the little white one. I have no clue what the third one will be, but hope it's not pink. With all this talk of the NIH cutting back (note no one ever mentions anything when they raise their budget), it could well happen. All those slaps in the back from the boss could be a subtle push closer to the exit. And though I may, to quote Linda's words, be in the emperor's lap, those who don't dance get kicked off the lap quickly. But first onto the white slip.

Saturday evening, Anderson beckoned and soon we were both hounding the gym together. Bumped into Anthony and Karin who have vowed to work out daily in order to...um, improve their tennis. What else would I meet on the stairs up to meet Anderson at the third floor bike room, but super EC. Though Penn has disappointed thus far, this reaffirmed my faith in the Ivy system. Yep. The only puzzle is why would anyone wrap candy in black, all black? The answer turned out to be written on a little white slip on the forth floor studio - the trek up being my cardio exertion for the evening. 6:30 yoga class on Sat, Tues, and Thurs. It'll be close trying to make House tomorrow night...

What more could be more satisfyinig than a big bowl of Pho following a good workout. Unbeknownst to us, halfway across the city another hound, was having something much better than dinner, and couldn't join our jolly outing.

Sunday went by like a flash. Or like a flush, if one considers the protein I accidentally tossed down the sink following a miscalculation in precipitation concentrations. I should have picked up from the previous evening's game of Cranium that I can't add, spell, or draw for crap. Then again, that may have been the whole point of the predicament. Big news for the day? Ping, antithesis of mack, has gotten engaged and will actually tie the noose before summer's end. Yep, of our northern contingent, few would have guessed the one named after a golfclub would beat us all, even family-man-in-training Rici, to the finishing line. A superb upset indeed. Thus, it would be a fair projection that by the time Ping's kids are entering high school, Rici's are reading, and I've saved enough for a new M3, Ken will be just finishing off residency.


Everyone loves a genuine hoax: Snuppy will be 13 in 2017.

Little yellow slips

Little yellow slips. Yellow little slips. Three words. Six permutations. Many, many meanings depending on how you read them. Truth can definitely be stranger than fiction. While this may simply stem from our reliance on real, tangible descriptors for our fiction (thus fiction cannot extend beyond the restrictions of truth), it truly can be just plain funky.

Another long day, another set of joys and disappointments.
Experiments moving forward;
Experiments still don't work.
Trying to hold together
All the different projects assigned to me.
Stress, frustration, fatigue
That is the day of the honest PD'fellow.

Now if I could only put these words to the tune of Oasis' Dont look back in Anger, then I could be a rock star too.

But back to the bizarre. Opening the door, after walking up two flights [for the nth time today] on sore legs, I noticed a slip of paper. A little yellow slip. Previous experience has told me it was probably a reminder for unpaid rent (not today), a parcel (none expected), or a new pizzaria has opened up nearby (I would've noticed the construction). Instead, there was an entire page worth of text. Half of it concerned something about spare parts for the boiler, while the second part was a lengthy apology of some sort. In essence, they could have summed everything up in one sentence. Please note that as of this morning, you guys are screwed.

As it turned out, there is no heat in the building except for "minimal" heating (by definition, none is also a minimum). Mind you, Philadelphia winters are nothing to be frightful of, but I have grown accustomed to walking around the house barefoot and sleeping likewise. Thus comes the moment of truth. I must admit I have slept with blankets, stuffed animals, real animals, and people. But never have I slept with a laptop. Little could anyone have imagined that the same warmth that caused numerous sweaty thighs at airports would now keep me warm like a homeless person and his dog.

Nordstrom, we have a problem

A problem has definitely surfaced. Everyday for the last two weeks, I have visited the Nordstrom site (and a number of other vendors). The problem is that I still have nothing to show for it. After almost four and a half hours of cumulative scanning, absolutely nothing has caught my eye and fallen within budget (which has been slowly expanding to accomodate for the fact that it hasn't been spent). If the problem persists, I will have to consult a specialist...

Still exhausted tonight from the seemingly tame amount of physical exertion this week. Must be those extra pounds from the trip up north. Despite a good work out earlier in the week, there is still a papable heaviness, especially around the waist. And it definitely showed last night as I was finally on the receiving end of a good whipping at the tennis outfit. While I'm tempted to blame the spoonful of pepper in the Korean food from dinner, I must admit that Jo has quite a strong backcourt game. I'll make a point to hit the corners. And to drink plenty of liquids if battling kimchi.

We've made it this far

Since 1993, new year's day has been the most popular day of the year for suicides in Britain. 13 years running. And probably longer had the BBC kept count a few decades back. Statistics alone do not spell out the reason for this annual one way pilgrimage downwards, though I could suggest a few plausible reasons. While calamity can befall any other day of the year (like April 30th, Sept 11), it must be something truly significant for so many to choose this date, year after year. Which basically leaves us with two possibilities. There's the impending prospect of having to start work again. Or people just feel most lonely when there are lots of parties and all the shops are closed.

So it is probably no coincidence that my only cinematic weakness, Love Actually, is on the tube. Yes, a dozen times through, and I still find it refreshing. Maybe it's the sight of Keira Knightley smiling on the Thames, the beautiful Wharves in which everyone lives, or simply because of all the possibilities that float around. Possibilities make life more fun, even if it doesn't happen to fall your way.

No ice please. One shot of Keira for Ken, who could use a little more. For the trained eye, Elisha Cuthbert also featured in Love Actually, but I've run out of excuses to post her here. At least for today...