The Jizz of an Ephemeral Unicellular Yeast
I got booted from my last lab group and am now upgraded to Table 1. I converse with my old friends every once in awhile when I turn around and they look lost and frightened without my guidance. There are only 2 slackers left of what my group used to be and now they stand alone in the wasteland of overwhelming biology knowledge while I stand on the peak of it all and laugh monstriously.
We are doing experiments with yeast now. One of my new lab group peers thought we should see what happens to the yeast when we take their favorable food source, glucose, and replace it with 20% Yoohoo. Alas they are doing fine... not as fine as our control group of yeast though. Bad thing is - the two yeast cultures are placed right next to eachother, so while the Yoohoo yeast is looking at the better culture, they are also crying in their booties.
I gave blood today and I wasn't rejected. I have been rejected twice so far because of low iron. Last time it was a 32. Today it was a miraculous 41 and I haven't even taken vitamins for the past week. The only reason I gave blood is because they had this huge table of goodies right outside and I wanted a bagle. They weren't willing to give me their bagle unless I gave them my blood. I figured fair trade. I took a couple of extra cookies too. Whenever I give blood I am overprotective of the arm that had the gargantuan needle stuck into it. I don't raise the arm, in fact I'm trying not to type too much with it right now. "Don't touch the arm, don't go near the arm." Subconsciously I must think that it will explode or something because I really can't explain why I need to stop all motion of the left arm.
So, it looks like I won't graduate for another 2 years... I would have been going to school for 7 years. The Man says that by then I should have a doctorate. I'm like, "I doctorate you." Then we get into a discussion of how I'm taking only classes that apply to my major and I'm passing all of them - what more can he ask. and He's like, "Get your act together you little shit." Then we went into why he wants me to graduate so much and the reason why is because he wants to see me accomplish something. I told him that I have a plant thats been alive for 3 weeks since I bought it and thats a fucking accomplishment if I ever heard of one.
So now I have to consider writing a novel or win the Nobel Peace Price or something accomplishment-standard-worthy. I just have to come up with something good, tough shit this accomplishment business is. Total yoda style of talking - this must mean I'm running out of things to say.
I'm becoming more reclusive and I really don't have anything to blame it on but my lack of social skills. I don't enjoy people's complaining, yammering, or bullshit enough to stick around and listen to them. I don't do it to them - why do they insist on putting me through a tirate of their petty shit. I give jokes, they give blah.
Fuck marine biology - what the fuck am I going to do with it when I get the bachelor's degree.
We are doing experiments with yeast now. One of my new lab group peers thought we should see what happens to the yeast when we take their favorable food source, glucose, and replace it with 20% Yoohoo. Alas they are doing fine... not as fine as our control group of yeast though. Bad thing is - the two yeast cultures are placed right next to eachother, so while the Yoohoo yeast is looking at the better culture, they are also crying in their booties.
I gave blood today and I wasn't rejected. I have been rejected twice so far because of low iron. Last time it was a 32. Today it was a miraculous 41 and I haven't even taken vitamins for the past week. The only reason I gave blood is because they had this huge table of goodies right outside and I wanted a bagle. They weren't willing to give me their bagle unless I gave them my blood. I figured fair trade. I took a couple of extra cookies too. Whenever I give blood I am overprotective of the arm that had the gargantuan needle stuck into it. I don't raise the arm, in fact I'm trying not to type too much with it right now. "Don't touch the arm, don't go near the arm." Subconsciously I must think that it will explode or something because I really can't explain why I need to stop all motion of the left arm.
So, it looks like I won't graduate for another 2 years... I would have been going to school for 7 years. The Man says that by then I should have a doctorate. I'm like, "I doctorate you." Then we get into a discussion of how I'm taking only classes that apply to my major and I'm passing all of them - what more can he ask. and He's like, "Get your act together you little shit." Then we went into why he wants me to graduate so much and the reason why is because he wants to see me accomplish something. I told him that I have a plant thats been alive for 3 weeks since I bought it and thats a fucking accomplishment if I ever heard of one.
So now I have to consider writing a novel or win the Nobel Peace Price or something accomplishment-standard-worthy. I just have to come up with something good, tough shit this accomplishment business is. Total yoda style of talking - this must mean I'm running out of things to say.
I'm becoming more reclusive and I really don't have anything to blame it on but my lack of social skills. I don't enjoy people's complaining, yammering, or bullshit enough to stick around and listen to them. I don't do it to them - why do they insist on putting me through a tirate of their petty shit. I give jokes, they give blah.
Fuck marine biology - what the fuck am I going to do with it when I get the bachelor's degree.
posted by Maroo at 6:31 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home