Theorems & Hypotheses of Dr. C's Traveling

Ugh.  It's that time of year again when I spend more time in cars, taxis, trains, airplanes, and hotels than in my own home or office.  Naturally, this strains my schedule and sanity.  Conferences, invited talks, and collaborations have me traversing the U.S. until I want to puke out of my ears and cry out of my ass (just pretend that made sense).

Anyhow, like a good scientist, I'm observant and always looking for explanations for things.  So I'm not surprised that I've paid close attention to my travel habits, taking notes of certain trends and patterns that arise.  Therefore, I was able to formulate the following "laws of traveling."  I give you "Theorems and Hypotheses of Dr. C's Traveling."  (creative naming schemes aren't my thing)

(1) The voice on my GPS is the reincarnation of an angry ex-girlfriend -- I believe her sole mission is to get me lost in the most dangerous neighborhood possible.  She also makes certain to never update properly.  Bitch.

Take roundabout, and then GET MURDERED BY A GANG.

(2) You know that guy in the airport terminal that won't shut-the-fuck-up?  You never have to worry about getting seated next to him on the plane, because he ALWAYS gets seated next to me instead.  You owe me, people.

(3) The same goes for that guy who loves to take off his shoes, pick his nose, and clip his fingernails.

(4) Folks, there's no sense in trying to talk to me during the flight.  I can barely hear you over the roar of the jet engines, the air vents blasting our faces, and the sound of my inner-ear constantly popping inside my skull.  But above all, I really don't care about what you have to say.  I don't care that you're the top sales rep or acquisitions manager for McDoogan Ballswang & Cocksackerson Inc.

(5) When a cab driver (who eerily looks like a member of Milli Vanilli) starts to break out in song during the drive, it's time to laugh your ass off and enjoy the crazy ride.  When that same cabbie mentions the word "ovaries" in casual conversation, then it's time to get the fuck out of the car.

(6) Hotel room heating/cooling units are really nothing more than giant food dehydrator machines.  Their only purpose is to remove all the moisture from your body -- turning you into human beef jerky, making you more susceptible to illness, and making the inside of your nose feel like a dry bowl of Rice Krispies.

You, after 2 nights at the Marriot.

Ta Da!

If there's ONE THING I'm bad at, it's being positive.  And staying motivated.  Oh and remembering things.  And listening, baking, sharing, running, not procrastinating, playing chess ,staying relaxed, appreciating my life, keeping my dog off our bed, writing grants, driving politely, skiing, playing FPS games... and blog awards.  Wait, was that more than one thing?  Anyhow, several students of Cynicism101 gave me a few blog awards recently, and not so recently -- more like frickin months ago.  So this post is loooong overdue.  I'm sorry gang!

First up is Antares Cryptos.  I'm sure you guys/gals already know him because he's certainly visited your blogs and left clever comments.  Antares crafted his very own award, called  I Am A Geek, and bestowed it upon me a while back.

Clearly, Mr. Cryptos knows me well.  I love science, technology, gaming, etc -- I'm basically a walking/talking collection of taped black-rimmed glasses and pocket protectors.  What can I say, in order to be a professor, I think geekiness has to be in your blood.  Thanks so much Antares Cryptos!!!

Next up is Kristy from The Primamomma.  Kristy is a witty momma and blogger that gave me The Liebster -- an award that brings attention to up-and-coming blogs with less than 200 followers (Google Friend Connect members).

And guess what; I still qualify for it!  Which brings up an important point that I desperately need some help with.

Due to an unfortunate and life-changing accident at a Christian summer camp when I was 12 yrs old (involving peanut butter, a flock of geese, 2 rubics cubes, and a cassette tape of Alan Jackson music), I developed a debilitating fear of numbers in the high 100's.  The mere site of a number greater than 150 but less than 200 sends me into crippling panic attacks.  Therefore, I'd greatly appreciate you helping me get that Google Friend Connect member number up to at least 200.  I don't care if it even stays at 200 for the rest of this blog's life, just so long as I don't have to fear clicking on my homepage anymore.  So if you visit here occasionally, go ahead and "Join This Site."  You'd be doing me and my therapist a huge favor.  Anyhow, thanks so much Kristy!!!

Last but not least, is my bud Vinny from As Vinny C's It.  We've been partners-in-crime for a while over at Sprocket Ink.  But even though I left Sprocket recently, we are still in cahoots on several evil/criminal/world-domination schemes.  Speaking of, he just gave me the Overlord Award.

Vinny asks me to list 3 things I'd do if I ruled the world.  Right off the top of my head, I would reply: (1) outlaw spandex, UGGs, spray tanning, and child beauty pageants; (2) create an organization similar to the Army or police that would patrol our nation for stupidity; and (3) let everyone develop their own Ben & Jerry's ice cream flavor -- a move that I think would eventually end all war and bring about world peace.  Thanks Vinny!!!

A 12-year-old Comedic Genius

Hope everyone had a great holiday, blah blah, gifts, blah family blah, back to work, blah blah blah.  Okay, now that the holiday drivel is out of the way, onward to normal blog drivel.

[Imagine a smooth transition...] Joke telling.  It's a lost art.  As a young kid, I found it my life's work to keep up with the newest and edgiest jokes -- perfecting the precise timing and subtle nuances of an outstanding delivery.  Jokes were an art form, and I the fledgling artist.  But over time, that went away.  Perhaps its disappearance is unique to me, or perhaps everyone loses the desire to tell jokes as they grow up, or maybe it's a culture-wide paradigm shift, or who the shit cares.

Regardless, I was recently thrown back into the joke telling mix by my nephew.  The same nephew who wields the snappy comeback/retort "Your face!"  During a recent visit, he demanded everyone's attention one evening and began telling jokes -- except he was really fuzzy on the middle part of every joke.  In other words, he'd tell the opening phrase or two, say he couldn't quite remember the middle, and then hit us with the punchline.  As the rest of the adults in the room sat in an uncomfortable silence, straining to offer the smallest chuckles simply to pacify the little guy, I was bent over in fucking tears, genuinely laughing until I couldn't breathe.  Think about it, it's a brilliant angle.  This kid may be a genius -- like on the level of Andy Kaufman genius.  I might be witnessing the start of his wildly popular comedy career; his entire shtick centered around telling only the very beginning and end of jokes.  Plus, he's already established his comedic wisdom, at least in my viewpoint.  So like any truly good person, good Uncle/relative, good adult role model, I decided to blatantly steal his shtick and claim it as my own (it'll teach him a life lesson in trust and the nature of humanity).

So during an evening of wading in whisky and good Belgian beer (or perhaps it was during a lab meeting -- same thing), I jotted down a few random joke openers and punchlines.  Perhaps you'd like to do the same and add them to the comments???

[Note: the following openers and punchlines are not connected to one another.]

Joke Openers

• Ted Bundy, Rosa Parks, Mikhail Gorbachev, and Vanilla Ice walk into a bar... 
• A man with 3 penises (peni?) gets on an elevator... 
• So Hitler finds himself in a room with a can of baked beans and a goose that's aspiring to be a stand-up comedian... 
• One day, the Duggars and the cast of Jersey Shore end up at the same swinger's party...

Joke Punchlines

• Six horned unicorn? That's what she said! 
• Tuesday! Because a vest has no sleeves.
• Tandori chicken?!  I was about to drown your children!  Bahahaha... glad we cleared that up.
• St. Peter at the pearly gates says: "If you weren't covered in steak sauce and shame right now, I'd kiss you into heaven!"
• A festive party?!  I thought I was invited to a fisting party!
• The platypus turns to the hippo and says, "If you hadn't hired a convict to shiv my brother in prison, I'd give you all the peanut butter and cream cheese you could possibly want!"

Dr. C's Christmas Uber-Wishlist

As promised, I'm back for a double-whammie this week.  Here's just a small taste of my massive wishlist, so start buying -- you're running out of time!

The WilliamsWarn Personal Brewery (top left):  Home beer brewing kits are typically shitty and amateurish. Some of the "best" companies out there try to sell you a pack of plastic jugs, plastic tubing that came out of a 1970's high school chemistry lab, and supplies that look like they were packaged in some old dude's basement.  It's ridiculous,  and disgusting -- home brewing isn't for a OCD-ish clean freak like me.  Until now.  I must own this.  Watch the videos and try not to wet yourself, just try, I dare you.  And what's great for all of my readers is that the WilliamsWarn starts at only $5,660 -- that's all!  So I'm expecting like 8 of these to arrive in the mail; afterall, you guys want 'A's in my course, right?

Remote Controlled Helicopter (top right):  Okay, brace yourselves for my most innovative teaching idea in years.  I've always wanted one of these things, and now I can get it by having my department pay for it (insert a "fuck yea" right here).  Basically, during my classes, the helicopter would fly around patrolling the room for students that aren't paying attention (texting, sleeping, updating Facebook, etc) and then dive bomb them.  So if students don't want chunks of their hair clipped off or minor puncture wounds in their skull/face, they'll learn to get their shit together during lectures.  But here's the kicker -- the student with the highest grade gets to fly it around!  BAM!  Fear training and reward learning all wrapped into one.  This is going to get published in a teaching journal, I can feel it.

A baby (middle left):  I'm not in the mood to get all down and depressed right now, I've been doing plenty of that on my spare time.  Needless to say, my wife and I are still infertile, even after thousands of dollars of IUI treatments, surgery, and almost 2 years of precision fucking.  A clinical trial for IVF may be next on our list (since we're going broke in the process) if we don't create a zygote in the next few months or so.  So c'mon Santa, bring us a fuckin baby or else we're gonna hit up the mall and start stealing them.

The Periodic Table of Swearing (middle): I want several of these, one for the office, one for the lab, and a mobile version that I can wheel into every class I teach.  Frankly, I may never need to speak again, since everything that already comes out of my mouth is nicely arranged on the table.  A gift that does all my talking and communicating for me?  Total win.

A Scotch distillery (middle right):  Only a noob would ask for Scotch when you could ask for an ENTIRE DISTILLERY instead, amiright?  And run by a small army of Oompa Loompas?  Yes please.  Just think of Willy Wonka's factory, but replace all the candy and chocolate with whisky and more whisky.

A tropical island (bottom left):  It's time for either Bill Gates, Oprah, or Richard Branson to step-up and buy me this.  I'm a little torn on what to do with the island though.  I could use it as a place to escape to once every month, or I could use it to ship boat loads of idiots to once every month.  Either option is quite compelling, no?  Whudduya think?

A giant crossbow (bottom right):  A rocket launcher would also work, but there's something attractive about the primal hunter aspect of a crossbow.  I won't burden you with my exact plans for said device, or reveal any possible motive for legal purposes, but just understand that I need one.  If you're imagining a post apocalyptic, Mad Max-ish scene where I'm flying down the highways, hanging out of my rugged dune buggy while wielding a crossbow painted in flames, then you've got a decent idea of where I'm going with this :-)

On that note, Happy Holidays everyone!!!

On Fall Semester 2011

Guess what... I'm not dead.  Yet.

You've also made it abundantly clear that I've been away too long, based on the emails, Tweets, and Facebook messages asking me things like: (1) are you okay; (2) have you finally snapped; (3) if you're dead, can I have all your stuff; (4) would you rather be Cagney or Lacey; and (5) are you holed up in a remote motel room with a stockpile of whisky and ammo?

Anyhow, I've done some closet and basement reorganizing soul searching and realized the importance of this blog to my sanity.  Hence, you're going to be stuck with me for a while.  As an olive branch, to compensate for my absence from class, I promise a double-whammie this week.  This Thursday I'll share with you my ever-growing Christmas wishlist (start saving your money now -- I have unique and expensive tastes).

But for today, it's the end of the Fall 2011 semester, so I thought we could take a moment to reflect on several of the more important things we learned these past few months.  (From what I understand, good teachers like to do this kind of shit, some kind of reflective learning thingie)

(1) In one of our health-related lectures, we learned how to avoid aneurisms.  Basically by giving them to other people.  Sharing is caring, right?

(2) We learned that scotch tape is the best way to remove lint from a shirt if you don't have a lint remover, and the best way to preserve pride and employment.

(3) I have a back up career as a fortune teller.

(4) We learned that it's best to change the "Sent from iPhone" message at the end of your emails.

(5) And finally, we learned how to make some damn good alcoholic beverages: the Nutty Professor and the Court of A-Peels.

Now allow me to have Success Kid point out a few highlights of my pathetic life over the past semester:

 

 

 

 

See you all on Thursday -- don't be late for class!!!