Leaches with chainsaws

Here begins my "profs say the darnedest things" blog series. Yep. Professors have a certain way of saying extremely random things in class sometimes. And they're still more random when taken out of context =). To increase the randomness even further, these pedagogical gems will, unless otherwise noted, comprise only the title of entries. Enjoy!

Yesterday was pretty fun. Steggie and I went back to Stanford for Jammix. MLK weekend Jammix is always the best. All the young 'uns are off on ski trips, so it's not too crowded, and there's a high proportion of old linger-ons like myself =). It was great! I got to hang out and dance with a lot of my cronies. And I met my hug quota for the month! Yay. I used to always hate hugs, but I find I'm mellowing with age, and don't mind them so much anymore. Maybe it's because when I was younger I got mostly parental hugs...

But the day was not free of travail. Alas. Steggie was violated. And all because I decided to take the Dunbarton instead of the San Mateo bridge... But it was much more direct, and eliminated the necessity of choosing between 101 and 280! In the end, it was not worth it. The strain of choosing freeways is nothing compared to the tragedy of Steggie's "condition." Woe upon us all. So here's what happened... A big, mean, and not to mention ugly truck passed us, and in doing so kicked up a rock which, gasp, ricocheted into our windshield. The horror. At least the crater is concealed by the rearview mirror so I am not forced to continually dwell on it. But still, it needs fixing. Otherwise, come warm weather (which is very warm here in Davis), it'll grow like kelp (kelp can grow at the phenomenal rate of 2 feet per day!). Steggie's pretty young, so all of her warranties are still around. I wonder if any of them cover windshield violations...

So, speaking of horrors... When I got home from dinner today Napoleon was startlingly motionless. Not even the slightest gill twitch. There was only an occasional tail wave, which could be a result of the current in his little bowl (sure! there could be some convective mixing going on in there...). I've encountered him in this comatose state previously, but he's always responded to tapping on the bowl before. Not this time. I am understandably upset. If, on top of everything else, my beloved fish died, I think I'd just have to go into hiding and never come out. I think that my closet might make a good spot. Behind the diploma frame. Logan sure liked it there. But in times like this it is not good to panic. Napoleon needed me, and I wouldn't be able to help him if I too needed help. So I calmly and collectedly took off my watch and reached into the bowl. He revived to a slight poke. Phwew! Napoleon is not lost! His Waterloo is yet to come! (sorry.) But his water was really really cold. Poor little guy was probably frozen. Well, that's easy enough to fix. I merely scooped out a cup full of water, and replaced it with fresh, hot water, leaving him a still cold, but not frigid bowl. He flipped out a little as I poured the warm water in, but he's recovered and is swimming around happily like a good, warm fishie. Yay! If this whole grad school thing falls through, maybe I'll become a fish warmer! =P