Meg's Award-Winning Blog

e-MOVING

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 12:35:00 -0800

I’ve officially moved!

Change your links!

Change your favorites!

I’ll see you here:

http://megsawardwinningblog.blogspot.com/

bye bye tumblypie

Shut up- let's talk about dinosaurs

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 15:08:25 -0800

The kid’s version of Clif bars are the tastiest treats this side of the Mississippi (bonus PF tip) so I’ve convinced myself that they fill all of the trapezoids I usually leave empty in my food pyramid. I took off on my epic 10 minute journey to purchase my rectangular broccoli substitute, and heard 3 separate conversations about the craaaaaazy wintry weather on the way. Strangely, the whole situation was just like watching Crash because it brought like, 9 people from different walks of life together: one younger guy walked past saying “I second you on that! High five!” to a group of middle-aged office ladies talking about how tired they were of the gloomy weather. They all laughed and got a smile of approval from yet another chipper group of multicultural women coming the other way. I’m not kidding. The photographer for OHSU brochures missed a perfect chance to demonstrate the diversity of employees in a warm, welcoming environment!

Anyway. I came back to leisurely— pronounced lezshurly— check the news, and three of the four election articles were about how tired Obama, Clinton and voters are of the democratic primaries. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an older Native American man present to offer me a sympathetic high five, so I couldn’t get misty-eyed about humanity shedding their differences and coming together over being tired about something, but maybe next time.

The point is, we really need some better small talk to get us through to June. I’m tired of hearing about how tired people are of these two topics, so let’s spice it up! Next time you hear someone say “oh man, the weath…” just cut them off and start talking about little kangaroos! or little skirts …the rise in popularity of carrot curry soup, or preferences in companionship if stuck in an elevator! Cloned dogs! or what you would look like with Hilary Clinton’s hair—the arm similarities between preying manti and T-rex…anything!

It’s going to be a good May.

Western Wednesdays

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 15:09:00 -0800

One of the best ways to test those acquaintances with the potential to become your friend is to nonchalantly insert a cliche in conversation and see how your PF (potential friend) responds. Rachel and I decided the experimental results could be made more robust by introducing a Western element: instead of saying “Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?!?!” you could liven it up by starting with “Hey bucko!!!”

Depending on your lifestyle choices, you might hope your PF’s response is a hearty laugh and a heartfelt response, or if you’re more like me, you’ll hope for a facial flash of disgust, a skeptical laugh, and no real answer.

To accelerate your accumulation of acquaintances-turned-best-friends, I’ll help you out each Wednesday with a new cliche to try out on your PF circle. All will include a hand-selected Western element, and each should be said with an annoying amount of enthusiasm.

Today’s is: “Well, ranger, that’s the way the cookie crumbles!”

Tell me your results.

Popular scent!

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 12:02:00 -0800

I was the least rhythmically inclined member of my high school dance team, and Kelly suffers every week throughout my entire piano lesson. I’m an orca mug bandit of lyrics, and when I do remember a few, my voice sounds not unlike a 5 year old girl pretending she’s Mariah Carey. But that doesn’t mean I’m not prepared to be a pop star! I’ve already designed a perfume! It will be called: ABUNDANT BANDAID ESSENCES.

My morning does not reach its excitement pinnacle when I pour coffee into my mug or discover more about the mysteries of neuroscience, but much earlier, when I am on my way to the lab. I walk through what is known to hospital visitors as the Outpatient Clinic, but what I refer to as the JACKPOT OF PLENTITUDINOUS BANDAID SCENT. I get irritable with the person who might happen to be walking behind me because I can’t slow down my walking pace enough to stay in the bandage zone for a few seconds longer, and I smile when I get caught behind anyone lost or with a walker.

Unfortunately, I haven’t yet been discovered as a hot new pop talent, so you’ll have to wait for my big Perfume Release party. But hey! Start promoting it now by adhering a large-size bandaid to your throat, a couple papercut-sized ones under each ear, maybe a few circular ones on your wrists…you’ll smell ravishing. At least to me.

High five!

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 11:58:00 -0800

The age of the “Free pizza!!” bribe to lure you to the join the upcoming Diversity Development round table discussion (nobody likes round table discussions!) is over. But stop getting all nostalgic and disenchanted with the Diversity Development team — haven’t you noticed that your chances to WIN A FREE IPOD!!!! now surpass your opportunities to eat free pizza? The eligibility requirements are increasingly relaxed, too: a few weeks ago Lindsay sent me a brochure requiring I design a poster for an iPod prize, and this week a flyer at work advertises that all I have to do is show up at a product fair at a specified time in a specified room, and I’ll have a chance to win!

But there’s no reason to waste your time being creative or subjecting yourself to perky product fair salespeople. If the number of opportunities to win an iPod continues to increase at a rate inversely proportional to the difficulty of the task required, then I am confident that soon I will be rewarded with my shiny little 80-gig rectangle any day now, just for being me. The flyer will read “Brown hair? Argyle socks? Walking North? FREE IPOD!!” and someone will pop out of a bush and hand it to me.

So in the meantime, when I see a motivation-requiring iPod flyer, I just give it a little high five and a knowing smile and continue on my way.

Last week I got all nostalgic over the old version of Microsoft...

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 16:36:45 -0800

Last week I got all nostalgic over the old version of Microsoft Word (Word 2007 just isn’t the same!) and the week before, I reminisced about the month I baked more bagels. I can’t help but get sentimental about this treasure from May 2005 when we did the exact same thing last night, just in a different city, on a different color of couch cover. I miss you guys.

Video

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 20:19:14 -0800

You would be terrible Campus Safety officers (Winner announcement!)

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 11:50:00 -0800

I host a free lecture series at the airport every few months entitled “Safety is vague.” They’re impromptu events, and you’re most likely to catch them immediately after the Department of Homeland Security announcement notifies the airport populace of the current safety color. From a distance, it might look like I’m just a recently-turned-very-liberal-by-my-sociology-class college freshman complaining about how dumb it is to have a color-coded threat meter, and how are we supposed to act any different, and isn’t the American government stupid for controlling people using FEAR? Well you’re wrong. That was in 2003, and the series has really evolved since then. You’ll have to come to PDX sometime and check it out.

I gather a lot of my lecture material from the radio, and was super-pumped to learn that there is, surprisingly, a more vague way to describe safety than “orange.” It takes the form of a paragraph released by a university’s Campus Safety office on how to guard against another school shooting. The general premise was “Students should be aware of suspicious activity and notify the correct departments so we are able to enact policies and procedures in an organized and safe manner.” It was, of course, longer than one sentence, and with each one I got closer and closer to the radio, and the description became more and more general until finally, it stopped.

I was too excited to write it down as I listened, and rather than download the podcast, I thought I’d ask my huge fan base to come up with a paragraph for me. The winner not only gets zucchini bread but also an honorable mention in my next lecture. Unfortunately, most of you would be terrible Dept of Homeland Security employees and even worse Campus Safety officers— you’re too specific and made me laugh too hard. I will not write you a letter of recommendation for either of these positions.

And now, the winner for the most vague safety statement is: Lindsay!

Runner-up: Charmin bear! (scroll through comments to see her answer)

Loser: Scott! (again, scroll)

Congratulations! You are free to put this on your resumes.

Safety contest

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 21:07:04 -0800

Please write a paragraph about how safe you feel. Just in general. The person with the most vague description wins zucchini bread.

WOOPS wore my spandex pants to work again!? SILLY ME.

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 10:47:01 -0800

I bought a bike last night, which means by next week I’m going to be chastising you for even considering driving, regardless of any lightning or hailstorms or tornadoes. The only two things I’ll talk about are how great Portland is and how crazy the bike in to work was today. I will constantly wear spandex pants and a helmet and when the person in the seat behind me at a lecture asks if I can duck so they can see past my helmet, I’ll say “OH MAN! SILLY ME! I’m just so used to biking that I didn’t even notice I was still wearing my cycling clothes! Isn’t Portland great?” When someone’s not pointing out my helmet, I’ll demand attention by whispering to myself “hm wooo gotta clean my brakes…fill up my waterbottle…” while stroking my bike and occasionally glancing upwards to see if someone will PLEASE ask me about my bike.

Shoutout to the Cycling Salon, whose owners happen to be Mladen’s coworkers, our new best friends, and the least annoying bikers I know.

Do you like my orca mug?

Tue, 15 Apr 2008 21:48:08 -0800

My CWF,M (coworker & friend, Mike) got his plastic orca mug stolen from our lab last week. That means an after-hours employee was a contestant in a scavenger hunt with “dirty, brown piece of gray, cylindrical plastic” as the most important hint. And don’t you even start to assume Mike misplaced it—NOBODY MISPLACES AN ORCA MUG!!! Besides, the theft is a proven fact, partly because it took place in a scientific science lab, and partly because if you could choose something to steal, you definitely would not seek out the creepy orca mug. It had coffee stains on it, and there’s meth in the fridge.

But tonight I realized I am only a different strain of your average orca mug bandit. I went to trivia night for the third time at the Lompoc, whereabouts they motivate a bunch of drunk people on the patio to answer 30 trivia questions for a free pitcher of beer. In the last three weeks, I’ve answered 4 questions correctly (MATH BONUS: 30 x 3 = 90. 4/90 = ~4%. ) I am the orca mug bandit of knowledge: I choose the smallest, most worthless bits of information to store in my heart amongst an abundance of meaningful facts and concepts that I ignore. I leave every week, marveling at my acquisition of a college degree. I get science questions wrong when my team is counting on me, I know nothing about music or movies or Cormac McCarthy, BUT!! I know that balsamic vinegar originated in Modena, Italy.

So this is a tribute to my trivia team. Henry, Winona, Mladen, and Chris, thank you for accepting me when my mouth hangs open for 3 or 4 minutes and then, with an intense look, say “Liquid. Nitrogen.” in response to “What is dry ice?” Thank you. And to the new owner of the orca mug— coffee sometime?

Look at this mini stop sign. Everybody loves mini stop signs....

Sun, 13 Apr 2008 22:29:29 -0800

Look at this mini stop sign.

Everybody loves mini stop signs. Mini stop signs are the exact opposite of tacking a mattress ad on a pole and spinning it around in a frenzy of awesome mattress sale hysteria!! The further anything gets from this advertising technique, the more I like it. You could punch me in the stomach and I’d shake your hand because it has nothing to do with discount mattress- inspired dance moves.

On the other hand, this also presents a very lucrative business opportunity. Where do those snazzy ad-spinners learn their moves? Is there a class, and more importantly, is there a try-out when you apply with the mattress company? Which dance sequences lure the most customers in? Does eye contact with a driver during a hip thrust do more harm than good? Do people that just bought a mattress buy another one just as a tribute to the under-appreciated dancing legacy on the corner outside the building?

I am going to devote my life to correographing dance routines that turn one-time mattress dancers into legends with lifelong careers. No casual driver will be able to resist my patented snap-and-spin technique, and people will own mattresses in such excess that my life will be threatened by rivals. See you on Monday? 5:30pm? Lessons start at $15.

My woodpecker watches me dance

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 08:26:22 -0800

Great news! The owl community loved my last post and notified my local woodpecker, who now provides me with his free alarm clock service! I chose the “morse code” noise option, which he excels at.

I’m cool with a woodpecker monitoring my sleep patterns, but like every single other human out there, I’d be terrified to find out anyone else watches me sleep. (Except for Mladen, because he watches me drift off to sleep and then pushes my hair back from my eyes and writes poems and weeps because I’m such a peaceful angel, and I’ve gotten used to it.)

Last night I found out at my “Beer, cookies, and The Office” party (shoutout to Henry!) that everyone else fears as often as I do that they are on the Truman Show. When Mladen’s not composing poetry, he joins me in pretending I’m a hybrid of Lil Jon and any lady on Maury Povich, and then, right about when we start dancing, we stop and say “OH GOD. What if we’re on the TRUMAN SHOW?!” Then we dance a tiny little bit, ducked below the line of vision of our woodpecker, whisper out the rest of our Lil Jon conversation, and then go back to cooking.

I’ll leave you with that. If you want me to put in a good word with my woodpecker, let me know, and I’ll see if I can get you some sort of hookup on the alarm clock service package.

Optimistic hooing

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 20:17:05 -0800

I once experienced all of the joy in the universe compressed into a 4-second slice of time. According to my calculations, it was actually so dense it could not be contained, ballooned over the edges and filled up an entire 4.3 seconds. I had just finished counting fecal boli (MOUSE POOP) in a dim basement room at the University of Oregon as part of a breathtakingly elegant mouse behavior experiment. It was probably 8am, and I was walking up the concrete stairwell, noticing that the attempt to jazz up the gray steps with yellow and red paint was not working this particular morning.

I heard the door on the landing above me slam closed, and when the footsteps got close enough to me, I did the little half-smile I always do when I hear someone coming towards me in an attempt to convince the entire world that I’m really, really personable and friendly. But instead of making eye contact with a human, I smiled at:

A BUCKET OF BABY OWLS.

What I said about the mouse experiment being breathtaking is a BIG LIE because when I saw a bucket of four little owls, hoo-ing at me from under their fuzzy white fur coats, I was genuinely breathtaken. I was hoping to impress all of the professors in the department I was working in, including this one, but all I could do was smile at the passing owl bucket, and didn’t acknowledge him at all. The “hoooo” I give every small animal I see was, for the first time in my life, appropriate, and I welled up with joy.

I hope they liked me. I think we could’ve connected. We’re both interested in mice. We both hoooo. We both pose no threat to humans. I do intense mental exercises so I stop pairing the sound of a slamming door with the expectation that next, I will next make eye contact with more fuzzy little friends. But I’m still optimistic.

Supplemental owl material

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 20:05:28 -0800

Supplemental owl material

I live equidistant (geometry bonus!) from Forest Park, 23rd...

Tue, 08 Apr 2008 17:21:04 -0800

I live equidistant (geometry bonus!) from Forest Park, 23rd and

HOT MOLTEN ZINC!!

This adds an element (heh get it?) of danger to my life.

I love your headband, LeVar. Let's collaborate.

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 11:11:47 -0800

I challenge you to find a person more excited than me about the comeback of metallic headbands. I make an active choice not to wear them in their full, upright position because I prefer not to constrict my ear region with unnecessary pressure. Besides, showcasing your hair is actually the headband’s least important function. I buy them partly to make my hair drawer look more varied and exciting (I like to be prepared for the chance that a hairstyle critic will show up at my door and ask to see my hair accessory collection) and partly because impersonating LeVar Burton is one of my most treasured past times.

This morning, Lindsay reminded me that one of my best personal abilities is making anti-drug slogans for pre-teens in under 30 seconds. Today’s gem had a subtle hint of girl power attitude: “I’m still hot without pot.” By the time the text had reached Corvallis, I instantly internalized the conviction that I must collaborate with LeVar Burton. He spent 13 years bettering children’s lives through encouraging reading. I’m vaguely certain I’ve seen a billboard or two that say “Reading: the anti-drug,” and I’ve already established that I’m a huge fan, so I think we’re going to be a great team. Yes! This is the way to self-actualization! This is the way to win awards!

LeVar, I hope you google yourself. Just let me know when you want to do some brainstormin’.

America's Next Top Molecule

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 09:02:51 -0800

DNA is very trendy these days. If I were diplomatic, I’d title this post “I think it’s wonderful that the general public is investing an interest in science! Don’t you?” But I won’t, because this trend is giving me the exact same feeling I get when I hear my secret favorite band that nobody else knows about on the radio for the first time. I dread its sudden rise in popularity and then I feel all betrayed-like and instantly start reminiscing about the good ol’ days, when they were my band, and that was my song.

Before you get all shocked and upset and irrational over me trying to keep DNA my molecule, sit down and stick your face in a bowl of soothing lavender water for a minute and relax. I really do want people to know about America’s hot new science topic—I’m even making a class of middle schoolers run a gel and look at different genes in two weeks! What I’m dreading is what will replace the current “Well I’m a quarter German, so I can, like, drink tonnnns of beer, and eat all sorts of sausages…it’s crazy.” As if referencing your great grandfather’s home country wasn’t an annoying enough way to explain away your habits and add a little cultural pizazz to your image, I’m predicting DNA will be even worse. “Yeah I don’t know! I can’t get enough of football…I guess it’s just in my DNA!”

And its not just people, either: Sony is one of the first trend-setting companies to actively encourage others to make me all science upset. Soon, a tourist will hand me their alpha camera and explain to me that I don’t even need to make an effort to center their faces. “The camera already knows how to do it—it’s in its DNA.” At least when “my” song becomes famous I can stop listening to it, but I can’t exactly protest my own cells.

By the way. I majored in biochemistry and thought about DNA for 4 years. Wow, if you don’t know me or have a copy of my transcript on hand, this post made no sense. But you know, I’m just confusing by nature. It’s in my DNA.

My spatula's going camping

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 11:34:47 -0800

One thing I fear even more than having a slow jam dedicated to me on late night R&B radio is having to lick a wooden popsicle stick. I sprout goosebumps no matter how hot it is, and gag even if I’m eating a fantastic-tasting morsel.

The wooden stick is a lurking presence: in the summer, they are hiding in frozen ice cream treats. In winter, they squint their mean little wooden eyes at me across the doctor’s office, and it’s awkward to interrupt the exam and request a plastic-coated tongue depressor*.

But it’s gotten a lot more personal lately. Mladen is partial to wooden spatulas, and we now have one in our kitchen. When it’s done drying on the rack and ready to be put back in its woody little home, it’s a lot like having a tarantula in our kitchen: “MLADEN! CAN YOU COME GET IT???yeieeieee!!” I stand on my toes and squeeze my butt in fear. Like a swooping eagle of hope, Mladen usually rescues me, but about 20 minutes later, because spatula safety is not a high priority for him.

This is going to be a bad weekend. The spatula is dry and waiting. Mladen left for San Diego for 4 days. Lindsay (who has a high tolerance for my special needs and who is known to pick up snakes on a whim) is in New York. My childhood swooping eagle of hope (my father) now lives in Bavaria. There are NO SPATULA SAFETY SERVICES AVAILABLE!!

I thought about going camping to escape its lurking qualities, but it’s going to be 50 degrees and raining. Maybe I will send it camping. Maybe I will go to Target and buy one of those mini tents, cut a spatula-sized hole in the bottom, and fit the tent right over it. Then I don’t have to see it and it gets some outdoors time. On the countertop.

I’m off to Target.

*I would create and patent these if it didn’t require months of hands-on popsicle stick time.

This is a great icebreaker: “If it was Halloween and I had...

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 10:09:45 -0800

This is a great icebreaker:

“If it was Halloween and I had 2 black greyhounds and a black leash and a puffy black pillow, I would tie the greyhounds together with the pillow on their back and they’d look like a spider.”

I have used this before and made friends with 2 people.