Gyms? Okay then.

Gyms? Oh please, I have a life! I do sports! Going to a sweaty, claustrophobic room to pound away at a machine with the only purpose being to keep your body in acceptable shape, not to have fun or contribute to a team or socialise or... No. This is an activity for people who do not have friends.

Then I realised something odd. Many of my friends go to gyms. And if they are all anti-social, uninteresting misfits then ... well... it doesn't say much for the people who choose to hang out with them. Determine to get to the bottom of this issue, I persuade a friend to take me along to her gym as a guest. There, finally, I see the attraction. Large airy rooms, swimming pool, classes in every exercise imaginable, large bouncy exercise balls, weights and lifting equipment, the latest contraptions for running, stepping, cycling ..... and the personal cable tv screen attached to each machine. Oh yes, cancel with cox cable, I can now justify hours of Futurama, Sex in the City and Friends while I pound my abs into shape.

I get it. I signed up. And now my heart rate will match Carrie's as she sleeps her way through a series of disastrous relationships.

I see you looking at me

Ever wanted to know who is looking at your public I-support-internet-freedom-and-am-not-even-curious website? No, of course you don't. Either way, check out sitemeter.com. A handful of lines in your .html file later and you can plot all visitors on a world map, see how often they viewed your page, how long they spent and look down their webcam to add their picture to your front page for next time the sneaky little dolls look you up. Well, ok, the last option is still on the "under development" section but wait until they team up with facebook.
Currently, I've added this little number to one of my work sites and am now speculating who on earth I know in Kentucky. So just so you know... I've seen you... and you've seen me. I guess that makes us even, hmm.

The terrible hand of justice

In the US, it is largely considered that homicide is a *bad thing to do*. As such, if you were to decide that your fellow passenger's music was just too loud to bear and respond by sawing off his head, you would expect... repercussions [*]. A follow-up to such a deed would probably involve a highly extended gaol sentence or, in some states, a ticket off this mortal coil so that your victim can deal with you personally. Largely, similar principals apply in the UK where many individuals enjoys Her Majesty's pleasure at select institutes around the country. In many cases, the long-term punishments dished out in the UK seems to be of shorter duration. For instance, we don't have the death penalty (the ultimate in permanency) and the number of lifers in the UK is 37, where as in the US it's over 30,000 (nope, I did not mis-type that, 37 : 30,000; http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7268647.stm). Sometimes, however, the punishment is so severe in the island kingdom that it makes you go cold to think of it... In this particular incident, an elderly gentleman bumped off his wife for refusing to let him go to the pub. Quite a reasonable response in many areas of Scotland. His punishment? House arrest during pub opening hours. Does it really get any more nasty?!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/glasgow_and_west/7540994.stm


[*] This particular crime was actually in Canada, but I find this an incidental detail compared to the actual event: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/7535840.stm

Chad's phone in Spain

"Hey, Chad's phone. Chad doesn't have AT&T which means no bars here in Spain. So, I guess we won't be getting your call warning us about the local beaches. How some are more ... naked .... than others."

Claims the TV commercial for AT&T wireless; a popular mobile phone company in the US. Personally though, I can't help thinking that Chad's choice in phone provider is really the least of the issue, since the majority of US handsets seem not to be tri-band and therefore wouldn't work in Europe anyway. But then, we all know Chad really wanted to end up at a nudist beach and no one would want their phone company getting in the way of holiday fun now, would they?

You moved! (& other questions)

Moved?

See, the problem with having a blog that contains your name in the url is that google slams it right at the top of every search on you. (As a side note, google also brings up a picture of me if you ask it for 'giant molecular clouds' so its choices are not always so transparent). This isn't a problem, per se, but as the job season approaches I would prefer it if my research page appeared first and my disregard for the lives of small children (see post 'On America's 10 most wanted') appeared somewhat lower down.

(For facebook readers, my blog is now at 'www.girlandkat.blogspot.com', you should totally check out the silhouette; I'm disproportionately proud of it!)

You're applying for jobs again?

Indeed. As a postdoc, I am perpetually on the brink of unemployment. Although I am looking forward to it, somewhere new is always exciting and all my friends here are leaving ... largely for Chile.

um, 'kat' ?!

girlandcat was taken. As was catandgirl. Some questions have friendly simply answers :)

"You're much heavier than you look!"

Is not an example of a comment that one is automatically flattered by. However, when given after a battle in the crease (the area of ice directly in front of the goal) during a hockey game it can make you feel highly self-satisfied. Hockey; it's a strange sport.

On America's 10 most wanted

Living in a foreign country, you'd think I'd be a seasoned traveller. Well... I am, only my organisational skills seem to improve at a rate far slower to the number of trips I take. Okay, I'm a basket case when it comes to preparing. This trip was for 10 days and had the added excitement of putting the cat into kennels for the first time. So the day before I dropped her off bright and early and headed back to my apartment thinking through what was still to be done; pack camera and charge battery (probably ought to do that next)...., wash smart trousers for conference presentation (no, I should do that first, camera battery can always wait)...., buy travel-sized shampoo that is non-threatening enough to be taken on the plane in hand luggage...., back up laptop in case it gets dropped out of plane (could take a while, maybe set this up before I pack)..... stop for police car that is flashing its lights at me (... Ah).

"No officer, I can honestly say I have no explanation for going 40 mph in a school zone."

So it wasn't exactly "10 most wanted" but it was traumatic enough for me. For the uninitiated non-American, school zones operate only at certain times of the day over stretches of road close to schools. They are marked by yellow flashing lights and reduce the speed limit from 35 mph (yes, ok, I was speeding anyway) to 20 mph (meaning I was now quiet seriously speeding). Since I don't normally drive at times when they're operable, I'm pretty shoddy at looking out for them.

By looking remorseful, female and foreign I managed to escape with a standard speeding offense (school zone speeding normally triples everything) of a $120 fine and a 4 hour on-line driver course (or points on my license which I wanted to avoid). Today, I went into the court house in Gainesville to pay it all off. I'd like to say I walked in proudly, dealt efficiently and, head held high, strode from the building. It wouldn't be entirely true. The process was painless and the people very nice but, as foreigner on a highly-revocable visa, walking into a court house seems a little to close to disaster for my peace of mind.

As for the cat, she survived kennels but also seemed to think the car ride was the most traumatic part. I can only be thankful that she wasn't in the car when I was pulled over; the bad language would certainly have driven up the fine.

Toys

This sinister tale begins in the most dark of places, the "My Little Pony" aisle in "Toys R Us". I was admiring the special release of the original 1983 My Little Ponies to celebrate 25 years of plastic equine love. These rubber numbers were the ones I played with as a small child (and which were not "skinny and boney" Ashley Stewart! We may have been only 6, but I've not forgotten the taunts from you and your little friends) and clearly looked far more like real ponies that these modern imposters. Once you get over the bright pink plastic, that is. Anyway, while innocently reminiscing about more carefree times, a doll on the far end of the aisle slowly turned its head towards me and said ... "hello". I left. If the toys are going to turn on us, Toys R Us is not the best place to barricade inside.

Friendship is ...

... telling you your cake was fantastic even when it disintegrated to the state that you packed the pieces into a tuber-ware container and presented it with a spoon.

Lugholes #3

On the UF campus, one gray Friday morning:

Undergraduate 1 [sobbing]: "I thought he loved me!"

Undergraduate 2 [cheerfully]: "Well, not any more!"

Cat lesson #1

Love is not limited.
Food treats do not represent love.
Food treats are limited.

(Cat not yet convinced of this universal truth)

Things that go bump....

.... in the kitchen. Or, more accurately, 'bang'. Whatever noise best represents the lid flying of a liquidizer (I've discovered that's 'blender' to my American audience) and spraying hot soup over apartment, myself and cat. Cat not impressed. Apartment didn't say much, but I doubt it thought the look suited its previously white walls.

Maybe this was a case of 'pride before blender-blast'. Since moving to Florida, I've actually starting cooking stuff. Like, not just pasta in a pot (the height of my NYC culinary achievement) but pies and cakes and real food. This is probably because people here all have kitchens. Proper ones designed to be there, rather than a stove shoved in a closet from when the apartment block used to be a giant house for NY billionaires. Hence, people really cook and make things and, being the sheep that I am, I've taken up the task too. This new interest culminated in asking for a cookery book for Christmas which was gladly provided by parents hoping to avoid desperate requests of 'Mum, can I have the recipe for your [insert favourite dish here] ' at 10 pm at night.

Prior to the soup blasting experience, the whole cooking-stuff-idea has been a success. I enjoy cooking it, the cat enjoys me cooking it and we both enjoy eating it. (One of us rarely waits until all the ingredients are compiled before tasting ... though actually, the cat doesn't have much patience either). The whole sharing thing is fun too.

But as with all new adventures, things need to be learnt. Like, holding the lid down on the blender, for instance. Oh yes...

Crunch

I have a toothache. I think it's my wisdom teeth which yes, I still have, because in the UK they are normally left alone until they are problematic. Like, now for instance. But no problem, I have dental insurance. I've been paying it for the last year. So I'm covered, right? Wrong. Well, kinda. The problem is, I never registered with a dental practice (observant readers may notice a similarity with the post entitled 'an apple a day'. It seems I don't learn). I can find a practice that takes my insurance, but they won't deal with me until I'm on their roster which will take ... about a month. So I phone my insurance company who tell me there is a second practice in Gainesville that I can be registered with right away. Awesome! All my problems are solved! I call them up and ... they're not taking new patients with my insurance scheme. So I call back my insurance company to be told the only other option is a place in Ocala, about 40 minutes drive away. This would be difficult at the best of times, and somewhat more so when you consider I dropped my car off at the garage yesterday morning. For at least a week. Then, there is also the possibility that even when I see a dentist, my insurance may not cover wisdom teeth. It is dental insurance for some of your teeth. The ones we fancy maintaining. Is this my fault? Yes, I should have registered with a practice sooner. Does that make this soup and softened bread taste any better? No. No it does not.

The Entrepreneur

I've heard everyone is blessed with at least one great idea. Today, I've found mine. I'm going to design a programme compiler that produces *&%*%#$ useful error messages. For instance where I previously had:

[submit:03494] *** Process received signal ***
[submit:03494] Signal: Segmentation fault (11)
[submit:03494] Signal code: Address not mapped (1)

There will be:

[submit:03494] *** Variable cannot be assigned value ***
[submit:03494] User did not define it as a pointer (11)
[submit:03494] User is a chimp (All)

This would have saved me acres of time, substantial hair loss and at only a small cost to pride.

Freedom is not free...

... blared the banner carried by the Korean Veterans in the Home-coming parade in Gainesville this year. They were joined by similar slogans from associated armed forces groups. Why, it made me proud to be an American! Oh wait... Senators in classic cars, prom queens in tiaras riding in horse drawn carriages, marching bands (my favourite part), the giant alligator mascots, Albert & Alberta followed by Smokey the bear warning us of wild fires, all went past, travelling in every mode of transport from huge workman's trucks to the Shands Medical Urgent Care Vans. Quite what would happen if there was an emergency is unknown, since all the firetrucks were also in the parade, trapped between the engineering school's Transformers float and a bus full of lawyers. Still, all the city were there so I guess they were in the right spot. The giant blood vans that litter campus rolled passed, still refusing to accept my (undoubtedly) mad-cow infected blood. A bright yellow school bus that I used to believe only existed on the Simpson trundled behind a bus load of possibly the silliest looking barbie dolls I've ever seen, who turned out to be the UF cheerleading squad. It was a great spectacle, huge fun to watch and totally cut off the town's north and south areas since you weren't allowed to cross the road for several miles. Woe betide the poor grannies who had nipped across the street for a pint of milk. They weren't going home for the rest of the day. So after watching the waving, cheering people and the dogs dressed in Gator shirts, I reach the edge of campus and walk across to the department, wondering what on earth the 'traditional mollies of Gainesville' are and why they have a float.

Rugby relativity

While not having a real interest in the fate of the England rugby team, I have sufficient curiosity (or boredom with my paper, take your pick) to flick my browser over to the BBC sports page latest action column. There, a heading proclaims: "World Cup final 2007" followed underneath by " LATEST ACTION (all times BST)". Which would be unsurprising except all times are given as minutes after the start of play...

The Pie-Athlon....




8 participants ... 9 bikes ... 16 weight measurement and a truck load of pies... It's the Pie-Athlon 2007 held this year in Gainesville, Florida! Rules are simple; participants weigh themselves at the Publix grocery store on Main Street, then cycle 10 miles stuffing as much PIE into their mouths as possible, before re-weighing themselves back at the store. The person to have defied the benefits of exercise greatest and gained the most weight is declared the PIE winner. Entrants this year were Cherry, 9-inch (the highly disputed 'undisputed winner' of the previous contest), Frenchsilk, Homeslice, Frazzleberry, Shoofly, Torte and Deep-dish. Matching tee-shirts were issued leaving Deep-dish with a surprisingly tight, cropped little number that led her wondering about Cherry's intentions during Gay Pride week. The contest was fraught with tension from the very beginning where a sharp bang signaled an early out by Cherry which saw her limping down the road with a burst tire. Foul play was naturally suspected, but a replacement bicycle saw a handicapped Cherry (no gear changes allowed on new propulsion vehicle; Cherry deemed not up to the challenge by bike owner) back in the running before the official weigh-in. Last minute pie buying ensued when anxiety about not having enough PIE hit home. Even the uncertain Torte was chucking those pies into her basket by the end. Pie eating commenced as the contestants headed down Main Street and on-lookers were treated to manovers such as the 'pie signal' by Deep-dish who flung out her blueberry pie along with her left hand in a turn single, the fluid pie-to-mouth motion from Frenchsilk as he balanced a large Apple pie midway between bike and mouth and the whipped cream fill-up from 9-inch as he sweetened his pie straight from the cannister. Frazzleberry, meanwhile, skipped the pie and just sweetened her mouth directly. Dirty tactics were also on the cards, as certain contestants (okay okay, Deep-dish) leaned in to swipe pie from a less worthy follower. Casualties followed swiftly as the contestants ventured deeper along their trail. First off was a pie-death via Homeslice's shaky pie-cycle-control. That cherry spilled its essence all over the road. May it rest in peace. An evil attack from Shoofly's mount left him bleeding on the leg and only a fortuitous pause to consume pizza saved him from going to same way as the cherry pie. Traffic problems saw Deep-dish stuck at lights while her red-jumping friends sailed past before the stream of traffic poured through. However, they shortly got way-layed by a street concert which sorted them out. A momentary discussion saw pizza reclassified as a type of PIE and it was slices all round as the contestants reached downtown. Realizing a bathroom stop could knock anyone of them out of the running, the last leg back up to Publix was taken at a swift (and cross-legged) pace to stand once again on the weighing scales. An impressive amount of PIE-pounds were gained all round, but the disputed 'undisputed winner' was, once again, victorious with over a 5 lbs PIE bonus.

When in Rome....

.... visit a museum or 6. Interesting fact; the Romans rarely bothered thinking up their own sculpture designs and instead copied Greek statues. However, since they crafted marble rather than hollow bronze, the statues needed additional support by way of an reinforced base, tree limb or, in the case of Eros, the god of love, a huge.... well, let's just say if said object were attached in the usual position, trousers would have been out of the question.