I'm sure most people have seen and been appalled by the latest crop of stupid American surveys - the world is flat, evolution is a conspiracy by Godless scientists, President Obama practics voodoo and eats babies, etc... Maybe I'm too optimistic about the general populace, but sometimes I wonder about the sampling methods that produce these alarming statistics. Some of the organizations behind these surveys are very open about their methodologies, others aren't, but either way it seems possible that there's some sampling bias going on.
I mean, sampling errors are behind some pretty infamous polling mistakes. The 1936 Literary Digest Presidential Poll incorrectly predicted that Alf Landon would defeat FDR, which was shocking not only because FDR went on to carry all but two states, but also because the Literary Digest had correctly predicted the outcome of every presidential race since 1920. The problem in 1936 was that they drew their "random" sample from three seemingly-random-but-not-really sources: their own subscription list, lists of registered automobile owners, and the telephone registry - all of which contained a disproportionate amount of affluent people in the 1930s. Affluent people were more likely to vote for the Republican Landon so he was predicted to win, but when the rest of America (which didn't subscribe to Literary Digest or own automobiles or phones) actually voted, they overwhelmingly chose the Democratic Roosevelt. A similar telephone-related sampling error was behind the infamous 1948 "Dewey Defeats Truman" debacle.
I also remember learning about a study carried out more recently to ascertain what percentage of American wives cheat on their husbands. The researchers sent surveys out to a large, random sample of married American women, collected the results, and found that some shockingly high percentage of them were cheating. It wasn't until later that they realized their mistake: the women who were most likely to return their surveys were those sitting home all day, alone and bored, and therefore also most likely to cheat. The women who had happy, fulfilling lives and marriages were less likely to take the time to fill out some random survey about their love life that showed up in their mailbox. I know I was taught this example in a stats class in college, but of course now I can't find the syllabus, and googling "cheating American wives survey" is getting me nowhere, so I apologize for the lack of sources. Just take my word that I didn't completely make it up.
Anyway, I guess my point is that I like to hope all these stupid American surveys are actually contaminated by sampling bias and not an accurate reflection of the idiocy levels in our country. It totally seems possible that the type of person who has nothing better to do than answer random survey phone calls in the middle of the day may not be representative of the general population, which is too busy with their jobs/schooling/functional brain cells to sit around telling strangers on the phone that they believe the President was born in Kenya. Because if those numbers are an accurate indication of the state of the union today, then we're in trouble...
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Three Hour Tour
I am very obsessive about watching TV. I can’t like a show without methodically watching every episode of it in as short a time period as possible, and have watched and embarrassingly large number of TV series in their entirety in an embarrassingly short period of time.* Also, if someone talks and I miss something that was said in an episode, it doesn’t count and I have to watch it over. Sometimes I think I have TV OCD.
The very first TV series that I fell in obsessive-compulsive love with was Gilligan’s Island, when I was in sixth grade. I would wake up at 7:00 am on weekends and in the summer because that’s when it aired, and on school days I would set the VCR to record it so I could watch it as soon as I got back. I found a list of all the episodes online, which I printed out and carefully checked off as I saw each one. Some I had seen three or four times while others were still missing, but this was before you could buy a DVD of an entire season so I had no choice but to keep watching faithfully every day, hoping that eventually the syndication gods would smile upon me and show me one of the elusive missing episodes.
I liked the show overall, but what I was really in love with was the Professor. Handsome, intelligent, socially inept, he was the prototype for every boy I would ever have a crush on or date.** I used to lay awake at night and imagine various scenarios in which the Professor found out about me and my undying love for him, and came and rescued me from my miserable middle school existence, at which point we eloped and lived happily ever after making electronics out of coconuts on an island. I am fairly certain that I wrote him multiple letters to this effect.
So when I found out that the surviving cast members of Gilligan’s Island were going to have a Three Hour Reunion Cruise on the Potomac River, a mere hour away from my house, I was beside myself with excitement. The cruise was a fundraiser for something or other, so the tickets weren’t cheap. I begged my parents to take me, and swore up and down that I would never ask for another present as long as I lived if they bought me a ticket. And because I was as relentless about begging for a ticket as I was about watching every episode of the show, they eventually gave in and bought tickets for me and my mom for my birthday/Christmas/Chanukah present for the year.
After a several month wait that was even more interminable than the weeks proceeding Christmas, the day of the cruise was upon us. I was kind of embarrassed when we got on the boat and I turned out to be the only person under 40 on board, but it ended up working out to my advantage because I stood out and got more attention from the actors as a result. I don’t remember most of the details of the evening, except that Bob Denver and Dawn Wells both gave me autographs and called me sweet, and Tina Louise was a real bitch.
When the climactic moment finally came for me to meet Russell Johnson, I froze. I was completely petrified with unrequited love, and unable to form so much as a single word of my feelings for him and elaborate plan for our island life together. Fortunately my indomitable mother was nearby, and she had no qualms about thrusting me directly in front him. Unfortunately, she also told him all the mortifying details of my unbridled pre-teen passion. Despite this humiliation, or perhaps because of it, he thanked me for my devotion and actually leaned over and kissed me on the cheek! It was the single most thrilling moment of my life so far.
The epilogue is that six years later, when I was a freshman in college, my mom found out about a website where you can pay to have various quasi-celebrities call your loved ones and read a pre-scripted message to them. Russell Johnson was an option, so she paid to have him call me on my birthday and say that he remembered our kiss back in 1998. I ended up missing the call so he left a voicemail, and about halfway through, when he got to the part where he was supposed to say “I remember you from the cast reunion cruise on the Potomac...” he broke from the script and said, “Hey, I do remember you! You were such a sweet little girl, and it was just wonderful to meet you. I hope you have a fantastic birthday and a great life!” It’s probably as close as I’ll ever come to eloping to an island with him, so I’ll take it.
* Gilligan’s Island (98 episodes plus 3 movies, 6th grade)
MASH (251 episodes plus1 movie, 8th grade)
Sliders (88 episodes, first in 7th grade as they came out, then again junior year of college)
Arrested Development (53 episodes, sophomore year)
Scrubs (181 episodes, as they came out and then all at once sophomore spring)
Friends (236 episodes, first as they came out and then all at once the summer between sophomore and junior year of college)
Futurama (97 episodes plus 4 movies, junior year and now ongoing with the new episodes)
Flight of the Conchords (22 episodes, spring semester junior year)
Stargate: SG-1 (214 episodes plus 3 movies, spring semester senior year)
Stargate: Atlantis (100 episodes, summer after graduating college – while I was at TFA Institute no less!)
Freaks and Geeks (18 episodes, spring break my first year teaching)
Star Trek: The Original Series (79 episodes, summer between first and second years of teaching)
Star Trek: The Next Generation (178 episodes, summer between first and second years of teaching)
Firefly (14 episodes plus 1 movie, summer between first and second years of teaching)
Dexter (48 episodes, fall of my second year of teaching and now ongoing)
House (132 episodes, fall of my second year of teaching and now ongoing)
Extras (13 episodes, spring of my second year of teaching)
Life (10 episodes, spring of my second year of teaching)
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (58 episodes, last month)
The Office, 30 Rock, The Big Bang Theory, Community, Modern Family, Louie (126, 80, 63, 25, 24 and 10 episodes respectively, watched as they are released at the painfully slow rate of one a week).
**Handsome part not necessarily included with all models.
The very first TV series that I fell in obsessive-compulsive love with was Gilligan’s Island, when I was in sixth grade. I would wake up at 7:00 am on weekends and in the summer because that’s when it aired, and on school days I would set the VCR to record it so I could watch it as soon as I got back. I found a list of all the episodes online, which I printed out and carefully checked off as I saw each one. Some I had seen three or four times while others were still missing, but this was before you could buy a DVD of an entire season so I had no choice but to keep watching faithfully every day, hoping that eventually the syndication gods would smile upon me and show me one of the elusive missing episodes.
I liked the show overall, but what I was really in love with was the Professor. Handsome, intelligent, socially inept, he was the prototype for every boy I would ever have a crush on or date.** I used to lay awake at night and imagine various scenarios in which the Professor found out about me and my undying love for him, and came and rescued me from my miserable middle school existence, at which point we eloped and lived happily ever after making electronics out of coconuts on an island. I am fairly certain that I wrote him multiple letters to this effect.
So when I found out that the surviving cast members of Gilligan’s Island were going to have a Three Hour Reunion Cruise on the Potomac River, a mere hour away from my house, I was beside myself with excitement. The cruise was a fundraiser for something or other, so the tickets weren’t cheap. I begged my parents to take me, and swore up and down that I would never ask for another present as long as I lived if they bought me a ticket. And because I was as relentless about begging for a ticket as I was about watching every episode of the show, they eventually gave in and bought tickets for me and my mom for my birthday/Christmas/Chanukah present for the year.
After a several month wait that was even more interminable than the weeks proceeding Christmas, the day of the cruise was upon us. I was kind of embarrassed when we got on the boat and I turned out to be the only person under 40 on board, but it ended up working out to my advantage because I stood out and got more attention from the actors as a result. I don’t remember most of the details of the evening, except that Bob Denver and Dawn Wells both gave me autographs and called me sweet, and Tina Louise was a real bitch.
When the climactic moment finally came for me to meet Russell Johnson, I froze. I was completely petrified with unrequited love, and unable to form so much as a single word of my feelings for him and elaborate plan for our island life together. Fortunately my indomitable mother was nearby, and she had no qualms about thrusting me directly in front him. Unfortunately, she also told him all the mortifying details of my unbridled pre-teen passion. Despite this humiliation, or perhaps because of it, he thanked me for my devotion and actually leaned over and kissed me on the cheek! It was the single most thrilling moment of my life so far.
The epilogue is that six years later, when I was a freshman in college, my mom found out about a website where you can pay to have various quasi-celebrities call your loved ones and read a pre-scripted message to them. Russell Johnson was an option, so she paid to have him call me on my birthday and say that he remembered our kiss back in 1998. I ended up missing the call so he left a voicemail, and about halfway through, when he got to the part where he was supposed to say “I remember you from the cast reunion cruise on the Potomac...” he broke from the script and said, “Hey, I do remember you! You were such a sweet little girl, and it was just wonderful to meet you. I hope you have a fantastic birthday and a great life!” It’s probably as close as I’ll ever come to eloping to an island with him, so I’ll take it.
* Gilligan’s Island (98 episodes plus 3 movies, 6th grade)
MASH (251 episodes plus1 movie, 8th grade)
Sliders (88 episodes, first in 7th grade as they came out, then again junior year of college)
Arrested Development (53 episodes, sophomore year)
Scrubs (181 episodes, as they came out and then all at once sophomore spring)
Friends (236 episodes, first as they came out and then all at once the summer between sophomore and junior year of college)
Futurama (97 episodes plus 4 movies, junior year and now ongoing with the new episodes)
Flight of the Conchords (22 episodes, spring semester junior year)
Stargate: SG-1 (214 episodes plus 3 movies, spring semester senior year)
Stargate: Atlantis (100 episodes, summer after graduating college – while I was at TFA Institute no less!)
Freaks and Geeks (18 episodes, spring break my first year teaching)
Star Trek: The Original Series (79 episodes, summer between first and second years of teaching)
Star Trek: The Next Generation (178 episodes, summer between first and second years of teaching)
Firefly (14 episodes plus 1 movie, summer between first and second years of teaching)
Dexter (48 episodes, fall of my second year of teaching and now ongoing)
House (132 episodes, fall of my second year of teaching and now ongoing)
Extras (13 episodes, spring of my second year of teaching)
Life (10 episodes, spring of my second year of teaching)
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (58 episodes, last month)
The Office, 30 Rock, The Big Bang Theory, Community, Modern Family, Louie (126, 80, 63, 25, 24 and 10 episodes respectively, watched as they are released at the painfully slow rate of one a week).
**Handsome part not necessarily included with all models.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Difference
Its been awhile since I complained about the quality education I received from Lehman College, but I got something in the mail today that made me laugh:
I had actually sort of forgotten that I technically earned a Master's, since it's been THREE MONTHS since I turned in my thesis and I haven't heard anything from Lehman in the meantime. So while MIT can turn around a few thousand fancy-looking diplomas in the less than three weeks between the end of spring term and graduation, it takes Lehman over three months to send its graduates an apparently type-written piece of paper, along with the a note that I will be "notified by mail about distribution of diplomas [in] approximately three months."
Was MIT just exceptionally efficient at diploma production, or is Lehman just exceptionally pathetic?
I had actually sort of forgotten that I technically earned a Master's, since it's been THREE MONTHS since I turned in my thesis and I haven't heard anything from Lehman in the meantime. So while MIT can turn around a few thousand fancy-looking diplomas in the less than three weeks between the end of spring term and graduation, it takes Lehman over three months to send its graduates an apparently type-written piece of paper, along with the a note that I will be "notified by mail about distribution of diplomas [in] approximately three months."
Was MIT just exceptionally efficient at diploma production, or is Lehman just exceptionally pathetic?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tech Support
One of the things I do in my new job is help people access the various websites they need to use – we have a Google site for regional information and updates, a national site with various teaching tools and resources, and we use an online education company to provide classes and professional development. The majority of people are able to use these sites without issue, but sometimes people don’t read the instructions about their default username and password, or they change their email address and need to have their accounts updated accordingly, or they straight-up don’t know how to use the internet, at which point they email me for help.
Maybe I’m spoiled because I went to MIT, but I have certain expectations for what a recent college graduate should know about computers and how to troubleshoot them. For example, I think it is a given that if you are emailing a tech support person for help, you should use a variant on the following format:
Thus begins a tedious and often frustrating exchange of no less than a dozen emails, in which I attempt to pin down the exact problem as tactfully as possible, while receiving increasingly incoherent and agitated responses. So far I have always been able to solve the problem eventually, although sometimes it involves stepping up from emailing to an actual phone call. There have been multiple instances where the problem was that the person had made up a random username and password for themselves and, without registering them in any way, was surprised that they couldn’t use them to log in. Sigh.
Maybe I’m spoiled because I went to MIT, but I have certain expectations for what a recent college graduate should know about computers and how to troubleshoot them. For example, I think it is a given that if you are emailing a tech support person for help, you should use a variant on the following format:
I am having difficulty accessing X. I go to Y website and enter Z information, and get back error message E. What should I do?A greeting and a thank you would be nice too, but I’m not picky. And to be fair, most people who email me do use a version of the above. But I also get a non-trivial amount of:
I can’t make the website work!! How do I fix it?!?First of all, I don’t even know what website they are talking about, since there are at least three possibilities. Maybe more, because for all I know this person is emailing me about their blog or their Pandora account or something. Second of all, I don’t know what it means for a website to “work.” Perhaps this person can’t log in, perhaps they can log in but can’t find the resource they are looking for, or perhaps they aren’t actually connected to the internet and can’t make any website “work.” I have no idea.
Thus begins a tedious and often frustrating exchange of no less than a dozen emails, in which I attempt to pin down the exact problem as tactfully as possible, while receiving increasingly incoherent and agitated responses. So far I have always been able to solve the problem eventually, although sometimes it involves stepping up from emailing to an actual phone call. There have been multiple instances where the problem was that the person had made up a random username and password for themselves and, without registering them in any way, was surprised that they couldn’t use them to log in. Sigh.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
In Which I Am the Champion of Everything
Ben proposed we play a game he learned from a math nerd friend. The game is called “Axiom/Theorem,” and you take turns stating axioms until one of you accidentally states a theorem that can be derived from the already-declared axioms, at which point that person loses. Ben thought he would win because I haven’t taken a math class in six years, but he forgot that I am the Queen of Impenetrable Logic* and therefore destined to win this game always and forever.
He let me go first, so I said “Axiom: Cookies are awesome.” I think he was taken aback because I was apparently supposed to say some math thing, but that wasn’t a rule and it is an axiom that you can’t change the rules once you start to play, in any game ever. So then he tried to get us back on track with some math thing, and I responded with “Axiom: Cake is awesome.” Then he tried to avert the long list of dessert-related axioms that I clearly had in mind with, “Axiom: Anything with chocolate in it is awesome,” but he underestimated my obsession with all things food-related and the game swiftly devolved.
Ben: Axiom: Anything with chocolate in it is awesome.
Me: Axiom: Vanilla ice cream is awesome.
Ben: Axiom: Anything with sugar in it is awesome.
Me: Axiom: Fruit dipped in cream is awesome.
Ben: Axiom: All desserts are awesome.
Me: Axiom: Mashed potatoes are awesome.
Ben: Axiom: Anything with potatoes is awesome.
Me: Axiom: Cheetos are awesome.
At this point Ben was getting frustrated with my apparently limitless categories of food, so he tried to cut me off and defeat me.
Ben: Axiom: Anything Caroline likes is awesome.
But Ben forgot who he was dealing with.
Me: Axiom: Ben is awesome.
Ben: Wait, you lose!
Me: No, I don’t.
At that point he didn’t want to play anymore. I always win!
*His words, not mine. Apparently he doesn’t find my system of Three Types of Trash – and the corresponding Three Types of Trash Cans – to be as self-apparent as I do.
He let me go first, so I said “Axiom: Cookies are awesome.” I think he was taken aback because I was apparently supposed to say some math thing, but that wasn’t a rule and it is an axiom that you can’t change the rules once you start to play, in any game ever. So then he tried to get us back on track with some math thing, and I responded with “Axiom: Cake is awesome.” Then he tried to avert the long list of dessert-related axioms that I clearly had in mind with, “Axiom: Anything with chocolate in it is awesome,” but he underestimated my obsession with all things food-related and the game swiftly devolved.
Ben: Axiom: Anything with chocolate in it is awesome.
Me: Axiom: Vanilla ice cream is awesome.
Ben: Axiom: Anything with sugar in it is awesome.
Me: Axiom: Fruit dipped in cream is awesome.
Ben: Axiom: All desserts are awesome.
Me: Axiom: Mashed potatoes are awesome.
Ben: Axiom: Anything with potatoes is awesome.
Me: Axiom: Cheetos are awesome.
At this point Ben was getting frustrated with my apparently limitless categories of food, so he tried to cut me off and defeat me.
Ben: Axiom: Anything Caroline likes is awesome.
But Ben forgot who he was dealing with.
Me: Axiom: Ben is awesome.
Ben: Wait, you lose!
Me: No, I don’t.
At that point he didn’t want to play anymore. I always win!
*His words, not mine. Apparently he doesn’t find my system of Three Types of Trash – and the corresponding Three Types of Trash Cans – to be as self-apparent as I do.
Friday, August 20, 2010
HARRY POTTER WORLD!
The excitement began as soon as we landed in the Orlando airport:
We were lucky to be staying at the Universal Studios on-site hotel, which meant we got to enter the park at 8:00 am, an hour earlier than everyone else. We thought we would be smart and get there all early at 7:15, but there was already a long line by then! Still, it's good we didn't come much later, because by 10:00 the park was full and you had to wait in a super long line for a chance to be admitted later in the day, if enough people left. Like anyone would be crazy enough to leave Harry Potter World once they get in!
Once they opened the gates, the entire mob of people moved with an almost frightening single-mindedness of purpose. HP World is just one part of the Universal Studios Islands of Adventure park, but no one so much as slowed down as they ran past all the other rides on their way to Hogsmeade. It would have actually been a pretty good day to go to the park if you don't like Harry Potter, because you would have had the rest of the place pretty much to yourself.
Once we got to the entrance of HP world, I was pretty much too excited to breathe. It was just like walking onto the set of one of the movies!
They had all the Hogsmeade stores, and you could go shopping inside most of them. Once the park filled up, there were even lines just to get into the gift shops!
The most expensive item they had for sale was a $300 commemorative Harry Potter broom. According to the cashier, they sold out the first week the park was open. I love Harry Potter, but I find it vaguely disturbing that so may people are willing to pay $300 for a broom in the name of HP fandom.
I was really excited to finally get to try butterbeer, and I am glad to report that it was delicious - it tasted kind of like shortbread and butterscotch, and the foam (which they add separately from a special dispenser) was like Marshmallow fluff. Apparently J.K. Rowling herself was involved in taste-testing and developing the drink especially for the park!
The only disappointing thing was that they wouldn't give you extra foam, which was the tastiest part. Apparently the recipe, including the precise ratio of foam to liquid, is trademarked, and altering it in any way would be sacrilege. The bartender at the Hog's Head told us that someone had been fired for dispensing extra foam, but I'm not sure if he was telling the truth or just trying to make us stop begging him for a cup full of only foam.
The highlight of the entire park is "Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey," in which you get to actually enter Hogwarts castle!
The ride itself is one of those simulators where you are in a moving seat while having wind and water and various things sprayed at you. The plot is that Harry and the gang has busted you out of class so you can go to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, but - surprise! - things go awry and you end up encountering dementors and going through the forbidden forest and the chamber of secrets and other scary places. But then it all works out and you get to see the quidditch game, and then Dumbledore tells you that you did a good job and you can come back to Hogwarts any time.
The ride itself is fun, but waiting in line is the best part because the line goes through all the different parts of Hogwarts.
The attention to detail was really impressive. I expected the talking paintings to just look like TV screens with frames around them, but they had actually done something to the surface of the screens to make them textured like old oil paintings, complete with brush strokes and cracks. It was very convincing.
In the greenhouse, in addition to having squirming/shrieking mandrake plants, they had a whole bunch of bizarre wizardly plants hanging from the ceiling, and each post had a Hogwarts "H" emblazoned on it.
Also, Dumbledore's study had a pensieve, so we could collect our thoughts while we waited.
I was actually disappointed when we reached the end of the line and it was time for the actual ride. Although it was entertaining to hear the attendants say things like "Make sure your harness is on securely, muggles!"
Other random things that happened:
There was some stuff at the park that I don't remember from the books:
Also, at one point a plane came and spelled out messages about loving God overhead, I guess to try and save all us witchcraft-loving sinners. Our friends who live in Orlando said that it does that every day! Can you imagine having enough money to hire a private plane every single day, and deciding to spend it on that?
In the end, it was the most magical vacation of my entire life, and I am making plans to sneak into the Hogwarts basement and live there forever.
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| It's hard to read, but that's a giant Harry Potter World sign over Jessa's head. |
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| Waiting in line at 7:15. Ben and I are putting on sunscreen, and only Jessa realizes she is in a picture. |
Once we got to the entrance of HP world, I was pretty much too excited to breathe. It was just like walking onto the set of one of the movies!
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| The snow on the rooftops is less convincing in the 95 degree heat. |
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| You couldn't actually get on board the train :( |
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| Ben is not properly excited about being at Honeydukes |
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| Shopping for an outfit to wear to the Yule Ball |
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The most expensive item they had for sale was a $300 commemorative Harry Potter broom. According to the cashier, they sold out the first week the park was open. I love Harry Potter, but I find it vaguely disturbing that so may people are willing to pay $300 for a broom in the name of HP fandom.
I was really excited to finally get to try butterbeer, and I am glad to report that it was delicious - it tasted kind of like shortbread and butterscotch, and the foam (which they add separately from a special dispenser) was like Marshmallow fluff. Apparently J.K. Rowling herself was involved in taste-testing and developing the drink especially for the park!
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| Mustache Sisters |
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| Sharing a butterbeer with the officially sanctioned amount of foam. |
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| Getting ready to go to Hogwarts! |
The ride itself is fun, but waiting in line is the best part because the line goes through all the different parts of Hogwarts.
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The attention to detail was really impressive. I expected the talking paintings to just look like TV screens with frames around them, but they had actually done something to the surface of the screens to make them textured like old oil paintings, complete with brush strokes and cracks. It was very convincing.
In the greenhouse, in addition to having squirming/shrieking mandrake plants, they had a whole bunch of bizarre wizardly plants hanging from the ceiling, and each post had a Hogwarts "H" emblazoned on it.
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| Waiting in line in the greenhouse |
Also, Dumbledore's study had a pensieve, so we could collect our thoughts while we waited.
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| I am thinking about how many horcruxes Tom Riddle wanted to make |
Other random things that happened:
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| I won the Triwizard Tournament! |
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| Mariel and Jessa won too, but it was a portkey! |
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| Too many choices! |
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| Sirius Black is on the loose! The moving picture didn't photograph very well. |
There was some stuff at the park that I don't remember from the books:
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| The "Wizarding Wireless Network" |
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| REPENT! |
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| Yay! |
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Epic Harry Potter World Post Forthcoming
We just got back from Orlando, so while I am uploading photos and writing about our magical journey to Hogwarts, please enjoy this sweet pic of me in Bikini Bottom:
Also, good news! Ben is always trying to explain how it is possible for there to be more than three dimensions in all the fancy math he does, and I am never able to understand anything he is talking about. But after going on numerous rides advertised to be in “4D,” I am proud to say that I finally get it: the fourth dimension is fog machine.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Everybody's A Comedian
Yesterday Ben and I flew to Orlando to meet up with my family and commence our visit to Harry Potter World, aka the Best Week of My Life - more about that when we get back and I upload pictures.
The flight attendant who made all the announcements on the plane was quite a character. I don't know if he only attends flights because his dreams of being a stand-up comedian were crushed, or if he just gets bored doing the announcements and assumes no one listens to them anyway, but here are some highlights from his pre-takeoff safety spiel:
And when we finally pulled up to the gate, during that awkward interval where you want to take off your seatbelt and start getting your stuff from the overhead bin but you aren't supposed to yet, he just said "Ready... ready... ready..." until the "fasten seatbelt" sign binged off, at which point he yelled "GO!"
It was an entertaining way to start our vacation, to say the least.
The flight attendant who made all the announcements on the plane was quite a character. I don't know if he only attends flights because his dreams of being a stand-up comedian were crushed, or if he just gets bored doing the announcements and assumes no one listens to them anyway, but here are some highlights from his pre-takeoff safety spiel:
- “If you are hot… I’d like to get your number. Oh, and you can turn on the overhead fan to cool off.”
- “For emergency evacuation procedures, look in the seatback, or ‘literature pocket,’ in front of you.”
- “In the case of a water landing, you can use the person next to you as a flotation device. If that doesn't work, I guess you could try the flotation device under your seat.”
- “…an oxygen mask will drop down in front of you; place it over your mouth and breathe normally. Good luck with that.”
- “If you’re traveling with a child or anyone who needs special assistance, you have our sympathy. Put your mask on first, then pick your favorite child and work down the line from there.”
- “What’s the difference between asparagus and boogers? Your kids don’t eat asparagus.”
And when we finally pulled up to the gate, during that awkward interval where you want to take off your seatbelt and start getting your stuff from the overhead bin but you aren't supposed to yet, he just said "Ready... ready... ready..." until the "fasten seatbelt" sign binged off, at which point he yelled "GO!"
It was an entertaining way to start our vacation, to say the least.
Monday, August 16, 2010
New Luxuries
I’ve been in my new job for just over a month, but after two years in a public school I am still constantly shocked by the everyday luxuries that I now have access to. For the first time in my adult working life, I have unfettered access to a photocopy machine. At my old school, if I wanted something copied I had to fill out a copy slip, get it signed by an administrator, and submit it at least 24 hours ahead of when I wanted the copies. If I wanted something hole-punched or stapled, I had to bribe a kid to stay up at lunch and do it for me. If I wanted something in color, then I was obviously insane. I also had to rely on Ben to smuggle me reams of paper from MIT, so I didn’t have to buy it all myself.
But now if I want something copied, I can just walk over to the machine and do it. If I want it stapled, hole-punched, or in color, the machine can do all of those things for me. And if it’s out of paper, I can just grab a ream from the boxes of paper next to it. I feel like I am somehow stealing something or cheating when I make copies from this machine, and as such am in the habit of waiting to use it until no one is nearby, and glancing furtively around me the whole time to avoid being caught.
Even more exciting than the copy machine is the fact that I now have a desk. I spent the first semester of my teaching career with only a cart to my name, and the rest of it sharing a cramped classroom with another teacher. I had to use kids’ desks to grade papers and do other teacherly things, and they were too small and always had a bunch of gross gum stuck underneath them. Now I have an entire desk to myself, complete with drawers and a shelf above it and everything. I think I am the only person in the office, and possibly the world, who regards my cubicle as the height of corporate opulence.
But the most extravagant comfort of all is the fact that my new office is air-conditioned. When I taught in the summer months, I had to be careful about what bra I wore so that it wouldn’t become visible when I sweated all the way through my dress by lunch. But now it is the middle of August, and I have to pack a sweater with me so I don’t get too cold sitting at my desk. Take a minute to process that: it is over ninety degrees outside, and I have to bring a sweater to work to avoid being unpleasantly chilly. It’s obscene.
But now if I want something copied, I can just walk over to the machine and do it. If I want it stapled, hole-punched, or in color, the machine can do all of those things for me. And if it’s out of paper, I can just grab a ream from the boxes of paper next to it. I feel like I am somehow stealing something or cheating when I make copies from this machine, and as such am in the habit of waiting to use it until no one is nearby, and glancing furtively around me the whole time to avoid being caught.
Even more exciting than the copy machine is the fact that I now have a desk. I spent the first semester of my teaching career with only a cart to my name, and the rest of it sharing a cramped classroom with another teacher. I had to use kids’ desks to grade papers and do other teacherly things, and they were too small and always had a bunch of gross gum stuck underneath them. Now I have an entire desk to myself, complete with drawers and a shelf above it and everything. I think I am the only person in the office, and possibly the world, who regards my cubicle as the height of corporate opulence.
But the most extravagant comfort of all is the fact that my new office is air-conditioned. When I taught in the summer months, I had to be careful about what bra I wore so that it wouldn’t become visible when I sweated all the way through my dress by lunch. But now it is the middle of August, and I have to pack a sweater with me so I don’t get too cold sitting at my desk. Take a minute to process that: it is over ninety degrees outside, and I have to bring a sweater to work to avoid being unpleasantly chilly. It’s obscene.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Moving On Up
Ben and I are in the process of buying a condo. Since we are going to be living in Philly for whatever ungodly amount of time it will take him to build a sentient robot army and get his PhD, we figured it would be a good move to invest in owning property here.
We’ve already selected a place, had our offer accepted, and got it inspected. We recently had to sign a list of Condo Association Rules and Regulations, to promise that we are functional humans capable of living in a building with other functional humans. Most of the rules are pretty straightforward – don’t leave trash in common areas, don’t put crazy stuff down your drains, don’t hang laundry out your windows like you live in a tenement building, and so on. But two rules stood out to me as particularly interesting:
It’s not that I’m surprised there is a “don’t make obnoxious noises” rule, so much as I was taken aback by the arcane phrasing – “suffer to be played upon any musical instrument” in particular. Also, was phonograph usage really so problematic in this building that it had to get called out by name in the official rules? The building isn’t even that old, but the phonograph clause makes it sound like the rules were written in the Roaring 20s.
In stark contrast to the circumlocution of the obnoxious noises rule, the next rule is much more straightforward:
I like this one because it is so direct, and because it is an amendment. This makes me imagine that it was added because of one really smelly person who moved into the building, who was confronted about their extreme smelliness and responded that there are no olfactory restrictions in the official condo rulebook, so tough noogies. Then an emergency Condo Association Constitutional Convention was called for the express purpose of outlawing objectionable odors, but because of the time pressure they didn’t have time to mince words about “smelling or suffering to be smelled upon any unsavory perfumes.”
In conclusion, I am a few short weeks away from being a property-owning adult with a mortgage and home insurance, but all I can think about is the mysterious smelly person who forever altered our condo’s constitution.
We’ve already selected a place, had our offer accepted, and got it inspected. We recently had to sign a list of Condo Association Rules and Regulations, to promise that we are functional humans capable of living in a building with other functional humans. Most of the rules are pretty straightforward – don’t leave trash in common areas, don’t put crazy stuff down your drains, don’t hang laundry out your windows like you live in a tenement building, and so on. But two rules stood out to me as particularly interesting:
- No Unit owners shall play upon, or suffer to be played upon, any musical instrument, or operate or suffer to be operated, a phonograph, television set, radio or sound amplifier, or use or suffer to be used, any exercise equipment, in his Unit in such manner as to disturb or annoy other occupants of the Building.
It’s not that I’m surprised there is a “don’t make obnoxious noises” rule, so much as I was taken aback by the arcane phrasing – “suffer to be played upon any musical instrument” in particular. Also, was phonograph usage really so problematic in this building that it had to get called out by name in the official rules? The building isn’t even that old, but the phonograph clause makes it sound like the rules were written in the Roaring 20s.
In stark contrast to the circumlocution of the obnoxious noises rule, the next rule is much more straightforward:
- Unit owners shall not permit any objectionable odors to emanate from their Units.
I like this one because it is so direct, and because it is an amendment. This makes me imagine that it was added because of one really smelly person who moved into the building, who was confronted about their extreme smelliness and responded that there are no olfactory restrictions in the official condo rulebook, so tough noogies. Then an emergency Condo Association Constitutional Convention was called for the express purpose of outlawing objectionable odors, but because of the time pressure they didn’t have time to mince words about “smelling or suffering to be smelled upon any unsavory perfumes.”
In conclusion, I am a few short weeks away from being a property-owning adult with a mortgage and home insurance, but all I can think about is the mysterious smelly person who forever altered our condo’s constitution.
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