Thursday, August 25, 2005
Is it true that one can safely drink only so many cups of coffee a day? I've never really tried to push the limits of caffeine intake but I wonder.
As a scientist who has spent a good deal of time in a lab, I see the warnings they put on bottles of caffeine [in molecular biology protocols, it's often used to stimulate the release of calcium ions from cells]. It's readily available via your standard catalog of lab supplies and chemicals and probably at your local apothocary (in the times when a popular soft drink still contained cocaine) on the shelf next to the tub of leeches.
From the Material Safety Data Sheet (MSDS), that informative document that letsme know what's about to happen to me after I inevitably spill the chemical in question on my arm , we're informed that exposure to caffeine is harmful to our health:
WARNING! HARMFUL IF SWALLOWED OR INHALED. CAUSES IRRITATION TO SKIN, EYES AND RESPIRATORY TRACT. POSSIBLE BIRTH DEFECT HAZARD. Avoid contact with eyes, skin and clothing. Keep container closed. Use only with adequate ventilation. Wash thoroughly after handling.
Wait. Harmful if swallowed? What am I supposed to do, osmos it into my bloodstream?
It continues:
Wear impervious protective clothing, including boots, gloves, lab coat, apron or coveralls, as appropriate, to prevent skin contact. Eye Protection: Use chemical safety goggles and/or full face shield where dusting or splashing of solutions is possible. Maintain eye wash fountain and quick-drench facilities in work area.
Pardon?
Does this mean that on my next trip to Starbucks that they suggest I wear biosafety gear? Read on and it tell us:
Excessive use of caffeine may lead to digestive disturbances, constipation, palpitations, shortness of breath and depressed mental states.
Funny. All this time I thought my boss was the cause for all this. Surely he'll be relieved when I tell him that this is the reason I'm spending so much time on the crapper, hyperventilating into a paper bag and sobbing loudly.
Statistics from 2003 indicate that average sales per store for Starbucks were upwards of three-quarters of a million dollars and there are over 4500 locations throughout the U.S.. I wonder if that guy grunting in the stall next to me had the same thought as me this morning: How much is too much?
Oops. Gotta go. My coffee's getting cold....
As a scientist who has spent a good deal of time in a lab, I see the warnings they put on bottles of caffeine [in molecular biology protocols, it's often used to stimulate the release of calcium ions from cells]. It's readily available via your standard catalog of lab supplies and chemicals and probably at your local apothocary (in the times when a popular soft drink still contained cocaine) on the shelf next to the tub of leeches.
From the Material Safety Data Sheet (MSDS), that informative document that letsme know what's about to happen to me after I inevitably spill the chemical in question on my arm , we're informed that exposure to caffeine is harmful to our health:
WARNING! HARMFUL IF SWALLOWED OR INHALED. CAUSES IRRITATION TO SKIN, EYES AND RESPIRATORY TRACT. POSSIBLE BIRTH DEFECT HAZARD. Avoid contact with eyes, skin and clothing. Keep container closed. Use only with adequate ventilation. Wash thoroughly after handling.
Wait. Harmful if swallowed? What am I supposed to do, osmos it into my bloodstream?
It continues:
Wear impervious protective clothing, including boots, gloves, lab coat, apron or coveralls, as appropriate, to prevent skin contact. Eye Protection: Use chemical safety goggles and/or full face shield where dusting or splashing of solutions is possible. Maintain eye wash fountain and quick-drench facilities in work area.
Pardon?
Does this mean that on my next trip to Starbucks that they suggest I wear biosafety gear? Read on and it tell us:
Excessive use of caffeine may lead to digestive disturbances, constipation, palpitations, shortness of breath and depressed mental states.
Funny. All this time I thought my boss was the cause for all this. Surely he'll be relieved when I tell him that this is the reason I'm spending so much time on the crapper, hyperventilating into a paper bag and sobbing loudly.
Statistics from 2003 indicate that average sales per store for Starbucks were upwards of three-quarters of a million dollars and there are over 4500 locations throughout the U.S.. I wonder if that guy grunting in the stall next to me had the same thought as me this morning: How much is too much?
Oops. Gotta go. My coffee's getting cold....
Sunday, August 14, 2005
We just moved into a house last week.
We like it, though it's big, much too big for two people. It's in a great neighborhood and it's the kind of place we can show off to visiting friends and relatives. It's not palatial by any measure, but after living in some less-than-respectable apartments, it's like having a wing of Windsor Palace willed to us by the Royal Family...minus the charred and blackened artwork, of course.
We've met a few of our neighbors thus far who all seem to be quite nice. To our immediate right live a pastor and his family. I suppose this is the type of neighbor I can expect after encouraging visitors at our old house to vomit over our fenceline into the neighbor's yard.
We didn't like her much.
She was intent on claiming a portion of our property her own by fencing it in. Well, that's not entirely true, I'm sure. She was actually looking at the cheap way of doing things and thusly, by tying into our fenceline (which was required to be at least 6 inches inside our property line) she incorporated our property and got out of paying some major coin for a fence of her own.
Had we not been new to homeowning, we would have taken a milder approach. Instead, driven by our tenacity with regards to pursuing the proper protocols through the HOA, we were absolutely militant about not getting fucked with. Regardess of our efforts to suggest she follow our example, she built her fence anyway. I brought this up to her as diplomatically as I could: she was outside mowing her lawn and I, in what was surely a thinly-veiled look of surprise, pointed to her newly erected fence which I had noticed the day before (she worked nights and I hadn't seen her that afternoon). She eventually called me passive-aggressive by the end of the exchange, marking the point at which I was comfortable dropping the neighborly charade and telling her to go to hell. We spent our remaining time we lived in there diverting our eyes from one another as we passed despite my girlfriend's attempts to get us to make amends.
Back to the pastor, we had a pleasant conversation about last year's World Series. As he's a Cardinals fan and I a Red Sox fan, I took some polite jabs at his team's waxing.
It's going to be a fun pennant race; if the two teams make it that far.
We like it, though it's big, much too big for two people. It's in a great neighborhood and it's the kind of place we can show off to visiting friends and relatives. It's not palatial by any measure, but after living in some less-than-respectable apartments, it's like having a wing of Windsor Palace willed to us by the Royal Family...minus the charred and blackened artwork, of course.
We've met a few of our neighbors thus far who all seem to be quite nice. To our immediate right live a pastor and his family. I suppose this is the type of neighbor I can expect after encouraging visitors at our old house to vomit over our fenceline into the neighbor's yard.
We didn't like her much.
She was intent on claiming a portion of our property her own by fencing it in. Well, that's not entirely true, I'm sure. She was actually looking at the cheap way of doing things and thusly, by tying into our fenceline (which was required to be at least 6 inches inside our property line) she incorporated our property and got out of paying some major coin for a fence of her own.
Had we not been new to homeowning, we would have taken a milder approach. Instead, driven by our tenacity with regards to pursuing the proper protocols through the HOA, we were absolutely militant about not getting fucked with. Regardess of our efforts to suggest she follow our example, she built her fence anyway. I brought this up to her as diplomatically as I could: she was outside mowing her lawn and I, in what was surely a thinly-veiled look of surprise, pointed to her newly erected fence which I had noticed the day before (she worked nights and I hadn't seen her that afternoon). She eventually called me passive-aggressive by the end of the exchange, marking the point at which I was comfortable dropping the neighborly charade and telling her to go to hell. We spent our remaining time we lived in there diverting our eyes from one another as we passed despite my girlfriend's attempts to get us to make amends.
Back to the pastor, we had a pleasant conversation about last year's World Series. As he's a Cardinals fan and I a Red Sox fan, I took some polite jabs at his team's waxing.
It's going to be a fun pennant race; if the two teams make it that far.
Friday, August 12, 2005
OK, I admit it. I'm here on a dare, of sorts.
The mere fact that I'm writing this for billions of soon-to-be fans is a testament to my total devotion to exercises in self-delusionary tactics. Not only did I trick myself into thinking that my career choice would be fulfilling, but also that moving for said career would offer relief from the ordinary, yet truly pleasant life I lived down south for 13 years. But more on this later.
In any case, I was at lunch with colleagues this afternoon (yes, I have a job where I can call them colleagues without being laughed out of my cube) and was struck by a horrible realization. This was no run-of-the-mill offense that I had just committed. In terms of lunchroom etiquette, I had just done the equivalent of whizzing in the office coffee pot: while shoving in a forkful of salad into my gaping maw, my tongue broke the plane of my lips.
I've got goosepimples just thinking about it.
It took me a while to decide whether or not I had the cojones to admit this in blog form, but I thought it served the purpose both in entertainment value (for you) and the sort of ok,-i-just-admitted-it-and-that's-the-first-step-to-recovery therapeutic value (for yours truly). It's one of those things that, in it's entirety, may not seem to be that serious a misdeed. In truth, it was only horrible after I realized that, in the midst of the conversation, everyone was looking at me as a result of a disparaging comment which was jokingly directed my way. I paused, fork in hand and tongue out of mouth, and looked up. Damage done.
And they said Fridays were supposed to be good.
The mere fact that I'm writing this for billions of soon-to-be fans is a testament to my total devotion to exercises in self-delusionary tactics. Not only did I trick myself into thinking that my career choice would be fulfilling, but also that moving for said career would offer relief from the ordinary, yet truly pleasant life I lived down south for 13 years. But more on this later.
In any case, I was at lunch with colleagues this afternoon (yes, I have a job where I can call them colleagues without being laughed out of my cube) and was struck by a horrible realization. This was no run-of-the-mill offense that I had just committed. In terms of lunchroom etiquette, I had just done the equivalent of whizzing in the office coffee pot: while shoving in a forkful of salad into my gaping maw, my tongue broke the plane of my lips.
I've got goosepimples just thinking about it.
It took me a while to decide whether or not I had the cojones to admit this in blog form, but I thought it served the purpose both in entertainment value (for you) and the sort of ok,-i-just-admitted-it-and-that's-the-first-step-to-recovery therapeutic value (for yours truly). It's one of those things that, in it's entirety, may not seem to be that serious a misdeed. In truth, it was only horrible after I realized that, in the midst of the conversation, everyone was looking at me as a result of a disparaging comment which was jokingly directed my way. I paused, fork in hand and tongue out of mouth, and looked up. Damage done.
And they said Fridays were supposed to be good.
