update from the waiting room...with janet

KB just texted that she is still in the waiting room so she’ll likely be a while.  This is fairly typical of dr’s offices.  They like to keep you waiting so that by the time you see the doctor you are convinced that you have full blown aidscancer and a tumor and something that will make the left side of your face immobile.  Or something.  Then they ask you what kind of insurance you have and you realize you’re really not sure because insurance is totally confusing.  And the insurance you do have is likely just a rock that you keep in your back pocket and call janet, and sometimes you feel compelled to pet janet when you feel threatened.

Ringworm diagram of a friend's back

Olives

It’s been about 72 minutes since you left.  And I find myself unable to focus.  I’m consumed by thoughts of you. 

I stood up and leaned over my desk while reaching for a business card.  A black olive fell from my blouse and landed on my computer keyboard.  It was a little bit shriveled.  At first I thought it was a bug.  Then I thought it was a bug with no legs…a genetic deformity.  Finally I realized it was an olive.  It must have been from my lunch.  There were olives in my poorly designed lunch salad.  I don’t know why I even had olives in there in the first place.  It must have fallen from my fork.  It curled against me, close to my heart, so it wouldn’t be left behind.  Did you notice it falling?  Did you notice clinging to me with love?  Perhaps you were too nice to say anything.  It walked with us…back to the showroom…and laughed with us as we secretly watched videos of inappropriately young boys singing.  But it grew tired…too weak to cling to me…and fell from my blouse.  And as he lay dying on my computer keyboard I realized too late that I loved him too. 

He’s here with me now.

Dead.

It’s been 76 minutes since you left.  And I find myself unable to focus.  I’m consumed by thoughts of you.

Gift

Dearest,

Try as I (dust) mite, I just can't get you out of my head.  Your love note was the most romantic thing that has happened to me in the last 35-40 minutes.  It was delivered by a man on foot...the d&d messenger man in his ill-fitting suit.  He's humongous and jolly and there is no better messenger of love.

I did a quick dusting just now.  Did you feel it?  Down there at 915?  Did you know that the lovely little dust particles (most likely consisting of our dead skin cells and bug carcasses) were swirling about me in a dance of love?  They're still swirling about me now. They're making me sneeze and feel itchy...tis the calling cards of love.

Email to NASA

Dear NASA,

Christmas is quickly approaching and, as per usual, I’ve left most of my gift shopping to the last minute.  Waiting until the last minute is generally considered a recipe for disaster.  Last minute shopping means fighting for parking in overcrowded malls and making purchases that are ultimately crap.  You know your gift is crap and your intended recipient knows your gift is crap.  I’ve countered the social stigma of a crap gift by deliberately purchasing bad presents for most of my loved ones.  This means their expectations through the years have become significantly lower, and they likely attribute my poor gift giving to some sort of developmental disorder…which isn’t entirely inaccurate.

Anyhoo, there are loved ones who are exceptions to my above deceptions…ie the ones I actually love.  My dad falls into this category, and he’s something of a black hole enthusiast.  I had the rather grand idea of having a black hole named after him…you know, in the way that stars can be named after someone for a nominal fee.  But after a bit of research (not too much as my schedule is taken up with an awful lot of television watching) I’ve discovered that you can’t actually have a black hole named after someone.  As I understand it, black holes really aren’t named at all.  Rather they are given an alpha-numeric catalog number or something.  Furthermore, it seems the star naming thing is a bit of scam (which only makes me more interested in going into the star naming business but that’s neither here nor there).  Even if I could have a black hole named after my dad he’d likely be more upset that I’d been swindled than happy that there was a piece of universe named in his honor. 

But then I had a rather brilliant idea!  You see, my dad’s last name is Berna and at some point in college he was given the nickname Bunsen.  It’s a play on words.  Bunsen Berna…as opposed to Bunsen burner.  Isn’t that clever?  Just a bit of science humor.  See, we’re all friends here.  Anyhoo, I was wondering if the space community could sort of agree to refer to a black hole (any one of them really) as The Bunsen.  It could be a nickname of sorts…nothing you’d see in scientific journals, but just a name you’d toss around the office.  Like, “Hey, Marty.  Did you see the images we got back on The Bunsen?  Out of this world!”  Or, “Looks like there’s some unusual activity going on around The Bunsen.”  These are just examples.  No one would have to use those sentences exactly. 

Ideally, I’d like for you to communicate your agreement to my proposal on formal NASA letterhead. But I understand that letterhead ain’t cheap…especially if the NASA bit is embossed or something.  So, an email acknowledgment would totally suffice.  This way, I can provide my dad with evidence of my attempts to secure a black hole as his informal Bunsen Berna namesake.

Anyway, if you could get back to me before Christmas that would be “stellar.” 

Sincerely,