How to become crazy in 10 days, or at least socially awkward

goodbye dear friendster blog

one-two-three-four tell me that you love me more.....

ohhh teenAGE hopes...

...oh, who you are..

I can’t get this Feist song out of my head. What a good tune! It’s catchy and it’s lyrics are actually meaningful. If you have a crushed romantic soul, that is. But I didn't intend to write a review. I just felt like mentioning the thing that’s been playing repeat on mental burner #6.

Now for #1. Yes, I have been away for awhile, writing in another blog. A secret blog. And just like a pesky ex-boyfriend, I’m back! Didja miss me?? I’m sorry about all the sneaking and lying. But I’m done with that blog now. I’m moving on, and I want you to come with me. I want you. Oh? You don’t give a shit anymore? You never did? Well SCREW YOU THEN, STUPID WHORE!

Hey! Come back! I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean it...here, let me make it up to you. Over at my place...No, wait! Calm down – I just wanna talk, that’s all. Like friends. How about this, I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to...over a glass of wine? Yes...just drop by my new place...

I exist!

So. It’s been awhile.

So much has happened in the past few months. But I couldn’t seem to write it down, or if I wrote it, I couldn’t publish it. Mostly because my writing had reached all new levels of lameness. Either way, there’s a lot to catch up on.  Here's a few randomly selected events from my life the past few months:

 

1) Early in May, I took my finals. That sucked.
 
2) Then I went to a party, got kind of drunk, went home, and barfed. I wasn’t THAT drunk, but I do get queasy kind of easily.  Anyway, just after I cleaned myself up and was getting ready to crawl into bed, Opportunity knocked. Apparently, Opportunity was locked out of its apartment, its cell phone was dead, and was probably kind of tipsy (since I recognized it from the party I had just left). Could it stay at my place? Well, sure! That was cool.

3) I took the boards early July. That sucked, but not nearly as much as I thought it would.

4) I moved to Binghamton to start my third year of medical school. It’s been a week now. This is cool, and at the same time tremendously sucky. More details to come.

That’s pretty much all I wanted to say. I guess I just wanted to alert you to the fact that I’m still alive. There’s definitely more I want to tell you, but sooo little time for writing. There’ll be more soon, I promise.

Coming soon: I HATE YOU FUCKING PEOPLE. Subtitle: Be like Buddha.

Beer Ballet

I had a strange dream:

 
I saw my hippocampus floating in a golden pool of beer.

 
(A brief explanation of the hippocampus: This part of your brain is mega-important for forming memories. If you broke it, you’d be forever stuck in the moment that it was broken, because you couldn’t form new memories. Ever see the movie Memento? Yeah, you’d be that guy.)

Curiously I watched my brain as it rocked back & forth, suspended in the beer pool. With my microscopic eye, I zoomed in so close that I could see a single neuron. It was  blinking on and off, kind of like a dying neon sign. This is normal, right? But then the beer molecules began swarming around it, menacingly. As I watched with fascination (and horror), they joined hands and began to perform a freaky little water ballet:

And then a spooky, thunderous voice came from above:

THIIIS IS WHYYY YOUUU HAAAVEN'T LEEAARNED AAAAAANYTHIIIIIIIIING.

 

Urgh. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. Even though I was awake, I stayed in bed for another hour and contemplated the vastness of my ignorance. And that maybe I should stop drinking.

 

The Rules of Surfing, by someone who's tried it about once

Spring break is over. But I don't feel too bad. I think I squeezed every bit of fun I could get from it while hanging out in Puerto Rico with my old college buddy, Ben. I'm not gonna bore you with a laundry list of Places/Things I did, but I do have a couple of things to share:

1) EVERYONE in Puerto Rico is hot. Even grandpas are Kind-Of-Hot-For-a-Grandpa. It totally blew my mind. At first I thought all the sexy people had migrated there, but after a few days of sun, I started to look kind of hot, too! Clearly it was due to the Puerto Rican sun. Unfortunately, now that I'm back in Syracuse, I will return to my former state. Which is kind of like a pale, pasty shriveled gnome.

2) I tried surfing for the first time! So I AM gonna bore you with what THAT was like for me!

The first day, Ben & I took a surf lesson, rode some calm baby waves and had an amazing time. But that wasn't enough for me, oh no. For some reason, I haven't decided I've had enough fun until I've been bruised and bloodied by it. So the next day I decided to try rougher waters, with the aid of a super-dreamy surf instructor. We went down to the beach and got ready.

"See that over there?" He pointed somewhere at the ocean.

"Uh...the ocean?"

"We call that the Pistons. Ages ago some boat sank there. Try to avoid those spiky metal things. Oh, and NEVER let your feet touch the ground. There's like, sea urchins. And stuff."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I just wanted to get moving, so I was like, "Sure!"

He showed me a couple of tricks to help me avoid being dashed against stuff on the ocean floor and we went out. WAY out. Where the good surfers were. Where I totally didn't belong. The waves were gargantuan behemoth-things compared to what I'd tried the day before. Soon, I would learn rule #1: if you are staring in awe at a wave so big and powerful that you think maybe God sent it specifically to kill you, close your mouth.

Midway through our lesson I was already completely exhausted. I kept pushing by mentally taunting myself: Pansy! Wimp! Crybaby SUCK IT UP! Hey! Where is everyone going? All the other surfers were swimming out to shore. Only one guy - who seemed pretty seasoned - remained. Apparently he and my dreamy surf instructor knew each other. They exchanged hellos. Then he was like, "Whoa these winds are CRAZY man! Brutal!!" He turned to scream at the beach: "PUUSSIEEEES!" I looked back at Dreamy to see what he would say about giving beginner lessons in these conditions. He was totally unperturbed. "Get ready for the next one!"

He probably should have said, "Get ready to be the ocean's bitch again!" since that would've been the truth. I readied myself anyway. No way was I gonna admit to Dreamy that I was totally beat. "PAAAAAAAAADLE!"

And oh my god, I was going. I stood up! And there was this totally exhilarating moment when I realized that I was actually riding the beast. Wheeeee! Three seconds later, I fell. As the wave tumbled me along, I hit some hidden rocks. Later on I would realize something interesting (interesting to me, anyway): when I think I'm gonna die, my life DOESN'T flash before my eyes. If it had been my head (instead of my butt) that hit those rocks, my dying thought would have been so THIS is what it's like to be a sock in a clothes drier.

Eventually I resurfaced. I'm alive! I scanned the ocean for Dreamy. He was far, far away. Yet I could tell he was shaking a victory fist in the air for me. But I was in too much shock to care, and was considering how I had to paddle back out to him. The ocean was getting even more pissed off. Each time I'd get 20 feet a wave would knock me back 19. I don't know how long it took me to get there, but by the time I made it I was physically and mentally broken. I laid motionless on my surfboard, like a piece of dead seaweed. Perhaps I will just..float here...and let the ocean have its way with me. Dreamy grinned and suggested we should get a beer sometime. Suddenly I discovered rule #2: make sure you bikini is still covering your boobs. You'd think that'd be easy, but my body was kind of numb. So I had no idea that I had been wearing my top less like a bikini, and more like a necklace.

I never responded to the beer offer, by the way. Clearly, the saltwater I'd been drinking was making me delirious.

Rule #3: Never, EVER turn down a beer with a hot surf instructor. The regret will haunt you FOREVER.

The winds got worse and we decided to call it a day. As I "swam" back to shore, I got a little off track. The next wave hurtled me at high velocity toward some strange metal cylinder-thingys looming out of the water. Aaack! I flailed at the water wildly enough so I missed them by a couple of inches. Whoa. I was almost like...shish-kabob! Dreamy stared back at me in cute, wide-eyed horror. I shot him a look, like what the hell was that?

"Dude, the Pistons."

We wrapped things up and I dragged myself back to the hotel. Ben was there, freshly showered. He was glowing. Refreshed from a full day of lounging. He had decided to spend the day, you know, just lying on the beach, relaxing. He's good at that.

"Hey, how was it?"

"Awesome! Urgggh. Me.Hurt." I had lost the ability to speak in complete sentences. I lifted my arm and pointed at some bruises. I pointed to my butt, to indicate the parts of my body that had been dashed against the rocky ocean floor.

"HOLY CRAP what happened to your stomach?!"

I looked down. Well, this was new. My torso was bright red and bleeding. Not from sunburn, but because half the skin was gone. I have no idea how it had been removed exactly, but it was definitely somewhere in the ocean (Now it has kind of scabbed over. Kind of negates any added sexiness from the tan I got.)

So now I introduce the most important rule, which applies to everything I've ever attempted outdoors, including at least camping, hiking, climbing, rafting, and hanging out nekkid. Hell, even just standing.

RULE #4: Mother Nature ALWAYS wins.

But when she whoops my ass - and I'm crawling away beaten and breathless - that's when I can't help but feel the most alive.

 

Level Up

I know at least one person out there was little concerned about my recent lack of academic performance, so I just wanted to provide an update. (By the way, thanks to all of you who give a shit. Beats me why you do, but it's nice.)

Basically, I massacred Pharmacology in the last unit exam. Oh yes.

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But it was no easy task. I prepared for battle for what seemed like days.  With my Pen of Writing, I filled reams of paper with notes that would help me remember stuff:

Primaquine Phosphate.

- radical cure for malaria (transmitted by mosquitos. Evil mosquitos.)

- Do not give to G6PD deficient patients.

- Unless you are a COMPLETE FOOL!

When I got to the exam, I was primed and ready for battle. I ate a chicken and breadloaf, so my health was 100%. I accidentally slept in and got there late, but no matter. I never need the full amount of time. When I know my stuff, I usually get the answer pretty quickly. And when I don’t? Well, I’m even quicker at picking answers at random!

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Still, it was grueling. I couldn't Summon Creatures to help me, since there’s no way of doing that without it being totally obvious that you’re cheating. And there were soooo many words! What the hell?! Since when did you need to read to become a doctor? Luckily I had my secret weapon - A Potion of Endurance! Which I'd cleverly snuck past the Beholders by pretending it was just coffee.

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During the exam, it hit me: Oh my god, exams are EASY if you ACTUALLY STUDY. And with that discovery my Wisdom went up to a 4! Then I cast the fiery Pharmrog back into its hellpit. HaHAHAAAAAAAA!

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That was pretty awesome, but there was still one more obstacle to overcome.  The exam room is a trap. In order to escape you must solve a mysterious puzzle.

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For some reason, our exams come in like, five pieces. After finishing, we have to walk down to the front of the class and place each piece into the correct cardboard box. Doesn't sound like such a big deal, but if you screw up the Beholders zap you with a nasty Missile of Embarrasment. For some reason I find this whole thing kind of confusing… I think the clue is to read the labels on the boxes, but I'm kind of drained after an exam. Plus, I’m more of a battle-type. I mean, why answer all those annoying riddles when you can just blow up the Genie? But that would be impossible in this case, since the Beholders are WAY more powerful than I. But then I got an idea! I took my exam-bits and threw them at the Beholders, temporarily confusing them. While they tried to recover I bolted. See ya, SUCKAS! Haha! Only a few missiles got me in the back.

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Then, the best part: Loot! There were STACKS of creepy looking tomes in the next room. Sweet! I hastily opened one of them.

“The Gods, Time, and a Brief history of Syracuse From a Dwarven Perspective Vol II.”

Huh? Why do I keep finding this boring crap everywhere? So I threw that to the ground and opened another one. It read:

Your next quest is to memorize 172 drugs and their side effects. Many of these will be obsolete by the time you actually start to practice medicine. A Curse of Mind-Eating Fear has been placed upon you until your quest is completed.

ARRRRGH! I HATE THIS STUPID GAME!

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Oh well. At least I got serious XP and a bonus skill! “Tornado of Berserker Anxiety: Temporary +2 to Focus, -30 to Happiness. Can study 4 extra hours a day, and memorize three extra factoids per hour. Lose 2 HP permanently each time it’s invoked.”

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So that is the story of my battle. Unfortunately my glory is short lived. I should have mentioned before that I’m not high enough level to kill the Pharmrog completely. At best I can banish it temporarily. So right now it’s just sitting there, festering in its bile pool. Eventually it will re-emerge even stronger for when I take Step 1 of the boards. I’m not sure what it will look like, but I bet it will have like, six arms and emit Toxic Boredom Cloud. It’s gonna suck, but if I succeed in battle, I get to explore Dungeon Level 3! Which is way cooler. There, I will be able to equip my prematurely acquired Stethoscope of Pretend-Listening and Short White Coat of Incompetence. And I’ll get to see real Zombies!!

Valentine's Day Special!

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone! Yaaay!

I have an unwritten rule that says I’m not allowed to speak of my own personal romances on this blog. To protect the innocent. However, since it's Valentine's Day I figured I’d make an exception. And it’s not quite about romance, but rather about the battle between my uterus and my frontal lobe, which has been going on for over 10 years now. So that sort of has to do with love, right?

Clearly they have different ideas about the meaning of my life. It seems that my uterus would have me pregnant. Constantly. Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the universe if it wasn’t such a terrible judge of character.

Uterus: strange man give you beer. Good hunter. Mate now.

Frontal lobe: GROSS! NO WAY! But I'll take that beer.

I (frontal lobe) am completely terrified of getting pregnant. If there wasn’t a man for a thousand miles, I’d still be on birth control. When a baby enters the room, all the other women cluster around it and start oohing and aahing and making weird baby talk. But I just stand there, silently freaking out. I’m afraid that if I get too close, it’ll break. And sure, it looks cute now, but all I can think is I bet this will grow up to be another asshole just like the rest of us. Then I can’t help but feel a little guilty for mentally calling a baby an asshole. Worse yet, I start to wonder what my own beastly spawn would be like. And then I see my career going down the toilet because I’m stuck taking the thing to probation all the time. In a minivan.

In order to prevent such horror, I have tried many birth controls. I've dealt with the side effects of moodswingsacnedepressionweightgaininsanity etc etc. It's been quite a ride. But just recently I discovered a new kind of IUD. A tiny plastic thing that sits in your uterus and releases anti-baby hormones – but only a little, so I can retain some semblance of my sanity. And it prevents pregnancy for five years if I want it to. So I was like, hell yeah! STICK IT IN!

I didn’t realize how much it would hurt. My uterus keeps contracting in rebellion, giving me waves of indescribable pain. Down, girl! Hopefully it will wear off soon. But sometimes it hurts so bad that if a guy tried to stick anything anywhere NEAR my uterus I think I’d scratch his face off. This enhances the contraceptive effect.

I drew a picture, so you could get an idea of what’s going on.

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Um. Yes, that’s a dolphin in there. For a very good reason, but probably not the perverted reason that you’re thinking, if you’re capable of imagining such things. Anyway, it’s kind of difficult to explain, but damn those were good times in the dorm!

Later I started thinking about how many foreign bodies were in my body. Metal in my teeth, my face. Now plastic in my uterus. When I’m older maybe I’ll need a hip or knee replaced.. maybe a butt implant? A new hook? Well, not new, but when I’m an old granny and I want a hook for a hand, why the hell not?

Anyway, I realized: pretty soon I’ll be BIONIC!!! I’ll have more attachments than a vacuum cleaner. And hopefully, one glorious day, I’ll be able to scream:

"Go, go gadget: UTERUS!!"

What will happen next? I have no idea. That exceeds even MY imagination. But I'm sure it will blow your mind.

See Steve Study

We are now in the in the midst of study week. It's 2:33 in the morning, and I've just given up studying for the day. I have a few days left until the exam, and even fewer useful neurons. These are now fully engaged in commanding my hand to lift this glass of wine to my lips. I think they're trying to commit suicide. Probably because I've spent the entire day thinking something like this:

Hmm..thyroxine is T4. Or IS IT?! T3? OR T4?! You IDIOT! Whoa! What's that smell coming out of the kitchen? Nasty. I should check that out. But first, put on some music. Ew! How did THAT get in my library! Duh-LETE! HA!! Ooh this makes me wanna dance! Dance dance dance! Yeah boogie! Whew, I'm tired. OH MY GOD! I HAVEN'T STUDIED FOR HALF AN HOUR! ALL MY PATIENTS ARE GONNA DIE! Hmm...thyroxine...now why would God make slugs? They seem so pointless. And SLIMY. Now, I am kung fu GENIUS! I stomp on you! HAhaha! Oh shit. Idiot! Concentrate!!

It hurts when it's study week and your brain thinks it belongs somewhere in the stratosphere.  So this blog is about a special kind of torture - the self-inflicted mental kind. Hopefully my family will read this and send gifts out of pity. Still, this is gonna be awesome, because we have a special guest appearance! Read on to find out who it is.

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Here's where I go to receive knowledge, in the form of boredom, almost every day. Those are my classmates. I think I spend more time studying the backs of their heads than I do the presentation. To be totally honest, the best representation of what I see in class would be nudity (imaginary) and the clock (reality). Sometimes we actually do see photos of nudity, but it usually involves chancre sores (scary reality). Anyway, here we are! Like a herd of stunned bunnies awaiting slaughter. Except bunnies get way more action.

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Now I would like to introduce you to one of my favorite stunned bunnies - Stephen! He doesn't know it, but he's going to demonstrate - for all you non-med student readers - what happens after 83 hours of mental self-flagellation.

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There he is, all alone. 

I snuck up on him, so we could observe this gentle creature in his natural habitat. There were a few other students gathered here in the 9th floor cafeteria. Sometimes there was a panicky rustle of papers, but for the most part it was so quiet it was almost...creepy.

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Study, steve, study!

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I stepped in so we could get a closer look.

Damn! He noticed me. And started smiling. Which was strange, given that he had been sitting there, for like, days. Plus, it looked like he'd been studying Micro, which is even less fun than slowly digging your eye out with a spoon.

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Well then I gave up trying to spy, and was just like, "Hey Steve! How are you?" And he was like, "Hey, Simone! Great! Look, I'm studying Micro!" The tall blue thing on the table, by the way, is his coffee.

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I feel I should mention a couple things about Steve. There's a fearless adventurer bubbling under that polished exterior. Don't believe me? Check out the photos on his profile. On a semi-regular basis, he asks me if I'd like to hang out with him, and haul myself up the side of a cliff by way of driving axes, one after another, into ice directly above my head. Which sounds like fun, actually, but my point is, he needs the occasional outdoor thrill. In other words (his), "Yeah man! It's good for the soul to spend a few days trying not to die!" But for most of the year, and especially during study week, the most adventure he's getting is taking an elevator all the way up to the 9th floor.

And another thing bothered me. Steve is one of those guys that actually likes to read. I mean, he's a great appreciator of literature. I think he even majored in it as an undergrad. So when he's not careening around a mountain, he's probably pondering Chekhov short stories, or something pretty deep. Definitely way deeper and artistic than the stories I read, which are mostly about cats. Anyway, for the past few days, this artistic soul had been immersed in the literary equivalent of poop.

So surely this cheeriness was not natural.

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I needed to know and report the truth about  Steve's inner state, so I continued my approach. Slowly and carefully. His smile faded, and was replaced with the expression of crazy. See the look in his eye?

I was scared, but I'd already come this far, so I just went in for the kill:

"Wow, nice Micro notes! So, how are you REALLY doing?"

And that's when he finally cracked.

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Cry, Steve. Cry.

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But don't worry, there's a happy ending! After Steve finished writhing about in agony, terror set back in and he started studying his micro notes again. It must have been kind of tough when they were all streaky with tears, but I'm pretty sure he did well on those exams.

He doesn't need that part of his soul anyway.

Tribute to the Netter Man's Butt

Today I studied the kidney. We've been studying kidneys for a couple of weeks now, and finally, I had to ask myself: what is a freaking kidney, anyway?

Time to get back to the basics. I pulled out my Atlas of Human Anatomy by Dr. Frank Netter, The Man, when it comes to anatomy. And my book flipped open to this:

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WHOA! Did you see that?? Here, in case you missed it:

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I swear, I was only trying to take a look at a kidney. But when I saw this I had to stop and think. First, about something perverted, and then about Dr. Netter. What the hell was he thinking? That this would be educational for medical students? I'm not complaining, but I don't think so. And I'm not saying that the definitely married Dr. Netter was a closeted homosexual, but...

Um.

Hey! have you seen a butt recently?

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I like to imagine Dr. Netter sitting there in his studio and wearing his beret. Painting intently. Knowing that his genius would benefit doctors and patients for generations to come. But something's not quite right. He frowns and lifts his brush. Pausing, he takes another drag off the hookah.  Suddenly it comes to him! In a flash of brilliance, he says to the model:

"Would you mind clenching your butt, as hard as you can? A weensy bit more....Perfect, thanks!"

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Just to be fair, I tried to find a good female-Netter butt.  Strangely enough, I couldn't find one. There is one full-on crotch shot, but I'm not gonna post it. For one, I'm trying my best to keep this blog from becoming X-rated. And I don't know much about the porn industry, but I figure 1 Female Crotch = at least 100 Man-Butts, so that wouldn't really be fair. So here's the closest thing. Sorry if it disappoints:

It's kind of funny when you think about it. I mean, generally the more naked someone gets, the sexier it's supposed to be, right? But when you're so naked you don't even have skin on, it's not sexy at all. It's just gross. Unless you are extremely sick.

Pervert.

A Successory day

I'm not a religious person. But in the morning as I drag myself out of bed, I send a little prayer to the skies:

"God, please let me get through this day without somehow being a complete idiot."

Thursday didn’t start off too well. I had forgotten to say my little prayer. I’d had only a few hours of sleep and was running late. I hadn’t had any coffee before I left, which makes me functionally equivalent to a drunk-driver. Plus, I drove to school from a different direction than normal, so the world appeared in mirror image. Well that's my excuse for what happened next.

I was almost at school and in completely familiar territory when I decided, for no apparent reason, to make a left into a busy two-lane, one-way road going the opposite direction. Traffic had no choice but to awkwardly part for my coming. cool! I mean, I was suddenly living a car-chase scene from Ronin! Except there wasn't anyone chasing me, and I was only going 5 mph and screaming fuckfuckfuuuck the whole way until I could escape onto  a side road. Plus in Ronin I don't remember them getting the finger so much. I tried to find a photo from the movie to demonstrate, but I couldn't, so I drew a picture:

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So that was kind of weird. But no harm done, I guess. 

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After class I had a meeting with one of my Pharmacology professors. Because, I’m not exactly doing my best in Pharm. On the way to his office I finally sucked it up and checked my last exam grade. Wow. It carried the distinction of being the absolute lowest score on that exam. It wasn’t really a surprise, but still, fuck.

My pharm prof pulled my grades out. “Hrm. Started off well! What happened?”

“Uh-"

“Yeah, so have you been trying to have a life outside medical school?”

“Uh..?”

“Look, this is like boot camp. Forget life! Engage yourself!”

Yessir! Okay, well that’s not EXACTLY how the conversation went, but it was pretty close. He was really cool actually, in a fatherly drill-sergeant sort of way. And told me exactly what I needed to hear to get my sorryass working again. I left our meeting glowing with new-found drive and determination. And I seriously needed to pee.

I double-checked that the sign was wearing a skirt and ducked into the women’s bathroom. As I pulled up my pants, I heard a plink! from right behind me. And I remembered: I’d tucked my ID in my back pocket. ohhfuuuuuuuuuck. I looked in the toilet. My floating plastic face stared back at me with what I imagined to be growing horror. I knew what must be done, but I wasn’t quite ready yet. Paralyzed, all I could think was: my school ID, like my pharm grades, had fallen into the shitter.Thank god it was only a #1.

And then, my brain generated a random thought.  A Successories poster came to mind:

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"You measure the size of the accomplishment by the obstacles you had to overcome to reach your goals." Booker T. Washington

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I’m not sure what that means when you apply it to this particular situation, but that’s what popped in my head, so I just went with it and dove in.

I scrubbed myself and my ID for like, an hour. Gingerly, I wrapped my ID in tissue paper and stuck it in my front pocket, as if that would protect everyone from the plague I now carried. I was only about 4 hours into my day, and I still needed to go to the library. I thought about lurking around the computer lab, silently spreading disease like Typhoid Mary. Amusing, but evil. Perhaps it was time to go home and contemplate removing my hand.

Maybe one day I’ll make my own Successories poster. It will have a picture of a hand pulling diamonds or something out of a murky public toilet. And it will say, “The things you desire will probably be covered in crap. But you can wipe it off.” Now that would be motivational as hell.

Genesis

Today, I would like to tell the story surrounding How I Began. For a couple of reasons:

1) I'm still aglow with all that holiday/family cheer. Time to reflect on my roots.

2) People ask me all the time, "Simone, how can I be crazy just like you?" And it's sad, really. It's like wishing to be a supermodel when you're 4 feet tall. Sorry, but for this brand of crazy you need to be genetically blessed. 

Allow me to explain:

Once upon a time, my mom fell in love with my dad because he wasn't bad at playing the piano. Plus, they didn't speak each other's language, which is always a good thing for Love.  One day, Mom and Dad realized that the other one was completely crazy. Each in their own special way. And it wasn't just any old crazy, but purebred crazy. Much like peas. So, in Mendel-like spirit, they decided to uh, cross. Alcohol was probably involved.

Read on for results and discussion.

Experiment 1: Henry

Well, a picture says a thousand words. So all I'll say is that this was rather unfortunate. Yeah, he's successfully crazy, but overall...it was a lot for my poor parents to bear. Luckily the Peace Corps accepted him. Since then we've been able to keep him in South Africa. South Africans must be really nice.

Undaunted by failure, my parents carried on:

Experiment 2: Reineke

My older sister is rather interesting. Not only did she brandish her own kind of crazy, she spontaneously trained others in it.  Here we are in our younger years. One of my fondest memories! She's giving me one of my very first lessons: How to water the laundry basket.

I owe a lot to Reineke and her teachings. As well as her fashion. I dressed exclusively in her hand-me-downs when I was growing up. Which explains why I'm dressed like a Fly Girl in my 4th grade class photo, in case anyone was wondering.

Experiment 3: Me

If you're reading this you probably know me.

We all know how that went.

Experiment 4: Sisca

A brilliant success. Why? At first, she appears nice and normal.  Even sweet. And then, POW! Sisca-crazy-in-yoface when you least expect it!

To see the trickster in action, simply add beer---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------wait------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------>tada!

That poor guy is her boyfriend, Matt. After a beer (maybe even one fake beer) Sisca realizes that she is a ferocious T.Rex. Sometimes she's a raptor. And what does a dinosaur do, when she suddenly realizes she's in some Pittsburgh dive? Apparently, she whips out her claws, roars, stomps on the bar, and generally terrorizes Matt and all the other unsuspecting bar patrons. And if that doesn't get us all kicked out right away, she'll do a T. Rex booty-dance of victory amongst the carnage. It's kind of like how a dinosaur would dance if it was listening to rap music.

Really, it's awesome.

Finally, Experiment 5: Sandra

Sandra was such a dismal failure that sometimes I pretend she isn't my sister. Still, I feel compelled to report this. But only for the sake of science.

First of all, she is normal. She looks good in photos. She's good at sports and math. She was in a sorority. She actually cheerleaded, or something like that. Her social ease was horribly embarrassing for us all. As if that wasn't bad enough, she went and joined more legions of normal when she graduated from engineering school and got a decent job.

But I can say one good thing about Sandra: she's pretty nice about lending the rest of us money. With good interest rates, too. Thanks, Sandra!

My parents pretty much gave up after Sandra, so that's it for this generation. And none of us are having babies, it seems. Does crazy want to get out of the gene pool? The world shall see.

Now, to continue my parents dream, I need to figure out how to self. I mean, cross myself with myself, and see if I get my parents back. Ideas, anyone?