My brain on “repeat”

It’s usually annoying when you get a song stuck in your head, but here are three worst case scenarios:

Which part of my noggin is stuck on repeat? I have no idea ... Photo from BlatantNews.com on Flickr.

1. It’s song #9 on the first cd of your favorite local bluegrass band … in other words, nobody else knows the song. You pretty much look like a moron bee-bopping to an obscure tune that’s completely unfamiliar to the other 99.5 percent of humanity.

2. It’s a popular song, but you only know two-thirds of the chorus. Insert humming here … Yeah, that’s frustrating because not only is the song on repeat … it’s those same seven words that are on repeat.

3. It’s a song from your childhood, namely something by Raffi or Sesame Street. I’ve been liking “oat, oat, oat, oples and banonos” for the past three hours … rough.

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Mix Master Mike

Sitting in Mike’s lab right now, writing an article (and blogging) while he works on his fluids experiment, I feel like I’m learning so much more about him.

Not because he’s explaining his engineering techniques to me.

And not because I’m getting to see him in action.

Ok, so this isn't quite what Mike's moves look like ... Photo from dicktay2000 on Flickr.

It’s entirely because Pandora is blaring a sweet combination of Stevie Wonder, The Beatles and Aerosmith, and he’s dancing around as if his life depended on it.

At first I was flattered to think that he was trying to impress me, but since he’s been jumping and jiving for the past half an hour (and he’s showing no signs of stopping), my ego is starting to deflate a bit as I realize his joviality has nothing to do with me.

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I might be a bad person …

No, not because I hate my roommate’s cat.  (I do, but I that’s besides the point.)

I’m wondering because each time I head to work at the Daily Camera, I’m hoping that a group of people are outside smoking so that they can let me in the locked door.

Nope. It's not one of these. Thanks to ~Brenda-Starr~ on Flickr for the sweet pic.

Thus, because I’ve temporarily misplaced* my key, I’m promoting lung cancer.

*Misplaced=Lost likely permanently

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The beauty of G-Chat

So I’ve never been a huge fan of “chatting” on-line. I didn’t have the Internet when AOL was huge. I never really got into AIM. And I’m not on Facebook long enough to have any sort of conversation.

And let’s be honest … far too often it’s some random person who you haven’t spoken with since high school (and who you didn’t really like in high school) who’s apt to “chat” you.

But today, sitting in a Boulder coffee shop, Cafè Sole, next to two great friends, I made excellent use of the G-Chat function of G-mail.

See, somebody nearby smelled. BADLY.

If you smell like this ... take a shower before you go out in public. Please. Photo from poolie on Flickr.

So obviously, it would have been rude to say something along the lines of “Holy crap, what’s that rancid stench?” Or, “For crying out loud, who’s wearing onion-flavored deodorant?”

Enter G-Chat’s functionality. We were able to mock, laugh and deride whichever individual sitting near us hadn’t showered in a month. All in a (relatively) silent manner.

Actually, both ladies thought I should use my investigative journalism skills to figure who the culprit was. But what publication would run the story?

Obviously … The Onion.

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