Current mood:	amused
Current music:	Kenny Loggins - Danger Zone (Top Gun Soundtrack)

You May Call Me ... the 15-Minute Man
id anyone notice that, according to Yahoo! directions, if you take a wrong turn from Blue Ball to Intercourse, PA, you end up at a place called "Muddy Run?" Ew.

And of course, we also have driving directions from Intercourse, PA to Climax MI, a trip which takes ... 11 HOURS AND 20 MINUTES!?!

Damn, and here I was all proud of myself for lasting over half an hour ...

Which reminds me of a story, because, of course, everything reminds me of a story. During my time as professional slacker in college I was taking random graduate courses (because graduate-school grades were curved around a "B/B+," instead of the more treacherous "C+/B-" waters of undergraduate curriculum). One of the most unintentionally memorable moments in college occured during a class in Marine Biology I took at the Scripps Institute of Oceanography. In an otherwise unremarkable quarter focused on building artificial environments for marine life, one incident stood out that branded a nickname that I am still referred to by former classmates.

The topic of the day was mussel farms. The professor explained that over 60% of the net weight of mussels for human consumption consists of their gonads (which probably explains their reputation for being aphrodisiacs). Consequently, they must be harvested right before mating season - because after mating, their gonads shrivel and, he explained, mussels "take approximately six to seven months to recover."

Interesting trivia.

In a voice (I swear) intended for my friend sitting one row in front of me (but, alas, resonant enough to carry through the entire classroom in a freakish coincidental drop in the ambient volume of in-class chatter), I said "Six months? Only takes me about fifteen minutes."

Dead silence for three ... two ... one seconds.

The class then detonated in laughter. Control of the classroom could not be regained for what felt like an enternity. People sitting further away turned around to ask their neighbors "what's so funny?" then added their delayed chortles to the chorus of laughter in progress. After a few minutes, the professor tried to compose himself and restart his lecture, only to crack up into guffaws himself after trying to talk about mussel gonads again. That pretty much ended whatever education might be had for the day, at least in marine biology. Had a number of people approach me after class to say something to the effect of "I can't believe you said that. That was sooo hilarious!" ... including a hot grad student I would have greatly enjoyed demonstrating said capacity to. Alas, being an unintenionally funny guy does not automatically guarantee nookie opportunities from curious coeds. *sigh*

And somewhere, far away, my guardian angel lost her wings.