Category Archives: hodgelany

Science.

Experiment # 34:

Question: What happens when you mix a caffeine with vanilla extract and drink it?

Hypothesis: A stimulant may prove helpful in assisting with my novel revisions.

Procedures: In an attempt to gain relatively accurate and repeatable dosage information. 2 grams of caffeine were dissolved into 25 ml volumetric flask. This means that every ml of mixture will contain 80 mg of caffeine. Roughly the equivalent of a strong cup of coffee.

Notable statistics:

ORL-RAT LD50 192 mg kg-1ORL-HMN LDLO 192 mg kg-1

According to this, my minimum lethal dosage of caffeine would be in excess of 17 grams.

Therefore I should be well under tolerance, no matter how much of the mixture I consume. (Unless I bunged up the math.)

Findings:

1. Caffeine seems to be rather insoluble. Heat must be applied to supersaturate the solution.

2. Volumetric flasks get hot when you hold them over the gas burner of your stove.

Observations:

Mixture is a pleasant amber color.

Mixture is intensely bitter, causes burning sensation in mouth and throat.

Stage one: Consume 5 mg of mixture.

Short term effects:

0-30 seconds: Intense urge to gag.

1-3 minutes: Nausea. Extremely unpleasant aftertaste. Some coughing.

4-5 minutes: Coughing fades. Aftertaste remains. Nausea subsides with direct application of skim milk and cinnamon bread sticks.

Mid-term effects.

10 minutes: Desire to watch Invader Zim. (May be coincidental.)

20 minutes: Mild excitability. Belief that I could, perhaps, lift up the front end of a car, if one were available, or if I could be bothered to go outside.

30 minutes: Continued desire for Invader Zim. No appreciable increase in the desire to work on novel.

Stage two: Consume additional 5 mg of mixture.

Short-term effects:

0-30 seconds: Bitter taste. Burning sensation. Intense urge to gag.

1-3 minutes: Nausea. Extremely unpleasant aftertaste. More coughing.

4-5 minutes: Coughing fades. Aftertaste remains. Nausea subsides with direct application of Southwestern Chicken Grinder from Toppers.

Mid-term effects:

10 minutes. Feelings of doubt. Uncertainty. Tendency to question my own sanity. Depression. Further desire for Southwestern Chicken Grinder.

15 minutes: Moderate excitation. Sensation of bloating. (May be unrelated.) Desire to check e-mail.

20 minutes: Moderate desire to write.

30 minutes: Strong desire to write.

Long term effects:

1-5 hours: Productive revisions on book two. Mild Nausea. Mild elation. Urination. Some jittering. Weird pains in large muscle groups, most notably quadriceps and triceps. Tightness in chest. Tunnel of light. Mild dementia and/or conversation with God. Continued desire for Invader Zim. Twinkie.

Conclusions:

While this a marked success over Experiment 15, as it involved no prolonged vomiting, the discomfort-to-revision ratio still seems rather high. Also, the small N prevents determination of statistical significance.

And now, sweet, jittery sleep.

pat

Also posted in my rockstar life, Science | By Pat22 Responses

Dear Fed-Ex: Why do you hate my book?

A few weeks ago, a bookstore out in California asked if I would sign a bunch of books for them. The thought fills me with joy. Someone out there likes my book. That means, by extension, they like me.

Even better, it means the bookseller is probably going to give my book some extra publicity. That fills me with childlike delight. So I thumbs-up the idea and the people at Penguin tell me to keep an eye out for the delivery.

Fast forward to a few days ago. I wake up at the crack of afternoon, look out onto the porch, and here’s what I see:

(Yes, the picture is blurry, but this is actually a pretty good representation of what things look like to me when I wake up.)

There is the box of books, utterly manhandled, abused, and dumped on my porch.

How do I know that this box actually contains my books?

Simple, the box has been busted open along most of its seams and I can actually see the books inside.

Everyone, wave to my book. “Hello book!”

(For those of you that have been wondering what my leg looks like, now you know.)

I don’t have children, but this is what I imagine a parent must feel like when they see their kid fall off a jungle-gym or take a really bad digger on their bike. I look at the box and find myself being desperately optimistic. Maybe the books are okay in there, I think to myself.

Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.

It’s as bad as it looks.

Witness the dead remains of six of my books, their spines broken. My only hope is that they didn’t feel much pain. Most of the other books had their covers ripped and their pages bunged up pretty badly.

So why am I telling this story? For one, because I’m pissed off and need some catharsis. If I just repress this shit, everything will seem find on the surface. I’ll smile, go about my day. Then, eventually, I’ll snap and vent my rage in an inappropriate way. Trust me, in a few months you don’t want to read a news story about how book three will be delayed because I’m in jail for punching a fluffy kitten.

My second reason for telling you this is to pass along a warning. This isn’t the first time I’ve had my books manhandled and destroyed by Fed-Ex. It’s not even the second time. In the last several months I’ve had at least three packages treated this way.

I could call and complain, but the only real outcome of that is that I’d end up tongue-lashing some poor helpless wageslave on their complaint line.

So instead I’m telling you. Fed-Ex are a bunch of book-killing choads. Don’t ship your stuff with them if you give a damn about how it arrives.

From now on, I’m a UPS man.

Here endeth the lesson,

pat

Also posted in holding forth, my terrible wrath | By Pat21 Responses
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