Results:

Cost of tuition for PS100: $400

Opportunity cost of not working full-time: $1200

Being able to learn physical science from an instructor instead of not even remotely understanding what I'm reading: $1600






And you thought I was going to say "Priceless," didn't you? Well, you'd be wrong. As wrong as I was to think that I could possibly teach myself all this stuff in a weekend.

Scientific Experiment

Observation: Physical Science 100 is an expensive course when considering the following: Not taking PS100 will result in at least a $300 reduction in tuition. This decreased course load will allow a student to work 40 hours a week instead of 20 hours a week. Thus, not taking PS100 results in a decrease in tuition and an increase in income.

Hypothesis: A non-science-minded student who has not studied anything related to science for the last four or five years can dedicate an entire weekend to reading and studying the Physical Science 100 textbook and pass the PS100 exemption exam on Monday, July 3 with at least 60 percent.

Method: The student will immediately go to the library as soon as she finishes this post, study till the library closes at 10:00 p.m., and determine what progress has been made at that point. If the student is confident that she can make it through all the course work during the weekend (or at least know 60 percent of the course work really well), the student will take the exemption exam on Monday, July 3.

Variables: The student's success will depend on her ability to read and understand a huge amount of information this weekend. This experiment does not anticipate being able to tell what effect the prayers of the student and the student's friends and family will have on her exam performance.

Results: Wait for Monday, July 3.

Bush's Best Buddy

Yesterday, I noticed that a friend's tagline on Google Talk was "George Bush called me." Knowing her to be one who changes her tagline several times a day to various sentences that are usually inside jokes with other friends, I assigned no value to her statement.

When I got off work, I realized that at some point during the day, I'd missed a phone call. It was from "No Number" but there was a message. So I listened to the message. And it was George Bush. I'm dead serious.

Well, it was a recorded message from George Bush, telling me to vote for Chris Cannon. I don't know how he got my number. I don't have a Utah number and as far as I'm aware, I'm not a registered voter anywhere [gasp!].

Did anyone else receive a phone call from George Bush? And does anyone know how I managed to make it to the list of people he calls? I can't help but think that if only I used Quest for my phone service, none of this would have ever happened.

Later in the day, I checked my friend's tagline again. It was changed to "I wonder if my phone is tapped now." Dear friends, as I now wonder the same thing, I urge you to be careful what you discuss with me when you call.

Sexual Harrassment

I once was spoken to by my boss about sexual harrassment. She noticed that I sometimes would make comments to Squirrel Boy that were inappropriate in the workplace. Squirrel Boy never complained, of course---we were good enough friends that we knew we were both kidding---but because my boss overheard some of my flirtatious teasing, she thought it was appropriate to talk to me about sexual harrassment. I'm just glad that she wasn't around when I ran into Squirrel Boy outside the office after he'd returned from the dentist. His entire mouth was frozen, and it took all the self restraint I had not to just lunge forward and kiss him. He was a VL at the time and I thought it would be just perfect that he wouldn't actually feel the first kiss he ever got. Unfortunately for our story, I was dating someone at the time and felt that out of respect for him, I should not rape him of his lip virginity.

This weekend, Viper and I broke up. It was a very amicable breakup and there's not much to tell other than the fact that we both knew that things weren't working out and that it was better for us to break things off and remain friends. Nemesis told me that after a breakup, some people tend to think that your breakup is public property and demand to know all the details. Well, I think that I've actually pretty much given all the details already in this paragraph. If you're looking for something juicy, allow me to present to you my entire courtship with Squirrel Boy. He posted it on his blog yesterday, and now I'm stealing it from his blog and posting it on mine.

The Turbulent Love Affair

[Squirrel Boy was going through his old emails and found this priceless correspondence between us.]

Subject: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

But don’t tell anyone I told you.

[There appears to be an e-mail missing here]

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

Don’t worry — your secret’s safe with me if my secret’s safe with you.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

My lips are sealed.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

Oh, but my dear . . . that’s contrary to the objective!

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

It’s a figure of speech. You know what I mean.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

What do you mean, Squirrel Boy!? Pray, open those lips a little more and speak!

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

What do you want me to say?

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

Oh, does it matter? As long as you’re talking, sweet lips, I’ll be forever satisfied.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

This is getting out of control. I’m feeling uncomfortable, like I’m just a piece of meat to you.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

Squirrel Boy, sweet Squirrel Boy. I respect you as a person. If you really were just a piece of meat to me, I would be babbling on about your lucious legs, your strong, masculine jaw, your large, capable hands, your short, tempting hair . . . no, Squirrel Boy. When a girl wants, begs, NEEDS you to just talk to her . . . it is not meat she’s after.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

Whoa.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

That was anticlimactical . . . are you SURE you’re an English major?

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

Sometimes brevity is the essence of good communication.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

yep.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

It’s not that I’m unappreciative of the compliments (as varied and racy as they were). I was merely overwhelmed by the outpouring of affection. I thought our love affair was secret, Cicada. I’m beginning to suspect that Kristina might have suspicions, though. I don’t want anyone to be jealous, because you know they would all be blinded with jealous rage if they ever discovered our turbulent love affair.

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

Turbulent love affair . . . you have no idea what these words do to me, Squirrel Boy (scary, since they are my own). First of all, how can I continue to keep these feelings silent from you any longer!? Know you not how I have struggled to remain calm in your very presence? If you want a secret love affair, then fine, but as for ME, I am PROUD of my feelings for you and seek not to hide them from ANYone! Let Christina deal with her jealousy. I can take her on ANYday. She’s so tiny she’s not legally allowed to donate blood! I can donate 2 gallons in one sitting! (As long as I’m sitting in the same place for a year . . .)

Subject: Re: we are all secretly in love with you
From: Squirrel Boy
To: Cicada

I think you’re a little too clingy, Cicada. I need my space. I need time to think al lof this over. I think we should stop seeing each
other.

Subject: IT WAS ALL A LIE ANYWAY!!
From: Cicada
To: Squirrel Boy

Oh, don’t you think for a moment that I was ever REALLY in love with you, The Amazing Squirrel Boy! Clingy!? I was the best girlfriend you ever had. Go ahead and take ETERNITY to think it all over, because you’ll never get me back! I’M leaving YOU!! Consider yourself DUMPED because I was planning, in my next email, to DUMP YOU except that I would have said it more FORCEFULLY than that petty, inconsiderate, thoughtless, meaningless and CLICHE “I think we should stop seeing each other.” KINDLY consider yourSELF to be OFFICIALLY “without girlfriend!”

P.S., Christina says you have cute pants and she’s willing to hook it up if you like.

Wherein I Broke the Law

(or "Beer for a Minor")

About four or five years ago, I was living with Sophie in a cute little apartment in a turquoise house and life was pretty much perfect. Sophie was an ideal roommate, and I don't just mean that she would go to SLC every weekend, leaving me with the entire apartment to myself, though she did that, and I was grateful.

One Monday afternoon I was at work and Sophie called. She asked if I would like to participate in an apartment FHE that night instead of attending our own FHE group. We rarely went to FHE, so this wasn't so out of the ordinary. And then she announced what our activity would be. We would be buying beer.

You see, Sophie is somewhat of a cuisine adventurer and she had recently been served a dish called two-beer-beef that she wanted to try making herself. The problem, for her, was buying the beer. She was only twenty. I was twenty-one.

First we went to the grocery store to look at their beer selection. It's undeniable that I felt a little dirty looking at the beer and discussing which brand to buy. I feared it would look like two Mormons going jack if Sophie and I went to the cash register with nothing but two cans of beer. However, neither of us could imagine roasting a beef in Coors Light or Miller. And we were shocked not to find Guinness at the grocery store.

So we set out to go to the liquor store. I wondered if Sophie was okay to come in with me, but indeed, she followed me. Once in the store, she started asking the employees what brand of beer they felt would suit the recipe well. After they gave her lots of advice and she made her decision, she handed me the two cans of beer and a ten dollar bill. I also wondered if that would, in any way, look suspicious.

When we got to the counter, they asked us for ID. I brought out my driver's license and before Sophie fished around for hers, she said matter-of-factly, "I'd show you mine, but I'm underage."

The girls behind the counter stopped and stared at us. One said, "Okay. Technically, we're not allowed to sell you this beer if you're underage."

Sophie said, pointing to me, "But she's the one buying it."

"Yes," said the liquor-seller, "but we know that the beer is for you, and you're underage." Here she paused, and then continued. "But, since we really do believe that you're buying this beer so that you can make two-beer-beef, we'll let it go this time. Just next time, don't even come into the store."

And that is the story of when I bought beer for a minor.