I'm done with the saccharin, Chicken soup with cleche analogy posting. A locked door? Sure the locked door thing happened to me -- but locked doors are mentioned in too many of the boy-without-a-head-wins-a-race spam mail that I get. So, in mourning of my nickle book posting yesterday, I'll tell one of my favorite stories to brighten the mood. A recent one.
Change of tone. I'm a graduate student in neuroscience which means I work in a lab. To be upfront: I work with animals and I believe that the work is for a greater good. Although I experiment with animals, I like the animals I work with and I do my damndest to treat them the best I possibly can. Enough with the politics, there's humor ahead.
One of the rats I work with, in this case the rat's name is Eugene, was sitting on the counter of my lab in his cage. A friend of mine, Dave, walked into the lab and saw the little critter. He asked, "Eugene (me), how much longer do you expect that rat to live?"
"A long long time thank you. Why?"
"The thing's sick."
My professor turns to the conversation, "What do you mean? He's fine."
To this, Dave replies, "The thing has tumors. Look at the size of them."
Human Eugene becomes further intrigued, surprised that huge tumors had been forming while I was unaware. "Where?"
"Over there," Dave points his finger. "In the lower abdomen. Two of them."
My professor replies, "Dave, it's a boy."
Change of tone. I'm a graduate student in neuroscience which means I work in a lab. To be upfront: I work with animals and I believe that the work is for a greater good. Although I experiment with animals, I like the animals I work with and I do my damndest to treat them the best I possibly can. Enough with the politics, there's humor ahead.
One of the rats I work with, in this case the rat's name is Eugene, was sitting on the counter of my lab in his cage. A friend of mine, Dave, walked into the lab and saw the little critter. He asked, "Eugene (me), how much longer do you expect that rat to live?"
"A long long time thank you. Why?"
"The thing's sick."
My professor turns to the conversation, "What do you mean? He's fine."
To this, Dave replies, "The thing has tumors. Look at the size of them."
Human Eugene becomes further intrigued, surprised that huge tumors had been forming while I was unaware. "Where?"
"Over there," Dave points his finger. "In the lower abdomen. Two of them."
My professor replies, "Dave, it's a boy."