Archive for February, 2010

And that’s how mistakes happen!

February 25, 2010

As I’ve previously detailed here over the previous few blogs – what with my workload, not to mention my being pregnant, I have had my hands quite full of late. And if I am to be honest – I tend to thrive under such pressure cooker conditions. There isn’t a job or task too hard or  too busy that I can’t make infinitely harder and busier.

So when things do finish, when I do find myself, as I do now, with little to do – this is of course where complacency can set in. I know there is probably some more worthwhile stuff that I could be getting on with, some way with which I can be more creative with my time, but I find that I just can’t be arsed…

I have developed a marvellous technique of staring off into the middle distance, focusing on nothing in particular and nobody disturbs me because they think I’m in deep thought. I’m really not. I’m not thinking about anything. I can sit like that for hours. I do. Until it’s time for lunch.

The problem however, now is, when people do come to me with genuine and important jobs to do, my enthusiasm is dimmed. If I can actually be bothered to lift myself up from my desk, I tend to do it rather half heartedly. So as it stands after yesterday’s little ‘incident’ let’s just say, I’m off the operating theatre rota for the time being…


Down, down, deeper and down

February 24, 2010

Despite the mood swings that inevitably come with being pregnant, I am not usually  a man to suffer from depression. The world is far too an exciting place to ever consider getting bored or down. I regularly jump out of bed every morning, with a bounce in my step, my mind positively fizzing with the scientific discoveries and possibilities that wait to fill it that day.

Unfortunately it would appear I can’t always say the same about my work colleagues.  Here at the Human Institute I work above many fine brains, all hand picked by me for their expertise in science and volleyball. One such fellow I have known and enjoyed the company of for some three years now. We were bought together over a project that involved experimentation on the statistical probability of dropping a cat, with a piece of buttered bread strapped to it’s back (butter side up!) off the top of a building to create a working model in perpetual motion.

I won’t deny a certain amount of admiration and idolisation, of this tall, strapping curly haired peer. I think we both saw in each other kindred spirits, and shared the same dedication and enthusiasm for our jobs. Imagine my surprise then, when only last year – quietly expectant of us embarking on another scientific adventure together, he up sticks and leaves to ‘travel’ for six months. I heard nothing more of him, until a sudden call before Christmas alerted me to the fact that he was indeed back, and had actually been occupying his office next door to mine, for some three to four months.

I of course had moved on. But the prospect of working with him once more, proved too irresistible a lure – and so it was that I dove into the New Year with a full plate of work and a ravenous appetite! My comrade in science’s enthusiasm, however, had to say the least, somewhat dimmed. Every morning they would come in, morose, angry, generally miserable at the very thought of being in work. Being in OUR work. No matter what I said, or how light I tried to make the situation, seemingly nothing could alleviate their dark cloud. Even the book I have on amusing sexual diseases failed to raise the usual smiles.

Can it be having an affect the wintery months? Some bereavement I am unaware of? Or the experiment we are currently immersed in, involving suppression of the male sexual drive? I have in fairness, due to my pregnant state, been hiding my test tablets in the plant pot in the corner of the lab, or at least when he’s not looking slipping them into his tea.

I think I can hear him crying next door…

Why not put your feet up!

February 22, 2010

Well it seemed like I’d never get here, but it’s done. I will admit to being somewhat remiss in my weekly posts of late. Some of this of course can be put down to my incumbent child, that still sits lazily within me point blankly refusing to emerge. I have even taken to going to sleep at night, with a saucer of milk positioned at the foot of my bed, in the hope of luring them out but alas to no avail.

But the real reason for my apparent tardiness has been the sheer workload volume that greeted my return in the New Year, something I am only now beginning to get a handle on. I have sacrificed much these last few weeks, besides this column, from my weekly limbo dancing classes through to a series of reconciliatory ‘dates’ with my ex-wife who had left me, because she felt I was married more to my work than her.

Still, now that I can kick back a little and relax, I am relieved she has stopped leaving me abusive voicemail messages – that woman could always string an impressive amount of profanities together when pushed!

If anything, I have been working so hard these last few weeks, I now find myself at something of a loss as to what to do when I get to the laboratory of a morning. Things rarely pick up till late afternoon, so have found myself increasingly passing the time, with idle activity and practice – for instance I’ve taken to juggling with conical flasks, and also am learning to identify different types of acid, merely by taste.

One down. Twelve remaining.

February 14, 2010

I’ve done it. I’ve often thought about doing it, dreamt about doing it, even fantasized about doing it. But I’ve actually gone and done it. He’s lying in the next room. One of me, clone number 9 I think. Stone cold dead. Oh shit. Oh bugger, oh buggershit. What have I done? My fellow scientists of course will be shaking their head knowingly, having always warned me of the dangers of messing with cloning. And what can I say? They were right. But it was his fault, the stupid, bloody…me. It was one thing him frequently ‘meeting up’ with my ex-wife and doing Darwin knows what with her. As regular readers are aware, my relationship with that woman was never anything beyond futile. Any feelings of jealousy or anger stirred up by him being with her I can only pass off as a severe coincidence or momentary madness on my part.

But when I discovered he had been touching my laboratory apparatus, lighting my burners, dirtying my conicals…gah, I’m turning a bright shade of cochineal thinking about it. To exacerbate things, he proceeded to dance my original dance moves, prance around my house wearing nothing but my favourite waistcoat and then successfully charm my housekeeper using knowledge of her weaknesses (e.g. sherry) acquired by ME, to his coital advantage. But the final straw was him daring to threaten my unborn baby inside me – he left me with no choice. A primeval, deep-buried instinct to defend my bump awakened inside me and I became a dangerous killing machine. Visions of the manatee flashed before me once again. Clone 9 had pushed me into a corner and I had to take action putting his irresponsible ways to an end. But strangely I didn’t intend to kill him. Just warn him. But one thing led to another, bitch slapping led to eye poking, there was a violent struggle with myself that would give psychiatrists studying autophobia a field day. And the next thing I knew, I was lying on top of him at the bottom of my massive wooden staircase.

So, now I must be super cautious with my next move. Obviously I have to get rid of the evidence. But ironically, even though I am a supreme expert on the human body, I have no idea how to dispose of them. If any of you, my lovely readers, have any top tips or experience in this area, I’d be very grateful!

Making Human

February 5, 2010
Well, I’ve reached the end of week 2 of my pregnancy. Being a man, I am experiencing a strange and unpleasant clash of hormones. For instance yesterday afternoon, I was getting quite irate with a work laptop because it wouldn’t eject a disc and was about to kick it. But then from nowhere I burst into tears. This would have been bearable if I’d been alone but it happened during one of the largest lectures I’ve given this year to a hall full of some 200 undergraduates. I had to excuse myself and ran out sobbing.

My cravings this week have included watermelon, saffron, garibaldi biscuits, pine (nordic), cillit bang, banana (skins) and tongue sandwiches – not all at once thankfully! Oh and yesterday I was unusually ravenous and was about to order some pizzas but ended up being satisfied by consuming the menu itself, which saved £70. But sadly I was then sick everywhere and had to get a Chinese banquet delivered in the end.

The growing human in my lower abdomen area has already grown considerably and starting to make itself known to me – I confess to feeling the butterfly type movements that so many women go on about when ‘up the duff’. But after one week? Something seems a bit odd. It’s all going a bit fast and because I don’t recall the conception, I have no way of ascertaining the precise factors that could have affected the gestation process. I’ve been leaving messages on Hawkings and Dawkins phones to quiz them further and get to the bottom of it all but they’ve yet to return my phonecalls and just keep texting me laughing faces and “:-D” symbols. One of them must remember something! Bastards!!

Sorry, there go my emotions again…
Bye for now,
love PCH