I didn’t think Poland was too bad until I got cream in my juice and anchovies instead of artichoke

As you might guess, I’m in Poland.

Right now I’m not ecstatic to be here.

Upon arrival everything seemed fine. Flight, train and taxi stuff was fine, hotel is nice, I met up with some people. Then I lost my cardigan somewhere and we went to a dinner with host lab members that I was expecting to be tomorrow, but nevermind. I thought it would be fine as I’d breezed through the whole traveling bit without any panic or even strong anxiety, I was a-ok.

At the restarant (feeling a bit chilly from my absentee cardigan) I decided to tell people that I don’t drink alcohol so I wouldn’t get pressured to drink, and picked a ‘fruit cocktail’ which from the name,I understood would be fruit blended together….but what arrived was about 50% cream. I can’t digest lactose, so after a couple of tastes I decided I’d have to get another drink but as I wasn’t paying I felt guilty, so just had water….

Time to order food then, so i picked a pizza and listed off my four chosen toppings: spinach, black olives, pines nuts and artichoke.


Then the food arrives but this wasn’t any kind of artichoke ive ever seen…I mean, it looked fishy…so I enquired and yes it was anchovies…..so I politely said that I has asked for artichoke not anchovy (I’d even pointed to the word on the menu) ane the waitress just looked at me and and said ‘is that a problem?’ so I had to say, yes dear, yes it is…I am vegetarian, I don’t eat fish!

So grumpy faced off she went to fetch me a replacement…it turned up quite quickly and I had a quick scan and no, they hadn’t just taken off the fish and added artichoke because this one didn’t have pine nuts…OK close enough. It tasted fine even though it probably had someone’s spit in it. The problem was then that I’d got hungry waiting and was shivering, and making terrible conversation through my pained expressions of embarrassment and anxiety.

The afternoon started off so peacefully and degenerated into something monsterous thats going to give me a belly ache.

Wish me luck. I have to navigate breakfast without any surprise lactose or meat products and then give a presentation to an unknown sized crowd tomorrow (n>10) without meltdown. Maybe forgoing valium was a bad idea.

Sigh. Challenging anxieties isn’t always triumphant is it? :S

Crimes against lab organisation – a sample mystery


This post will probably read like a really unsatisfying, shitty, nerdy mystery case. Or, y’know, another of my snoozeworthy diaristic geek fests.

The lab kids seem to be playing a belated April fools.

Someone in the past few days has left lots unlabeled samples in an old freezer box that was previously used for a potent toxin (that I was due to replenish). Someone used one of the mystery tubes, believing that it was said toxin. It was not. The new bottle of powder of said poison remains untouched.
Mystery and Intrigue. Oooh!
So I put on my miss Marple glasses, ready to dish out some justice, and I interrogated each lab member in turn, but they all have the same story- it wasn’t me guv.
I’m not that far gone that I believe pixies made some random aliquots (we all know that laboratory pixies only mess up my bench and switch around my buffers and shit like that), so that means someone isn’t telling the truth, and it’s probably that monster that leaves random white powders all over the balance too (everyone always says it wasn’t them) that sometimes have me reaching for the risk assessment forms. It’s someone with poor pipetting skills too…those damned aliquots are different volumes! Using my excellent analytical and deductional (is that a word? Maybe deductive is more like an english adjective) reasoning has led me to my prime suspect, but I have no evidence. It’s all circumstantial.

No-one seems able to fathom why anyone would commit such a terrible crime against lab organisation and chemical cataloguing. Someone must be protesting too much…

Someone is either having psychotic episodes, or is in fact a lying turd bag. It’s got one of the students questioning their sanity, I mean, you’d remember doing that wouldn’t you? You’d REMEMBER DAMMIT!  right?

Sorry mate, I can’t get to the bottom of this mystery with the means at my disposal. I’m disappointed that I do not have enough gravitas to coax the truth out, but I guess the red and purple hair and new flared jeans won’t be helping me any with that.

Now I know how police officers must feel when they know their prime suspect is guilty but they can’t arrest them or they’ll lose their job! According to the employees handbook no enhanced interrogation techniques are allowed either so I guess we’ll never know for sure. But I’ll be watching….

Mystery samples will not be tolerated!

Taxonomic treats

Ever since I heard of the fungal species Neosartorya fischeri I wanted to work with it. Not because it’s especially weird, or relevant but because I love the idea of a fungus that is the new elegance of Dr fischer!
Only now I discover that it’s actually just an Aspergillus in its telemorphic sexual state. For a fungus that doesn’t mean it’s feeling frisky, it means that in this state, it is making sexual spores. When it’s reproducing asexually it’s called Aspergillus fischerianus. Aspergillus comes from the name of a holy water sprinkling device, but I wonder where the -anus came from!!! I know the aspergillus anamorph has been called invalid before but there’s no need to call it Dr fischeri’s holy-water spinkling bum, surely! Taxonomists have quite the sense of humour it would seem.

OK I take it back, Now I know what the aspergillus name means I want to work with it EVEN more.

Gurgle. Slosh.

The sun came out but the temperature dropped and an audi driving wanker tried to kill me today. The seahorse pleaded innocence and the ringing is still chasing me around. Don’t worry though, it’s probably just another ludicrous string of slippery things and neoplastic ideas circulating because while science is in the making, imagination refuses to be pinned down for long enough to produce what I’d consider a tentacle.

Beautiful things are not expelled by tense creatures. All the gurgling noises of half digested ideas and I can’t get a plunger into my head to free them up.

Stuff that has happened:

I played the electric fence hokey cokey a few times with buster. You put your horse in, the fencing is snagged, you reach to unhook it and your horse scoots out. Repeat a few times then unclip the beast and give reassuring hugs, telling him that it’s ok, his friend will be back soon. He could see her from where he stood but wasn’t convinced.

I played pony-killing-plastic-bag fun too. It took me about 10 mins but I finally convinced the pair of them that it was ok to touch the plastic bag that had unfortunately blown across them and send them into a frenzied charge.

What I didn’t do was ride. It was windy as hell and I felt a bit nervous incase we had a bolting incident due to say, I don’t know… a homicidal bin liner flying past or something. I’m a wimp, but that’s OK because I figured I’d rather miss out on riding than spend the whole time in dreaded anticipation, wondering which bone will be the next one to break. It’s not that I don’t trust buster, it’s that hes easily led astray…

I’ve removed one of my posts from three years ago about a paper being rejected. It has been responsible for the majority of the traffic to this blog and that is annoying me. So it’s gone. And now we can return to 0.5 readers per post.

If Google says a nude cake-eating contest can cure cancer then it must be true


If I told you that I can cure cancer by any of the following:

Dietary changes
Oxygen therapy
Coffee enemas
Vitamin C
Some random exotic fruit

and said that doctors, scientists and big pharma are in some giant conspiracy and they don’t actually WANT to cure you. What would you say?
I hope you’d just laugh, and tell me not to be so ridiculous, and if I persisted I hope some sedatives and a nice white coat would be on hand, but a story I was told the other day has highlighted once again, how ignorant, selfish and dangerous an unfounded belief in so-called alternative therapies can be.

The story went something like this: a young man in his twenties was diagnosed with lung cancer, he had a round of chemotherapy but the cancer returned and he was advised to have surgery and further chemo. This young man then refused surgery because he didn’t want to live with only 1 and a half lungs and refused chemo because it was just poison and instead embarked on a highly publicised campaign for dietary alternative therapy that he believed would cleanse him of his cancer. He was featured on tv and had many followers on his  blog telling him how brave he was and how they wanted to do the same, give up on tested western medicine and try eating more celery instead (maybe not celery but you get the gist). Of course, shortly afterwards his cancer aggressively metastasised and he died, but I’ll bet people are still reading his blog and looking up to him.

The same theme has been bouncing around the Internet for years and the newspapers for at least a century. There are more and more sites popping up claiming to have some secret cure that doctors don’t want you to know about and it is causing a lot of unnecessary and dangerous attention to be turned to practices that are untested and unregulated and away from those that are. They appeal to our primal desire to find a natural answer, an offer of something familiar and proclaimed as safe in stark contrast to the frightening array of strange and powerful drugs with terrible side-effects. I understand how desperate people can get, I really do, but it breaks my heart to think of desperate souls reading this mumbo-jumbo and thinking that’s the way forward for them too, an easier option, and it is for those people precisely that I start to worry about these days of selfpublishing, of irresponsible use of freedom of speech. For a much better, more accurate version of this diatribe see here, it’s a fascinating read. At least the Guardian have got their head screwed on considering this subject. Hopefully the media coverage of the demise of Steve Jobs and the revelation that he regretted choosing alternative therapies such that proper treatment came too late to save him, will encourage at least a few to reconsider their position.

For anyone who clicked a link expecting me to be touting a new miracle craze, I’d like to explain what cancer actually is as what it isn’t, as far as I understand it (I’m a biochemist but not oncologist).

Cancer is not an impurity, a curse, a possession, invasion or a myth.

Your body is made up of millions of cells that all check themselves regularly to make sure they are functioning normally. If they fail quality control, the cells go through one of the many pathways to death, and generally speaking, another cell comes along to take its space. More or less a one-in-one-out situation because your body is a pretty full concerthall. Anyway, sometimes a cell has a problem with its DNA so that it no longer realises that it should die, and it keeps on living even though it’s not working properly. This immortality means that the cell is alive much longer than they normally are, and other DNA problems, like those that tell it to divide when it shouldn’t (arguably this unregulated division might be the first step of cancer formation) So now you have cells that are dividing fast and don’t realise they are doing anything wrong, and your immune system hasn’t noticed a problem because the cells are your cells – they aren’t foreign. See here for a nice description about what cancer is in someone else’s (better) words. So how are you going to go about removing those cells that are starting to sap the nutrients out of your blood and are growing out of control and obstructing your organs without killing off your healthy cells? Well that is what billions of pounds of research goes into every year in the relentless search for cures for cancers because your cancer will be different from Fred’s cancer and Juliette’s…but rest assured that progress is always being made, and that abandoning cutting edge science for massage therapy is going to take you and your loved ones in only one prematurely sad and painful direction. Acupuncture and aromatherapy cannot reverse the DNA damage that has already occurred.

I’m writing this now because on a slightly different topic, I discovered the other day that the NHS are spending 4 million quid a year on homeopathy and I was dumbfounded. Doctors are educated people who are trained to treat according to rigorous, evidence-based studies…and to my knowledge, every attempt to verify the effectiveness of homeopathy has failed (as logic dictates) but patients are still demanding their sugar pills because they read somewhere that it’s better than antiretrovirals for HIV (or whatever condition they have). As well as being a staunch supporter of western medicine, I’m also a believer in the strength and usefulness of the placebo effect. I know someone who thinks that nibbling the corner of a paracetamol will trigger them to make their own painkillers and so thus they ‘cure’ their headaches by essentially taking no drugs. I’m not going to discuss the sanity of this individual right now, but the placebo effect is so strong that it can chase off a migraine. There are, clearly, times and places for placebos, but cancer treatment ain’t one of them.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for alternative positive things like meditation, healthy diet, vitamins, prayer and even acupuncture and art therapy if it makes you feel better, but when we are talking about serious health conditions never, and I mean NEVER instead of proper medical care.

Now for those that say that chemotherapy is unnecessary poison, I’d like you to think about it long and hard because honestly, the real poison is the false hope and abandonment of medical care that your words strive for.

I know I’m not saying anything new but it’s something I feel very strongly about, so I’m saying it anyway in an uncharacteristically serious and factual manner. The lifetime risk of cancer is fast-approaching 50%, and it’s something that will affect your life one way or another if it hasn’t already. Please be prepared, and take some time to understand new medical advances. Normal non-ranting blog service will resume shortly.

“I don’t want to be hostile.
I don’t want to be dismal.
But I don’t want to rot in an apathetic existance either.” ~Tool, intolerance

Seagull poo and floor bacon are bad omens

Today started with every woman’s favourite medical procedure: the cervix scraping test for cancer. Yum!

Nonetheless I was determined to make it a good day, as I had planned a complicated, involved and lengthy experiment, and my technical pride was on the line.

I should have known when I arrived at work adorned with seagull poo that maybe this wasn’t going to be the experimental masterpiece that we all expected.

I should have read more portent into the peice of crispy bacon on the floor in the corridor, and taken heed, but I was, as of yet, unperturbed.

My good mood faltered, spat and petered out as an unprecedented train of misfortune and (my) incompetancy led me through a very powerful storm of emotions that have left me utterly exhausted. Seriously, I can barely even type this.

I ran the gamut from total fury (at machine failure and the fact that I’d been told  a few days prior by the engineer there was nothing wrong and I just needed to reboot the pc….NOT TRUE!!! No-one would make eye contact with me until I lost the wild eyed frenzied look), through frustration (with equipment limitations), along horrific disappoint in myself and into a deep well of bottomless sadness from which I only surfaced because it was all taking too much effort. In resignation I remain.

Despite all the trauma, the pain, the self-deprecation (apparently I shouldn’t call myself a fucking idiot out loud….but I totally deserved it right then), what got shat out of the end of my 11 hour coldroom-heavy nightmare was actually, more or less what I set out to make. My pride remains, relatively-speaking, intact.

So….Yeah…that’s a good thing right? I’m so adrenally exhausted that I just don’t care.

Pass the chamomile tea love, it’s time for some well earned zzzs

“It’s spiraling down 
Biting words like a wolf howling” ~Daughter, still

Ego on self-destruct.


What a damned exhausting and confounding week.
That’s certainly not what I had in mind fate….such a shame we don’t see eye to eye even when I’m sober.

What started off so promisingly at work degenerated quickly into an impressive spiral of clumsiness, forgetfulness, overthinking, overanalysing, and vicious self judgement. Let me illustrate;

I know exactly what I’m doing, I’m just so damned awesome at this shit. Disciples! Let me show you the way.
Oh hang on, is that right?
Oh bollocks I’m doing it wrong, I’m sooooo stupid, good job I realised early on.
Phew! Ok it’s all fixed but, why did I think I was right in the..
Oh fuck…I was right to begin with!!! Bugger bugger bugger!!! I’m such a bloody retard!
Breathe, focus.
Ok NOW it’s fixed.
Tralalalala all OK onboard the good ship pickle.
Now let’s taste the scientific pudding we have baked.
It’s an utter shite-fest! Omg! I’m a failure. This makes no sense. I make no sense, words and numbers are scrambling into a giant panic-ridden storm of figurative fecal matter. I’m so fucking depressed, my boss fucking hates me and my ridiculous mistakes.

Ok then a fresh day, I’ll try to make this a good one.
All good, a few minor blips but let’s keep this show rolling because this time it really is a demonstration. Shame I keep telling the students what a fuckup I made yesterday but ho-hum.
So now you do this and
what the FUCK?! No,no,no that’s no right! Erm, you’d better step away from watching this around about now. Don’t worry this won’t happen when you do this…its all under um control..
Jesus, what a debacle! I can’t even do this thing that I developed. How can I expect someone else to do it? Why am I so useless and pathetic?

Right, time to taste the second albeit horrendously ugly scientific pudding. Let’s put it alongside yesterday’s carcass for fun.
Um….really? They are both fine. Actually, they are both delicious and almost record breaking.
Why. The fuck. Do I keep telling myself that I’m a damned moron???? How about because it’s handy when I have go explain go the boss lady that actually after having a giant sulk about everything being shit and stupid and wrong, although I did do some silly stuff, it was all OK in the end.

It’s exhausting work all this emotional roller-coastering. Anyone would have though I’d forgotten my meds.

Oh. I did.

How helpful.

I hope you can tell how hard it is for me to not just write down what an idiot that makes me.

Oh look I did it anyway.

Is this what med-free life is like? Damn! How do people cope?

Well other stuff happened, like beer throwing, fake blood, asthma, hersheys vomit flavoured kisses, actual vomit (not mine), and further blah but I can’t be bothered to elaborate. It’s all bullshit anyway.

I need a nice long sleep.

“I’m not afraid of happy endings,
I’m just afraid my life won’t work that way”~jack off jill, fear of dying

Accruing detective and shopping skills


Aaaand just like that, a lazy snap of the fingers and the holiday is over and work returns.

I figured my thighs would be the first to forget how to cycle, but actually after a month hiatus from horse and bike riding my knees and more significantly, my arse, have forgotten their role in this -riding malarkey. So you see, I figured that my bottom aught to be able to cope with just being sat on, and I don’t know if it’s because of those few pounds I dropped, or if maybe there was once some muscle back there that has since degenerated into blubber, but I do know that I’m more than a little sore in the ischial tuberosity region, and that is most inconvenient.

I just got interrupted by my boyfriend asking what I was doing. Apparently it’s ‘mentow’ to write a blog post about my arse. He’s probably right. Sorry. I’ll try and dial back the mental for the rest of the post.

At work, one of the little darlings left a present in the fume hood for me. Some spilt unidentified Chemical. I saw this as an opportunity to play detective and interrogate the witnesses and potential culprits but no-one was playing ball. Someone knows something but they aren’t spilling it. Now I’m left with a pile of potentially toxic, corrosive, irritant, reactive, teratogenic powder to deal with, safe in the knowledge that it is something pretty nasty Because otherwise it wouldn’t be in the fume hood. Watch this space for info on the fallout when I potentially blow up the lab / burn off my face / poison myself trying to clean it up. 

Ah! It’s good to be back at work! Clearly everyone missed me because there was a backlog of health and safety tedium awaiting me, along with some logistical problems. For example, imagine being told you have £17,000 to spend in two days. Woohooo!!! Party time…we can have a life-size Unicorn cake made!! what’s that? Has to be spent on lab stuff? Hmm, ok it’s going to be a pretty nerdy party, but let’s buy some awesome treats that we see other labs have but are too stingey to buy for ourselves,like multicolour sparkly  pipettes, they’d be fun! Huh? What do you mean it has to be spent in our in-house store? Oh, come on! That’s just mean..
What kind of spending spree is that? And just HOW could anyone spend 17K on biros and pipette tips? We had the lamest shopping spree ever and only put a dent in the money that is going to evaporate any minute now. No parties, no cake and certainly no sparkly pipettes. Anyone would have thought that money was meant for research. Damn our usual thrifty nature,  resourceful and unnecessarily strong willpower.

So with all this perfection,
Who’s going to make a brilliant mistake”~tsunami, enter misguided

In which I carefully packed my anxiety in my luggage and took it for a trip over the ocean.

2015-06-26 16.41.13It feels good to have time and head space to kick back and write some non-scientific words. It’s been pretty non-stop since I left England and it is, in a way, nice to be home. I’ll try to actually edit this post before I publish because there is an astounding probability of utterly contemptible drivel.


A few days before we flew my boss came out with a comment over coffee that I was CRAP! and it was my fault that a project wasn’t working (in response to a shameless attempting at fishing for compliments)- apparently I have been deemed tough and resilient enough not to take this to heart as it was meant to be sarcasm, and it mostly washed off my back, and Iw as going to write a blog post about how this meant she fully accepted me and it was a good thing etc,  but there is a lingering fear that maybe I AM crap? (though i’m reasonably sure I’m not). What I have learned this week is that Principal Investigators aught to come with a warning captions like “has a potty mouth” “is likely to be tactile” or “is never wrong” and my boss would have “does not give gratuitous praise”.

Before we even got on the plane, my boss had told me that I wasn’t pretty or leggy enough.

I may, or may not have presented this information out of context.

OK the context was that my male colleague’s girlfriend got £50 tips when serving in a bar and I never did….and admittedly his girlfriend is incredibly pretty and bubbly and all-round adorable, so I can’t say I’m surprised she got such tips, but I don’t really need people spelling out to me whats wrong with me :(. In fact, those words have kind of haunted me all week, to the point that when he and my boss were discussing how attractive another (very hot) female delegate was, I felt really quite ugly and frumpy, when I usually wouldn’t indulge in comparing myself.

Bearing this in mind, my colleagues were, blessed with the dubious opportunity to see me in some very short shorts (sorry guys, it (not I) was hot!). You, however, will not have to see that because there were no photos – Ha!

The conference

The social situation was already scary, plus dragging around these self-doubts and lack of confidence Mr anxiety thought he’d like to pop up his ugly head for an impressive metamorphosis into a sweaty, bug-eyed, palpitationous blob on the floor. As I have described before I am a very nervous speaker, and conversing with  unknown people is terrifying, especially when they are super smart and esteemed scientists – but talking to them is necessary part of the conference process. Sitting down with some unknowns for breakfast, lunch and dinners was actually kind of fun and I tried my damnedest to get out some words and introductions (though mostly in the other order). Presenting data to people who looked at my poster incurred some sweatiness and shaking to the extent that it was embarrassing! I figured if I had a drink it would be easier, so I paid up my dollars for a week’s worth of booze for the post-lecture socializing (fully expecting to have at least one beer a night). What actually happened was tragic stress headaches for two days (so no booze) followed by getting a cider, sipping down to about a quarter of the bottle then getting dizzy and stuffy and taking myself to bed where I felt wheezy, and took my inhaler.

If you’ve ever taken salbutamol or ventalin you will know that it can make you a bit shaky – and what you will also know is that you are supposed to shake it before you use it. Apparently if you don’t shake it the dose is HIGHER than it should be, sooooo, I took waaay more than I needed by accident, which gave me palpitations and triggered a panic attack (yay me!), but as I’d had alcohol I couldn’t take valium so I had to just lie there at midnight freaking out for a couple of hours, and then had to get up 4 hours later for breakie! Brill! it was around about now that I found out I had to present my work in a 5 min talk in front of everyone in the lecture theatre and that borderline level of tolerable anxiety sky-rocketed and I had to admit defeat and take valium rather than alcohol in order to keep my body from imploding or the inevitable degeneration into a twitching, gibber-jabbering pool of sweat. sooo, $40 for a quarter of a cider was a bit steep and I totally pissed at myself for not being able to relax and just enjoy myself but I just couldn’t :(. I wanted to be able to just walk up to people and start chatting but I was crippled with the fear that I’d look stupid or that I didn’t know what to say to them.

Needless to say, my talk was OK – not award-winning but perfectly adequate and I was satisfied with it.

The rest of the conference passed with no dramas, and I went horse riding with the boss lady (though they call it horseback riding -is another part of the horse that you can ride on that I don’t know about?) weird. The flight back was ok but I really could have done with those 5 hours of sleep that we all missed out on thanks to time zones. grrrr.

One thing that really struck me, was how considerate and nice everyone was. In particular my colleagues that I was travelling with were very tolerant of me (I know I’m a nightmare to travel with) and yet they checked I was ok – they took into account my food requirements, and y’know, little things, like giving me a hand when I was struggling with something, and reminding me that I was going to be ok when I got stressed, and generally treating me like I was worth being nice to. That male colleague with the cute girlfriend was really great the whole trip and I only wish there was a way to tell him how much I appreciated how nice he was being, it was like travelling with my brother or something – but I think he’s just like that with everyone – This guy and his girlfriend invited me over to their place for my birthday one year because I wasn’t doing anything to celebrate – that’s the sort of people they are and I can only hope that some of that kindness has rubbed off on me. Clearly I can’t SAY that to him, it would sound really weird – like, hey thanks for not acting like a total dick the whole time…geees, I’d be pretty offended if someone inferred that to me! I just wish I wasn’t so damned inhibited, its terrible, I feel so BORING because I’m just so afraid of anything that might be fun, not to mention how selfish I can be…eugh! I was offered the opportunity to stay in boston for an extra night at the airline’s cost and would get a free return trip to the location of my choice and I turned it down just because I was freaking out. I want to be the person who CAN do those things, who CAN take opportunities without just losing their shit. How do I do that?

The fallout

When I got home, I’d been up at 6AM, spent the day in Boston (YAY aquarium time take 2), flew at 11pm, dozed a little, arrived in London 5 hours later at 9AM, taken the tube and train and then hoped I could be a lift home but no, SO couldn’t get me so I had to queue for ages for a taxi. By the time I actually got home I was exhausted – genuinely pooped. I dragged my luggage up to the flat and SO was there watching TV. At this point I was jet-lagged and sleep deprived so all I wanted to do was take a quick shower then sleep until my brain caught up. I had a conversation like this:

“Hello, how are you”

“fine, what’s the matter?”

“I’m tired”

…gets a drink of water…

“what’s the matter?”

“I’m fucking tired”


“What;s the matter?”

“You keeping on asking me what the matter is!”

..pulls annoyed face…

“whats the matter?”

“FFS I’m fucking tired and Jet-lagged for fucks sake I’ve been awake since 6AM yesterday what the fuck else do you think the matter is? other than you keeping of fucking well asking me what the fucking problem is!!??

I was, at this point offered the generous opportunity to exit my own property if I was going to be moody because SO didn’t want to deal with it.

I won’t continue and tell you exactly how unpleasant this homecoming was but I was expected to change the bedclothes as soon as I got home and there are still dishes from yesterday that I am going to have to wash. Needless to say I am now really quite depressed about certain things. You know how you rose-tint things when you aren’t close to them? Yeah, that happened.  It kind of hurt when I was dragged to the supermarket so that SO could get something, he got mega moody and so I carried the shopping (despite holding up a long skirt so it didn’t get wet) and he didn’t even open the car boot for me. It’s almost enough to make me want to make his jetlag 10 times worse if he ever has to go to the states without me. Almost, but I won’t let him turn me into that person.

all in all, an educational trip in the scientific, social and psychological fields.

Oh and I was in Boston when we heard about the gay marriage legalization in the states (woohoo), and I proceeded to have a dream about a (already married) female friend proposing to me! Hahaha!

“I know you know my head’s not in this now
“sneaker pimps, destroying angel