I’ve been having trouble getting access to a laser printer to print out my resumes (in scientific and academic circles they are called curriculum vitaes, just to sound pretentious) and cover letters so I find this nice copy, etc. place near campus and I start going there. Before you know it, I’m best friends with the guy that works there named Matt. I told him that I would always fondly remember my time at Lazer Copy. He’s really nice and always tells me I’m a genius but I have spent an awful lot of money there just to print stuff out. It’s not even like I’m buying paper there, either, ‘cause I bought my own, nice resume paper.

So I have to go talk to my boss again to ask him what to do with all the crap in my -80 degree (C) freezer boxes. I so do not want to talk to him ever again as long as I live. I had coffee tonight with someone else who works in the lab and she told me that when his kids were born he basically had to be dragged out of lab to go to the hospital. What kind of crap is that? What kind of human being would rather be in lab than be present at the birth of his children? A man with no soul. That's the only explanation I can come up with. God I'm glad I have a soul.