One bacterium at a time...

I have been working from 9 AM till 2 PM nonstop. I've grown some E. coli, made 2 sleeves of plates (like petri dishes; what you grow bacteria on), mixed up 2 kinds of buffers, labeled a bazillion tubes, added buffers and E. coli to the tubes, osmotically shocked them (grown in high-salt environment, you plunge them into low-salt environments) at regularly timed intervals, and plated them. So, now I have to make more plates for tomorrow and label more tubes and make more buffers.

I put a skull and crossbones on my plates so no one uses them. I didn't stop for like 5 hours because I am science MACHINE.

Last night was sea chanty night. This means Danny and I went to this pseudo-Scottish pub with some friends, get some beer and food, and listen to weird older men with creative conformations of facial hair sing sea chanties. They even have a songbook. Actually, there's this one dude who occasionally comes with his violin (is it considered a fiddle in this case?), and at some point during the evening, whips it out and proceeds to passionately play the instrument much to the chagrin of anyone within earshot. He closes his eyes, brandishes his bow, and moves with his music. And by moves with his music I mean jerks and thrashes around like a spastic chicken. He may suck it hardcore, and I may feel like a nasty young'un for being as tickled as I am, but it's very entertaining.

The sea chanty regulars appear to be primarily older men who look like slightly saggy and swelled up versions of their former Dungeons and Dragons playing selves. I doubt any of them really spent any time at sea, although maybe one or two are scientists who possibly study various aspects of the ocean. Or maybe a couple spent some time in the merchant marines. But the truth of it is, I get the feeling they're indulging their RPG pining in a way that's deemed socially acceptable so their teenage children will continue to talk to them. Some of them have chinstraps (full beards without the moustache), some have moustache straps (full beards without the chin part; I don't think that's what they're called, but men's facial hair coiffure has never been a specialty of mine), there are mutton chops, huge full beards sculpted into a point at the chin, and everything in between. They conjure up fake British/Scottish/Irish accent amalgams to sing. One man brings his own tin flagon from which to quaff his beverages of choice.

It was great.  If I sing along but do it sarcastically, does that make me as insane as they are?