A couple of unimportant things

Here's an article (skim, don't read) on why cool cell phones, and the people who use them, will be the death of the consumer electronics industry. I've already ditched my old PDA in favor of using the address book and calendar in my phone, but it'll be a long time before a phone can rival my iPod, my GameBoy, or my digital camera. Then again, I don't carry my GameBoy or my camera around very often.

I thought this lego version of Spider-Man 2 was pretty cool.

Those of you who have blogs should set up an account with FeedBurner so that my newsreader can alert me when you update, and I can spend less time checking to see if you've updated. It supports both RSS and atom standards, which is nice (since I haven't found a free newsreader that supports atom, which is what all blogger offers). The news feed keeps track of when a web page is updated, and by running a newsreader program, you can keep an eye on which sites have new content. It's a great timesaver, and will improve the effeciency of my laziness.

As per my previous promise, here's the view out the closest window to my office:


MD Anderson is more or less in the center of the picture, then, to the right, is the University of Texas Health Science Center, and, on the far right, the tip of the Jewish wing of Baylor College of Medicine.

And, here's my desk:


On the far right is my 20 oz. plastic water glass, which I use to minimize the trips to the water cooler (a good fifty yards away). I'm averaging about four a day right now. In the center is the flat panel monitor I'm using until my ultra-cool flat panel monitor comes in. Further to the left are my iPod and headphones, and on the far left is our lab's server, which I could unplug if I wished to plunge the lab into chaos. I am Ward, fear me.

Obligatory post, lest I get angry comments telling me I'm not posting enough.

Some of you may enjoy this video of Segway Polo. There's some nice wipeouts.

I picked my car up from the Toyota place today, and everything's back to normal in that department. I think my lab computer's due to ship tomorrow, and hopefully I'll get it next week.

The new first-year graduate students (and medical students, and physician's assistants in training, etc.) are here this week for orientation. On the first day, they take a headshot of every one of the graduate students and then print up a pictoral roster so that you may identify your classmates. However, this is only distributed to the first-years, and perhaps some of the administrators and professors. I need a chance to look it over to see what's going on in terms of the ladies, and preferrably soon, but I'm trying to avoid looking (being?) desperate. Here are my options:

* Wait for our administrator, Wanda, to get her copy framed and posted on the wall in her office
* Hope one of the new students rotate in our lab and then ask them to see the roster. This apparently happened to Graham last year, and may even be a time-honored tradition. Graham requested that if I did this that I scan it and send him a copy
* Corner a first-year in a dark alley and mug them for their copy

It'd be nice to have access to this before we (I assume) have our annual back-to-school night of free beer at Valhalla, the Rice graduate student pub.

Kennedy, a girl that Graham has been seeing, has decided that she wants to set me up with a friend of hers (Fiona?). Graham has never met this girl, Kennedy has seen me exactly three times, and she and I have had zero substantial conversations. Frankly, I'm a bit scared. I hadn't been planning on looking super-sexy tomorrow, either, but I guess that doesn't take a whole lot of extra effort.

It occurred to me that my camera phone should be playing a bigger role in providing blogging content. I'll try to get on that.

Ninja Points

Earlier today, I gave Sabrina points for her impressive AP Biology recall abilities. That was a mistake. She deserved more.

That brings me to the ancient tradition of bestowing Ninja Points. Ninja Points can never be bought or sold, but may only be earned and bestowed. Whenever somebody says or does something sufficiently impressive, clever, funny, intelligent, insightful, or ballsy (or the female equivalent thereof)—something of blinding brilliance—you may bestow Ninja Points upon them. One is often enough, but some occasions may necessitate two, three, or in some cases, as many as five ninja points.

Ninja Points can be redeemed by using your special ninja abilities—hang from the ceiling, bounce off walls, move with blinding speed, disappear into the shadows, or even call upon mystical fire to smite your enemies.

Ninja Points: know them, bestow them, use them. Sabrina, I hereby honor you with two Ninja Points.

The lab is beginning to look like the day after Christmas. There are two new grad students in the lab (including me) and one new post doc. They've both gotten new computers and monitors, and my two beautiful hunks of aluminum (1, 2) are due to ship on Friday. We had an IBM ThinkPad show up today (for general lab use) along with an accompanying Sony 20" LCD, and a PowerBook is on the way as well.

I'm experiencing the joys of debugging—I've got two scripts to analyze some data, and the results they produce are inconsistent, so I get to stare at two windows full of small text for hours on end, until I realize, in a flash of brilliance, "Hey! There should be a semicolon there!" Semicolons: the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.

I'm also working on this fall's upcoming qualifying exam. On September 1, I have to submit three one page abstracts of proposals for novel research, unrelated to the work I do in lab. My committee will pick one, and I will have until mid-October to turn it into a full NIH-style grant proposal, which I'll have to deffend orally, and then never think about again.

I guess it would make too much sense to, say, give me time to get an actual paper published which would advance my scientific career. Way too much sense.

Weekend Adventures of Ward, pt. 2: The modern miracle of late-night dining

Saturday, once I caught up on sleep (1:00), and did the typical things I do on any given morning before leaving the house (bathe, cloth, etc.), I gathered up my laundry and went to my aunt and uncle's to do laundry. It's a good excuse to get some quality driving time in (very therapeutic), get away from my area of town for a bit, do some reading, and often times I get dinner out of the deal, too. We went to this place. They've got their little microbrewery on site, and though I won't give it too much credit since it's a chain of microbreweries, I ordered the seven beer sampler (two ounces each, maybe?) along with my buffalo chicken pizza (disappointing—a bit weak on the hot sauce).

I came back to my place and had a choice between going bowling with Dan and co. (my concert-going friends) or going to see The Bourne Supremacy with Nathan and Melissa (of the Cellular and Molecular Biology program at school) and their friends. Since I was horribly sore from the dancing (maybe that'll discourage me next time), I opted for the choice that had me sitting on my ass for a couple of hours. The movie was thoroughly mediocre. I hand enjoyed the first one—though it was nothing special, it was entertaining enough—but the second one was just not particularly interesting or exciting.

I was supposed to catch up with Dan &c. at a bar afterwards, but he couldn't hear his cell phone, so I went over to Woodrow's to hang out with Will. He'd the door man there on Fridays and Saturdays, so it's pretty dependable that he's a) there and b) bored. I know the bartenders through him, and they're kind of cute, so it's not a bad way to kill an evening.

After they closed, we went for food. I had no idea that La Tapatia was open until all hours of the night, but it's really an exciting discovery. Bryan and Lisa recently introduced me to it recently; it's reasonably authentic, cheap, good, and they put these nifty little marinated carrots on the table with the chips and salsa. It reminds me of that place that's next door to IHOP in Waco. My quesadilla rocked, and there were leftovers for lunch today. The place was absolutely hopping at 3:00 AM when we were there.

I went to Dan's to watch Six Feet Under tonight, since my normal HBO source (Lisa) was unavailable. Win and Thom first turned me onto that, and though I think it's sort of been downhill since the third season began (currently in season four), I see glimpses of hope tht keep my watching (and sometimes driving half-way to Katy to see it). I'm currently doing my Wardlogging and enjoying the wonder that is Adult Swim. There's not a day that goes by when I don't say a prayer of thanks for "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" and "Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law".

Sorry about the relatively boring posts. I'll try to limit it to more entertaining stuff in the future, but I thought some background on my rockin' life here in Houston would give events some nice context. Until then, picture me dancing to make up for it. That should entertain you for a while.

Weekend Adventures of Ward, pt. 1: They let us out of our cages occasionally

This, perhaps, will shock and amaze some of you, but it can be hard to get budding biologists out of the lab for a night of fun. At this point, most of the kids in my year are done with classes, so we go into lab in the morning (or afternoon), do some stuff, see the people that work in our general proximity, and then leave in the afternoon (or evening, or morning). There are some people whom I see on a regular basis because we're in the habit of doing things together, but there are a lot of people whom I don't yet know well, and no longer see in the course of a normal week at school.

Thankfully, David of the genetics program has consistently arranged an end-of-term happy hour at Brian O'Neill's. It's sort of a half and half mix of Cricket's and Treff's. It's not one of my favorite places; this being a real city, there are bars with more character and better atmostphere, but I can't be too picky at this point. So we show up at 9:00, get a ticket for a free drink, and get extended happy hour pricing until 11:00. The turnout, while not what I hope, is usually decent, and it serves its purpose.

So, the evening's going well, and I've had three Shiners, two gin and tonics, a tequila and tonic, a whiskey and coke, and a shot of Southern Comfort (always reminds me of Paris and London with Rebecca last summer) with lime juice, provided in a glowing shot glass (containing glow stick technology, I think) by the SoCo liquor reps. Happy hour pricing ends, and there is talk of moving the party to a different venue. One group was in favor of the Ginger Man, which I'm rather fond of. It seems like the kind of bar where graduate students would hang out (but in a good way), and has lots of beer on tap. The other group was mainly girls, and they wanted to go to the Red Star to go dancing.

Now I don't dance under most normal circumstances. It's really better for myself and others that way. Nobody gets hurt; nobody gets embarassed. However, sometimes, you have to go where the ladies are. So, Friday night, I learned how many drinks and how many cute girls it takes to get me out on the dance floor (well, with their power combined, at least). Those numbers are eight (well, nine after we got the club and girl A suggested that I needed a drink) and five, respectively. This, folks, is big.

So, taking two cars, we went downtown to the club. It wasn't horribly objectionable. Sad thing was, out of our group, I seemed to be the least inhibited person out there. There were two other guys with us. They were all just standing in a circle, dancing. I made an effort to actually dance with the girls. Turns out, they're all pretty shy, which shouldn't surprise me, but this is another example of being disappointed when people reinforce stereotypes.

There were some entertaining happenings. After we had parked, girl B left the car to flag down the other car, and since the neighborhood was a bit sketchy, I went with her at the request of the others in the car. She was talking to the other car on the cell phone, and informed them that she didn't know why I was with her, since she was a former kickboxer and could probably kick my ass (which might be true; she's about my size). I also had the following conversation with girl A:

Me: "You're surprisingly shy out there on the dance floor. I thought you were into this sort of thing."
B: "I can't really dance."
Me: "You were a cheerleader in high school. How can you not know how to dance?"
B: "How did you know that? Nobody's supposed to know about that!"
Me: "You told me. At your birthday party. You were drunk."
B: "Well, keep that quiet."
Me: "OK. But I still have complete faith in your dancing ability."

And she could dance, as long as it was by hereself. Or even with me, for about thirty seconds, until she got embarassed.

Oh well. I impressed myself by trying, anyway.

Also, thankfully, these people know that after the bars close, you go to Taco C. Even though there was complaining from people who had planned on getting up early to go into lab, I feel like I accomplished something.

I christen thee...

Having but a few days ago signed a new lease on my apartment, it occurs to me that I should probably have a nifty name for it. Casa de Ward doesn't seem entirely appropriate, as it's not a house. The Ward Pad? Ward Central? The Ward Cave? Ward's Palace of Love? Ward's House of Pies? Let me know your thoughts on what to call it.

Also, Rebecca challenged me to come up with a name for her current car (Camry, '99, dark red, sedan, sun roof, leather). I've not got any ideas. Sabrina's been referring to it as Becca #3, as it's the third car she's had since turning 16—her accord lasted a couple of years before Dad totaled it, then her first Camry made it a year and half before she totaled it, and now she's on the new Camry. Suggestions?

I started things rolling on getting the car taken care of today. The auto glass place is supposed to call me shortly, once they've acquired the proper piece of glass. After that, we'll need to make a decision about car alarms (do they still sell those that will send a deadly electrical current coursing through the body of the car?), and then I can get the stereo and the plastics taken care of. Thankfully, I have a spare car for a couple of weeks, so now's the time to have the Camry Mark II out of commission.

I finally got all the pieces together for my new nifty wireless network/music system, and it works wonderfully. I'm currently rocking out with Fountains of Wayne, and whatever else my computer's random number generator deems appropriate. And, I've got two less long, ugly cords running the length of my apartment from my computer to the cable outlet and stereo. I can even control it the music from my phone. Sweet.

Bunch of fucking savages in this town

I just discovered that my car was broken into. Again.

It's almost exactly the same, too. Once again, they failed to get anything valuable, wasting both their time and mine. They once again smashed the small, rear, passenger-side window, let themselves in, tried to pull my stereo out, failed (miserably), stole my faceplate, and messed up the plastic molding around the stereo. Fuckers.

But this time, it was at my apartment complex. Back in March, I was in Montrose, where lots of shady people roam, to see a band play, parking was scarce, and I ended up on a poorly-lit residential street a couple of blocks from the bar. This time, I was parked in well-lit, covered parking close to the building. At least I know where to go to get the glass repaired. And this time, despite my opposition to the noise pollution, I guess I'll be purchasing a car alarm.

I'm currently waiting on Houston's Slowest to come by and file a report. Last time, they did it over the phone. It didn't inspire a ton of confidence, but at least it was quick.

Honestly. This is going to cost a $50 deductable. I wish the persons responsible would have simply contacted me, and I could have given them the $50 to save themselves and me the trouble. Then I would beat them (I'm a pacifist, but a bad one). It could have been so much simpler...

Call me. Ward.

So the new phone's here. First, pictures:


Side by side, the new phone and the old phone. That's the new one on the left and the old one on the right.


More comparison shots.


I call this one "phone sex".

So, cool things. First, it's a camera phone. The pictures are small and bad, but it's still hot. Second, it supports the new GSM band and so gets much better reception. Third, bigger screen. Fourth, it's not a flip phone. Fourth, it does polyphonic ring tones, so I can download, say, the theme to Zelda 2 in midi (thanks Bryan) and have it as my ring. And most importantly, it's got Bluetooth wireless and will sync with my calendar and address book on my computer.

It rocks.

The wireless card adapter is in Houston, but the USPS wouldn't deliver it without my signature. Never mind that every other service will just take it to the office. That's just too damn much to ask, apparently. I'll have to wait until I can pick it up tomorrow for hot wireless digital music action.

Wednesday night is Big Ass Beer Night at Little Woodrow's in the village—24 oz. beers for $1.75—and thus a traditional gathering time for many of us at BCM. I'll probably head that way in a little bit. Perhaps I'll have some more entertaining story to post as a result.

Hot driving action, and more!

Rebecca and her friend Kelly departed Houston on a flight to Amsterdam yesterday, and I was tasked with ferrying them to the airport. They picked me up from school, and then I drove Rebecca's car. Now Rebecca's got a '99 Camry, and while I certainly wouldn't claim that it's a high-performance automobile, it's a huge improvement from the '94 that I drive, and much better suited to Houston traffice. It's nice to be able to change lanes knowing that you have enough acceleration to keep from getting run over.

So we took highway 59 to the airport. We were driving along, and it occurred to me: there are three of us in this car. That's a rather high amount of occupancy, which makes us... a high occupancy vehicle!

Obviously, I took the next available entrance into the HOV lane. I'd never driven in one before, but it was hot. It was like the glorious feeling I got the first time I hit the tollway, but better. It's a nice, wide, luxurious lane, with concrete barriers. We saw two other cars in the lane during the entire trip (sadly, I was behind them and had to slow down for them), but mostly, it was like having my own private road. We even had our own, special exit for the airport. It was so hot; so, so hot. I felt sorry for all the losers driving on the normal road.

More electronics showed up yesterday. I had ordered an Airport Express from Apple, and it arrived, along with some assorted cabling I needed to go with it. It's basically a small wireless base station (which in and of itself is of limited use until I get a laptop), but you can also hook it up to your stereo and play music wirelessly from your computer, all with a beautifully pure, digital optical connection. Sadly, I haven't gotten to try it out yet, because, though I have the wireless card to put in the iMac, I don't have the additional adapter for the wireless card that goes in the iMac. Today, hopefully, USPS willing. There'll be a writeup on my music page when I've played with it a bit.

Also, my phone's due to arrive today.

Last night, I accompanied Stephanie and Jennifer to a They Might Be Giants concert. I'm not a huge fan, but I like them well enough. The opening act was Corn Mo, and his "Meatloaf playing accordion singing songs about junior high" act was fairly entertaining, as was his rendition of "We Are the Champions" and his story of how he quit his day job to play accordion. They Might Be Giants were relatively entertaining, and played such classics as "Why Does the Sun Shine", "Birdhouse in Your Soul", and "James K. Polk" as well as a song about the venue they performed in (they've been writing one for each show) and the theme to "Malcolm in the Middle." An enjoyable show, although the venue staff was a bit green, and, being on the second floor, I was afraid that it was going to collapse due to the combined weight of the entire audience pogo-ing, which reminds me of that Onion article, "500 Record Store Clerks Feared Dead After Roof Collapses At Yo La Tango Concert". I would link to it, but, in one of the greatest tragedies of our age, the Onion's archives are no longer free.

Celebration of new electronics

Around 9:00 last night, I realized that I had accomplished everything useful that I was going to accomplish on my Monday. So, I thought I'd try to find something worthwhile to do. First, though, I watched Teen Titans. I love the Cartoon Network.

So at 9:30, I called Stephanie (first year grad student in developmental biology at BCM, lives in my complex).

Stephanie: "What's up?"
Me: "I'm bored."
Stephanie: "So am I."
Me: "So what are we going to do?"
Stephanie: "We could have sex."
Me: "Stop being a tease. You've already told me you're not attracted to me. So what are we going to do?"
Stephanie: "Yeah, but you're so pathetic I just might give in."
Me: "I don't need your pity. So what are we doing tonight?"
Stephanie: "I don't know, there's nothing to do in Houston."
Me: "Well, what would you have done in San Francisco?"
Stephanie: "Gone and hung out at a coffee house."
Me: "We have coffee houses here."

So we called Melissa (first year grad student in cell and molecular biology here at BCM), whose husband is out of town), confirmed that she, too, was bored, and after I had established that we would have to go to an establishment that also had alcohol available, took off for Onion Creek, or "The O. C." as they call it (not sure, but I think that one's taken).

Anyway, I really like the place. It's got more of a coffee house feel than a bar feel, but yet it still serves beer. I had a snakebite and a bloody harry (bloody mary mix and beer—surprisingly good). And Melissa and I split a mini pizza. Stephanie, despite her talk about how much she wanted hot chocolate, ended up with cake. The girls there were pretty cute too.

Midway through beer number two (the final one of the evening), Stephanie asked if she was going to have to drive home. In her mind, if there's one drop of alcohol in my blood, it renders me utterly incapable of any sort of fine motor control. Despite the number of times I've tried to explain to her the concept of the "legal limit" and shown her Bryan's BAC calculator, it doesn't seem to have taken. Thankfully, I made it home without causing any death and/or destruction.

New electronics

So now's the part that will be particularly boring to my female readership (which may very well be everybody at this point). I'll soon be acquiring several new pieces of electronics. Think of it like getting a new pair of cute shoes.

I've had my Sony Ericsson T68i since this time last year, and though I like it, the reception is less than good, and it's getting a bit dated at this point. Its newer siblings are available free to new subscribers of tMobile, Cingular, and AT&T through Amazon.com in exchange for a one year contract. If AT&T wanted to keep me as a customer, they could give me the same deal they're offering their new customers. So, I called customer service. After twenty minutes on hold:

Me: "Yes, my contract is almost up, and I'm interested in renewing it in exchange for a new phone, the T637."
AT&T: "Let me see what kind of price I can get for you on that. Can I put you on hold?"
Me: "Sure."
AT&T: "OK, I can get that for you for $200 with a one year contract, or $150 with a two year contract."
Me: "Both you and Cingular offer that phone for free to new customers. Can you do any better?"
AT&T: "Let me check and see if there are any additional rebates... OK, I can get you an additional $50 off."
Me: "That's still way to much. Unless you can do better, I'm going to take my number to Cingular."
AT&T: "I'm sorry, sir, that's all I can do."
Me: "Could you tell me when my contract is up then?"

I had a second conversation that proceded in a manner very similar to the first one (including the twenty minutes on hold). Last night, I called once again. After twenty minutes on hold:

Me: "Yes, I'd like to know when my contract runs out."
AT&T: "Could I ask why you want to know that?"
Me: "I'm unhappy with my current phone and would like to switch to Cingular since they have the phone I want for free."
AT&T: "Would you be willing to sign a two year contract if we matched that offer?"
Me: "Cingular only requires a one year contract."
At&T: "OK, we can do that."

I don't know if my approach was just different enough this time to elicit a different response, or if it was the representatitive I spoke with, or what, but I was quite pleased. I thought for a while I might have to call in Customer Service Sabrina. So, in the end, I saved myself the trouble of porting my number, paying for the phone up front, and filling out rebates; they're even fedexing it to me. That rocks.

Hearing voices is generally considered to be a bad sign

Do you ever have those nights when you wish your brain just had an off switch, when you wish your thoughts would just stop for a while and give you some peace? I had one of those nights last night.

The best part is when you consciously try to remove those thoughts. I can usually concentrate on nothingness for a good thirty seconds or so before my brain gets bored and, like a small child at a grocery store, drags me by my wrist to whatever has caught its attention. Still, when you're half asleep and anxious to get the other half out of the way, it sounds like a really good idea.

It obviously didn't work, as I seem to be quite tired this morning. Should've taken that ambien...

"Homer, you're overstimulated. Let's get you home and get some beer in you and put you right to bed."

Mysterious drunken injuries

They're really the best kind of drunken injuries, aren't they? What's the fun in injuring yourself while drunk if you can remember it? Anyway, Saturday morning I woke up and noticed this:



It took some thinking, but I now believe I know how it occured. Sabrina's going away party was Friday night at Randa's. There was 151 present (it's like kryptonite!), as well as Cazadores (mmm...). I remember having two shots of tequila and two shots of windex, and eight or so beers seems like a realistic estimate, but I felt far drunker than that.

So Michele was hanging out close to the toilet, and I laid down in the bathroom and was talking to her. Randa came in to check on Michele and had to step over me, and warned me to close my eyes, as she was wearing a skirt. As a display of good faith, I moved my arm to cover my eyes, apparently at the same time as she was trying to step over me. Her heel caught my arm, and that is when I think the injury was inflicted.

In retrospect, I could probably think up a much better story involving shots, stiletto heels, and bodily injury—a better, sexier story.

I didn't intend to get that drunk, but rather to properly enjoy the excellent company. Once again, I learn that high-proof liquors are not to be trifled with.

I hadn't expected Sabrina's exit to have a big impact on me, since I made my own move away from Waco a year ago, but knowing that she was leaving made me sad. Part of it is that with her exit, most of my Waco life is gone for good. Another thing is that being around my good friends, it reminds me how far I still have to go with people here in Houston. Mainly, though, Sabrina, I'll miss being able to see you whenever I spend a weekend in Waco.

Things listened to in the car on the drive home:

Modest Mouse: Everywhere and His Nasty Parlour Tricks
The Polyphonic Spree: Together We're Heavy
Fountains of Wayne: Welcome Interstate Managers
Belle & Sebastian: Dear Catastrophe Waitress

Once again failing to fight stereotypes

First off, welcome, everyone, to my new weblog (or 'blog' as the kids are calling it these days). Shortly after Sabrina began her blog, she asked me why I didn't have my own.

"Because I would be playing into the stereotypes. I'm already a computer guy; I can't have a blog too."

Walking amongst the general public, it always saddens me to see people playing into stereotypes, whether they be ethnic, gender-specific, professional, social, and so forth, which is why I've pledged to fight some of the ones that apply toward me. Being an intelligent, technologically adept white male from Texas, people are going to make certain assumptions about me, and I like for them to be pleasantly surprised when it turns out they're wrong.

But, here we are. What could have brought us to this point? Well, Sabrina and co. have inspired me, and, at her request, I'm going to try this out. I expect to hear (preferably privately) if this not entertaining or interesting, because I'll either try to fix it, or, failing that, give up entirely.

Next thing you know, I'll be the fat, slovenly computer programmer with a pony tail; I'll be leave dirty dishes in my sink, throw out my candles, and refuse to talk about my feelings; I'll start following sports, become a Republican, and start listening to, oh, say, Incubus. Perhaps it should be techno. Choices, choices...

Now that I have explained myself, on to business. I'm going to take Sabrina's mission statement to heart and make my primary goal that of entertainment, though I'll probably be weak on occasion and throw in the occasional whining, soul searching, science, technology, or music post. Once again, constructive criticism is appreciated. Please don't be mean; I have surprisingly thin skin (looking at you David—already disappointed in me for doing this, proably—Win and Thomas). I'll continue to update my web page in the haphazard fashion in which I've always done it; this is to suplement it.

It needs a name. This ("Ward of the State") is a temporary one (though it could become permanent). So, I'm taking suggestions. I like the idea of doing something that's a pun on Ward, though anything else will be considered as well. I'll try to post some real content next time.