McConfused.

In the break room refrigerator:
No, that is not the new, low-calorie McCafe invisiblé . It is four slightly milky ice cubes in a dirty cup. In the refrigerator, so soon it will be a small, slightly milky puddle of water in a dirty cup. What the fucking fuckity fuck fuck?
Even without the process of elimination (there is no one else here today), it would be pretty obvious that this is the work of the Vietnamese delegate. I only wish that I wasn't leaving early, so I could see him take home the empty cup at the end of the day. Presumably after he has licked the precious remnants of caramel-like liquid substance off the lid.

I thought it was just allergies.

The whole way to work this morning, the PRL delegate's left eye felt weird. The contact lens was uncomfortable, and she was constantly poking at it and rubbing her eye. Upon arrival at the workplace, she dripped a few drops of solution into it, to flush out any particulates, and to try and hydrate it. She took it out, rinsed it, and put it back in. But that was to no avail. She closed her right eye, and focused with the left. She closed the left eye and focused with her right. Both eyes focused, but not at the same distance. Everything was blurry from one eye when the other was clear, and clear when the other was focused. And it still felt like there was something stuck in there. She moved it around with her fingers, and winked her way through several conversations with coworkers until she gave up, took it out, and rubbed it with lens cleaning solution.

That's when one lens separated into two. A third lens was in her unaffected right eye. So where did the third contact come from? It is a mystery. A mystery that is currently sitting in a tiny polystyrene beaker (for lack of a contact lens case).

Expect to see breakthroughs on spontaneous mitosis of hydrophillic contact lenses in the near future.

Incident report: 10/07/2007

Driver: Romania

Occupants: Libya, Caucasia-NCA, PRL, Vietnam

Vehicle became stuck in traffic. Romanian delegate decided to listen to his favorite CD: “Greatest hits of 2005”

As “my hump” by the Black-Eyed Peas played, Romanian delegate declared “This is my favorite song!” and repeatedly increased volume via steering wheel-mounted controls over the course of the song. After the song ended, Romanian delegate lowered volume and turned to the rest of the UNC. Romanian delegate inquired: “What is ‘my hump’?”

Other delegates looked awkwardly out the windows and attempted to change the subject.

Spring time is Benadryl time.

The sound of spring in the UNC is the sound of post-nasal drip., Texas is home to one of the country's worst allergy seasons, and the UNC is not immune. It's been said that when one moves to an allergen-heavy location as an adult, their allergic response is much higher than if they had grown up there. And if there is one phrase that describes the United Nations of Carpool, it is "Not from around here."

The PRL delegate, in an attempt to suppress her symptoms, downs a cocktail of Claritin, Zyrtec, and Tylenol Allergy every morning, which renders her nigh on incoherent, but keeps the sneezing to a tolerable one or two violent fits per minute. Some of the other delegates, however, have not found their ideal mix of antihistamines. The noise of it would be enough to give a migraine to the mother of the PRL delegate (who was forever telling a young PRL:"Use a tissue! You're giving me a sinus headache just listening to you!").

The Vietnamese delegate favors a periodic, short, forceful and startlingly loud and porcine "SNORK!" at the back of the throat, often open-mouthed, in order to keep the nose-running at bay. (Dear sweet jaysus, forgive me for thinking this, but: Vietnamese Pot-Bellied Pig. If Pot-Bellied Pigs wore t-shirts left over from a mid-90s Nike ad campaign.)
bTexas, on the other hand, prefers a less frequent, slow and unpredictable "SNNNNNNNRRRRRNNNNNCCCHHH" from the nose, followed by a loud swallow. Caucasia-NCA seems to have his allergies mostly in check, but sometimes needs to utilize a quiet "sn sn sn sn" machine gun inhale.

The Libyan delegate, whose sinuses were likely scoured by sandstorms in his Saharan youth, seems unaffected by the Texas pollen. The Romanian delegate attributes his clear breathing to a daily dose of local beeswax.

On morning when the pollen count is particularly high, these various approaches to breathing combine to form a symphony of snot, the sonorous effect of which is impossible to translate into print. Like nap time at a sleep apnea convention during a rhinovirus epidemic.

In case you wondered what life is like, living with a research scientist: it sometimes sounds like this.

Inexplicable habits of my coworkers, part 14

The Vietnamese delegate, like many other Americans, buys a cup of coffee every morning to get him going. He is partial to McDonald’s McCafe mocha and iced coffees, but when time does not permit, he will show up with a small (12oz) insulated cup from the gas station. He does not actually drink this coffee on the way to work—he simply requires that someone find him a cupholder for it on the ride in. It is probably in the best interests of the upholstery that he does not attempt to drink while the vehicle is moving, given his lack of fine motor skills.

Several days ago, he came out to the car at the end of the work day, carrying his coffee cup from the morning (it should be noted that this is a cup from the gas station, which he replaces every day—he is not quite so unhinged that he has emotional attachment to disposable cups). Setting it on the roof of the PRL delegate’s car (does that not irritate anyone else but me?), he explained its continued presence at five in the evening: “I made another cup of coffee this morning, but I forgot about it. But I can’t drink now, because the caffeine will keep me up all night.” Which leads to the logical assumption that he is taking the coffee home, cold and 8 hours old at this point, with plans to drink it the next morning, as its age approaches a full 24 hours. Nothing gets you going in the morning like reheated backwashed coffee sludge.


It is more likely, however, that he will set the cup on his own roof as he struggles to maneuver his briefcase, man-purse, car keys and iphone so that they are all in the cabin of his car at the same time, with none of the attendant straps (or seatbelts) wrapped around his neck, while at the same time attempting to not close the door on his own legs, and in the process will forget the coffee remnants above him. He will then drive off, leaving a spray of java in his wake, leaving him free to purchase another cup of coffee the next morning.

Greenwashing, Romanian style.

Tuesday morning email to the gym-going contingent of the UNC:

From: Romania@ScienceCompany
To: Local_Envoy, PRL, Caucasia-NCA, bTexas
Date: 04/27/2010 08:30 AM
Subject: Our team can go a little bit "green"?


My wife and I we started a "cure with Parsley" this morning... nasty staff for now... probably needs time to be used with it... and I am wondering if cows are eating Parsley... seems to be OK for humans...
So, I attached bellow some info. See more on: http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=100.

Concerned with the possible implications of "cure with Parsley", I asked how much parsley it takes to cure, and what, exactly, is it curing?

He assured me that it was only a cup or so, chopped. With water. And only for breakfast. His wife, she heard somewhere that parsley it is good for you, and cures any ailment you may have. So that is what they are eating for breakfast, but only for two days. I guess you get enough beneficial scientific-sounding compounds in your two cups of parsley so that you never have to eat it again.

Then, of course, you can go back to eating club soda meat sticks with abandon.