Party animal

So I went to a party last night, (squeezing it in between jobs)for a friend of mine who is getting an award of recognition from the Federation of American Scientists, as well as some prize in Tokyo for "researchers who make a particularly significant contribution to problems faced by cities", (previous winner Paul Krugman), and he was also part of a symposium held by the FAS at UC Berkeley on thursday. 

What a loser.

Seriously, when I hear 'Phd  in Chemistry from Princeton', I of course think 'slacker who went to a party school to get drunk and meet chicks'-right? I think they just invited me to elevate the tone of the event. Their friends weren't that bright either.

When I got home, I found that the cats had dragged one of my favorite socks into the litter box (to serve as a shit blanket?), and that the reason I couldn't wash the smell of blue cheese off my hands was that the blue cheese had fallen down my cleavage and was lodged in my bra. I decided not to wash, but instead to go to work today smelling of eau de fromage just to serve everyone right who can afford to get a massage. 

Yes, this is the mature work ethic that got me where I am today, in case you were wondering.