If I were an enzyme I'd be DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes

No? How about: If I were an enzyme I'd be DNA topoisomerase so I could relieve the tension in your genes?

I swear, if someone were to use those on me I would marry them.

I Want its Juices - Not its Carcass!

What do cold weather, turkey, family, and pumpkin pie have in common?

THANKSGIVING!

Well tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and as per usual my family has decided to hold our feast of a meal the night beforehand which means that as I speak I am inhaling the wafts of turkey aroma that are rising from the kitchen. In addition, I can also smell:

Pumpkin pie
Mashed potatoes
Gravy
Stuffing
Asparagus casserole
Bean sprout casserole
Jelly Salad
Garden Salad
Cranberry Sauce
Carrots
Bread rolls

Okay, I lied. I can’t really smell almost any of those things. But I know that they will be at the feast tonight, and therefore I can use my imagination to pretend that I can smell them, which is better than actually smelling them, because this way I won’t get the whole Pavlovian conditioning thing where I drool.

Anyway, I’ve made sure to eat nothing but an orange all day to ensure maximal stomach vacancy for the food. I have also been doing jumping jacks every hour to work up an appetite. My two-sizes-too-big jeans are lying on my bed ready to be worn to provide extra give in the stomach area. I feel like I am preparing for an Olympic event.

Now obviously as any sane person would do, I have spent the last hour lying on my bed, procrastinating from studying the mechanism of solid phase peptide synthesis, so that I can daydream about dinner. And all this reflection has made me realise something: I don’t actually like turkey.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love the whole turkey dinner with a passion, but it’s not the actual meat that gets me all excited. As far as I’m concerned, the turkey itself is only a carcass used to flavour the stuffing and provide gravy for the mashed potatoes. I’m sure many turkey lovers will be chasing me down wishing to stone me after this, but for all I care the turkey could be thrown out after everything else is prepared. I mean, compared to everything else, it’s just not THAT exciting. Am I weird for just wanting its juices?

Time to do some more jumping jacks!

The Prettiest Skirt Ever

So I was getting ready to leave the house this morning for my gruelling hour and a half bus ride to school, when I was suddenly overcome by a desire to trade in my normal school uniform of blue jeans and tee-shirt with something just a little bit more girly. Now, it’s not that I’m not normally a girly kind of girl, but living in Vancouver where it seems to rain 8 months straight out of the year makes it difficult to dress in anything that isn’t waterproof or at least warm and snuggly (especially when your main form of transportation just doesn’t show up or decides to pass you by because it’s full, leaving you standing umbrella-less in the pouring rain).

So I opened my closet and decided that due to the fabulously warm September weather we’ve been having, that I would wear The Prettiest Skirt Ever. Now this is no ordinary skirt, as the name implies. It’s white, around calf-length, and quite flowy. I wear it occasionally during the summer, but I had never worn it to school before. I quickly pulled it on along with a pink tank and black sweater and I was out the door.

I immediately realised the effects of my skirt: My bus driver smiled at me, everyone on the bus was unusually nice towards me, I even had two separate guys go out of their way to hold open doors for me. I had decided that The Prettiest Skirt Ever was a gift from God, and that I would wear it every day for the rest of my life. I never bothered to wonder why it had never had this effect when I’d worn it on other occasions.

So the day goes by and I get to my paleontology course that I’m taking as an elective. In addition to it being a fabulous course because of the fact that I have a not-so-secret crush on my gorgeous British professor, it’s also the first class I’ve had in years with Best Friend which makes it quite exciting indeed. Best Friend is already sitting down when I get there, so I put my bag down, and immediately launch into the story of The Prettiest Skirt Ever and the effect it has been having on my day. As I’m telling her the wonderfulness that is my life, I go to sit on the chair, and (as most girls do when they’re wearing a skirt), go to smooth the fabric over my butt. It’s at this point that I feel a bit of a ruffle on my butt. I try to smooth it out, and to my complete horror realise that the second layer of the skirt (and the only solid layer, as the first layer is completely see-through with a pattern of holes in it) has managed to somehow crawl up my leg and bunch at my waist!

PEOPLE WEREN’T BEING NICE TO ME! THEY WERE LAUGHING AT ME BECAUSE MY ASS WAS EXPOSED!

I wanted to die. I wanted to fall off my chair, scrunch up in fetal position, and die. Best Friend just wanted to fall off her chair, scrunch up in fetal position, and laugh. I may have to reconsider Best Friend’s status as best friend.

In fact, I have decided to implement a No-Skirts-At-School rule that is effective immediately, and to stick with jeans. After all, blue jeans are a girl’s best friend, and apparently I need a new best friend.