Hey guess what? Plants need water! Who knew?

I realized in the middle of class today that I have not watered my plants since sometime around the first of the year. I think they are probably dead. How did I not notice this? Am I really that oblivious to the world around me? My next thought: have I fed my fish? I think I fed him last night. He is still alive, in any case, which I decided was a positive sign.

I love my pharmacology professor. A few days ago, he taught us "I don't really think diphenhydramine (Dramamine/Benedryl/Nytol/the sleepy stuff in Tylenol PM/damn near every other over-the-counter out there) is a particularly good sedative-hypnotic (the "Nytol will help you get your Z's" type drug) because really, it just makes me bitchy. However, that can be pretty fun since my son has the same reaction. So I just give it to him, and watch him torment my wife." Ah yes, how I love pharmacology. Today, he gave us a sample exam question about fentanyl, a very nice narcotic painkiller. Remember the Moscow theater incident? Fentanyl. Yup, it's pretty heavy stuff. In any case, the question was "what is the most serious adverse reaction seen when using a fentanyl patch?" The answer? "Well," said Dr. Pharmacology, "this is an easy question because the most serious adverse reaction is the one that kills you." Bless you, Dr. Pharmacology. If only all of your exam questions were that simple.

Remember our student union suddenly being promoted to the top of the list of potential terrorist targets? Apparently we need to worry about the biology building too. Now, I found the sidewalk chalk in front of the union amusing. But this just pissed me off, as it was written on the pillars of the building! Far enough under the floor they support that it's going to take some pretty aggressive weather to scour that chalk off. As in, hail stones made of Comet brand cleaner that fall in nice scrubbing motions underneath the damn building. What is wrong with people? It's one thing to write on the sidewalk with chalk. We all did it at some point in our lives. It's fun, it's cheap, go ahead and write your little message and let Mother Nature wash it away for you. But on the buildings? I'm sorry, that's not cute anymore, it's vandalism. Forgive me for having a measure of respect for my campus.

Maybe I'm just hypersensitive to chalk campaigns. Last year - at least I think it was last year, I've tried to block it - our local Interfaith organization ("interfaith" somehow meaning Christian . . . can Buddhists come? Pagans? Not unless they want every person there to try and convert them. Call it what it is, folks) started this inspiring little campaign called "Do you agree with Jesse." It started with several weeks during which all of the folks who were going to save our souls wrote "I agree with Jesse" on literally every outdoor surface of campus. Every sidewalk square, every stair, the backs of street signs, the sides of buildings, EVERYWHERE. Evidently this was part of a master plan to brainwash us so that by the end of two weeks, we'd all be running around with glazed expressions muttering "I love Big Brother." Yeah, right.

After two weeks of conditioning, they set up this nice little informational table in the student union and staffed it with volunteers wearing "I AGREE WITH JESSE!" printed on lime green t-shirts. The job of these poor volunteers was to a) discuss the Bible with us, b) invite us to the "interfaith" Christian group meetings, and c) let us know that Jesse, the mysterious individual whose name was scrawled all over our once beautiful campus, was going to tell us all what exactly we agreed with on Friday. Weren't we happy? Weren't we eager to meet our beloved Jesse, savior of our corrupt and faithless campus? "Oh yes," we were supposed to reply eagerly, "we agree with Jesse. We must, it says so wherever we look." I almost felt sorry for those poor green-shirted souls.

Needless to say, it didn't work. People were not impressed in the least, it's the first time I've seen the student population so unified over something. The university president even got in on it by banning chalk vandalism (though we can see how well that is enforced). "Why did you do such a stupid thing?" we asked. "We were trying to be good Christians," they replied. I, too, was trying to be a good Christian. I was praying for rain.