Temperature That's Keeping You Warm

I am not really much for science. I appreciate it. I am impressed by it. Whenever I was in a science class I enjoyed the learning of it. When I taught science to grade school kids - I thought the experiments were clever. I'm just not really one for science in the oh-my-gosh-I-DVR-every-Bill-Nye-and-subscribe-to-journals-so-I-could-do-surgery-on-a-plane type of person.

All this being said - I love that there are two different ways of telling temperature. I love that there is Celsius and Fahrenheit. Here is why:

Scenario one.) It is a hot cook-an-egg-over-easy-on-the-asphalt kind of day. You drive by a bank or some other establishment that has the temperature flashing on their board. It says 110 degrees Fahrenheit. one hundred and ten. Now that just sounds HOT. Much hotter than the corresponding 48 degrees Celsius.

Scenario two.) This is an inverted example of scenario one. It is a cold freeze-to-death-because-of-wind-chill kind of day. You drive by the same bank and see the tacky red numbers flash the temperature. Fahrenheit reads 14 degrees. Now - that is freaking cold, but it doesn't seem nearly as cold as the -10 degrees Celsius that flashes on the board next. In your mind - the world feels much closer to -10 than 14 degrees even though the mean the exact same thing.

So in summary - I like science because it makes it easier for me to give into my hyperbolic tendencies.

Ho ho ho

I miss Christmas music.

I miss the cheery tunes and people humming them as they shop and street musicians playing them on the corners. There are already less Christmas lights up on the drive home. A few houses have already given up the ghost. Two days after and people are already calling it quits on the holiday spirit. Seems to me that people are being a little pre-spirits-visit-Scrooge. Would it kill you to keep them up until the epiphany?

On another note - I got to drive out to the middle of no-where with my family to visit my grandmother on Christmas. It is always such a funny nostalgic experiences whenever I am in my grandmother's house. Sometimes - I feel like I am remembering stories of what people have told me happened there even though I don't actually remember it. Amazing how the mind fills. Tell yourself something often enough and you will start to believe it.

I start a new job a week from today.

w00t.

You're A Mean One

Tis the season for much holiday music listening. Anyone who knows me knows this isn't a big deal since I listen to Christmas music 365/24/7 anyway. Hellllllo ten hours of iTunes tinsel-y glory. At work we have on a generic Christmas station - and I love it. Except there are a few songs that I just will never like and don't understand.

First: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. Did anyone else know that this is supposed to be a song about the kid seeing his mom kissing his dad and thinking it was santa? Because I sure didn't pick up on that. I thought it was mom cheating on dad with an old creepy dude. Always have, until someone told me otherwise this year. I think they are lying and that this song is just weird.

Second: Santa Baby. Material girl of the Christmas season will prostitute herself out for stuff. Plus - every rendition I have ever heard of it is so painfully crooned it makes me uncomfortable to listen to it in public.

Third: Last Christmas. It is just the worst song ever.

Anyone else have certain songs that just make them want to go the way of The Grinch?

Coldplay - Christmas Lights

Worth it.

Wrap It Up

Two weeks until Christmas.

I would like to take this time to thank all of the people in the world out there who take the time to put cheerful lights out on their lawns. It make my drive home so much nicer at the end of every work day. The bright twinkling tucked preciously between branches and hung on the gutter with care brings a smile to my heart.

However - the only thing that brings out the grinch in me is those people who are classified as "tree wrappers". You know who I am talking about. Those people who enshrine the two feet of one tree trunk in their front lawn in a display that would qualify the tree for the ultimate prize in any tacky Christmas sweater contest. To quoth Charlie Brown: UGH!

Anyway. Christmas, ya'll.

Let's get after it.