stacy b-log

The time: 8th grade... 24-or-so years ago...

The place: The kitchen table of my youth, where I sometimes worked on my homework and where I had breakfast with my Daddy every morning while he read the paper.

The problem: Pre-algebra. Juan's father is one third as old as he was when Juan was born but twice as old as when Juan's sister was born. If Juan's father takes the 4:15 train to New Jersey, how old will Juan's first cousin, twice-removed, be when Juan's father turns 52?

Now my recollection of this word problem is not entirely accurate, as I have since consumed copious quantities of a chemical substance (ETOH) to purge this experience from my mind. You see, Juan's father kicked my father's ass. My Daddy is a mechanical engineer and as such was always a reliable homework helper when it came to math. He wouldn't do the problems for us, but he would gently outline a systematic approach to a given problem and guide my sister and me step by step until we arrived at the conclusion, which we would then check in the answer section in the back of the book. A foregone conclusion ... Until we met Juan's father, who was a "bonus" question and therefore, not included in the answer section in the back of the book.

Suffice it to say, we worked on that problem until well past my bed time, and even after I trundled off to sleep, my Daddy continued wrestling with Juan's father. When I came down for breakfast the next morning, my bleary-eyed father shared his solution (choose all that apply):
1) Juan's father was a $^%*&#*@ and there is no answer to this problem. They must have made an error in the printing of your textbook.
2) Juan's father was from Arkansas and his family tree is a wreath
3) You're going to have to get your math teacher to work this problem on the board for you - and copy down all the steps - because I cannot for the life of me figure this out.

The answer was what we'd call a "Duh! moment" - so simple, it's best left to the forgotten confines of history. And really, it doesn't matter now because Juan's father has been usurped by gold leaf. Behold - the word problem that took me six attempts before I finally looked in the back of the book for the answer and still had to work it backwards twice before I came to the correct conclusion:

(And I don't even have to look in the book to transcribe it because it's burned upon my cortex)

Gold is an element that can be expressed in extremely thin sheets called "gold leaf." The density of gold is 19.32 g/cm^3 (grams per cubic centimeter). If a 200 mg (milligram) sample of gold is formed into a sheet with a surface area of 2.4 feet x 1 foot, what is the thickness of the sheet in meters? Please express your answer using scientific notation.

The answer: In a subsequent post.

The conclusion: Juan's father can kiss my (and my Daddy's) asses. Welcome to chemistry!

**Oh, and I'll buy a drink for the person who comes up with the first correct answer. Still not sure if the comments are working, so send me an email just in case

Posted by stacy at 08:16 AM | Permalink

Random bits of sports trivia... obscure events in world history... state capitals... lines from Monty Python films: My brains cast off the detritus of 36 years like an ion stream, making room for mixtures, compounds, elements, molecules, intensive and extensive properties, matter, mass and volume.

As the rust (a chemical reaction) flakes off the gears of my mind, I retrieve snippets of chemistry from the long-locked closet of learning. Reviewing the Periodic Table of Elements last night, I remembered Ni (nickel), Au (gold), Fe (iron), Be (beryllium) right off the bat - and how often have you heard the word 'beryllium' since high school? But get this, since I took chemistry in high school 20 years ago, THEY'VE ADDED NEW ELEMENTS!!! There's like 117 of them now - I think we only had about 100 when I was in school.

When I was in school... I have already promised my chemistry lab partners as well as my recitation team that I will not say, "When I was in school..." Of my three lab partners, one was born the year I started college THE FIRST TIME - that would be 1989. I didn't fare too much better on recitation - five boys plus me - and three of them were born in 1990. Another is GARRETT THE INVISIBLE MAN who didn't show up for recitation (which, by the way, is forced study hall) and made our exercises all the more difficult. The other is Dave who wouldn't say how old he was until I said, "Dude, I was born in 1971 - bring it." He was born in 1980 - and is doing the same thing I'm doing: Going back for his pre-reqs so he can get into dental school.

So at least I'm not the only one, but I know I'm still the oldest one.

My head hurts from all this learning. Last night was my first without post-work class this week, and I took time off to watch the Obama speech. I awoke in a panic this morning, thinking I'd already forgotten the definition of matter (anything that has mass and takes up space) but then I realized that chemistry serves as an apt metaphor for my brain matter: Chemistry takes up space formerly occupied by food and wine pairings... Italian grammar... Shakespeare's sonnets... and maybe the infield fly rule.

Dude, this is gonna be so hard.

Posted by stacy at 01:41 PM | Permalink

I am older than my chemistry instructor, Dr. Allan Scruggs. Not quite sure by how much, but I probably have a good year or two on him, which is fine - really - because if I had been a teenaged cautionary tale, I could have given birth to every single one of my classmates. (Not at the same time, obviously)

Yeah, I feel old - but then again, I'm 36 and taking freshman-level chemistry for science majors. At the bookstore today when I was standing in line to buy my 16.2 pounds worth of text book, lab manual, lab notebook, sexy protective lab goggles, student's guide and student's guide answer book, the kid behind me tapped me on the shoulder:

"Ma'am, is this a line to buy books or just T-shirts?"

"Well, I sure hope it's for books because I'm standing in the same line as you," I said. "And by the way, it's charming that you called me ma'am."

"Better than the alternative," he said. So much for respecting your elders.

Suffice it to say, you will hear this more than once from my fingertips during this semester: WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL (15 years ago), WE DIDN'T HAVE ANY OF THIS STUFF!!! THESE KIDS HAVE IT SO EASY!!!

I mean, seriously, Dr. Scruggs literally spelled out how to pass his class: He put the instructions in bullet points. Review 8-12 hours per week. Read a half-chapter ahead of each class. Read after class. Do the practice EXAM questions, and if we can't figure those out, take advantage of one of the THREE (3!?!) additional study periods where they review what he just went over in lecture. Download his notes off the Internet so I can preview before class, follow along during class and review after class. I don't even have to take notes - I just have to pay attention and read and show up and do the practice problems ($42 study guide) and check those against the practice SOLUTIONS (another $42 for the answer book- there's a nice little racket for you). I'm not going to say it will be easy, because truly, I could feel the rust grinding off the gears of my brains when he started talking about molecules and elements today, but still...

I may not be the brightest bulb in this stadium, but I'm certainly not the dimmest either. When he asked how many students were pre-med, about 60 percent of the hands went up... including mine. I will be interested to calculate the attrition - which is math that we salespeople do all the time.

Stay tuned... tomorrow we have chemistry lab and I'm wearing my goggles!

Posted by stacy at 08:47 PM | Permalink

It's been 15 years, three months and 10 days since I graduated, magna comes loudly, with degrees in English and History from Texas A&M.

For the first seven years, I worked as a sportswriter, won some awards and had many adventures. There was a gap year when I got married and worked a soul-crushing stint at a hellhole I'd not care to recall. And for the past seven years, I've been in sales at Public Radio Partners, doing a job I love with people I adore, serving clients that are the coolest in the world, and helping fund my favorite nonprofit, public radio stations, KJZZ-NPR/Jazz and KBAQ-Classical.

But tomorrow - Monday, August 25, 2008 - at the ripe old age of 36, I'm going back to school - taking Chemistry 113, plus a lab, plus a recitation (?) at Arizona State University - so I can (hopefully) complete my science prerequisites in 2-3 years, take the MCAT (pass the MCAT), apply and get into to medical school.

Continue reading "Bak 2 Skul" »

Posted by stacy at 07:15 PM | Permalink

I hate LinkedIn - the essential social networking site for working professionals...

Granted, I don't hate it as much as I hate the New England Hatriots and their coach Bill Belicheater, but I definitely hate LinkedIn more than I hate Harleys.

LinkedIn bills itself as the "busy person's" Facebook or MySpace - it's for people who do important things, like make money and broker deals. Mainly, it just annoys the hell out of me. Initially I signed up for it because I kept getting pinged by colleagues who used it, and I'd get emails saying, "Invitation to Connect on LinkedIn." So I accepted the first invitation... then the second... then the third and then I realized it wasn't so much an invitation to connect as it was an invitation to receive a ton of LinkedIn-generated, unsolicited email from people I already contact regularly - as well as a ton of unsolicited email from people I DON'T REALLY WANT TO TALK TO.

I got an "invitation to connect" from some guy who used to read my newspaper column in COLLEGE. I don't even know this guy - and even better, I DIDN'T even know this guy 15 years ago: IF I WASN'T YOUR FRIEND THEN, WHY WOULD I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND NOW??? Or is this some kind of trophy hunt: You want to list me as your "friend" so you can show all your other "friends" that your "friend" is the former Stacy Feducia - the chic that wrote the buttcrack column back at Texas A&M? Are you serious? Graduate, dude!

I hate LinkedIn because I'm a salesperson. I make unsolicited contacts through my job all the time, letting people know I have a solution for problems they didn't know they had. It's a tough enough job without the knowledge that these poor souls are now being "invited to connect" by every other jackass in the universe with a cool widget to sell. Thanks, assholes!

LinkedIn is supposed to make my life easier by helping me "Find People and Knowledge I Need to Help Me Achieve My Goals." Well here are my goals - Tell me, LinkedIn, how can you help?

Continue reading "WHY I HATE LINKEDIN" »

Posted by stacy at 08:11 AM | Permalink

My definition of "sports:" Athletic competitions between individuals or teams where the winner is determined by previously agreed upon rules and objective criteria.

There are winners. There are losers. The clock, the finish line, the knock-out punch, the yardstick, the checkered flag, the scorecard: These objective criteria determine who goes on, who goes home - or in the case of the Olympics this week: Who gets the gold and the glory (or the silver and salutations or the bronze and a nice trip to the pawn shop).

By my criteria, many of the most popular Olympic events fail to qualify as actual sports though they are, undoubtedly, athletic endeavors: Gymnastics, figure skating, synchronized swimming and its diabolical twin, synchronized diving, regular diving, dressage... I mean, really - DRESSAGE? ... and of course, rhythmic gymnastics. And even though it's not in the Olympics, it is still my favorite punching bag: Cheerleading = Not A Sport ... though I'm sure the cheerleading stage moms are doing their best to garner their pastime a place in the five-ringed medal count. (And I will likely hear from them, but guess what, Wanda Holloway, the comment function is conveniently broken!)

Sport / Not A Sport - This is all you need to know to be the judge: IF THE OUTCOME OF A CONTEST IS DEPENDENT ON WHETHER THE EAST GERMAN JUDGE IS HAVING HER PERIOD, THE CONTEST IS NOT A SPORT; IT'S A PAGEANT

If you're not pissed yet, keep reading... you will be (but you also might learn something if you pay attention).

Continue reading "Sport / Not A Sport: You Be The Judge" »

Posted by stacy at 08:02 AM | Permalink

Dazed and confused don’t begin to describe how I feel about my experience at the World Series of Poker. But here goes: It's like taking the SAT naked in front of a live studio audience.

Things you need to know before you think about entering, courtesy of my friend Mike Sochacki and my own surreal experience: EVERYONE is a good player. They play fast and aggressive and they know exactly what they’re doing, and they will eat you alive if given half the opportunity. Truly, I’m still not so sure what happened, but I think I am missing a few limbs. Here's me when I still had chips...

Continue reading "World Series of Poker: The Recap" »

Posted by stacy at 08:23 AM | Permalink

Don't know what to say except everyone here is smarter than me.

It's scary. Phil Helmuth was 2 tables over from me. I lost when my straight got beaten by a flush. Fortunately I finished in the top 2,000... Not that it's very good... but that millions of other players weren't here, and a total of 2,700 REALLY good players were. ... Mike & Phil finished shortly after me so I feel bad for them. And I console myself with "But at least I played." Now I'm going to eat a big steak...

Posted by stacy at 07:24 PM | Permalink

Lucky boots... CHECK.
Clean underpants... CHECK.
Skanktacular sportswear... CHECK.
WSOP Registration... CHECK.
Table Assignment. Amazon Blue, No. 38, Seat 3... CHECK.

Holy SHIT this place is huge! Not only does it take 15 minutes to walk from the front desk to the convention center, the room is literally the size of a football field and lined with poker tables. No flash photography - learned that little tidbit a little too late, but they were nice enough about it. Lining the halls of the convention center are chair-massage stations, souvenir stations, food kiosks and information stands for "THE OFFICIAL VITAMIN SUPPLEMENT OF THE WORLD SERIES OF POKER." From the air quality surrounding many of the players, I thought that was Vitamin 2-C (Caffeine and Cigarettes). They have mini tournaments going on throughout the day, for those who haven't dropped enough coin already.

What have I gotten myself into? T-minus 2 hours, 11 minutes and counting.

Posted by stacy at 10:41 AM | Permalink

It’s not the smartest thing I’ve done with $1,500, but it’s certainly the most interesting.

I’ve entered the World Series of Poker, Event 27 – No Limit Hold’em. No Rebuys. No Add-ons. Yes, this is the same World Series you see on ESPN at all hours of the morning – but it’s not necessarily the same tournament. It’s not the $10,000 buy-in Main Event – if I had a spare $10,000 lying around, I could think of a lot more creative things to do with it than play cards… Then again, you could say the same thing about a spare $1,500, but at least I have a chance to win a coveted World Series bracelet, and I get to test my skills against the big boys.

Continue reading "I Got Your Pair Right Here: The World Series of Poker" »

Posted by stacy at 08:23 AM | Permalink