Jun. 22nd, 2011

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The chemistry lab is up on the third floor, so whenever anyone walks close to you, the floor trembles a tiny bit. Just enough to notice, but not cause alarm.

Except for me, evidently. I walk around the lab, and beakers and test tubes clatter in their racks. "Dude," says the friendly football jock over by the eyewash station. "Whenever you come over here, I know it's you without looking. Everything shakes. You're like the tank in Left 4 Dead."

So they called me Tank today. If it sticks, I'm throwing myself down the stairs.

In other news, someone got me a print subscription to Lucky Peach. I think it was [livejournal.com profile] cpratt, who knows and understands my appreciation for cooking wonk, so thanks go to him. I had no idea a magazine could be this rad. David Chang and Anthony Bourdain write for it. Freaking Harold McGee contributes. I am beside myself with anticipatory glee.

It will, of course, fail. All things this awesome die on the magazine stands. Oh well. I'll keep as many as they deem to print, along with my copies of Au Juice, Might, and Shithappy.

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June 2011

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