Man it is like Animal House outside on my street tonight. Some drunken kid hooted at me as I walked up to my door, and the huge nuisance dive bar across the street and the Irish pub 4 doors down are competing to see whose patrons are louder and drunker.

Princess across the hall is also shrieking with her friends on their many trips up and down the stairs, and possibly clog dancing. I guess I'm going to give her a get out of eviction free pass tonight though, as it wouldn't really be fair to complain about her noise when the St. Patrick's Day crowds outside are going to be keeping me awake until 2 a.m. anyway.

I need to go to a tailor (or, you know, ask an adept friend) and get my measurements done, so I have them on file to help me place orders online. All the important ones.

A bulb has blown in my bathroom and I can't even work out how to separate the bulb from the fixture. I can't believe I'm going to call the apartment manager for this. So...ditzy.

My testing is successfully complete! Other guy just has to do his bit at 12:30 tomorrow morning and report the results (it really should be successful too, he's pre-tested), and this thing my boss thought that couldn't be done this fast will be done, and it will be because I forced it through! Whoohah! Sheer force of will! And desperation--oh my god, the desperation. You have no idea.

Holy crap, my Taylor won a Morgan University (for HS students?) science fair in the bio-physical sciences and is being sent to Long Beach to compete in nationals. Details were a little thin, there was a babbled mention of intel, idk, she's flying high. Studied concussions in football players. She's just turned 17.

So.fucking.proud of her.

I was reading a slide show on the psychology of gender basic concepts (prompted by a strange question on IO9 from the guy who thought you should alcohol test rape victims), and I found a couple slides that raised questions (okay, more than a couple, but let's start):

• homophobia is the fear of homosexuality or fear of being labelled as homosexual
• it is one of the most powerful controls of gender role behaviour
• still stronger in controlling male behaviour than in controlling female behaviour but female side increasing

Is it really increasing for women? Am I being naive in thinking/hoping it was actually decreasing for us all, although at different rates?

• in the US - and in most areas of the world - all aspects of the male gender role are more highly valued than those assigned to the female gender role
• true for personality characteristics, skills, and family and workplace roles
• the gender of the person supposed to do the task determines the task's worth-not the task itself

*All* of the aspects and skills? Even in the family? All of them? How come men so rarely get full custody of the kids, then?

Now I want more slides. But first I need to read up on this Bern Sex Role Inventory before I nap.

Huh. I don't think that seems right.

I sometimes miss living in a matriarchal society on the Navajo reservation. There were still gender issues to be sure, but it's ridic that so much of the "civilized" world just thinks culture would fall apart if it weren't patriarchal, and it's just not so.

A bulb has blown in my bathroom and I can't even work out how to separate the bulb from the fixture. I can't believe I'm going to call the apartment manager for this. So...ditzy.

ita ! take a potato, cut it in half, and smoosh the half potato onto the broken bulb. It will absorb all of the fragments and you can turn the potato to get the light bulb out.

It's not broken, Java. Just blown. It's fancy track lighting. I have no idea where the fixture ends and the bulb begins, and either they've changed it for me before, or this is the first time a bathroom bulb has blown since I moved in.

But thanks.

Oh okay, I misunderstood.

Wow. She has actually accused me of being a drugseeker. It's too convenient, she says. I don't look uncomfortable enough.

Please let me stay composed for the attending. Except I'm already crying, of course.

Shit. I barely made it through last week. How am I supposed to do next? Oral dilaudid, she said. It's the same medicine, see.

The attending was very quiet and reasonable, unlike the resident, and he's suggested additional therapies I've never had before (he's a migraine sufferer). You know, as well as pain meds. Jesus. At least I think do. I didn't cry in front of him, but I got really worked up, and my nausea is through the roof. I've already barely eaten in days.

Ah well. I think it ends well. And I'm optimistic about a magnesium IV.