She blinded me with science (and then totally took my organs).

I know I said I wouldn't be around as much this week, but what can I say? ALL CAPS, I just can't quit you. It also doesn't help that I'm the only one at work and I'm harnessing all my passive-aggressive powers into saying "Screw you, The Man!" by not working. Okay so I'm still answering the phones. And maybe I'm still sending out company-wide e-mails. And I may have changed the toner cartridge in the printer. But dammit! I am not a machine!

You're not my real mom.

Ahem, what? Where was I?

My brain is still relatively fried from my week long journey into adult life, so I'm having a hard time focusing. A harder time than usual, anyway. And yes, that is what she said. Let us take a moment to recognize. All done?

One of the reasons I've been so swamped with school work, regular work, etc is because instead of being a good time-manager, I'm a terrible one. I should be time-fired. Zing! No? Okay.

In the few hours of free time I have, I don't spend it studying, working or even exercising. I'm not trying to teach myself a new craft or attempting to better the world. What am I doing, you ask? Reading this:



I should start by saying I didn't pick this out. Aside from generally being a little hesitant to buy a book called Stiff (lest someone think I'm scouting screenplays for my new porno), I don't like feet. So a picture of dead feet on the cover of a book under the word Stiff? That's gonna be one seriously weird (and potentially illegal) dirty video.

But it came highly recommended by Garland. Now, Garland and I may have different opinions on movies, music and literature, but one thing is always for certain: we both like to be entertained by weird and potentially gross things. Plus, there are few people on the planet who know my taste better than Garland, so I relented, grabbed a Jell-O pudding out of the fridge (not recommended whilst reading this, by the way) and got to reading.

This book is, for lack of better words, awesome. It is about all the things that can happen to your body after death. Say, for example, you donate your body to science. Well, what does that mean? What happens to your body after you donate it?


Bill Nye the Science Guy may or may not be involved.

Well, apparently a lot of things. You can donate a still beating heart, liver or kidneys to transplant patients. The Army can shoot at it to test the stopping power of bullets. Medical students can dissect you, the auto industry can use you as a crash-test dummy or you can end up at a body farm where researchers study decomposition to help aid in crime scenes. In short, any possible use you can think of for a cadaver has probably been tried.

After reading much of the book, I've come to the conclusion that I want to donate my body to science. I am already an organ donor, but if there's more than can be done with it when I'm gone, then have at it.

I think this would be good for a few reasons. It would be comforting to know that even if I didn't accomplish anything with my body when I was living, maybe something can be accomplished when I'm dead. Totally still counts. Also, it would help others in the long run and I could use some extra points tacked onto my soul at the end. Heaven doesn't let in any freeloaders. I know, I checked. Also, it would lessen my chances at coming back as a re-animated zombie. And if that doesn't make it worth it, I don't know what would.