Although, now that I think of it, we sort of have a neighbourhood biologist IN OUR NEIGHBOURHOOD!! WHOA!!! Although he doesn't actually live in our neighbourhood, but his brother does, so it's basically the same thing. Right? But, I think he mostly deals with birds and twigs and things. Which makes me wonder how someone can actually make a living looking at branches and leaf types. Because I know I could be successful if given a chance.
One of the things I have to do in this worse-than-hell biology course is perform stupid experiments that are supposed to widen my horizons, make me understand the coinciding theory better, blahblahblah.Yeah, whatever. Like I'll ever use any of this crap when I'm saving lives. Come on, people. Give me a heart attack, or maybe a car accident victim without a right fibula, and I'll give 1000 %. I promise.
But no, I have to do experiments with potatoes. Yes. Yes, I said potatoes. Those little root vegetables with eyes. Creepy at the best of times.
So,potatoes. It almost sounds dirty, which I'm all for, but believe me, it wasn't. I had to take a potato and cut three slices, and boil one slice for one minute, another slice for three minutes, and then drop some hydrogen peroxide on all the potatoes and watch the reaction, and then record it.
Everything was wonderful until I watched for a reaction. Because guys, there wasn't one. Except this one:
Yes, I panicked, threw some bricks, and then decided to fudge the results. Because that is what biologists do.
What other option did I have? None. None at all. Because this is what my potatoes looked like, guys.
The one on the left was the slice boiled for a minute; the one on the right was boiled for three minutes; and the one in the middle was raw. The raw one was apparently supposed to go ballistic when I dropped hydrogen peroxide on it, and I was supposed to COUNT THE OXYGEN BUBBLES and record it. Yeah. Right.
But how do you count this?
Clearly, the potato wasn't behaving.
There were no bubbles. Just lots and lots of ...nothing. It actually looked a lot like I had stood over the potato and drooled.
I waited. And waited. And watched, biting my nails down to the quick. Still. Nothing.
A complete fail. An epic fail, as Em would confidently say.
So, I looked up the experiment online, and figured out what was supposed to happen with each potato slice. Apparently, the more heat the potato receives, the less it reacts to the hydrogen peroxide.
Clearly. I had chosen a rogue potato to help me with the experiment. Just my luck.
I wrote up my report, saying what I thought I should say, instead of what had actually happened. And I was actually quite proud of myself because I wasn't just accepting things, I was actually doing something about it, being proactive, if you will.
In fact, I was so proud of myself, I told Mr. Handsome, and waited patiently for his acknowledgement, his words of approval.
Instead, he said, "WTF, Mary? You can't screw with science."
To which I replied, "The hell I can't. Watch me. If I write down what actually happened, I would get an F. So, you want me to fail? I knew it all along. You hate me. You never support me."
Then Mr. Handsome patted me lightly on the head, and walked away.
Can't wait for the next experiment, guys. Should be another epic somethin' somethin'.