StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Venator wrote:

Broomstick wrote:

Zaune wrote:Same last names as well?

Nope.
>snip<
Yes, we could use last names, except for the custom at work of not using last names over the intercom. Not sure if it's custom or company rule.

<Name> <Middle Initial>?

I don't have a middle name or initial.

Raw Shark wrote:

Broomstick wrote:It's as if we have Broom, Broom, Boom, and Boon. This will make paging any one of us on the scratchy, overhead paging system fun. Even more so since we have two "Brooms". So... how to distinguish between us?

My gaming group has three guys with the same first name as me. We numbered ourselves based on seniority, to the point that it's a running joke for the three of us to leave the name out entirely when addressing each other, eg: "Excellent point, #3. That's how we should handle this." "Why thank you, #1. #2, hand me the dice, please?"

I also worked with a guy back in college with the same first name and a last name that was identical except one of us had an n at the end, eg: Sharko and Sharkon. Fucking payroll gave him his money and my money for the week combined once. Had to wait a week for them to sort it out on the next check because he didn't have a car and was too much of a lazy pothead to walk to the bank to get me some cash, despite repeated promises that he would.

"Who are you?!"

"The new No.2."

"Who is No. 1?!"

"You are No.6."

"I AM NOT A NUMBER! I'M A FREE MAN!"

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"


I was actually going to suggest Broom and Broom go by #1 and #2, but leave it to management to refer to the pair of you as "Thing #1" and "Thing #2."

Either that, or get used to the morons up top just indiscriminately calling your names over the intercom, and saying it's your fault for not coming up with a way to tell yourselves apart.

You're going to need nicknames.

I was once working a show in a control room full of Robs. I'm talking TD, Audio, Director, Chyron (me), Tape, and I think editorial. We took to using last names very quickly.

Dalton wrote:You're going to need nicknames.

I was once working a show in a control room full of Robs. I'm talking TD, Audio, Director, Chyron (me), Tape, and I think editorial. We took to using last names very quickly.

Not "TD Rob," "Audio Rob," "Director Rob," etc.?

U.P. Cinnabar wrote:

Dalton wrote:You're going to need nicknames.

I was once working a show in a control room full of Robs. I'm talking TD, Audio, Director, Chyron (me), Tape, and I think editorial. We took to using last names very quickly.

Not "TD Rob," "Audio Rob," "Director Rob," etc.?

I've found that in general a tight-knit TV crew is on a first-name basis. You only call stations when they're new faces or if you don't know who's there.

Oh, okay.

On my softball team six years ago, there were two Kevins. One was 6'2", 240 lbs, the other one was 6'7", 320+ lbs. When I refer to them in the third person, they are "Big Kevin" and "Bigger Kevin", respectively.

On my team this year we now have three guys who share my first name. This is the second time this has happened, but we're just #1, #2, and #3. #1 is the team sponsor, so I figure he deserves that title, but I'm not giving up #2 to the new guy (who joined us mid-season to replace the player who was suspended). One guy on the team gives everyone nicknames, but they really don't stick very well outside of him. (He calls me "BP", probably because the way I had been pitching at the time was like I was throwing batting practice for the other team.)

I'm Raw #2 in my game group. Raw #1 was the third member, and I was the fifth. We have over a hundred members now, but I won't take full credit for that.

In my group of friends, we have a number of Bens (I dont give a shit if you know my name, and everyone who would be interested already does). In meat space there is me and another one. Gay Ben and Straight Ben respectively (I originally lobbied for Ben and Ben Prime because I had seniority and should be called prime, but that was voted down). On skype, there are a few more. DocBen (me, obviously), iBen (because he works in IT, and in an eclipse phase game he was a disembodied mind stored in computer code), and MicroBen (because he is the kid of one of our other members).

Myself and iBen together form The Omniben (we are legion), because in that same Eclipse Phase game, the hard drive and CPU containing his mind was welded inside my robot spider body.

Please tell me that Gay Ben and Straight Ben are ironically assigned, and you're "Straight Ben" while the Ben that is straight it "Gay Ben"

Napoleon the Clown wrote:Please tell me that Gay Ben and Straight Ben are ironically assigned, and you're "Straight Ben" while the Ben that is straight it "Gay Ben"

No, that would be funny, but no. We did not want to confuse people, particularly when drunk.

And then there's the SCA, where someone's looking for "Katherine", and we have to ask "Are you wanting the (former) Baroness, the Herald, or the Cook?" (Katharine, Kathryn, Catherine)

Alyrium Denryle wrote:In meat space there is me and another one. Gay Ben and Straight Ben respectively

We had two guys on my college campus named Kevin Brown. One was a prissy rich WASP, and he specifically requested a heterosexual roommate from Housing John (a gay man) during room assignments. Housing John proceeded to assign him the nickname Heterosexual Kevin Brown (HKB) and it stuck through four years of college. He also assigned him one of the biggest lunatics in the freshman class to live with, who terrorized him in various ways including laying a Native American curse on him complete with chanting, burning smudge, and some kind of symbol painted over his bed. HKB freaked the fuck out and went running to wake up the House Chair (our version of RAs), who had to come over in her pajamas and very patiently ask the would-be medicine man to remove the curse so she could go back to bed.

The other Kevin Brown, an art kid with a curiously strong resemblance to Buster Poindexter who wasn't averse to experimentation and diversity, became Bisexual Kevin Brown (BKB). Nobody fucked with him because he wasn't a douche.

Ended up distinguishing by initials or variations on nickname here: Dave, DC, DT.

I have never had the pleasure of sharing a name with a coworker. Been called something different at every company so far though.

Alyrium Denryle wrote:Myself and iBen together form The Omniben (we are legion), because in that same Eclipse Phase game, the hard drive and CPU containing his mind was welded inside my robot spider body.

Not Ben10? Or the USS Benfold. Or Ben Folds Five?

Raw Shark wrote: We had two guys on my college campus named Kevin Brown. One was a prissy rich WASP, and he specifically requested a heterosexual roommate from Housing John (a gay man) during room assignments. Housing John proceeded to assign him the nickname Heterosexual Kevin Brown (HKB) and it stuck through four years of college. He also assigned him one of the biggest lunatics in the freshman class to live with, who terrorized him in various ways including laying a Native American curse on him complete with chanting, burning smudge, and some kind of symbol painted over his bed. HKB freaked the fuck out and went running to wake up the House Chair (our version of RAs), who had to come over in her pajamas and very patiently ask the would-be medicine man to remove the curse so she could go back to bed.

The other Kevin Brown, an art kid with a curiously strong resemblance to Buster Poindexter who wasn't averse to experimentation and diversity, became Bisexual Kevin Brown (BKB). Nobody fucked with him because he wasn't a douche.

And, you weren't tempted, not even once, to call HKB "Brownstain?"

(and what kind of jammies was the RA wearing? Juuust curious. )

U.P. Cinnabar wrote:And, you weren't tempted, not even once, to call HKB "Brownstain?"

Nah, we all just called him HKB. He knew it was a sign of contempt, unlike Republican Todd, who seemed to take his nickname as a compliment. I felt absolutely no pity for the guy. I mean, for fuck's sake, what did he expect at a school where half the kids are majoring in visual and performing arts?

U.P. Cinnabar wrote:(and what kind of jammies was the RA wearing? Juuust curious. )

I wasn't actually there for this incident, sadly. The guy who laid the curse was my best drinking buddy, and it's one of his favorite stories, but we didn't live in the same dorm. The place I went to school wasn't really big on body modesty, though, so feel free to use your imagination if you want to spice it up a little. I've probably mentioned the clothing-optional dorm across the street from mine that was my go-to spot for stealing rubbers, our radio station's "Naked For Nachos" promotion, and the one dude who somehow managed to get permission to always be naked based on some kind of religious flim-flam before. It was just that kind of place.

I went to the wrong college, it seems...

U.P. Cinnabar wrote:I went to the wrong college, it seems...

I went to Arizona State for undergrad.

Sed Ed Sherpa And The Horny Drunken Neighbor

Of course, I lived in dorms during Junior and Senior years because as someone with a science major (biology) who worked in a lab (actually got paid too), it was just easier than living off campus.

Despite living like a monk (I am a gay man who worked with parasitic wasps. Let that sink in for a minute. Living like a monk is a state that has not changed, by the way), I ended up being the Sex Ed Sherpa and Condom Dispenser to the lower classes. For you see, I had actually taken courses in human sexuality, and belonged to all the gay groups that distributed condoms. So I had All The Things in a bowl by my door. Condoms, flavored condoms, female condoms, lube, dental dams ALL THE THINGS. Never used them myself, so they were freely available and of course when they would stop by they had questions...

Problem was, the walls were thin. Really thin. I discovered this the first time my cute nextdoor neighbor brought someone home. I thought I was finally breaking with schizophrenia because the girl was moaning just above the threshold of detection through the walls and I could not pinpoint the direction. So, desperately not wanting to be insane, I started sounding the walls to localize the sound.

Thankfully, it was coming from my neighbor's room, and I could juuuust hear the gentle pounding. So, not wanting to pry I stopped listening. Secure in the knowledge that I was still, for the moment, sane-ish (I did still afterall, have to go into the lab the next day and dissect the testes out of 2 mm long wasps). The problem was, I could not un-hear it. I was trying to sleep like a normal person and failing (turns out I have a sleep disorder that makes my circadian rhythm march around the clock) and every so often "Ah! Ah!".

After that, he grew in skill apparently because there was a steady increase in moan volume and he started vocalizing more during sex. And not just at night. Dude got around. I would walk in after physics class and hear "Oh yeah spin around on my dick". At which point I had no choice but to write "You spin me right round baby, right round" on his whiteboard...

The dude across the hall from him was from Mexico (and thus soccer obsessed) and would shout "Gooooaaaaaaaaal" at any apparent climax that he could hear across the hall.

The fun part about this particular neighbor though was that he got gay when drunk. So I would get knocks on my door at 3 AM and there he would be. Mostly naked and plastered out of his mind pulling my sleepy ass into a hallway makeout session I was too confused to do about anything but reciprocate for ten seconds.

His Designated Driver would be like "Dude, please dont take advantage of him" when Neighbor scampered/flounced/stumbled back to his room, and invited me in for drinks.

Full disclosure: I had a bit of a crush on the dude. Cute, nice, reasonably intelligent when sober, and a sexually frustrated gay nerd cannot help but be attracted to someone he can hear mate every other night. He is obviously doing something right.

But no. I am not a rapist. I was not about to do anything to or with someone when they are so drunk they dont know what pants are anymore. And I would always tell his DD as much, but he felt the need to chaperone anyway (good on him actually, he did not know I am an ethical person) because of course I generally accepted the offer for drinks.

I have more of these if you want them.

Actually, fuck it. I dont care if you want more. You are getting more.

The Ant's Revenge, And a Graduate Student's Awkward And Adorable Q&A Session

So I mentioned before that I worked in a lab with parasitic wasps as an undergrad. Well, that was not all I worked with. I also worked with ants. Pogonomyrmex californicus to be exact. A species of harvester ant. Now, this is going to require a bit of background information. This species breeds explosively. In any given population, their reproduction is timed to a given photoperiod, at which point on a set day of the year the entire population in an area sends forth its virgin queens and drones into a giant ant mating frenzy. After which the males die and the now de-flowered queens settle down and start digging a nest.

In most populations, they do this alone.

In other populations, the queens band together and at some point after the first workers have hatched and developed into mature ants... mass regicide happens and the workers kill off all but one queen.

In one population--just one that lives just outside the town of Julian California (between San Diego and the Salton Sea)--the queens actually fucking cooperate and the workers dont regicide. And they explosively breed on the 3 days straddling to 4th of July every year. Like clockwork.

And this was My Graduate Student (MGS)'s project. MGS was one of my direct bosses in the lab. Along with Guilt Stricken German (GSG) who will be important in another story (he was the lab's post doc. He worked with parasitic wasps, which is why I worked with wasps too).

MGS was trying to figure out how the hell this evolved and what behaviors mediated regicide variation in Pogonomyrmex californicus colonies.

For this, we needed both virgin and mated queens. You can guess what we were doing on the 4th of July weekend 2007, yes? Of course you can. MGS, Myself, Fuckin' New Gradstudent (FNG), and Crazy Bee Dude (CBD, he studied bees and was helping out) packed the lab vehicle known as the Spaceship Hölldobler full of food, water, camping supplies, garden trowels, permanent markers and hundreds and hundreds of falcon tubes and set out for Julian to collect ants.

So we get to Julian, head just outside of town into an empty meadow and get to work. Getting the mated queens is easy, all you have to do is comb the field and find them as they try to dig their little holes. They are small, but if you have a good eye you will spot them, pick them up with soft forceps and you are good to shove them into a falcon tube.

MGS was last to say "Not It", so he had the pleasure of collecting the virgin queens. They were still in the nest, which meant he had to dig up ant nests in an open field for several hours in temperatures that reached about 42 degrees Celsius. It was shit work.

Did I mention that Pogonomyrmex californicus has a venom specialized for causing pain to mammals; the most painful sting of any ant in North America; and with an LD50 lower than cobra venom? I have been stung be these fuckers (many times). Each sting hurts like hell, and it lingers. It is like taking a red-hot hypodermic needle full of lemon juice and stabbing it into a knuckle, then jiggling it around a little before depressing the plunger.

Yeah, it was shit work. Digging in that nest with a garden trowel figuring out the sex of every winged individual he could find with a hand lens and rejecting the drones. All the while being stung periodically by hundreds of angry ants. Every so often, while the rest of us were blissfully picking up the mated queens with our soft forceps and dropping them into tubes, we would hear:

"OWE!"

"GODDAMNIT!"

"SONOFABITCH!"

"FUCKMYLIFE!"

If multiple stings happened in too quick succession, he was basically reduced to sub-sapient wittering. He ended up being stung 30+ times on each hand. His pain tolerance is amazing.

By the time 1 PM hit that day, we were all bushed and hungry, and the temperature had climbed to the point we were afraid MGS was going to die from heat stroke. So we called it quits for the day. We had the ants we needed and could collect from the Control population (10 miles away, breeds at the same time, no cooperation between queens) the next day. No problem.

FNG: Where do we want to get food?
CBD: Julian is apparently famous for its pie
Me: I think MGS could use some pie, MGS, do you need pie?
MGS: Yeeah, I think i could use some pie (he says this while basically holding his hands concealed under his armpits).

So we go into town and get ourselves some pie (grant money paid for it too!). The problem was, well... you know how I said MGS got stung thirty or more times per hand? Yeah, his hands were paralyzed.

His. Hands. Were. Paralyzed.

Now, we knew this could be a problem. We also knew it was temporary. So while there was no permanent damage, he was unable to eat his pie. He tried, Humboldt bless him he tried. He would get the fork pressed between both hands and try to get pie to his mouth and failed miserably. So I had to hand feed him. I am not ashamed to say, I could not resist the urge to make little airplane sounds while doing so. In front of everyone in the restaurant to the confused looks of everyone present except for FNG and CBD, who could not stop giggling like crazy people. MGS took it like a champ, big shit-eating grin on his face (mostly because he got pie, I think. It was really good pie). CBD managed to regain his composure/stop eating for long enough to explain to everyone giving us odd looks that "We are entomologists, our friend here got stung by Too Many Ants and cant move his fingers. He'll be fine in a few hours".

Needless to say, after a day like that (and after regaining use of his hands) MGSs first order of business for the evening was to get himself and everyone else extremely drunk. Particularly himself, because his hands were still in pain, just not paralyzed.

So once none of us were able to drive anymore, he decides to ask a question that he had apparently been wanting to ask for a while but had no idea how to approach until his BAC was through the roof. Keep in mind, it was more slurred than this, but I cannot translate the slur in text. Plus, this was nine years ago.

"Hey Ben, question for you. Whenever I go to the gym I always get guys hitting on me. Not even that but blatantly propositioning me. They put their hand on my shoulder and ask if I am a team player. Its not a problem, I am just curious as to why that happens. Plus, I have no gaydar and wonder if I come off as gay? Does that make sense?"

My response was basically this

It was just the single most awkward question he could ever ask me. Except for the follow-up when I answered it.

The gay thing, I answered first.

"Well MGS...yeah you do come off as a little gay. Just a bit. I cant really put a finger on why, but I think it might be the Ex-Mormon thing." (because yes, he used to be mormon, he had an epiphany during his undergraduate work and realized god was not real) "That tends to create false positives."

Then on to the second

"Now, as for why you get propositioned all the time... do you have any conception of how attractive you are?"

"Not...really?"

*drunken facepalm*

He's a good looking dude. He works out (hence: gym) without going beefcake (swimmers build basically), infectious smile with kind eyes. I could wax poetic. I would post a picture by way of illustration but I dont want to violate his privacy.

Now, I was drunk at the time and explained this to him without overtly gushing. We are both behavioral ecologists. I out in strict terms of body proportions and facial symmetry. Or at least I thought I did because he looked at me kinda sideways and asked directly if I personally found him attractive. It is not my policy to lie under these conditions.

"Well lets see MGS, we have already established physical attractiveness. More than that, we share similar senses of humor and music, your mind is a steel trap, and you are one of the nicest people I have ever met. Given when you know of human mate selection, what do you think?"

"Yep."

"Exactly. Shit, if I did not know you were straight I would have tried my luck a year ago. Basically the minute Entomology grades were finalized. But you're straight so non-issue" (he was my lab TA for that course, before I joined the lab I would be in for the next two years)

"Awwwww" *bear hug*



We're still in touch. Whenever we find outselves at the same meeting (and we do go to the same meetings. Same professional societies and the like) we're pretty much inseparable.

How long did it take for the toxin to wear off?

And, I suppose it's good you were studying ants near Julian, rather than Gilroy.

U.P. Cinnabar wrote:How long did it take for the toxin to wear off?

And, I suppose it's good you were studying ants near Julian, rather than Gilroy.

The paralysis wore off after about 5 hours. Alcohol numbed the pain after that.

Cool. Just curious.

And, you got a good friend out of the bargain. Friends are always good.

U.P. Cinnabar wrote:Cool. Just curious.

And, you got a good friend out of the bargain. Friends are always good.

Oh hell, we were friends before that. Closer after that yeah. Nothing draws people close better than pain, really social eating, and drunkeness, I suppose.