If you're anything like me, (and you know you are) you have a pile of magazines in the bathroom reading bucket. Recently, my father has been giving me his copies of Scientific American and Popular Science when he's done with them. After about 6 months of this, I have received enough copies of each to come to the following conclusion:
I am too stupid to read Scientific American.
Here's an example -- Thursday night, I was getting ready for bed and had a Scientific American open on the bathroom counter. (Yes, I read magazines and books while I'm washing my face and brushing my teeth. I know. It's a sickness.) Suddenly, I realized I had been standing in front of the bathroom sink for about 30 minutes with the water running, reading (and trying to understand) an article on pseudotyped viral-vector gene therapy used in conjunction with synthetic oligonucleotides or some shit. Believe it or not, I managed to get the gist of it even though I had inconveniently left my PHD in microbiology in the other room. Unfortunately, that tiny glimmer of understanding still meant that I went to bed too late and overslept the next morning. Stupid oligonucleotides.
Yesterday, in another restroom-related visit, I realized that both my legs had gone numb because I was sitting there for 20 minutes reading an article on String Theory and Multi-verses for the 4th time, trying desperately to get my head around it. Apparently these multiple layered universes are like membranes, or Branes for short, and can exist at the tip of a spike in a Calabi-Yau Manifold. Let me just say that there was no rest in that room yesterday. My head hurt. I felt like I was back in my college physics class, except with my pants down.
I've decided that the Scientific American magazines must go.
They are not conducive to quick and efficient bathroom visits, unless of course you have a brain like Stephen Hawking, in which case reading Scientific American is probably like me reading the back of a Lucky Charms box.
Unfortunately, my brain is not Stephen Hawking-esque in the slightest, and therefore these magazines have simply taken one unpleasant task and added another unpleasant task to it. I see no benefit to that, and since one of these tasks is optional and one is not, logic dictates that the optional one must go. Therefore, Scientific American will no longer co-habitate with Performance Muscle Cars and the Victoria's Secret catalog in our bathroom reading bucket.
The Popular Science magazines can stay though. From what I've seen, they are more my speed.
For those of you who have never read either magazine, I took the liberty of scanning the illustration that accompanied an article in each in order to show you why I believe this to be true:
In other news, I'm hoping to finish wiring up my new bathroom tree-fan tomorrow.
Also, just in case it ever comes up in casual conversation, you heard it here first. Soldering with your pants down: Not for beginners.