Eww.

Angel Snot. I'd heard of it, but I didn't expect the product description to be so, well, earnest:

Heaven Scent

In our busy world it's easy to forget that miracles really do happen. With its lovely scent and comforting texture, Angel Snot is a heavenly reminder of the magic at work in our everyday lives. We say "Bless You" when someone sneezes because medieval folk believed a sneeze was the soul escaping the body. Clearly, there is a strong connection between nasal mucus and the miraculous power of heaven's messengers. This beautiful jasmine-scented pearlescent substance is both sacred and fun to play with. Squish it, bounce it, stretch it -- just don't wipe it on the back of the couch. You get two packages of Angel Snot, each with approximately 1 ounce of precious fluid in a plastic egg.

And I bet if you look at it while thinking about rocks or elements or angels, you can sell it as an essence.

Reproduction

Well, maybe I'm not such a bizarre, hideous freak of nature: Studies show that couples who choose not to have children are happier than those who do. (If you don't subscribe to Salon.com, you have to watch an annoying commercial before you can read the article.)



I don't know if we'll be happier than any given couple, but we'll certainly be happier without children than we would be with them. Especially since I just plain don't get children. It's not a matter of like or dislike, but of sheer indifference. You know the "awwww" reaction that people get when they look at something cute or appealing? I get that over rats, but not babies. I just...I just don't get it.



I find the idea of pregnancy repulsive (think of that scene from Alien), the idea of childbirth both repulsive and terrifying, and the idea of actually having children...just plain unappealing. The only reason I can ever think of to have children is so I can have somebody to take care of me in my old age, which is clearly not a good reason.



This has long disturbed me; it seems like I'm fundamentally lacking one of the most basic aspects of any living being. But apparently I'm not alone:

Cain has come to believe that lack of interest in childbearing might be biological, like being gay. "Researchers have found that within mice there is a gene, the Mest gene. When it was in place in mice, and the mouse gave birth, it was a nurturing mother. When the mouse was Mest-deficient, it was a non-nurturing mouse. I think down the line we're going to discover that just as homosexuality is something that's physical, the same thing will be discovered about women. Why do some women melt at the sight of babies while other women are indifferent? It would seem to me it's something innate."

I've seen those mice; what this article fails to mention is that, not only are they non-nurturing, they tend to eat their babies. And I've used the same metaphor before, talking about how I feel there's something wrong with me: "If I was a mouse, I'd be one of those ones who eats her babies."



Fortunately, unlike a mouse, I can choose not to bear offspring. And if it's biological, it's as much a part of me as my non-heterosexuality; and yes, that's not normal (or at least not typical), but it's not the most incredible bizarre horrendous thing in the world, either.



Sigh...I've always known I'm not normal; it's just nice to know that not being normal doesn't necessarily mean I'll be miserable.

Just what we need

A new species of giant jellyfish. Fortunately it's a deep-sea critter, so you can't get stung by one at the beach.

World's dullest crime

The mayor of Norristown, PA has won a lawsuit against the creator of an unofficial Norristown Web site. Yes, those visiting www.norristown.com will no longer experience the horror of seeing a picture of the mayor and an incorrect e-mail address. I suppose this represents a major victory for the official Web site, www.norristown.org.



Um, we're not talking about an unauthorized Web site infringing the copyright of a major company. We're not talking about Photoshopped naked pictures of a celebrity. We're talking about Norristown, PA. Good Lord, I didn't know there was one Web site for Norristown, let alone two. (Let alone two with a feud between them.)



Incidentally, they both suck, but the unofficial one is better. At least in terms of not being hideously pixilated. Although they could do away with that flashing banner. Flashing banners are so 1999.

Gray day

Just one of those days: cool bordering on chilly, raining or threatening to rain, and gray, gray, gray. (Just like my mood last night. I'm trying to keep my mood this morning a little brighter.)



I figured out at least one reason I was in such a bad mood last night: the bad people at Comedy Central rearranged the afternoon TV schedule, depriving me of my usual 5:30 Daily Show fix. For weeks I've been making sure to get out of work by 5:15 so I could make it home to see the 5:30 repeat of the previous night's show. Now they've moved it to 7:30; I can still watch it, of course, but by 7:30 it's a bit late to chase away the end-of-the-workday blues.



They are bad people and God will punish them.



I thought I had something to write about but I forget what. Guess I'd better do that work thing.

Secret code for "guilty as hell"

In the Wife-Murdering Scumbag Dept., Scott Peterson's lawyer vows to find the real killer. Hm, maybe he can team up with O.J.

The Matrix

I've finally joined the '90's and seen The Matrix. (Well, at least the parts that happened when my eyes weren't closed.) I wasn't in an especially good mood going into it and I didn't find anything particularly interesting in it. Four-word summary: Berkeley in black leather. I suppose it wasn't worse than oral surgery, but at least for that you're medicated.



I think all I really got out of film school was a deep and abiding dislike of watching movies. (That, and the ability to coil an electrical cord like nobody's business.)



I've been in a fairly low mood all afternoon/evening; I shouldn't read about Santorum too late in the day, it just ruins my dinner.