Friday, February 25, 2005
Dimethylpolysiloxane and You
Ever wonder what that long chemical name is that is listed on your food label?
I wondered, for example, what the heck dimethylpolysiloxane could be. I wanted to know because I have been battling a Long John Silver's craving for about a week now, and as I was looking at their nutrition information for my typical meal, trying to dissuade myself from eating there, I noticed that the dimethylpolysiloxane is in the fryer.
I checked my chemical paranoia with Inchem's webpage, where you can search all of these chemicals and see what it is the WHO has determined they do, exactly. Like, to mice, and rhesus monkeys, and other things (including people). A lot of the language is in a biochem language I don't speak, but there is enough there that you should be able to figure out what this stuff does to the body.
Looks like the dimethylpolysiloxane has been used therapeutically as an anti-flatulant, though likely in doses different from those you'd get at LJS. So maybe the dimethylpolysiloxane won't hurt me.
Maybe next the WHO should check the hushpuppies.
I wondered, for example, what the heck dimethylpolysiloxane could be. I wanted to know because I have been battling a Long John Silver's craving for about a week now, and as I was looking at their nutrition information for my typical meal, trying to dissuade myself from eating there, I noticed that the dimethylpolysiloxane is in the fryer.
I checked my chemical paranoia with Inchem's webpage, where you can search all of these chemicals and see what it is the WHO has determined they do, exactly. Like, to mice, and rhesus monkeys, and other things (including people). A lot of the language is in a biochem language I don't speak, but there is enough there that you should be able to figure out what this stuff does to the body.
Looks like the dimethylpolysiloxane has been used therapeutically as an anti-flatulant, though likely in doses different from those you'd get at LJS. So maybe the dimethylpolysiloxane won't hurt me.
Maybe next the WHO should check the hushpuppies.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
blech
Sometimes, as a student, I find my life goes something like this:
9:30 p.m. Done with work. Excited to sit down and research ethnic formation and racial politics.
9:45 p.m. Picking up something quick at a fast food place, hoping they aren't just microwaving it. Thinking about how much reading I will do.
10:06 p.m. Arrive at apartment, kiss bride-to-be. Food has gone cold during drive, so heat up in microwave. Change out of work clothes.
10:10 p.m. Eat microwave-soggy fast food and chat with bride-to-be about school, work, etc.
10:40 p.m. Excitedly set down plate and turn mind to research, pulling out book on national identity.
10:43 p.m. Fall asleep on book.
Though I wish, at this point, that the story would end, "Climb into bed and go to sleep," it never does. Tonight the coda went:
12:33 a.m. Wake up asleep on bride-to-be, who chuckles at the television. Wonder what happened.
12:45 a.m. Kiss bride-to-be good night and gather bookbag, books, and clothes from work.
12:49 a.m. Begin drive home.
12:51 a.m. Stop at Walgreens. Buy chocolate bars 4/$1. Resume drive home and open Snickers.
1:00 a.m. Merge onto highway and get shamefully passed by two decrepit rust-deformed late 80s Hondas piloted by "street racing" teens. Shake head in disappointment at how they changed the Snickers.
1:10 a.m. Arrive home and vow to go immediately to bed.
1:20 a.m. Check e-mail.
1:30 a.m. Look at Flickr.
1:50 a.m. Blog.
1:59 a.m. Curse and remind self how much research on ethnic identity must be done tomorrow.
9:30 p.m. Done with work. Excited to sit down and research ethnic formation and racial politics.
9:45 p.m. Picking up something quick at a fast food place, hoping they aren't just microwaving it. Thinking about how much reading I will do.
10:06 p.m. Arrive at apartment, kiss bride-to-be. Food has gone cold during drive, so heat up in microwave. Change out of work clothes.
10:10 p.m. Eat microwave-soggy fast food and chat with bride-to-be about school, work, etc.
10:40 p.m. Excitedly set down plate and turn mind to research, pulling out book on national identity.
10:43 p.m. Fall asleep on book.
Though I wish, at this point, that the story would end, "Climb into bed and go to sleep," it never does. Tonight the coda went:
12:33 a.m. Wake up asleep on bride-to-be, who chuckles at the television. Wonder what happened.
12:45 a.m. Kiss bride-to-be good night and gather bookbag, books, and clothes from work.
12:49 a.m. Begin drive home.
12:51 a.m. Stop at Walgreens. Buy chocolate bars 4/$1. Resume drive home and open Snickers.
1:00 a.m. Merge onto highway and get shamefully passed by two decrepit rust-deformed late 80s Hondas piloted by "street racing" teens. Shake head in disappointment at how they changed the Snickers.
1:10 a.m. Arrive home and vow to go immediately to bed.
1:20 a.m. Check e-mail.
1:30 a.m. Look at Flickr.
1:50 a.m. Blog.
1:59 a.m. Curse and remind self how much research on ethnic identity must be done tomorrow.
Monday, February 21, 2005
Simmer
I promised Eneas a post about imperialist hygiene and ethnic identity, but I think that might have to wait until after some of these next weeks' busy tasks; I want to do it right, you know? In the mean time, visit his photos on Flickr--he's got some amazing stuff.
Also, for what it's worth, Whitey's stock is down this week.
Also, for what it's worth, Whitey's stock is down this week.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
"Repeat: We have a collision in the office, and the hole punch is down!"
When three-hole punches explode:
