Wabbit Season

Remember in the Looney Tunes when Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck would argue in front of Elmer Fudd on whether or not it is duck season or rabbit season? Well in the world of Flink, July is most certainly wabbit season. For those of you who do not know about my summer job (shame on you, I've posted about it at least twice), I work in a lab where we study the electrophisiology of the heart. In order to do so, we need to acquire live hearts to study. Since I started working in December, we would extract hearts from rats and study the electrical propagation through them. In essence, we are mass murderers of rats. Since December, we have studied hundreds, if not thousands, of rats. Here is how the extraction process goes...

Step 1: Acquire rat from vararium.

Step 2: Spin rat in circles to make him dizzy

Step 3: Inject rat with drug to make him "happy"

Step 4: Inject rat with lethal dose of chemical

Step 5: Rip his heart out

Step 6: Play with heart

Step 7: Quit playing games with rat's heart

In my mind, I have no problem going through this six or seven step process (that was for you, Alvin) on rats. Rats are horrible animals that caused the death of an estimated 75 million people during the black plague. In fact, we are doing the world a favor by eliminating the rat population. My logic can not be matched, killing rats is good! This was my mindset until we killed out first rat pups. 

Rat pups look exactly like Stuart Little. I can live with being a mass murderer of adult rats, but I cannot kill Stuart Little. Luckily, I am not Dr. Death, and I can just look the other way when the execution of the youngest of the Little clan is murdered. RIP Stuart.

This bring me to July, month of the rabbit. This July, my lab continued our studies on rabbit hearts. The rabbits that we use for our studies are not the grey bunny rabbits you see running around in your backyard. They are the white fuzzy rabbits that your little sister has as a pet. July has been a rough month for the Flink. RIP Thumper.

As I blog, I think it is important to point out that I am yet again blogging from the train. I am en route to NY to meet the Flinkey family for our Italian vacation (WOOHOOO!!). To your entertainment, my luck with amtrak has not run out (why do I continue to travel with them??). I board my 7:10 train (yes, I made it to the train station this time) and find a window seat. This ride is going to be perfect. When my train hadn't left the station at 7:15, I knew something was up. Apparently the engine had stalled and had to be replaced. Fantastic. I then spent the next hour sitting in a non air conditioned train with the lights out waiting for the train to start. Little did I know what would happen in that hour...

The hour began as any other would on a train. Silence. Everyone looking at their blackberries texting their sisters (just me?) that their train is late. The silence was broken a few minutes later by a small girl, no older than three, sitting in the seat in front of me. If I am not mistaken, it was at that very moment that she first learned that when she presses her tongue against her lips and blows, it sounds like a fart. I remember my first mouth fart. What a glorious day in that young girls life. She then practiced for the next half hour. No exaggeration.

After I broke out in laughter from Farty McFartpants sitting in front of me, I look to my left to see the woman next to me also in tears. We then began to talk... This is going to be fun. Nia Dale, a name she chose for herself after I explained that real names cannot be used in my blog, is an attorney in her early thirties on her way to visit her friends in NYC. She grew up in Intercourse, Pennsylvania. As most of my followers know, I HAVE BEEN THERE! I began to talk about places, such as the waffle house (I learned that before it was a waffle house it was a dairy queen) that I have been to in her hometown. In case you were wondering, the fart noises continued. 

Nia Dale and I discussed important issues, such as Duke Basketball (she's an alum). As we were talking about how tall basketball players were, Nia asked me if I thought they took any drugs to get so tall. As soon as I responded "Hmm... Maybe human growth hormone?", the entire cast of Little People, Big World walked by. Of course they did.

Nia and I continued to discuss important topics, such as my brother-in-law completing the bar exam (proud of ya Woodrow), me being a division I athlete (sorry Nia, I like to lie), and my upcoming trip to Italy. Nia is now working on her fun lawyer buyer security paperwork.. looks riveting.

This just in.... as our train arrived in Philadelphia, we were greeted by the Amtrak police and a Philadelphia Police K-9 unit. Not really sure what just happened, but the police officer searched a man a few rows behind me, and then spoke into his walkie talkie saying "train 496 is clean". Is someone smuggling cocaine on Amtrak trains? Is Washington DC the new Mexico? Have I been watching too many episodes of Weeds? I have no idea what just happened, but I have a pretty good guess. Based on the eagle tattoos on this man's arm, I am guessing that he is celebrating Nnamdi Asomugha's decision to stay with the Eagles by using and smuggling illegal drugs on the train...Just a guess. Got a better one?


Cowabunga Dudes!

Flinkey out. 

I'm on the Road to Rhode Island

Hello world. Flink checking in. Today I am going to tell you about my trip to Rhode Island. Let's start with a little background...

Last week I got a text from one of my best friends at school. To keep with the anonymous theme, I shall call him Chris Wok, or CW for short. CW texted me saying "come visit me." Now ordinarily I'd say no, but CW will be studying in London for the next semester so I probably would not see him until December. I decided to check to see how much it would cost to get to him. CW lives 10 minutes outside of Providence, on the Massachusetts side. Flying would cost $400. Sorry CW, don't need to see you that badly. After checking Amtrak, I found that if I took the 10 PM train on Friday night, it would get me in at 7 AM Saturday morning. The redeye in the train world. This would cost me $150 round trip. Now we're talking. I decided to buy my train ticket to Rhode Island. A train to Rhode Island... this will be just like that Family Guy episode when Brian and Stewie are Rhode Island bound. There will be a talking dog and a singing baby on my train (Road to Rhode Island). Sounds wonderful. My excitement grew throughout the week.

It was finally Friday. The wait was over. I had decided to prepare myself for the overnight journey by going to happy hour with some friends. We had a lovely time, and I was tired by the time I had to leave for the train station. Perfect. I will get on my train and sleep for the next 9 hours.

At this point in the story you may be wondering, what happens to Flink!? Does he fall asleep and miss his train? Was there really a talking dog and singing baby on his train?! Relax, I will get there.

At 9:10, I hailed a cab and began my journey to Rhode Island. At 9:21, I received and email on my iPhone from Amtrak. It read:

Apparently some alcoholic skipper decided to play slalom with power lines in his truck, damaging a power system in New Haven Connecticut leading to the cancelation of all trains between New York and Boston. Thanks skipper.

Flink was not going to let this slide. After paying the cab driver a $10 fare to essentially drive in a giant circle, I called up Amtrak. Tomorrow was my brother's wedding and I was the best man. I needed to get there before 11 AM or I would miss the wedding. The best the "helpful" man with customer service could do for me was put my on a train that got in at 3 PM, with no guarantee trains would be running by then. I got a full refund, but still had to pay for my cab ride. Thanks a lot Amtrak.

In short, I'm now free this weekend. Anyone want to hang out?

Flinkey out.

Mischief Managed

Hola amigos. Flinkster here. I regret to inform you that I have no witty story about a lie I told to a stranger or a polish girl I tried to marry to tell you. Instead, today I am here to summarize July 14, 2011: the greatest day in the history of the earth.

The day began just like any other day. I woke up (always a good way to start the day), went to 7-11 to grab my morning drink, and went to work. For those of you who do not know, I work in a lab where I play  with rat hearts. Work was as ordinary as playing with rat hearts can be, but as you may have guessed it wasn't my day at work that made July 14 so extraordinary. After work, I had a date with "my girl"(as the professor I work for calls her). Since Flinkey does not want to reveal his true identity, and to keep consistant with previous blog posts, I shall not use her real name, but instead call her Carmen Sandiego. In her travels, Carmen had acquired a coupon for $60 worth of food at Kinkheads, a fancy seafood restaurant, for only $5. With that being said, after work we went for seafood. I ate what could have been the best dinner in my life. Clams on the half shell, lobster medallions, sesame crusted tuna, and soft shell crab. Heaven.

Following the greatest meal of my life, Carmen and myself went back to my house to prepare for the rest of the night. The night of July 14, 2011 was in fact a historic night. At 12:01 AM on July 15, 2011 (I know, technically it's a new day but to me it was all one day), part 2 of the epic finale of the Harry Potter series premiered. Carmen bought us tickets weeks in advance, and we decided we would dress up as characters in order to honor the ending of not only one of the greatest book series ever written, but more importantly marking the end of an era. Flink was a mere 8 years old when the first Harry Potter book was released, and now, over 12 years later, it was over. No more books. No more movies. The snitch had opened at the close, and no amount of magic can change that. Sorry for the rant, I get emotional when I think about this. Back to dressing up... I need not describe the costumes, for I have recently learned how to upload pictures to the blog.

 

There you have it: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. I know, we're awesome.

I need not go into how great the movie was, or how many times I cried (at least 3), but instead I feel as if I can share two tales of misfortune that occurred at the Lowes in Georgetown on the night of the premier.

Tale 1:

Following dinner, Carmen and myself (before transforming into Harry and Ginny) went to the movie theatre to pick up our tickets and try and avoid the midnight crowd. To our surprise, we saw people already lining up to get into the theaters. Mind you, this was at 7 PM for a 12:01 AM showing. What a bunch of lunatics, I thought. However, amongst the lunatics was a friend of mine, who in honor of the event we shall call Remus. Remus was one of the first people in line, playing cards with friends passing the time. The dedication (or insanity) displayed by Remus in order to get good seats at this movie astounds me. He sat for five hours to insure that he would not be sitting in the front row with a soar neck by the end of the movie. Carmen and I did not share the same dedication. We left at 11 PM in order to insure that we would have time to show off our costumes, while still getting two seats together. In the end, we sat two seats away from Remus. Jokes on you.

Tale 2:

Once in the theater, I saw multiple fans with the exact same Harry Potter
glasses. I knew there was a big cult following, but these glasses looked too similar to each other for it to be a coincidence. As it turns out, the movie theater gave away Harry Potter 3D glasses (yes, we saw it in 3D) to the first few people in the theater. I saw them and I needed them. I was Harry Potter. How could I let all these mere muggles outshine me by wearing my glasses?! I had to be proactive. At that point, I yelled "who wants to give me their cool Harry Potter glasses?" To my amazement, the muggle sitting in front of me turned around and offered his glasses for some of my Swedish fish. I will trade Scandinavian snacks for Harry Potter 3D glasses any day of the week! You
 got a deal muggle. About five minutes after giving away an entire school of Swedish fish, an usher walks through the isles giving Harry Potter 3D glasses to anyone who asks for it, for 3D glasses will always be given at Lowes to those who ask for them. I enjoyed my movie snack free. Jokes on me.

That's the story of how my childhood ended. All is well.

Flinkey out.

Dropshots, Lobs and a Wedding

Ahoy mateys. Flinsker here. So this weekend I traveled up to Saugerties, NY to spend the weekend at tennis camp with the family for Papa Bear's fifty-fifth (Double Nickel) birthday. Here is a little background on tennis camp. Ever since I was in 10th grade, every Martin Luther King Jr weekend, Pappa Bear and I travel up to tennis camp where we meet up with the same group of people that we met our first year there. Pappa Bear decided he wanted to spend his birthday this year at tennis camp with his entire family. Now the Flinkey family is a very active family, known for riding our bikes hundreds of miles and calling it "a vacation". Tennis, however, is not a passion shared throughout the family. My mother (Mamma Bear), Pappa Bear and myself are all avid tennis players, however my sisters I-Money and Wibbitz are not lovers of the game. However, they agreed to come join us for the weekend and celebrate Pappa Bear's birthday. Once we arrived, we dropped our bags off in our rooms and went to the main house to scope what type of people we will be staying with for the next two days. To our surprise, we saw two of our friends from our MLK weekend group. Pappa Bear and myself were very excited to randomly run into our friends (Pappa Bear calls them his second family). There was a very diverse group in the main house waiting for us. A kindergarden teacher who works in Malaysia and her "friend" Mark, a woman I-Money dubbed as "Crazy Eyes",  as well as several other characters. We could tell immediately that this would be an interesting weekend to say the least.

The next morning we woke up and were ready to start playing tennis (or at least some of us were...). Pappa Bear and myself were put on a court with lots of really good tennis players, Mamma Bear was placed on a court with players far less talented than herself (don't worry y'all, she got moved later in the day), and I-Money and Wibbitz were put on a court together with two other women, one of whom looked like she belonged on Golden Girls. After several hours of tennis, we regrouped at lunch. The moment of truth... did I-Money and Wibbitz have a good time?!?! At lunch, all they would talk about was how much they loved their instructor Aga. As it turns out, Aga, short for Agnieszka, is a beautiful Polish tennis player who recently graduated from University of Kentucky and will be deported from our beautiful US of A in two weeks because her student visa will have expired. Here is where I come in... I think you all know where this is heading. Flinkster to the rescue!

If I was to marry Aga, she wouldn't have to worry about being sent back to Poland and can stay and work at tennis camp forever! If Aga was to marry me, I would get to marry a beautiful Polish tennis star and would have a great mixed doubles partner. Win win, right? Well I thought so. Later that night, when we were all getting ready to go dancing at the Barn Party featuring DJ Goldie (more like DJ Oldie... Betty White clone. By the way, you did read that correctly, in Saugaries, NY they have barn parties DJed by 87 year old women) I approached Aga, got down on one knee, and asked if she would marry me, followed by me saying "Welcome to America". She giggled, blushed, and looked at her friends. Her Indian friend, also a tennis pro, asked if he could come to my bachelor party. Great, we are talking about the bachelor party, looks like there's gunna be a wedding in Saugarties! DJ Goldie, get out your ones and twos! After finishing up small talk with Aga and her friends (no lies this time, don't want to start lying to my wife already), I head to bed.

The next day, we finish our last tennis session and after meeting up with I-Money and Wibbitz, I learn that Aga didn't speak about me once and was in fact not going to marry me. She was upset that I did not have a ring to give her when I went down on one knee. Turns out there will be no wedding in Saugarties after all. If only Mamma Bear and Pappa Bear gave me my bar-mitzvah money, maybe then I'd be able to afford a nice ring for my Polish bride. I will be accepting ring donations for the next 13 days.

Well that's the story of how Flinkey almost got hitched.

Until next time.
Flinkey out.

The Life and Lies of Flinkey

G'day mates! The Flinkster checking in for the first time! I'm en route to tennis weekend with the family, and as those of you who know The Flinkster well know, when he travels, he lies. The lies began this morning at Union Station. I was waiting in line to get on the train where I saw a cute kid, probably around 8 years old pimped out in yankee gear. I asked him if he was a yankee fan (he must have thought I was an idiot, being pimped out in yankee gear). He told me how he loved the yankees, was going on a train for the first time today, and loves his iPad. His dad, a short, bald, man in his mid-forties chimed in telling me they were headed to yankee stadium to hopefully see Derek Jeter's 3000th career hit. He then began small talk... big mistake Baldie, big mistake.

When one initiates small talk with The Flinkster when he is en route, they are going to get nothing but lies. I began speaking about my passion for technology and my love of electronics. It was at that moment that Baldie noticed the apple sticker on my water bottle (strategically placed there by The Flinkster for moments just like this one). "This is sort of a shot in the dark, but do you happen to work for Apple?", he asked. Of course I work for Apple! I'm traveling, I work for whoever I want. Turns out Baldie writes for the New York Times, specifically the magazine, and was working on an article about how the NYT App for iPhones and Droids is no longer free, and wanted the opinion of an Apple employee. Happy to help! Mr. Jobs, you would be proud. I made Baldie a believer in the innovation possible by web designers creating new Apps, and the revenue that can come in, bringing money back to small start up companies. I remained anonymous, for nobody shall know The Flinkster's true identity (just kidding, it's me, Matt!). So yeah, keep your eyes open for my feature in the NYT Magazine. And kid, I hope you get to see that 3000th hit.

After sitting on the train for another three hours, continuing to lie to businessmen, lawyers, and stupid girls from 'The Shore', I arrived in Penn station where I had a little over an hour to kill. After scoping out my options for a few minutes, I decided to go to Tim Horton's and get a Boston Creme donut (my favorite!). It was delicious as usual, but I still had an hour to kill. I then remembered there was a Krispy Kreme in Penn Station. Why not stay true to my science roots and conduct and experiment: Which establishment has the better donut? The donuts were graded based on cost, deliciousness, variety, and proximity to my current location. In the end, Tim Horton's won 3 of the 4 categories and is currently deemed in my head as the world's best donut. Bring it on Dunkin!

Keep spreadin the jam.
Flinkey out.