Yeah. I'm an Egg. What's it to ya?

First of all, let me begin this blog by saying that the image at the bottom left is not French Vanilla ice cream with a tinge of whipped cream. It's a human egg- mostly found in females, but with technology, Apple televisions, and electric toothbrushes today, they just might be in some males. Who knows?

Okay. In all seriousness- it's a haploid egg. It can do great things such as aid conception. In my previous blog about the sperm, I decided that sperm are focused, goal oriented, purpose driven, and essentially, have one thing in mind. I was pleased to see all of the feedback in response to what the egg is like by the way; they are all appreciated. I'll give you my spin on this egg business, then I'll announce who's comment came closest to my supreme and infallible judgement (lol) on the egg. Here we go beginning with her life cycle.

From what I've heard (ladies, correct me if I'm wrong), the females release ONE egg a month. If it's not fertilized, it dies, combines with tissues and blood in the uterus, and exits in a process called menstruation. Provided it is fertilized, a zygote is produced which forms in the fallopian tube. As you can imagine, describing the egg is about as complex as describing a woman. This is no easy task.

Due to these two paths, I claim there are two personalities of the egg. Chances are, the eggs all know they wont be fertilized for quite some time, so they're probably depressed, crestfallen, moody, and sad all the time because they're aware of their monthly and irreversible demise. At this point, folks, the egg is emo, and I'd wager, this is why females are very emotional and easily peeved during "that time". Guys, I hope you're taking notes.

At this juncture, I feel a seemingly irrelevant but very necessary side-note is critical. Have you ever had an amazing friend who at one point in time was. . . . . .no so attractive? I don't meant to be superficial here. Her attractiveness, or lack thereof, doesn't diminish from the fact that she's a great person with awesome morals and all that jazz, but physically. . . .ehh. . . well, you all get the point. So you have this friend then ALL OF A SUDDEN (usually over the summer) SHE CHANGES COMPLETELY! It's like a makeover or metamorphosis-a spectacular change. She goes from not to hot in what feels like a fortnight, and with the same quickness that her physical appearance changes, so does her personality (and it's usually a change for the worse). I hope we all agree on this point. Watch this!

THE SAME THING HAPPENS WITH THE EGG! Once she gets a glimmer of hope in the form of a fusiform, flagellated sperm swimming her way, a change happens, and it's for the worse. She becomes proud and narcissistic. "OOOH look at meee. I'm the only egg. There are 30,000 of you sperm, and there's one of me." That's what she says. I've heard it. All the while, she's playing hard to get while whirling around in a most concentric and seductive manner. She makes the sperm go crazy, and they lose all rational thinking. Instead of joining forces and fertilizing her all at once, they fight against each other until one valiant sperm wins. She brings her past of pain and loss to the sperm because, just like with her, one sperm engages in fertilization, and all the rest die. What a shame, folks. What a shame.

Now, use your imaginations, viewers. If the emotional state of the egg during menstruation has an affect on the female as a whole, do you think this change in the egg who has hopes to be fertilized will have an affect on the female as a whole? The answer is yes. I've seen it all too many times. A group of males find a female attractive, and the female wreaks havoc on on them and all sorts of bad stuff happens. It's a social tragedy that results in complete destruction of the male social dynamic until that female is removed, or those males calm down and think. I won't even go further in to that aspect, but that's my take on the egg.

Again, thanks for reading!
Is my concept of the egg right?
Post thoughts, responses, concerns, and everything in between in the comments section.

VERDICT!
The viewer who's perspective of the egg matched mine most was Chelsea. Congratulations, Chelsea, for thinking outside the box, sprinkling your ideas with a LITTLE feminism, and coming as close as possible to my ideas. All other comments made the egg seem weak, listless, and in need of a sperm in shining armor to save/fertilize her. Talk about sterotypical!

Update!
Katy, in her comments, brought to my attention an error I made concerning the unused sperm in fertilization. The unused sperm remain in the female from 2-5days after which they die and are flushed to Waste Management in via pee. Katy, thanks for the comment, and I hope this helps.

Immune System Mix Match

I'm sick. I can't pussyfoot around it anymore. I don't have affluenza or avian influenza that's in the top left image, but that sucker right below it is doing a number on my body. Despite this hindrance, I've still been able to function well. I continue to work out Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays, and today, during the workout, I noticed stark improvements in my posture and in the amount of weight I was able to lift. I also have been pwning exams like no other. Life is going well despite the cold bug.

Last summer I watched an MTV True Life special on Muay Thai boxing, and ever since then, I've wanted to pursue it as an extracurricular. Seeking any lessons in this type of boxing is near infeasible where I lived in Florida. Fortunately, I attended a mixer today at school for Bankok Boxing which offers Muay Thai, and I signed up! Today was definitely a premium day for the record books. I'm excited and nervous for boxing practice tomorrow, but time will tell!

What's your sperm like?

Sperm.
Sperm.
Sperm.

It's such an awkward word. I figured that the more I typed it, the less awkward composing this blog would be, but it's clearly not working.

At around 3 o'clock this morning, I almost fell asleep, but I was awoken by a thought. . .an idea- a concept, if you will: "What's your sperm like?" Now, this sounds completely absurd, but I think it's so crucial that I just had to blog about it. If anyone was to ask me how I was, I'd probably respond somewhere along the lines of "I'm tired" or "I'm alright" or "I'm well" etc. But what about the sperm? How do they feel? What's their outlook on their short and important life?

Before I give my take on what sperm are like emotionally, I'd like to remind you of the importance of this seldom noticed (until its too late) flagellated creature. Sperm are haploid (1N) male reproductive cells that live their life in dormancy UNTIL epic moments of fertilization. The sperm has one goal: the egg. He has one hope: the egg. Apart from that egg, he is nothing.

With that said, how do sperm feel? I don't think they're happy. I don't think they're ditsy. I don't think they're depressed and lazy for the most part (while some may be in the case of sterile males, but that's a story for another blog). I think sperm are serious, mean, and focused. I concluded in my early morning musings that sperm are like runners on the starting line. They spend all their lives in preparation for the Fertilization Olympics. "On your mark. . .. get set. . .EJACULATE!" The race begins.

There are 20-100million sperm contestants in this event and only one winner. All other contestants die and are reabsorbed to form new sperm who get another shot sometime in the future. Talk about high stakes! The winner, however, forms a child. This is the mystery of life.

What do you think? Am I right? Post comments below.
Also, I've only covered sperm in this blog. What about the ladies? What about that egg? What's she like? I've got my ideas, but I'd like to hear yours, female blog viewers!

Tardy but Promised App Update

The new apps are up. Sorry for the choppy picture. If you cant make it up, what's up for grabs is
Falling Balls, Mood Phone, Sound Grenade, Stun-o-Matic, and Super Monkey Ball.

Don't believe me? Well, the proof's in my hard drive, and at the following link:

http://hosted.filefront.com/coreendzpiece

Thanks

Cool Girls Like Assholes

As I partied with my friends moments ago, the age old, and still unanswered, question arose-
Why do cool girls like assholes? If anyone has a response, do leave comments below as I'm dying to know.

Everyone took a stab at answering this one, but at the end of the night, at 3:07AM, I still have no answer. So, I decided to combine my inquisitive mind with the musical stylings of Acacia Strain, and this was the result- a poem which I call "Cool Girls Like Assholes".

It reads as follows:

Completely flesh evisceration,
Run and scream before demise.
Blood loss flows throughout the nation,
Give up your life in sweet reprise.

Volunteered or tak'n by force,
Cracked and wasted by the boot,
Towards the grave without remorse,
Choose either knife or I will shoot.

Total suffering by my might,
The world unborn and upside down,
Widows break and children fight,
Offer your life without a frown.

Backwards beating skull conundrum,
Reasonless choices leave me undone.

Biological Discordance ǂ Self Abhorrance

Today in my 3hour Biology lab we dissected a frog. Despite its horrid appearance, the overbearing smell of formaldehyde, and slimy flesh, I successfully completed the dissection with my lab partner and labeled all of HIS parts (we found testis, so it was a male). This dissection was no small feat as it brought back a lot of memories.


About a year ago, I owned a Pacman Frog who I named Juggernaut. He gladly ate large mice, goldfish, lizards, and anything I dropped in his tank (which was pretty awesome), so one day, I decided to feed him squid. Basically, the taste of squid pretty much did him in; shortly thereafter he died. I was sad not because I the frog disliked the food I placed before him, but because I was experiencing "the pain of stupid"- the pain one feels due to their own stupid decisions.

Anywho, in our lab, one of the other groups decided to COMLPETELY disregard proper dissection technique and hack away at the formaldehyde-ridden creature. My group, on the other hand, exhibited exemplary technique and execution. You can decide which frog was mine after viewing the pics.

Enjoy
(as best as possible)

A Joy of Living

One of the great things about being alive is having the ability to eat. I love eating, but some things are just far more enjoyable to consume than others. One of those extra enjoyable things is Lucky Charms.

Man, they're divine, and they taste great. If you're eating them for that reason alone though, you're missing out on a whole other plane of confectionery delight.

The best part about this cereal of choice is not the curiously shaped frosted figures or the milk upon which it lays so effortlessly on. It's the CHARMS. After all, they are lucky :D

I've been eating this cereal religiously every night, give or take, since the beginning of the year, and I don't regret it. Today, while eating and juggling several conversations (without talking with my mouth full), I almost relapsed into thinking that the cereal merely tasted great. My thoughts changed when I took a look down into the wonderful field of colors and abstract shapes that awaited their inevitable digestion below. Looking at the sea of charms sitting in that bowl is, in essence, a free ticket to a visual roller coaster filled with beautiful rainbows, stars, balloons, and everything in between. Needless to say, it's a visual feast. PLUS, I'm convinced that every charm has its own unique and special taste that separates itself from every other charm in the bowl. Doesn't it?

What am I getting at here? I'm not merely writing to make myself hungry! Well here's my point. If you're diminishing your quality of life by not eating this savory treat AT LEAST once daily, you're a fool. Go grab a bowl, and join the fun!

Good Things Come to those who Wait. . . .

Hello all,

I posted the iPhone apps quite some time ago, and I'm pleased to see that some apps were downloaded >70x. I'm glad people are benefiting. With that said, I've been thinking about adding new ones. Today I tried to upload more, but Windows 7 decided not to allow my iPhone to sync to iTunes. Cool, huh?

Be that as it may, I'll tinker around with this technical difficulty on the morrow, so expect new apps then.

Thanks.

Vicissitudes

Today, among all other days which come to mind in my preconscious, is particularly lucky. The sun isn't shining. The clouds cover the sky. It's raining at present, yet I feel a a spring of mirth within my me. I can't quite place its origin or from whom it stems as it's due to a myriad of events I reckon. This morning at 3am an oasis in my desert of poetic writings sprung forth, and I completed the following poem called "Late Night".

Late Night

Flesh is beauty when it burns;
Fire makes the boring hot.
In coffins where no stomach churns,
It melts like glue into a pot.

There stands a woman dressed in red,
Her vice can not be seen with eyes.
To maim all men with whom she bends;
They feel the burning in their thighs.

Fingers thrice dipped in water looks the same.
A hand in air shows not a sign of bane,
But in it swims a vile and noxious strain
To enter incognito with cruel chains.

Oh that the joys in one night's bed could quell,
Instead of living on in life's long spell.

(If you liked this piece, check out my other works on www.poetry.com)

Since I racked my brain composing this poetic piece, I didn't sleep until about 4am. I thought my Monday would be filled with angst and sleep deprivation. Boy was I wrong. The good vibes kept flowing, and my Spanish class was even canceled. Things couldn't get better.

I was in the process of relating my marvelous day to my friends Sarah and Liz; my mother called and told me that my cat died. I'm not too shaken about it, but my spring of mirth certainly diminished substantially. Silver, my cat, supposedly had arthritis, and was given medication to treat it. This morning, apparently, his bladder was noticeably protruding from his ventral side, so my mom took him to the vet. He had a heart attack. Case closed.

Today is certainly a day of vicissitudes. My high on life came to abrupt halt right when I reached the apex of the commensurate elation of the day's goodness. It's interesting to note how life changes so starkly. I just read a friend's blog, and she spoke about the same thing. When tragedy strikes in your individual life, your solipsistic view of reality shatters and stops instantly, but the world keeps on whirling around it's celestial course. Moments like these cause me to muse on the fact that life's highs can only be TRULY appreciated when you experience a low point.