jump to navigation

Flashing. 2/27/2007

I got on the bike and rode out to work first thing in the morning, as usual. I exited the parking lot of my condo, giving the security guards at the post a wave of my hand. I came out onto the main road, and turned left.

Now, the thing about the condo where I stay is that parking spaces are limited, as in each unit only gets one parking space. And considering that most units have 2 or three cars, the residents end up parking their cars on the main road, at an angle. Mornings will see an exodus of people coming out of their units, and walking out to their cars. Many will be carrying laptop bags or briefcases, or handbags. And usually they open the read door to stash the bag in the back seat, before geting in the driver’s seat and heading off.

Today was no exception. I came of of the unit at the peak of morning rush hour, and I could see cars on either side of me hainvg their doors opened, and hear engines being warmed up. As I rolled down the road, I glanced to my left, and almost lost control of Bikebike.

The car off to my left had its rear door open, and the owner of the car was bent over, probably arranging things in the back seat. She had one foot on the road, and the other bent at the knee, resting on the back seat. She was reaching far inside the car, doing god only knows what. Which isn’t so bad, in and of itself. What almost made me crash Bikebike was the fact the she was wearing a skirt.

An altogether too short skirt, which allowed her panties to show. And these weren’t sexy, lacy things either. These were definitely granny undies, flesh coloured, which she was possibly using to keep her tummy tucked in and hips in check, so that she could wear that altogether inappropriate dress, with its way too short skirt. I use the word inapproriate because, well, the view I was being afforded showed me her thighs.

Lots of thigh. Big. Huge. Like sides of beef. In that pasty pale skin from not seeing the sun. To make things worse, they were covered in cellulite, and there were varicose veins on her legs. She wasn’t wearing stockings, which I guess might have made it slightly more bearable, but this was way too much.

I averted my gaze quickly, and gunned the throttle to get away from the sight as quickly as possible. I shuddered in my jacket. If there was ever a reason for this country to impose Islamic law, and impose wearing the burqa compulsory for women, that was it.

A matter of degree.

I was channel surfing last night, in the throes of insomnia, when I caught a snippet of CSI:NY. I know a lot of people rave about this show, grooving on the technical jargon being thrown around, and the forensic scientists looking cool finding clues the first time they look, making accurate predictions and getting test results instantaneously.

The reality is a little different. Forensics science is more of an art than a skill, and requires a person with a very keen mind and an eye for detail. Along with the fact that forensics takes a bloody long time to get test results or details of analyses, and then a lot of time is taken to interpret the results. Bear in mind that a forensics pathologist may be required to give evidence under oath in court, and subject to cross examination by counsel, something I don’t see a lot of in CSI. And the evidence has to hold up in court, because justice being served, and served correctly, may hinge on the testimony of the forensics scientist.

And I use the word scientist in it’s most literal sense here. Someone working in forensics will have a science degree of some sort, usually in one of the hard biological sciences, or a forensics degree. Definitely someone with a lot of science education. So when watching this particular episode of CSI, I fell off the sofa laughing when I heard the following.

Scene : In a cold room containing sides of beef hanging from the ceiling. Frost is evident on the walls and floor, and breath is coming out in mist.

CSI actress : “The blood is still liquid. It can’t be. The temperature in here is freezing, at zero degrees Fahrenheit.”

In case you failed general science, 0 degrees Fahrenheit is -17.78 degrees Centigrade, which is way below freezing. Freezing point, where water turns from its liquid state to ice, is 32 degrees Fahrenheit, or 0 degrees Centigrade. Meat lockers are set at 4-6 degrees centigrade, because setting the freezer temperature below zero centigrade spoils the texture of the meat. I think what the actress meant to say was “Centigrade”, not “Fahrenheit”. And fans still groove on this show? I think it’s pseudo science of the worst sort, along with Dan Brown’s “Da Vinci Code”.

For a calculator where you can check this, go here.

Anyway, if you use Fahrenheit or Centigrade, you’re a bapuk.  Real men use Kelvin.