Pen and pencil myths

First Pluto. Now this? Everything I knew to be true is crumbling.

Pen and pencil myths:

There’s a popular myth that NASA spent “millions” of dollars developing a pen for astronauts to use in the weightless environment of a space ship — while their sensible Russian counterparts were happy to use the low-tech pencil. Alas, for all its appeal and plausibility, this is not true. Initially, astronauts and cosmonauts were both equipped with pencils, but there were problems: if a piece of lead broke off, for example, it could float into someone’s eye or nose. A pen was needed, one that would defy gravity, write in extreme heat or cold, and be leak proof: blobs of ink floating around the cabin would be more perilous than a stray pencil lead. A long-time pen maker named Paul C. Fisher patented the “space pen” in 1965 (which he had developed at the cost of a million dollars, at the request of but not under the auspices of NASA.) NASA bought four hundred of them at $6 each, and, after a couple of years of testing, the pens were put into space.

That is from Kitty Burns Florey, Script & Scribble: The Rise and Fall of Handwriting.

The Grass is Always Greener (and Thicker)

Feeling good about yourself? Well, never read your alumni magazine. No matter how good things are going for you, someone else's life is far better. 


Hella proud that you buttoned your shirt correctly the first time? Yeah. Well someone else that sat in the same lecture hall as you did, just found a cure for cancer. 

Some Like It Crusty

There's something about a crispy, toasted sandwich with gooey melted cheese that simply makes it better. With a cheap panini press (you can pick one up for $20), you can turn your boring sandwiches into restaurant rivals. The sandwich above was oatnut bread with a drizzle of olive oil on top, mozzarella cheese, salami, hot capicola and slices of green pepper. Try it out next time and let me know the results.

151 Prophet

He managed to simultaneously talk to everyone and no one at all. Sporting a black Kangol cap and dress clothes, the Prophet sat in the back of the 151 loudly proclaiming his views.

"Men marrying men," he started, "that just ain't right."

"Women marrying women..." he trailed off.

"How does that even work?"

No one on the bus, including the coterie of nurses fresh off their shift from NWM, attempted an explanation.

As he stood waiting for the 151 to squeal to a halt and the rear doors to whip open, he gave his final blessing.

"Sooner or later we all gonna leave this earth."

And sooner rather than later, he departed the 151.

The Case of the Missing Case (Or The One That Got Away)

I like to think that I take a little something away from every hoodrat I date. But this one took something from me. It's one of those lessons you continually try to learn in life and swear that there won't be a next time.

She was a nice girl in the beginning. They all are. It's only a matter of time before you find out their real self. Our courtshit started off so innocently before ultimately ending with a more aggressive than passive series of text messages.

Our story starts like all good stories, we had met on the interwebs. We saw a movie for our "do you match your profile picture" first outing. It probably wasn't the best sign that I was thinking about the girl I was meeting the next night while I was at the cinema. Thankfully for me, telepathy isn't as widespread as iPhone 5 rumors. After a dance lesson in the park--not a euphemism--we parted ways.