I Want to – that Government Hooker

I'm going to drink my tears tonight.

No, not literally. That would be painfully emo. Today is Friday and you all know I'm trying to get down on Friday. There ain't no reason I should be alone tonight, right? I mean it's Friday. 

BUT, I am in the City of Brotherly Love where to do anything remotely fun at night, you have to be the magical age of 21. Because you know, here in America you can go to Afghanistan and get blown up by insurgents or get married, but to have wine, to sip on champagne, you are breaking federal law.

Margvominthemo.

For those of you not up to date with the freshest lingo, let me break down that wonderful word for you.

Marg = marginal.

Vom = Vomit. Featured as Lingo of the Day in my third post.

In the = In The

Mo = Mouth.

Margvominthemo sprung from the notable phrase “I just threw up in my mouth a little bit”  first coined in Dodgeball. 

This happened to me once. Story forthcoming. 

I would like to thank the illustrious CBJ (not the fruit juice) for introducing me to the term. 

Back to why I'll be drinking my tears tonight.

Tonight, I will most likely stay in my room and work while most of the Merckterns go to Old City to spend a portion of our paychecks. I could join in on the pre-going out activities, but

two weekends ago, I had the unfortunate opportunity to witness how college RA's operate.

The Merckterns were in a room having a subdued party. Word spread that the RA was coming and all people under 21 had to evacuate. My roommate and I left just as the RA entered. The 20yr olds who did not leave in time had to hide in a bedroom closet, like R-Kelly.

The emotional ups and downs, the out of nowhere game changing reveals
 make this Hip Hopera quite great.

If you haven't seen this yet, do yourself a favor and click here. Pop culture will never be low brow.

The RAs then proceeded to card everyone in the dorm! Apparently, 21 year olds are allowed to drink (quietly) in their rooms but if they are caught drinking with a 20 year old, then everyone gets written up. 

VOM.

I'm drinking my tears tonight because Philadelphia and Penn's policies basically separate the social lives of 21 and 20 years old. And as a 20 year old here, I am in the extreme minority. Like a black person skiing in Alaska. 

When the coast was clear, a couple of us headed back to the library, but the RA was still in the hall. She was like,

"Are you guys 21?"

We replied yes.

She then rudely said  "really? You guys don't look 21."

At that moment I wanted to ask her, "Can you can tell the difference between someone born on June 10^th 1990 versus June 11^th 1990? Why are you insane."

Ugh. Vomdotcom.

I later realized she's not insane, the system is. Having people barely older than you police your actions is crazy. Animal Farm anyone? I am glad that Yale is well relaxed when it comes to dorm life issues. Our freshman counselors or Frocos are essentially absent big brothers and sisters who sign our schedules and act as defacto friends until we make real ones. They were around only if your life became Ke$ha status. But during freshman year, that's a fairly common occurrence.

Where are her keys? She lost her phone. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

When will college students learn?

When will we all stop being Government Hookers? 

Dat's right. You dun heard me correct. I cawed yoselves guhvonment hookaz.

Why yes, in the most literal sense, we are not government hookers, certainly not by day at least. Government Hooker is a Lady Gaga song about role playing and adorning a persona to match another person's wants.

I can be anything, I'll be your everything.

Just touch me baby. I don't want to be sad.

-"Government Hooker" Lady Gaga

Don't get it twisted, I am not advocating that we go out and get to know each other in the biblical sense. I am only saying that I've come to realize, watching how we interns initially interacted with each other, that it is in our nature to be each other's government hookers. Why?

Because we just want lots of friends who invite us to their parties. Duhsicles! But if you’re a 20 year old American, don’t bother showing up. 

Interestingly, contrarian people and unique personalities attract me.

And so, after the initial phase of government hooking, ie: being super friendly to everyone, complete with fake laughs and inconsequential cutesy tidbits about yourself, the people who can "drink their tears at night cuz they know people will love them anyway" become my closest and best friends.

Mark this date.

On June 19^th 2011, 6:11 PM, a great American transgression happened here in Rodin Hall 1312.

I come back to my apartment after a wonderful weekend at home.

I insert my key into the keyhole.

Slowly turn it to the right working the full rotational motion of my wrist.

I give an ever so gentle push on the doorknob.

And gracefully enter my apartment.

To my shock and dismay, on the table, in plain sight, surrounded by beer cans and empty solo cups, lies my pride and joy, sitting like royalty amidst insolvent crude remnants of alcohol.

Yes folks. My Sunny Delight was out in the sun.

And it looked like people used it to have fun.

I was not present while this happened.

So as you can imagine, I was sufficiently stunned.

I immediately activated my passive aggressive side.

Astounded that people thought they could hide

Like a stealthy unassuming mongoose,

I asked my roommate a question, loaded with verbal cyanide.

"Did you guys use some of my Sunny-D as a mixer while I wasn't here?"

-Chidi Akusobi 6:13PM 

True Story.

That sentence structure (ie: statement|question) and my tone of voice created a perfect slice of passive aggressive heaven that immediately relayed to my roommate that he is never to take my Sunny-D and serve it to strangers as a mixer as if I am the local distributor of all things juice at Rodin Hall. Ridiculous. Unabashed irreverence to personal belongings.

B in the D in ninth grade history class, I was answering a question and this boy George (haha) was slyly trying to steal my Oreo cookies. 

1. Hate when people try to be slick and they aren't. 

2. You're going to take my beloved oreos that I only have six of without my permission? 

When I saw this from the corner of my eye, I whipped around, grabbed my cookies and said “Don’t. Eat. My. Oreos.” in the middle of class. Turned backed around, and resumed answering my question. 

Projvom. 

(Projectile voming)  

My roommate offered to buy me a new jug by the way. I declined.

But I did not simply say no. 

See, if I were really passive aggressive I would have said, "It's fine", avoid eye contact, and put it back in the fridge.

Instead I said "I mean, it's fine" and put my beloved Sunny-D back in the fridge. 

Difference between the two answers?  

"I mean" aurally softens the blow of a remark but sentimentally does nothing to its intention. It's a perfect “0-calorie” type phrase that can make you appear like a Tyra Banks instead of an Anna Wintour. If you don't know these ladies, please educate yourself by clicking on the links. Remember, pop culture will never be low brow. 

In the end, I put my Sunny-D back in the fridge not without having a glass of juice and dipping some Oreos in it. 

Beautiful in its own way, no?

A quick word on passive aggression: We are always told not to do it because it only escalates issues. And I believe that's true.

However, passive aggression does get things done especially with people you aren't close with and thus don't want to expend energies meaning what you say and saying what you mean. Ironically, doing that is harder. 

I am not afraid to tell someone exactly how I am feeling or telling them that what they do bothers me. Those make for tough but instructive conversations.

Speaking of which

On the train to work today, I suddenly thought about someone I had gov't hooked up with once and was disgusted at the memory. I yelled out a

"OH MY GOD! EW."

Half the car looked at me. I wanted to pull a Secret life of Alex Mack and melt. But I couldn't. The train was roaring through the tunnel. Doors closed. I was in plain sight. Flustered, and crying on the inside, I did my best and loudly said

"Congratulations! I'm so happy for you" and proceeded to have a fake conversation with someone on the phone. I was listening to music but pretended like my headphones were earpieces. I did this for two stops and then got off.

Stresscity.

Speaking of which

I'm waging war on Philadelphia's regional transit system, SEPTA, effective today. 

If Metro North Trains were transformers, they would DESTROY Septa.
And have time for Sunday brunch. 

Chronically late and habitually dirty, Septa service is unprofessional and a constant blight to my day.

Vomcakes. 

The war will be like the War on Terror, largely behind the scenes and forever ongoing. 

Before I go fight the first battle of the Akusobi-Septa Summer War, I want to leave you guys with the running list of my year and summer nominations I’ve been doing since 2009.

Year of 2009 = Year of the Whore.

(Boo you whore)

Summer of 2009: Get Me Bodied 2009 Edition

(gained 5lbs)

Year of 2010: Year of the Beast 

(or the year I almost failed Spanish, twice)

Summer 2010: Summer of Love 

(or summer of sending late night texts that ended up nowhere)  

Year 2011: Year of the Future 

(or the year before the world 'ends')

2011 lies on the precipice of the rest of our lives. I not only continue to think about the inconsequentials like what cake is for dinner, but also I start wondering "would I be able to regularly order crème bu le  5 years from now?"

The fact that I had to google how to spell the dessert and that it has an accent mark means the food is currently out of my price range. With time young grasshopper.

On a random note. This project looks awesome!

I actually really want to know her conclusion.
Should I contact her?

You deserve the future.

-"The Fame Ball Tour Intro" Lady Gaga

And finally Summer of 2011: Summer of Rediscovery.

I am using this summer to self meditate and write. I am reminiscing on the path I took to get to where I am today and how I want to proceed in the future. Senior year will be a time of foundational change. I feel that with a firm grasp of who I am, what I want, and where I want to be, I will figure why I am here and consequently how to get there. I believe we're all unknowingly on the road leading to our destinies, to futures we deserve. 

Crossing my fingers that the world doesn't end in 2012 but if it does, that'd be cool.  I would personally like an interstellar attack from an alien life form with cool spaceships. 

 I wanna go out in with style. 

From the mammal next door,

Chibear

PS: Video of the Day.

Many of you guys know about Chidish, here’s your chance to hear it in action. 

Stranger in a Strange Land

All good things come to an end.

Lost.

Tomagachi pets.

Lindsay Lohan. 

My blog is not one of them. 

Some of you have been pressuring me to write a new post. To that I say

Why you so obsessed with me?

The rumors are true though. I've been MIA these past few days. This was my first week interning at Merck Co., Inc. As a result, my blog took on a Britney Spears type posting pattern. I went underground for a while but when you least expected it BOOM! I busted out a new post that'll have you reading till the world ends.

Here's a not so secret secret about me. Before I was a Gaga fan, I loved Britney Spears b in the d. But then she married K-Fed, shaved off all her hair, and was institutionalized for bipolar disorder.  

Struggle City

In 2006, she was slated to make a comeback during the VMAs. The Pop Princess was back! We were going to love her again! She had hair now (thank god) and all was seemingly well.

But then…

Disaster struck in the form of Gimme More.

She delivered the worst VMA performance in its history and ever since then she's been on a perpetual come back. I guess her life is a lesson to kids that

sometimes you can fall so low, even if you get back up, people will always see you on the ground.

Here is a real secret about me. I spent the first night of college blasting Toxic and eating Oreos alone in my room. Talk about being on the fast track to having 0 friends and 15 extra lbs by 2^nd semester. 

Stress-sad-lonely eating is not a good thing but sometimes food is your only friend.  

  

Monday June 6^th 

I woke up at 5:20AM, 12 minutes before the sunrise in Philadelphia.  I purposefully arose 10 minutes earlier than my apartment mates because I didn't want to wait for the shower. Survival of the fittest. 

Together 50 interns and I commenced our daily trek to Merck on the unreliable Septa, Philly's regional transportation network. 

A word on Septa. 

It ruins lives. A train that is supposed to come at 4:52PM habitually comes at 5:08PM! Tardy trains seriously dampen my livelihood. 

Friday, June 10th 

 I've been at Merck for 5 days now. Here are my thoughts and experiences thus far.

Merck Co., Inc. is a multibillion dollar pharmaceutical company that makes products such as Claritin for itchy eyes and Gardisil, the controversial HPV vaccine.

Gorgeous symmetric circles and capitalized san-serif font.

This logo is plastered everywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if employees' babies are born with it as a promotional birthmark. 

I work in the Genomics Screening group at North Wales, PA The labs are basically in industrial parks surrounded by nature which is pleasant. Very spacious. I wish I could take pictures but that is strictly prohibited.

The goal of my project is to extract the DNA, RNA, and proteins from 600 cancer cell lines. The final goal is to fully characterize the genomic and proteomic profiles of different cancer cell types in the hopes of providing more specialized treatments. This is a relatively new branch of research called pharmacogenomics. Cool right? I love when two fields have intellectual intercourse and birth a sprawling love child hybrid field.   

Personalized Pills ie: license to overdose.

I've come to realize that there are a scad of policies, procedures, regulations, and oversight. Everything, literally everything, has a rule or a standard operating procedure. I know the courses of action to follow in case someone (probably me) slips on a slippery floor versus a dry floor. Actually. 

There are managers and upper management, meetings, teleconferences, and faster than ever email responses by people who sit at a desk from 9 to 5.

Have no fear, the chairs and desks are an ergonomic gold standard. I took a training course on it. The chairs are quite nice actually. Every part has a knob to control it.

Chairs as complicated as air craft carriers.

Corporate research culture is different (richer) than academia. For instance, I am writing this blog entry on my company computer and will send the finished manuscript from my company email to gmail. To my immediate right is my desk telephone and ahead and behind me are cubicles where other people work.

All of this is to say that research at Merck & Co., Inc. is incredibly office like in that me a summer intern, a n00b, has the amenities of a University professor. The cash-monies is a great perk and the 9 to 5-esque time frame exceeds the often 12+ hours I spent in lab last summer. Lastly, everything is automated in my lab. There are machines and robots that do a lot of the work here. Some cost 20 million dollars! My clumsy self has to be extra viligant. I don't want to destroy equipment equal to the country of Tuvalu's yearly GDP.

$ Automated Tissue Culture Robot = $ Tuvalu ? 

There are downsides to corporate research. The biggest is the lack of intellectual agency. The scientists here are essentially given a project, established protocols, and are paid to churn out results. There are performance evaluations ie stress and traditional bosses to impress. University professors and graduate students should interact with each other as colleagues. Here at Merck, people refer to the boss as boss. You report to her. She tells you what to do. You do it.

My department is going through a restructuring in the next 6 months. Merck has elusive terminology for words an employee never wants to hear.

The big bosses that control your ability to make a living are called Upper Management.

You're terminated if you fail to be compliant.

Department Reconstruction = Hide yo kids. Hide yo wife because someone is getting fired up in here.

Had to include an Apprentice Picture.

At this company you can be described as under performing. That's a slap in the face.  

Also if the company starts calculating your cost-benefit then you know you’re in trouble.

Basically, you can get fired.  

It's great to do research in such a novel environment complete with different incentives and goals. The science is still the same. The culture is radically different.

When we choose professions we are actually choosing a culture and an established MO. Person XY is a prodigy at statistics and economics. Those are a set of great skills that can allow him to work at Goldman Sachs, Wharton School of Business, or the US Department of Commerce. All three will enable XY to use those skills but how and why he’ll use them is radically different. Of course there are some skill sets that can be used in a limited variety of settings.

You're great at dancing on a poll?

Hooters is hiring.  

Another major part of the summer is I am living in an apartment. I’m being a single 20 yr old independent working professional. Here is some of the food I've made so far. 

The first dinner I cooked was Mac Noodles with Baked Beans, bacon, and cheese. I drizzled BBQ on the dish and sprinkled Dash seasoning.

A real image captured by my camera.
I know it looks Gourmet.

The 2^nd dinner I made was

Mac Noodle Din.
Mac Noodle Din.
Mac Noodle Din. with CBJ on the side.

You right. you right. The first two pics are the same dish! I love having leftovers of delicious meals.

On the third night I made a ravishing pot of stir fry ground beef with green and red peppers, onions, garlic, and BBQ sauce.

I should give the SY Dining Hall this recipe. 

This meat will go on everything from noodles to my peanut butter, cheese, and BBQ sandwiches.

If I ever opened a restaurant. Mark My Words.

It will create a paradigm shift in the way we traditionally think of food combinations.

Mark my words even more. I will make Peanut Butter rise as the spread franca. My delicious dishes do not lie. Your hips will be grooving to the soothing music I play at the CHI-DI Palace of Fine Food and Fashion.

Why fashion?

Because people have to dress as impeccably as the food they'll be eating.  

Here is the view outside my window. 

Looks like that infamous MIT Dorm

The massive apartment building you see is called The Radian and at night they have a restaurant where people sit on the floor by firepits! I guess wealthy Philadelphians want to eat their meals like destitute refugees.

And over to the left is a very special restaurant. A place where I discovered the combination of Sweet and Sour and Barbeque sauce.  A place where the Big Macs reigns supreme and you can have it your way.

I love stalking people through my 8x zoom camera.

I haven't been yet. I plan on going. And when I do.

I'll be dying.

In fact, I'll be dead.

In a casket.

Delicious.

Thanks for reading. I know you love me. XOXO.

Chidiboy 

Abbreviation of the Day: B in the D

B in the D is short for back in the day. It is used in prelude to a story that occurred in the distant past. Often the story represents a marked departure from the story teller's usual antics or daily activities.

Examples of Usage:

B in the D, I watched mad digimon.

-CA

He was my archnemesis b in the d.

-KH

I Don’t Know What to Tell You Now

Hi. My name is Chidi Akusobi. And I'm a sauce-o-holic.

I love sauces. 
Sweet and Sour.

Chocolate.

Duck.

Honey Mustard.

And the Regina George of Sauces.

Barbeque 

My Fountain of Youth 

It’s scrumptious on meats, cheeses, pastas, breads, salads. 

It’ll make Vegemite delicious. 

Heck, I would even put it on General Tso’s Tofu...on condition that I’m forced to eat that dish. 

My first college essay draft was about how whenever I ate McDonald’s fries and nuggets, I combined BBQ and Sweat and Sour sauce to make an orgasmic blend of savory delight that elevated the intensity of the McDonald's fry-nugget experience  Mmm, I’m loving it.

Literally drooling right now.

My college counselor shot that essay down.  

And now I’m at Yale. 

True.

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend at CPK and ate a whole BBQ Chicken w/ Applewood Smoked bacon pizza (vegetarians: stay away) Calories 1360.  When I asked for Ginger sauce to drizzle on my pizza the waitress said “Oh you again!” and proceeded to get me a large saucer of sauce. 

I died.

Some of the drool just landed on my keyboard.

And by died I mean I was sufficiently embarrassed. It’s always shameful when a waitress recognizes you as the rambunctious kid requesting to eat the ridiculous.  

Food and healthy people have a wonderful relationship. Food is yummy, provides nourishment, and makes you feel better. Sometimes in college you feel down and want to scream out to the world “I JUST CAN’T.” Sometimes your college is even saying “You just can’t.” Well food is always something we can do.

Easily Rihanna's best song. 

And if food and company are just right, then you got yourselves a “What’s My Name” blasting in the background party. 

At the end of a stressful day, you will find me in my room 2AM devouring my double stuff (soon to be Triple Suff) Oreos after dipping each cookie 3/5-ths of the way into a cold oh so satiating glass of Sunny-D or CBJ. 

For those of you currently gagging at the thought of Oreos + Juice, it’s a “Stereo Love” party in your mouth.

And the party doesn’t stop till 15-20 Oreos later.

Milk is like a dining hall Aaron Carter party. Trite and Uncool. 

Zac Efron = Aaron Carter 2.0

And for those of you judging Sunny-D, don’t front like if you were at a pregrame, you wouldn’t be using it as a mixer and guzzling your drink down like the thirsty college student you are. I see through your poker faces.

If I make it big, excuse me. When I make it big, Sunny-D on the rocks will be my drink of choice. I’ll always be Chidi from the block, but living in an estate.

For those of you who know me, I have big Nemo-esque dreams.

They include

1. living in a banging house. 

2. having a closet that I can also live in.  

3. throwing infamous dinner parties (with place card holders!)

I sometimes wonder how much of my dreams have been inspired by Laguna Beach.

Of course none of these dreams may be actualized and I’m okay with that. 

Shoot for the sun so if you miss you’ll at least land on the moon 

–Ngozi "my mom" Akusobi

One of my biggest wishes in life is that all my friends are happy and successful in the future. Admittedly, there is a tinge of selfishness in this wish. Lady Gaga says “I want lots of friends who invite me to their parties.” This line is brilliant. It’s a simple and direct wish that I believe is a universal want.

Girls (and Boys) just want to have fun. 

Humans are social animals and we like to have fun. Blame our primate roots. Gregariousness is our MO, our prerogative, and we can only hope that in our futures, amidst the stresses of children, a career, and unappreciative or absent spouses, we can count on our fabulous friends,

Pool boys,

And babysitters 

To have fun.

(Desperate Housewives style)

More importantly, friends are the pillars we call on for personal strength and confidants who we celebrate our accomplishments with. In the distant future, I want to be invited to give the introduction speech of a friend who’s won a prestigious award.

Here’s how it’ll go down if I were to introduce-say Anusha Raja, M.D. for the Humanitarian Award from the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity.

I’ll walk on stage wearing a delicious designer gray suit with navy blue embroidery. I’ll give a brief introduction of myself and of course thank the crowd for making it out tonight. I’ll then put the picture below on the overhead projector. 

20 year old Anusha and Me before she owned our hearts.
And the world.

I’ll say...

“This is Anusha and me in college, before the wrinkles and heartburn. Back when Facebook was as ubiquitous as water and having kids was a cute and distant dream."

And although my heart will be beating with a boom baboom boom boom nervousness, I’ll give a holistic portrait of Anusha (or any friend) with emotional intensity stemming from deep seated feelings of camaraderie and love. The crowd will hop out their seats and give a rousing standing ovation as Anusha walks on the stage and gives me a warm hug. 

I’ll cry. She probably won’t cry. We’ll whisper to each other (an inside joke), we’ll both chuckle, and Anusha will then take the stage, ready to encapsulate the crowd with her life's work.  

Denzel Washington = Me.
Morgan Freeman = Anusha.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

Right now, we’re all bounded by invisible networks that we should utilize in the future. Say you need an advertising campaign for the drug your lab discovered. Call up my home girl Kelisha T. Menon, President of Saatchi and Saatchi.

Oh, you’re looking to publish a memoir at age 40 because that’s what you do when you’re a boss, let me connect you to the queen of publishing, Leah M. Rajaratnam.

Damn! You just got deported? Here. Take down the number of the best immigration and human rights firm, founded by Katherine E. Haas, JD.

Easily Rihanna's 2nd Best song.

That’s what’s great about friends.

When the sun shines, we’ll shine together.

But if it’s raining in the future, you can stand under my umbrella. I mean it.  

Humans are not only social beings but also chameleons. We are especially capable of absorbing our surrounding culture and a group's idiosyncrasies. Infants and children are masters at this but even now, in our ripe young 20s, we are inexplicably influenced by our environment.

That’s why I believe there is no such thing as a dumb child or smarter race. There are only unproductive or productive environments. A certain friend of mind studying the genetic basis of human traits in Sweden might disagree with me and I respect that. There is a reason the Nature vs. Nurture debate continues till this day. You can probably tell which side of the argument I adhere to.

Looking ahead, I hope we all forcibly place ourselves in environments that’ll challenge us and make us grow as individuals and global citizens.

Oops I did it again. I pontificated. Sorry for that sexy word.

I figure, if I studied 500 GRE vocab words, I should incorporate them into my quotidian lexicon.

That’s right. Look up quotidian! (I made it easier for you with the link) 

And in true Lost fashion, watch as I relate the end of my post to the nebulous title I gave it.

The title, “I Don’t Know What to Tell You Now” is a lyric from the Lady Gaga song Second Time Around. I titled this entry with that lyric because it’ll never happen. I’ll always have something to say, an opinion to express, and a story to tell. After all, I was once a playwright :) 

My mind, your mind, is filled with memories and ideas that are waiting to be further explored and flushed out. A stagnant mind is a dead one.

I pontificate therefore I am.

I can only hope that at the end of my posts, you leave satisfied with what you read. 

Last time I left you with a Judas inspired photo.

This week, I’ll do you one even better!

A Judas inspired video. Enjoy. 

From your Holy Fool,

Chidi Daniels Akusobi

Song of the Week: Super Bass

Nicki Minaj aka. Lady Gaga of R&B sing raps about the attributes of a man with a super bass that makes her heart go boom baboom.