I've been doing some unpleasant work in the lab lately. Nothing too disgusting but I've been working on a lot of protein blots and yesterday I had to make a new protein buffer that contains one of my least favorite lab chemicals ever. It's not anything noxious smelling, radioactive or toxic but it does have quite the crazy color. This oh-so-favorite compound of mine is called Bromophenol Blue. And yes, it is very Bromophenol and very, VERY
Blue. It comes in a powdered format and a little goes a long way. No, let me rephrase that - an extremely little, an
iota even, goes a long, LONG way. The true joy of this chemical though lies not in it's ability to turn solutions shades of
cornflower to
indigo, or in the fact that it reacts strongly to proteins (any proteins... including those on human skin, yes, my dear blog readers, this is called foreshadowing). You see, the true joy of Bromophenol Blue lies in the fact that as a powder it camouflages
perfectly to the color of a standard lab bench. Needless to say the stray grain of it inevitably winds up where it is least expected - usually on the hands of the unsuspecting lab tech who removed her gloves after what she thought was a thorough cleaning of the counters. And really, is there anything more complementary to a long hard day at work than leaving the office with palms and fingers the color of
blueberries? I seriously looked like I'd been running around all day squashing Smurfs with my bare hands. If I had the black robe and malicious kitty I could've done a great Gargamel impression because certainly my annoyance at the incident brought out a long suppressed evil Smurf-killing countenance that I didn't even know I had in me. After a dozen washings (and Smurf curses muttered under my breath) my hands had only faded to a dark
cerulean shade and two days later, two days of excessive hand-washing later, my skin was still resembling a speckled
robin's egg. And truthfully, if that was the worst of it, I could cope. But as it turns out as I got to work today - on the verge of regaining my normal-for-me bleached chalk skin tone - Bromo-Blue Buffer was back on my to-do list. Regardless of caution - double gloves, paper towels, triple cleanings - I once again am the not-so-proud bearer of six out of ten
blue fingers. I'll get you Papa Smurf if it's the last thing I do!
perfectly to the color of a standard lab bench. Needless to say the stray grain of it inevitably winds up where it is least expected - usually on the hands of the unsuspecting lab tech who removed her gloves after what she thought was a thorough cleaning of the counters. And really, is there anything more complementary to a long hard day at work than leaving the office with palms and fingers the color of blueberries? I seriously looked like I'd been running around all day squashing Smurfs with my bare hands. If I had the black robe and malicious kitty I could've done a great Gargamel impression because certainly my annoyance at the incident brought out a long suppressed evil Smurf-killing countenance that I didn't even know I had in me. After a dozen washings (and Smurf curses muttered under my breath) my hands had only faded to a dark cerulean shade and two days later, two days of excessive hand-washing later, my skin was still resembling a speckled robin's egg. And truthfully, if that was the worst of it, I could cope. But as it turns out as I got to work today - on the verge of regaining my normal-for-me bleached chalk skin tone - Bromo-Blue Buffer was back on my to-do list. Regardless of caution - double gloves, paper towels, triple cleanings - I once again am the not-so-proud bearer of six out of ten blue fingers. I'll get you Papa Smurf if it's the last thing I do!
So the University of Illinois (my esteemed alma mater!) has officially retired Chief Illiniwek. You can read all about it in the Tribune or at U of I's official statement website. Personally I think the whole thing fizzling out seems like something of a joke. [Not that any part of the issue can be more of a joke than 2002's infamous Plummer report stating "the Board of Trustees has but two alternatives – retain the Chief or retire him." Uhhh... no shit, Sherlock!] However in light of the upcoming last dance, those that support the Chief get no type of honorable retirement for their "beloved tradition" and those that see him as nothing more than a point of contention lack the apology and denunciation of labelling him a "racist mascot". Perhaps this is the only way to achieve a compromise in which case I will concede that it is, in all ways, for the best. But when I look at the efforts of those that have argued the dilemma for the past decade or more, it seems quite the anticlimactic end to things. What has long been painted as a war between alumni dollars and Native American interests has come down to no more than the simple matter of hosting post season sports.
