Chris Rachael Oseland

Well boys and girls, after a short hiatus I am once more a paid blogger. This time, instead of bacontastic foodie goodness, I’m covering the social and events beat here in Louisville. Expect linky goodness soon.

My recent experiment in “meeting people socially” didn’t turn out so well, so I’m resorting to the geektastic methods of my younger days. That’s right: internet dating. Sites are a little more sophisticated than they were the last time I gave this a whirl. Hopefully, that means I won’t end up with another purple haired pre-op transvestite. Regardless, it should be an … adventure.

I am not too proud to admit I can’t think straight in anticipation of tonight’s episode. Therefore, here are a few completely unfounded predictions. Let’s see how they pan out when the series ends.

• Mommy and Daddy both die, though not at the same time.
• The Twelve Lords of Kobol are the genetic templates for the twelve models of Cylon.
• Another iteration of Tigh is Starbuck’s daddy, making her the first hybrid.
• Baltar dies a heroic martyr, which makes it so much easier for his cult to gain real traction.
• The 6 in Baltar’s Head, the Baltar in 6’s head, and any other apperations are transmissions from the Cylon God.
• The fleet blows up.
• The Final Cylon is Papadama’s dead son Zach.

I used to be a ridiculously picky eater. Bread did not cross my lips unless it was white. Sauces didn’t cross my lips unless they were a variation on ketchup. Vegetables simply didn’t cross my lips.

Somewhere along the way, I acquired a taste for spicy curry, all kinds of legumes, artisan breads, and enough spices to make me a sixteenth century silk route millionaire. I know palates can change.

Now most of the time when people say they want to acquire a taste, they mean something many people consider vile. Coffee. Wine. Deep fried insects. It’s not usually something really good for you or really prevalent in modern cooking.

Thus I’m engaged in a bold experiment. I’ve read it takes a kid 20-30 exposures to a new food before they’ll like it. No reason why that can’t also work on adults. Therefore I’m going to try to make myself like broccoli. Yes, really. I can’t stand the stuff, but it’s in darn near every vegetable medley in North America. Plus, rumor has it the stuff’s good for you. I’m up to Exposure # 3 and still can’t see why this ever became a farmable crop, but hey, this is SCIENCE! Well, at least Mad Science.

If it fails, I acquired a little extra vitamins this year. If it succeeds, I’m almost afraid of what I’ll inflict upon myself next. Stay tuned.

I’m a couple hours away from another exciting Thursday night of networking.

Here’s a little secret. I actually enjoy it. I know, I know, you’re supposed to loathe networking events. The thing is, I like meeting new people. I know, I know, it’s utterly shocking that a woman who runs two clubs and is being courted to expand her local nerd empire actually enjoys meeting new people.

Networking events are a lot like internet dating - which yes, I also enjoyed. You’re always a little surprised by who actually shows up, you’re intriegued by what people are like when they’re not on thier best behavior, and the only things you learn are strangely out of context. For me, it creates a little intriegue and ups the fun.

One hundred feet beneath the bedrock of Stockholm lies a refurbished nuclear bunker with simulated daylight, waterfalls, and greenhouses all powered by a former German submarine engine.

Oh, sure, they SAY it’s a humble data center designed “with humans in mind” but we all know the CEO is required by law to have a tank full of frigging sharks with frigging lasers on their heads.

Sir, if you’re looking for minions, I come with tech skills, an assortment of costumes, and my own small cult. Call me.

Best coasters ever!

You can complain all you want about the dehumanizing effects of nametags, but as someone who runs a club successful enough it’s outgrown its last two locations, I’ve become a fan. Big clubs lead to big parties, which often as not lead to burning through 50+ plastic glasses in a night as people just grab a new one rather than risk cooties from accidentally drinking after someone else.

Okay, so it’d be easier to put a Hello My Name Is sticker right on the plastic glass. Or skip a step and write on the glasses in sharpie marker. These coasters are still cute.

Congrats to the hard working people at My Damn Channel! TIME magazine put You Suck At Photoshop into the same elite category as Lost, Battlestar Galactica, and The Colbert Report as top unmissable shows of 2008.

If you haven’t had the pleasure, you’re in for a real treat. You don’t need to know a thing about Photoshop to enjoy the humor (though if you watch all the way through, you’ll learn something by sheer osmosis whether you want to or not.) Come for the pathos, stay for the schadenfreud.

Plus, at 5-6 minutes, you can watch each episode during the commercial breaks for Lost.

Yes, my bacon countdown continues! For a change, every one of these products is actually for sale.  Darned if I know why.

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Hey! Hey! Hey, what is this?

Me:  Matisyahu!

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Yeah, like, I saw the name, but what the fuck is this?

Me: What do you think you bought a ticket for?

Creepy McDrunkerkins: My boy, like, I ditched my boy here two times inna row and he like he like he said to me I gotta come out with him tonight!

Me: Have fun!

Creepy McDrunkerkins: He said I’d get some pussy!

Me: [backs away]

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Like what IS this?

Me: Orthodox Jewish Reggae.

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Shit! I’m a Christian!

Me: So are 90% of the people in this room.

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Is he, like, trying to convert us?

Me: No…

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Do you think this shit gets him pussy?

Me: Ask him after the show.

Creepy McDrunkerkins: Do chicks dig it?

Me: I like it.

Creepy McDrunkerkins: But you’re not Jewish.

Me: Fraid So.

Creepy McDrunkerkins: But you’ve got a nose ring!