The Blender Blunder

  I am a basket case.  During last period the other day, (Human Anatomy and Physiology), I completely missed the punchline of a short joke made by Mr. Science.  Before I say anything else, I have to explain Mr. Science:

1.) He loves what he teaches.  Literally.  To Mr. Science, the human body is this most amazing machine in the universe, which is something he reminds us of every class.

2.) He’s really quite funny, (which is why I wasn’t all that offended when he made the short joke).
3.) He likes to pick on people…no…I take that back.  He likes to pick on everyone. For instance, on this particular day, a conversation went as follows:

Mr. Science:  Alright is it polar covalent or nonpolar covalent?”

Student: Uh…nonpolar covalent?

Mr. Science: Right, it’s polar covalent.

So, on that early September day, as I sat in the upper right hand corner of the room, the hairs of my arms standing on end from the chill, I lazily jotted down a few notes on lipids, and glanced around at my fellow students who were also taking (probably much better) notes.  Ah, always the studious bunch.  A few minutes into the lesson, he stopped for a second and with his x-ray vision looked straight at me.

           “No offense, but I would totally outlive you if we were stranded on an island.  I’ve got more meat, and therefore more protein to survive on when the hunger kicks in.”  It took me about 30 seconds to realize he was talking about my height. Laughter is his teaching method!  This was not the end of the period, though. There was still much to learn.

           We went through another half-hour or so of notes as a few others suffered at the expense of Mr. Science’s outrageous, (and hilarious), scenarios he uses to help us connect with the material.  At the halfway point, he passed out a lab.  And this is where the real trouble began.

           My partner and I gathered the materials we needed, (some moldy strawberries, 100 mL of a soapy solution, and 10 mL of salt water), and set to work on the assignment.  With a scalpel, we cut the strawberries into quarters, and threw them into a blender, along with the soap solution and salt water.  We plugged the blender in and kicked it on, watching as the strawberries were shredded and juiced, mixing with the other additives.  After two minutes, we turned it off.  And here’s where we hit a snag.

           At home, I have a Ninja, (a blender quite similar to a NutriBullet).  To take the Ninja off of its base, I first have to twist it.  Naturally I attempted to do the same with the blender labeled with a 75 cent yard sale price tag.  It turns out, it was 75 cents for a reason.  When I twisted the blender, I managed to pull it off the base, but I also managed to lose all of the contents inside of it.  A 75 cent blender isn’t supposed to be twisted off, and so it really should have been no surprise to me when the bottom fell out and pink, foamy goop flooded out and on to the counter.  But it was.  Oops.

          Mortified, I whipped around and called out, “Mr. Science!”

           He glanced over at us, smiled, and then started toward us.  “Did you twist it?” he asked.

           We answered in unison, “Yes…”  And he laughed.  Hysterically.

           “You have to pull this one off the base,” he explained.  “But don’t worry,” he said kindly.  “There’s always a group of snowflakes.”

           I think we all have those simple tasks assigned to us that we assume will go off without a hitch, but somehow we manage to make a mess of things.  We fail to observe carefully. We’re all “snowflakes” in some way or another.  In my case, I can’t do a lab without somehow screwing it up.  But really, that’s okay because each lab presents me with a new opportunity to tell a story.

           (In other news, I think I’m going to start a new club called The Secret Snowflake Society.)