Run for the shadows in these golden years

The rest of Friday's testing worked out well, if anyone was worried. Now I just need to repeat it three times, and we'll finally be done with this wretched stuff, and off to the carefree bliss of ethylbenzeneland.

My apartment complex is being repainted. It's going from its previous sort of southwesterny red-and-adobe color scheme to more of a mocha with chocolate trim, and other equally edible colors. Since this place is enormous and all, it's a gradual process. I've found that watching the daily progress of these muted (and comparatively anemic, if not unattractive) colors as they expand across the complex kind of gives the unsettling impression that the buildings are slowly dying. Or else Ursula K Le Guin's dream dude is trying to eliminate apartment racism.

Lastly, I have an idea for a group Halloween costume. Three words: David Bowie Chronology. Who wants to do this? (NB: If you do not want to do this, there is something wrong with you. Also, I call dibs on Thin White Duke.)

To the city, the big big city

I'm currently in the first day of testing subjects on a new chemical, the one that's taken nearly two months to prepare for because it's so dang finicky. The session seems to be going surprisingly smoothly so far, though I'm reluctant to even say anything, for fear of jinxing it.

It turns out I did go to Vegas last weekend, which was a lot of fun. I met Gabe, Jon, and Shawn there, and James surprised us by appearing unannounced (while playing the TNG theme on the harmonica), and also by inviting Randall Munroe (indeed, today's comic mentions the trip).
It was a whole bunch of fun. We went on both the Borg and Klingon rides, enjoyed the finest smoldering drinks in fishbowls that Quarks had to offer, took in some of the more appalling sights of the town, and were generally very silly.
Suzie Plakson(!) was there, and is as pleasant as she is tall (six foot one and a half).
Those of us who did not bring uniforms(!!) had to make do with commbadges from the gift shop, and, as I returned home, the TSA guy who was x-raying the bags said "okay, who's a member of the Federation?"
Lastly, the Worst Joke of the Trip Award goes to Shawn, who gestured to the twin statues of Lursa and B'Etor and said "Double Duras on you." There are several dozen close runners-up.