You know those cancer movies where the main character goes in for a routine doctor’s visit and gets really bad news?

Well, I’ve got the light-hearted buddy movie version of that story, starring me and a giant spleen-cyst named Igor.

This would be the reason I haven’t been on Nerdist for a while spilling my inner most dorky sexual situations. I’ve been too busy terrified I might explode.

Once Upon a Time…

It all started with an ultra sound for my crazy, unrelenting heartburn. The doc thought it was gallstones. I thought it was a waste of time.

So I’m lying there in the darkness as a nice lady lubes me up and silently prods my abdomen. I regret that this experience does not live up to my fantasy. After a while, I notice she is spending a lot of time on a large, dark orb on her screen.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“That’s your spleen,” she says.

“Well, okay. It’s good to know I have one. No one’s ever checked.”

She smiles. Little do I know she is a liar-face. This is not my spleen. That is 18% spleen and 82% mystery meat.

The Next Day

My doctor is at a loss for words. He literally has me read my own chart.

“A cyst in my spleen? You mean ovary, right?”

Nope. Spleen. As in that organ no one thinks about until it’s gestating a baby. This would explain those stabbing pains I’ve been ignoring.

“A large cyst like this in your pancreas would be concerning. In your spleen? Well, that’s VERY concerning.”

I blink blankly. He explains that the spleen is an incredibly vascular, blood-dense zone. Rupture could mean a lot of bleeding. Plus, it’s pushing on important things like my kidney and stomach. Cue sound effect.

Fruit of My Womb

Igor measures 13cm x 11.5cm x 11.3 cm in diameter. In American, that’s 5.1” x 4.5” x 4.4”. It’s like a large grapefruit only less delicious.

My companion insists we need visual aids. I concur. We head to the grocery store.

I search the produce aisle with trepidation. Once spotted, I approach the grapefruit in reverence and horror. I choose a juicy one and cradle it.

Calculations of a Spleen-Baby

Citrus is not enough. I go home to do math. (And by math, I mean use online calculators.) My findings are as follows:

• By volume, it’s 29.3 fluid ounces
• In water weight, it’s 2.3 pounds
• By ounces, that’s almost 2 pints of beer.
• By size, I’m over 4 months pregnant.
• In pounds, I’m 2 months away from motherhood.

I don’t even know who the father is.

My Support Team

In my vulnerable state, I rely on my friends and family for emotional support.  My best friend informs me some tumors have hair and teeth. I imagine I had a twin in the womb but I ate him.

My loved ones make countless comparisons to “Alien“. My brother does the best impression of me dying in agony. That’s just what I need; a long lost sibling bursting forth from my peritoneal cavity.

The Rules: Avoid Ninjas

I’ve seen four doctors and two surgeons.  While my medical coverage gets sorted out, they all tell me to take it easy. None of them can tell me quite what that means. Below are the activities that doctors have explicitly warned me against:

1. Barroom brawls
2. Bungee jumping
3. Roller derby auditions
4. Bear hugs
5. Domestic violence.

No one has mentioned sex as a possible risk. I take this as a sign the universe still loves me.

For good measure, I ask a leading spleen expert if I’m in danger.

“Well, no, not really. It would take a direct blow to your left side for that to occur.”

Since then I’ve been imagining a ninja assassin karate chopping my no-fly zone while I’m distracted discussing the finer points of lube. Brutal.

Medical Controversy

So how’d this happen? Every medical professional I’ve seen insists I must have been in a car accident recently. That’s simply not the case. I haven’t even been body slammed since high school.

The aforementioned spleen expert, Dr. Leon Morgenstern, has only seen 23 cases like mine in his 28-year study. Of my 23 brethren, “in only one patient was there a history of recent trauma.”

Morgenstern’s conclusion is that people like me are born with this anomaly. I’m hoping his findings change mainstream medical opinion. Thanks to him, I have a smart-ass answer every time a doctor double-checks my driving record.

The Bright Side

After weeks of neurosis, I’m finally getting somewhere with my HMO. With the news of my impending surgery, there may be several excellent outcomes.

First, look at this picture above. That giant black circle is one third of my waistline. One third! All this time I thought I was big boned. I smell post-surgical shopping spree!

Second, any gnarly scars mean I’ll finally have a concrete motive for getting my first tattoo. I’m thinking the Nerdist logo right above my belly button.

And lastly, I’ll be cured!!! No more heartburn! That means I can stop using my sex pillow to prop myself up while I sleep and start using it for the pile driver again.

Thanks Igor!

******

Tweet me. Write me. Read me.

So. To reinvigorate America’s waning interest in the space program, NASA has taken an inspired and admirable step; creating a freeware game called Moonbase Alpha where the player takes on the role of an astronaut working to resolve an emergency on a hypothetical moonbase in the not too distant future.

However, in what amounts to the Internet equivalent of forgetting to convert to metric, they assumed, in their naiveté, that people would actually use it for its intended and extremely boring purpose.

As the video below demonstrates, humanity at large has much loftier aspirations and will not be constrained.

(NSFW robot language. But if your boss doesn’t think that this is hilarious, then I humbly contend that you should find a better place to work.)

Tonight, I can sleep soundly knowing that my tax dollars have gone to good use. I’m not being sarcastic. This is better than Medicare.

SNAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYK!

I recently started hosting a science program on the REVISION3.com intertainment website. It’s in conjunction with DISCOVER MAGAZINE, so they did the best they could at making me not seem entirely dumb.

This episode is all about Morphing Matter.

Forensic Facial Reconstruction

If you’ve ever seen the show Bones (or left the Discovery Channel on for more than 3 hours) you are familiar with Facial Reconstruction, the process of reconstructing facial features using only skeletal remains. Though it seems like an impossible task, trained scientists can determine the age, sex, and race of an individual by analyzing their skull. They can then consult a database of average tissue depths at various points on the skull according to those variables and place sculpting clay accordingly to shape the face. It is remarkable how accurate this can be considering that most skulls look pretty much the same to the untrained eye.

One of my favorite courses I took while getting my undergraduate degree was called ”Facial Anatomy & Reconstruction”. We got to reconstruct a face using only the person’s skull and sculpting clay. Here are a few pictures of our finished face (Facial reconstruction by Bruce Kinley & myself).

We named him Lyle Kane (bonus points if you get that reference)

(more photos on Bruce’s Flickr)

Real Life Science Nerdist: Life Update

Huzzahs are in order! I have a new job! So don’t be surprised if my columns start to sound a little less treatment resistant cancer-y, and a little bit more orofacial bone marrow stromal stem cells-y (it’s ripe for parody).

The Fainting Goats

Get ready for some uncomfta-larious animal footage! These “Fainting Goats” suffer from Myotonia congenita, a genetic disorder that causes about 10 seconds of painless muscle stiffening when the goats are startled. In younger goats this makes the animal to fall over completely, but as the goat ages and adapts it turns into more of a stiff, wobble-y hop. I admit the falling over kind of makes me cringe, but the weird hopping is downright hilarious.

Not only are these goats adorable when they’re upright, but nature has also given them the gift of sudden, instantaneous and uncontrollable slapstick comedy. Shut up, I know it’s kind of cruel to laugh at…but COME ON. Set that shit to the Benny Hill theme and I DARE you not to laugh.

[via The Journal of Pharmacology and Experimental Therapeutics]

We live in an incredibly unique time. According to an email I received, “Earth is catching up with Mars in an encounter that will culminate in the closest approach between the two planets in recorded history.” Astronomers did the calculations. This may not happen again for another 60,000 years! On August 27th, Mars will reach its apex in the night sky. You better not miss it. Drink a late night pot of coffee and give the kids some extra sugar, because at thirty minutes after midnight, our lives could change.

Mars will be the brightest thing in the sky except for the Moon.

I’ve done my research and we could be in for a dangerous month. The first threat – fire tides. Like the Moon affects our oceans, Mars affects fire. Californians have been placed under a Level  12 Triple Red Flag Wildfire Warning. Please, all citizens of the world, keep your camping to a minimum and spit or pee on all cigarette butts. Make sure to keep magnifying glasses out of the sun and stay indoors if you have thick glasses. While on the subject of fire, be on the lookout for double fire-rainbows during daylight hours. Scientists have not determined what they mean.

Do not search for the end of these rainbows. There is no gold, only painful death.

Now would be a good time to brush up on your Martian defense skills. I’d suggest racing to your local record and thrift stores to buy up all the Slim Whitman vinyls you can. You see, with Mars so close, now is their chance for invasion and they WILL take advantage of it. Anything to save on gas money. Hopefully they’ll underestimate our gravitational pull, torque-out their digi-framus, and crash to Earth. Perhaps Sarah Clark could cut them open and do science.

He's thinking about ways to kill us. I just know it.

The strangest fact is that we will experience a foul stench created by the Red Planet. It’s not widely known that Mars smells like a gym sock filled with old scrabbled eggs, dipped in spicy mustard, but I have access to highly secure information. Before you go on a rant, I know. Smells can’t travel through space. There’s no air to smell. Well, ya dimwit, Mars will be so close that it will actually share our atmosphere, opening an expressway for stank. It won’t kill you, but mentally prepare by imaging Comic-Con combined with dog and baby farts.

Heed my warning! All this WILL happen. I promise. Except for the fact that none of it will. The email is a fraud. It’s just a pile of lies spread by dads with AOL accounts every year. Mars will continue doing whatever it’s been doing.

.eM teewT

Staring At Breasts Makes You Live Longer

Researchers in Frankfurt, Germany found that, for men, staring at breasts for 10 minutes a day was equivalent to 30 minutes of aerobic exercise and could potentially increase lifespan by five years. Well congratulations every single man on earth, you’ll all be living longer than nature wanted you to. And also, scientists? I have a feeling men are way ahead of you. I’m pretty sure most guys do this for upwards of…um…all day.

PS – WTF, no lady studies? I, for one, will be conducting my own study, which will consist of me staring at Alexander Skarsgård for hours on end (this may or may not just be me watching True Blood with glasses and a blank clipboard) – I feel better already!

PPS – I’m uncomfortable with the word ‘breasts’ – it feels like it takes several minutes to pronounce. Can we come up with a new name for them? Not anything that already exists, points for creativity!

**UPDATE**

Oops, several comments/tweets and a call from the boss saying that the ‘Staring At Breasts’ article is fake. 100% true – I apologize! Serves me right for using the *hilarious* @RobDelaney ‘s twitter feed as my scientific source. Still though, I love the fact that someone actually thought to sit down and write this hoax. Germans! *shakes fist* (Next someone will start the rumor that giving hand jobs reverses aging.)

Also, make no mistake, I will be continuing on with my Alexander Skarsgård experiment.

[via MedGuru]

Want!! – Synsepalum dulcificum, aka Giant Miracle Fruit Tree!

Native to Ghana, these unique trees produce a fruit, which when consumed makes sour things taste sweet for about 15-60 minutes. This fruit contains a glyco protein which changes our tastebud’s perception of things like lemons, vinegar, beer, grapefruit, etc. It has long been used as an dietary aid and appetite stimulant for those on going through chemotherapy. I’ve heard it’s pretty trippy and, in fact, “Flavor Tripping Parties” were once very popular in the plant’s hay-day.

Cool Discovery.com video explaining it further here

[via CRFG]

Follow me on Twitter for more!

There are many reasons to visit Philadelphia – the Liberty Bell, it was our nation’s first capitol, the Franklin Institute, and I’ve been told we also have several sports teams that do quite well. But as a diehard science fan my big sell for coming to Philly has to be, hands down, the Mütter Museum. Now before you check out entirely at the mention of a science museum – let me tell you that this is no ordinary collection…but rather an assortment of conjoined twins, humans with horns, shrunken heads, gigantic genitalia, and everything in between.

I’ve lived in Philadelphia for about 2 years now and had no idea that I lived a mere 4 blocks away from this magnificent museum. It’s a nice little weekend trip – bring a date! I can’t think of a better litmus test for romantic compatibility than letting someone see how much you appreciate the death cast of Chang and Eng, the world famous conjoined Siamese twins. Anyways, I’ll give you a rundown of my favorite sections of the museum…

• There is an enormous collection of skulls from all over Europe with each one labeled by name, location and cause of death. They really run the gamut from sailors, maidservants, murderers, gypsies, shoemakers and causes of death like cholera, suicide by hanging, cyanide poisoning, and even death by “self-inflicted removal of testicles” – OUCH.
• There is a section with quite a few bound books, wallets and leather hides made from HUMAN SKIN. Ugh. Though it sounds disgusting today, some patients in the 19^th century considered it an honor to have their doctor immortalize their skin by turning it into leather.

The Soap Lady

One of the more terrifying things to gaze upon is The Soap Lady. She has been preserved since sometime in the 19^th century thanks to Saponification, (a process which turns fat into soap) which is very rare due to its dependence on specific factors (temperature, humidity, amount of body fat, bacterial presence, etc). Her mouth is wide open (think: that scene from “The Ring” with the girl in the closet) – I found it hard to look at for more than a few minutes.

• There is a collection of drawers containing 2,374 things recovered from people’s esophagi and larynges (some super strange doctor actually collected and kept all of these things…eek). I asked the curator if they had a series of drawers of famous things they had recovered from people’s butts – he didn’t seem to think that was funny (I still maintain that it’s a legit question).
• There is a jar of kidney stones ranging in size from the head of a pin to about the size of an oblong tennis ball (the largest on record was 2.5 lbs and the size of a coconut!). Yikes! Fellas, keep hydrated to avoid those things!
• There is quite a large collection of infant and baby deformities (with real preserved fetuses in jars and on display in various poses), which is very interesting but perhaps not appropriate for the many, many young children who were there. I mean, I’m all for exposing children to science at a young age but I heard several “Mommy, is that baby dead?”/”Why are they keeping that baby in the jar? Can it breathe?” – Jesus. Folks, maybe wait a few years before you take your 4 year old to see freakish dead babies.
• Much, much more including: body parts from US Presidents, the largest skeleton in North America, what can only be described as “nightmarishly large” genitalia, and a charming gift shop where I bought a syringe pen and a neuron toy!

I invite you all to come check it out for yourselves or take the virtual tour here!

Follow me on Twitter for more science-y bullshit!  =)

For the past few days my computer has been a patient at the Genius Bar, (she needs a new logic board – poor thing) so I do not have a full column this week.

But I would never let you leave empty-handed…so I give you this video of 10 science-y party tricks!

British accents, jaunty music, and SCIENCE! What’s not to love?

No Sex in The ISS (International Space Station)

According to NASA commander Alan Poindexter, (his real name – I’m guessing high school was pretty rough for Al) sexual relations between crewmembers are strictly forbidden. Yet another thing our Mars500 crew is being deprived of! I wonder if they’re allowed porn?

PS – Time Magazine made a “mile high club” joke in this article. I’ll spare you the click to the webpage – it was the first sentence and it reads, “Talk about joining the mile high club”. (Feel free to add your own sound effects right here, like crickets chirping or me screaming into a pillow) Oh, shame on you. You’re real writers. Those jokes are for unfunny uncles and Morning Zoo broadcasts. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important dick jokes to make. *Flips hair, turns on heel, and skips out of the room*
[via Time NewsFeed]

Female Fish Prefer Moustaches

Scientists at the University of Oklahoma have found that female fish prefer male fish with “moustaches”. Some, but not all, Mexican mollies (which sounds like the name of a perverse sexual act…the person is definitely not awake when you do it) grow tentacles above their mouths that resemble moustaches, which they use in mating rituals. These rituals involve the male fish rubbing their moustaches on the genitalia of the female fish (HI-YO!), a behavior which scientists believe helps the female fish acquire information about the males. I like to imagine that all of the researchers working on this study had huge handlebar or Fu Manchu moustaches – including the women.

[via BBC]

Terrifying Disease of the Week:

Fatal Familial Insomnia (FFI) is a rare inherited prion disease, which causes insomnia and is ultimately fatal. Symptoms of FFI usually manifest later in life (~50 years old) and begin with about four months of insomnia, panic attacks and paranoia. The previous symptoms continue and are followed by about five months of hallucinations, leading to complete inability to sleep, weight loss and after about six months the patient dies.

Though they are extremely rare, prion diseases have terrified me since I learned about them in genetics class. Every time I can’t sleep I think I have this disease – but don’t worry, only about 40 families in the world have this and let me repeat: it is EXTREMELY rare (just make sure not to fuck anyone in those families). I also used to think I had another prion disease called Kuru because one of the symptoms is spontaneously bursting into laughter – but since I don’t spend much time cannibalizing tribesmen in Papua New Guinea, I’m probably safe.

Thank you for all the wonderful comments! It’s refreshing to have a place to be funny, especially when you work with people who make jokes with punch lines like “Yeah RIGHT! Maybe if you used a non-linear glucose assay!**” UGH – somebody punch me in the neck.

** Actual joke someone told in my lab meeting this week. The room then erupted into laughter while I sat there expressionless.

Email me with your crazy science news or follow me on Twitter!

Jane Austen’s Relation to Mouse Pee

Biologists at the University of Liverpool have named a protein in mouse urine after Mr. Darcy, the famous character from Jane Austen’s novel “Pride & Prejudice”. This species-specific pheromone, “darcin”, draws the female mice to the odor of male mice. Now I’ll be the first to admit that most scientists are weird (I’m a stellar example), but REALLY?! You’re choosing to honor Jane Austen by naming something in mouse piss after Mr. Darcy? And I’m not against being creative or funny when it comes to scientific naming – quite the contrary. In fact, back in college I always swore that if I ever discovered a protein or something, I would name it “Giggity” (this was back when I still liked Family Guy – but we won’t get into that).

There are SO many other names you could’ve gone with, given the fact that this thing is in MOUSE PISS. Do you have any enemies? Come on – you’re a scientist! You were definitely beat up in high school or at least have people who you feel have wronged you in some way. What about public figures you don’t agree with? Anyone remember when that sewage treatment plant in San Francisco tried to get its name changed to the “George W. Bush Sewage Plant”? Brilliant!

[via Live Science]

Bionic Domesticated Pet of the Week:

Oscar, the bionic kitty.
[via Popular Science]

Pfizer Pfucked Up
I’m exhausted after that superb pun but I’ll try and keep writing. The FDA cited Pfizer after failing to report the side effects of several drugs including Viagra, Lipitor, and Lyrica. It turns out that while it was known that Viagra could cause vision problems (even blindness [insert your favorite masturbation leads to blindness joke here]), Pfizer had failed to report many cases by downplaying how bad these cases really were. Which sounds pretty bad, right? Well the PfFDA Pfucked Pfizer in the Pface (AHH I can’t stop!) by giving them a 12-page warning letter and 15 days to resubmit their results (AKA 20 minutes in the dunce cap). Be warned FDA, if you take away our countries’ Viagra how will our 50-something guys (and over-adventurous 20-something guys) regain their vitality??

[via Reuters]
And because we’re already on the topic…

Dick News!

Interested in a few more minutes of sex? Of course you are! Scientists at Shionogi Pharma have developed “PSD502” (what a sexy name) a spray that helped extend the average length of sex from 36 seconds to a whopping 3.3 minutes. And in order to ensure accuracy, the men had to hold a stopwatch while they were having sex! HOT. The drug contains lidocaine and prilocaine and is sprayed directly onto the penis. Wow, because nothing says foreplay  like aerosoling your junk.
[via Renal & Urology News]

Mars500 Update!
The Mars500 crew messaged me back on Twitter! YOU GUYS – we are talking to people in fake outer space!! Make sure to leave your questions for Diego in the comments or write to him on Twitter! Now excuse me while I do several nerd victory laps around the room. WooOOoOooOOoO!

Email me your crazy science news or follow me on Twitter!