The great soda experiment

I walked into the kitchen humming to myself only to stop and do a double take,
"What on Earth are you doing?"

Spock didn't look up from writing in a note book,

"The correct terminology would be 'what on Vulcan' but I will forgive you this time. As to what I am doing....
This time he glanced at me, "Isn't it obvious?"

I looked around;  various drinking glasses were lined in a neat row with containers of soda behind them.

"Having a drinking party?"

He gave me a withering glare, "No."

"Then please," I said sitting down in front of him, "Enlighten me."

"I am so glad you asked."  He grinned mischievously.

"Have you ever noticed that carbonated soda will bubble and overflow?"

I nodded.

"Well, I was wondering if depending on what kind of soda you use, if that would alter the speed and amount at which the carbonation rises. I also wondered if at different heights the carbonated liquid would change.
Will it rise as much if you pour it from a great height verses a low one? How does that change the bubbling content?"

I stared at him, "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"You're crazy! It's just soda! And I wanted that for my party this weekend!"

"Oh.." he paused, "I'm sorry about that, I'll buy you some more. And why didn't I hear about this party?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Because," I stuttered, "A bunch of girl friends of mine are coming over to...."

He nodded, giving me a knowing glance, "George Clooney, Christopher Reeves or Harrison Ford?"

I felt my face blush at how well he knew me. "None of the above. We're going to watch scary movies instead."

He shrugged, "Don't blame me when you can't sleep at night. Why do you like those things anyway?"

"I don't know... their fun."

"Fear is fun?"

"Augh, I don't know! Would you rather have a bunch of girls screaming in terror or sobbing and giggling over some cute actor?"

He thought for a second, "The first option."

"I thought so."

He went back to doing his 'experiment'.  Taking one of the bottles, he stood up on a chair and began to pour it into a glass.
"What kind of scary movies do you watch anyway? I mean-hold that will you?- they seem ludicrous."

I steadied the glass for him as he carefully poured it in. "Don't you like feeling scared just for fun?"

He gave me a blank look and stepped down from the chair in answer.

He looked at the results of his experiment. "It appears to foam instead of bubble when poured from a greater height. Fascinating."

"You are such a nerd." I said sighing and standing up, "Tell me when you're done."

He waved a hand in response, "Understood."

Two hours later,  I went back into check on him, "You've been awfully quiet, what have you been doing?"

He had cleaned up the kitchen and was sitting in an arm chair looking slightly guilty.

"Nothing."

"I thought you were 'experimenting'."

"I was."

"Well? What happened?"

He sighed, "You seriously didn't hear anything?"

"No...."

"No crashing sounds of any kind?"

I gave him a glare, "What did you do?"

"Did you happen to have any sentimental connections to a certain blue and white glass?"

"You broke it?"

"Possibly."

"And?! Where is it?"

He gave a sheepish grin and walked over to the counter and moved a bowl.  Behind it I saw a  half reassembled glass.
"I'm sorry. I'll try and fix it."

"That's ok."  It was kind of sweet how apologetic he looked, "You really tried to fix it?"

He shrugged.

"Carbonated soda explodes easily. Don't ask about your kitchen towels."

With that he gave one last jaunty grin and left the room.

Role Playing

I was sitting on the couch with my laptop trying to work but kept getting distracted.  Spock was sitting at the dining room table, bent over a book and muttering to himself.

I tried to block it out and focus on writing, but it wasn't working.

"Would you stop that!?"

"Stop what?" he looked up, confused.

"You're talking to yourself!"

"I am not! I am simply reading aloud."

"Can't you do it in your head?"

He sighed, "I will try."

"Thank you." 

Things were quiet for a few minutes and I was happily typing away when he started again.

I gave him my best glare,"Spock you're doing it again!"

He gave me a patient look, one he does when trying not to look annoyed,
"My apologies, reading Latin is not something easily done."

"You read Latin? I thought you were muttering spells."

He smirked. "My knowledge does not lean into witchcraft. The whole 'flying on a broomstick' this is ludicrous."

"Oh really?" I gave him one of my sweetest smiles, "And I always thought you would look so cute in a pointed hat."

He gave me a glare. "You are exasperating."

"You are impossible."

He gave one last look at his book before closing it and coming over to sit across from me.

"You've won my attention, now what do you desire?"

I scooted over for him to sit down, "I didn't want your attention! I wanted you to stop talking to yourself. Hey, that reminds me, why do you talk like that?"

"To what are you referring?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Like that! This isn't the 18th century."

He shrugged, "I do not know."

I sat up, "Let's switch, I'll talk like you and you have to talk like me, ok?"

He nodded, with a rather unsure look.

"Ok," I breathed, sitting up straight and narrowing my eyes,  "My knowledge of Latin is so superior, I make Harry Potter look like a dimwit."

I squinted at him; he was trying really hard not to laugh.

"That was... that was a startling attempt."

"No!" I shouted, "You have to talk- I mean, communicate like me!"

He sighed, then giving an exaggerated eye roll, "That was like, the most awful thing I have like ever seen."

I hit him with the pillow I was holding, "I am not a valley girl!"

He held up a defensive arm to block any further attacks, "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!" I hit him again, "Take it back!"

"No." He grinned at me.

"Fine." I said scooting away from him, "I'm going to try again, ready? This is going to be good."

He raised an eyebrow, "Thrill me."

I tried giving my best gravely serious look, "Why do they say things are 'homemade'? A home cannot make something."

He pondered this, "Why do they?"

"Arrgh! That's not the point! How did I do?"

He was still thinking the question over, "Hm... I would give you a seven. That is a very interesting point you have brought up, but your facial expression was not accurate."

"How would you know?" I retaliated, "Do you practice in the mirror?"

"No." He grinned at me.

"Uh huh. I believe you. Now what did I do wrong?"

He moved closer, "You have to get this bored look on your face." he demonstrated, making his eyes darken into an intensely bored expression.

"Please don't tell me this is how you feel all the time." I said, trying to mimic him.

He shrugged, "Now you have to look slightly interested," his eyes flickered.

"This is not natural! How am I supposed to do this?"

"Just try. Now, you have to slightly arch your eyebrow."

I tried, but started laughing, "I can't do it!'

"No, that was close, try again."

I pictured all the raised eyebrow looks he'd given me and then tried it.

"Good job!" He looked pleased,  "Except you need to make this part higher."

He reached and with one finger slowly ran it over my eyebrow as I tried arching it higher.

He lowered his hand, "Perfect. You resemble a slightly pained Vulcan. Kudos to you."

I hit him with the pillow again,  "Oh, thank you. Someone in pain is exactly what I want to look like. We can't all practice that look in the mirror."

He gave a mischievous grin.
"You wish."

Mission: Fascinating II

He found it.
I expected a bigger reaction though.... hm. I'll have to try something else.  And why is he still letting me put this on here? Let's just say blackmail is... an appropriate stimulator.
Now, for how he found out:

I was sitting on my dining room table, (Yes, on.) eating a bowl of ice cream and trying really hard not to look guilty. I was staring over Spock's shoulder who happened to be sitting next to me. (Not on the table though, I can't convince him that it's better than a chair)  I was watching him doodle math equations on a paper. At least, it looked like doodling. I'm not sure.
He had said very little all day and I was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that he knew and was simply waiting for me to crack.

I would never crack! Ever! He'd have to drag it out of me!

Or so my thoughts were when he asked,
"Do you always insist on reading over my shoulder?"

Except, I thought he said something else.

"Ok I did it! I'm sorry! I couldn't help it!"

"Did what?"  he looked confused.  "I know you suffer from that bizarre infatuation with George Clooney, but I honestly don't care if you watched the movies again."

I felt my face turn red. That's a topic we don't talk about.

I laughed nervously. "Hahah, right. The movies...."

He shrugged and went back to doodling. "You really should learn to relax. All that ice cream you eat can't be good for you."

He didn't notice the glare I gave him. He was going to play the innocent, sympathetic card, hoping to get me to confess.

It worked.
.... Sort of.

"So...." I said, trying to change the subject. "Whatcha doing?"

He looked at me like it was obvious. "Mathematical equations."

"Oh." Math wasn't really my thing.

I decided to test the waters and see how much he knew.
"Besides math and all that science junk, do you do any writing?"

"The occasional discourse when the need arises."  he said, scribbling something on the paper.

"Hm..." I nodded. "You don't do like a science journal, or something? Dear Abby columns?"

He put the pen down and gave me a look. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No! I mean... I was just wondering."

"You're not a very good liar." 

The one time he was more interested in conversation than math and it had to be about me.

"What do you mean by that?" I tried to play innocent.

"You've turned an interesting shade of red and your eyes look  like their hiding something."

Thank you, Captain obvious.

I decided to play tactful.

"What would you say if someone, hypothetically, wrote something on a certain, hypothetical blog?"

His eyes narrowed, "I would say, hypothetically, that this person better be joking or else they meet a certain  hypothetical doom."

"But what about mercy? Forgive the sinner!"

"So is this the 'sinners' attempt at repentance?" he has the creepy ability to make his voice impassive and sarcastic.

"Possibly. Would you forgive them?"

"Would they apologize first for their legal error of intruding on private property and vow never to do it again?"

He should have been a lawyer.

"Yes.  I- I mean, 'the sinner' apologizes and promises never to do it again. Unless, pressured otherwise under the circumstance of absolute need."

"That's not what I said."

"Well, that's what you get." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"But you can't. I have the password."

"Maybe I changed it." I felt pretty confident with that.

"You know I could mind meld that from you."

Crap.
He made a sudden movement to grab my head and I screamed and jumped off the table, running for the living room.

"Use your powers for good!"

That stopped him. He started laughing really hard.
I wasn't sure if that was another ploy or not, so I stood far away from him.
"You're  not.... mad at me are you?"

He stopped. "Why would I be? It was all merely hypothetical wasn't it?"

"About that...."

Mission: Fascinating

Ha! And he said that he was really working on 'complicated math theories' when in reality it was to be writing a blog to heavens knows who.

Spock, a blog? Really?  I expected something more of you, a scientific journal perhaps.

Yes, the mysterious 'Friend' as I have been so called has accidentally *Cough* stumbled across this blog while searching her friend's room in his absence for her  missing Billy Joel CD. 

And now... perhaps I shall divulge the deepest secrets of this young Vulcan's mind! 
Hm... nah, the fact that he steals my Billy Joel CD is probably shocking enough to the minds of those who have no idea what he's really like.

For example: On our way to some event which I can't remember, he bought my bus fare (I didn't have a car at the time)  when I told him how sweet it was, he simply commented that he had heard such things were said to make girls blush and he wanted to see my reaction for proof.  -So don't believe him if he tries the whole charming gentleman thing.

He probably has you fooled with the whole "Impassive Vulcan" thing too.
Not true. Whenever he goes on one his bizarre science theories, he doesn't sleep for weeks and wanders around the house in his pajamas muttering to himself. And if you ask him a question, he doesn't answer but starts talking animatedly with huge eyes in some type of nerd vernacular about the latest break through he's discovered involving quantum theory and element X. I would call that passive. And don't call him a nerd. It's not nice.

Instead of sharing the... interesting stories I have about him. I will list 12 things that will help you get a better idea of what he's really like.  Be warned, be scared and know that you might never look at him (or me, for that matter) the same way again.

So here we go...

1. It is possible to look amused and grave at the same time. He's quite capable of it.

2. He has a very random fear of roller coasters and refuses to ride one with the excuse that they are not "Logical."

3. He doesn't stop to think before giving one of his profound speeches. You'd think he was quoting the encyclopedia.

4.He hates I mean hates the Brady bunch T.V. show. If you start singing the theme, he glares at you with this look of utter contempt. So don't sing it.  Repeatedly. In different voices. Including Pee Wee Herman's.

5. He reads over my shoulder and has the nerve to tell me to turn the page when he finishes first.

6. He's cute. He just is ok!? There, I said it. And he's an excellent dancer. Think modern Mr. Darcy.

7. He doesn't understand our library's organizational system. I have tried time and time again to explain it to him, but he doesn't get it.

8. You can trick him into watching Chick flicks if you tell him it will unlock valuable information to the female brain.

9. He has a thing for girls with Auburn hair. Like the girl who works at the library.... Oh. Maybe that's why he pretends not to get the system.

10. Don't play poker with him. He cheats.

11. He likes watching the old sci fi movies. 

12. Never, ever watch horror movies with him.  He either guesses the murder and tells you before it's over or sits in bored silence until the end where he explains a much better method of killing the victim. Most of which involve coded messages and lemon juice.

Ok, that's it.  12 things you probably didn't know about him.  I am now going to read what he's written and we will have to see how that goes. Punishment may follow.... If he writes that I punished him horribly by switching out the soy milk carton with normal milk, you should probably believe him. It's been known to happen on occasion.
The look on his face is worth it every time. Believe me.

Darcy

My friend has acquired a cat. Cats are small, devious creatures who glare at you unblinkingly from any corner of the room. She has named this cat "Darcy" after the famous Mr. Darcy from Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice. The name suits the cat rather well as it's personality is  to sit sulkily on a book shelf and look down on anyone that approaches. My friend says I'm jealous and being anthromorphic, which possibly might be true. (The anthromorphic part, not jealousy. I would never be jealous of such a lowly creature as a sentimental feline.) 
The cat is pure black, with huge yellow/green eyes and large pointed ears.  I told my friend that his ears look like saucers and that something must be seriously wrong with it. She retaliated with the fact that my ears are pointed and there's nothing wrong with me. At least not yet. I resent that.

Such were the circumstances when I retired for bed that evening.

 I walked over to the window and stopped short to see Darcy lying on my bed.


“You can’t sleep there.” The cat opened one eye but didn’t move.

Feeling ridiculous for addressing the cat, I tried gingerly lifting him off the bed, but he hissed and spat venomously. Jumping back, I glared at the cat who purred triumphantly. I looked at the bed again, the idea of that creature lying next to me was not appealing. Deciding that if left alone he might leave, I got ready for bed and returned to find the cat still there.
Not to be outwitted by a cat, I spoke calmly, “Fine. You in your outright display of rebellious behavior which is so unlike your domestic ancestry, appears to have won this argument. On the contrary, I, in my genetically superior ways, forfeit this bed therefore making this a hollow victory. I will be much happier sleeping on the floor while you sleep in guilt."
The cat blinked slowly.
I sighed, so much for logical reasoning.

Carefully gathering blankets from off my bed, I laid them on the floor and turned off the lights. The cat's eyes glowed evilly in the darkness, competing with the soft glow of the glow in the dark constellations.

It was a long night.
My friend told me that I didn't look rested in the morning. I wonder why. Darcy on the other hand was perfectly fine and content to continue his vigil of glaring from the book shelves.

Dancing Part III

As the slow song ended, Heather ran up to me all happy, bubbly. I (having no other excuse)  feigned equally as excited feelings. My friend just rolled her eyes and stepped back, waiting to watch the performance.  Heather practically skipped onto the dance floor. It was a slow dance and the mass of other people dancing blocked my view of my friend for a moment.  Heather was talking animatedly in tones loud enough to rupture any tympanic membrane, other couples dancing glared in our direction, Heather paid no attention. I remember her saying, "Who's that with your friend?"  Turning to look, I saw Mark talking to my friend. He looked intent, like he was trying desperately to get the point across. My friend looked annoyed. "An old acquaintance." I said, off handedly, while changing the direction of our dancing so I could watch.  Heather shrugged. "He's cute."  "Hm, if you say so."  She giggled.
Mark was now using expressive hand gestures, and in one swift moment, grabbed my friend and holding her tightly, began to dance.  My friend looked less than pleased and tried to push away.  He held tighter.  I began to lose interest in dancing with Heather, and instinctively began to move closer to my friend.
Mark was saying something, then without warning kissed my friend. She yanked free and slapped him.

I don't remember letting go of Heather, I just remember the next thing I said was something like, "What do you think you're doing?" Mark straightened, "Just dancing, got a problem with that?" He looked defiant.  "No, I don't have a problem with your participation in such frivolous activities." I said, glaring at him, "But I believe your behavior was less than acceptable and my friend might very well 'have a problem with that'."  He glared at me then turned to my friend, "Do you have a problem with that?"  My friend began to speak but he cut her off, "See! She doesn't! So go back to wherever ever it is you came from and leave us alone!"  He turned around, thinking the argument won. Other couples were stopping to watch. "Pardon me," I said, still trying to be diplomatic. "But I believe you did not let the lady speak. Under your laws, you are allowed freedom of speech and you are violating such a thing." "Thank you Mr. Jefferson." Mark said sarcastically, "But she doesn't need to talk,  besides, who wants a girls opinion anyway?" He looked around the room as if expecting to see heads nodding in agreement.  He didn't.  "Oh come on!" he yelled, "All girls are are pretty faces that don't have an ounce of logic in their heads! What kind of opinion could you get from that? I bet Mr. Smarty Pants here has a Mom who couldn't name the months of the year!" 
That did it.
Forget legal liability or the fact that anger is illogical, I hit him.
The look of shock on his face was gratifying. And then he hit back.  I vaguely remember feeling some form of pain, but that's it. I won't give you the ugly details, I will just say that Mark will look oh so charming with his front tooth missing.
                                                                      *
I fell back onto the couch in my friend's living room.  I heard her heels clicking as she went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. She came back and handed me an ice pack. "Wow." was all she said as I pressed the cold compress to my forehead. The world was spinning. "I didn't know you could hit like that." I nodded, faintly, "A matrix ninja never tells their secrets." She smiled, relieved that I was still feeling well enough to joke. "Well, Mark got what he deserved." I smiled to myself. Revenge was sweet.
My friend handed me a band aid, "Thanks Spock."  I smiled, "You're welcome."

Dancing II

"What are you going to wear to the dance?" My friend asked me, walking into my room. "An oxygen mask and safety gloves." "My friend rolled her eyes. "Please." "No, I think it's quite logical, you wear an oxygen mask to prevent dizziness from all of the different perfumes and you wear gloves to protect you from the sweaty palms of all your dancing partners." "Hm, good point." My friend said. "But just don't wear your black uniform ok?" "Why?" I asked, as that had been the article of choice. "You look like some freaky ninja from the Matrix movies."  I raised an eyebrow, "What is the Matrix?" "Oh never mind!" My friend sighed, exasperated and left the room. I tend to have that affect on her, I find it quite useful.
                                                                             *

"Just try and have fun." We were walking up the steps to the dance. "Is that advice or a threat?" I asked dryly. My friend didn't hear me, as a friend of hers had started talking to her. I waited patiently by her side while observing the room. It was a formal affair and the chandeliers and rich atmosphere was intoxicating.  Groups of girls were scattered randomly about, dressed in brightly colored dresses and whispering as they glanced at the various gentlemen. My friend's voice pulled me back. "And this is my friend, Spock."  I nodded gravely to the young lady, she smiled and her cheeks blushed red. My friend seemed slightly irritated by that and soon broke up the conversation.  We moved farther inside.  The music was provided by an orchestra, and I stood watching the instruments in silent fascination. "Will you stop that?" My friend said, "With the way you stare, you'd think you were a three year old that had never seen a violin before."   I raised an eyebrow, "Oh. Right. The violin is that one there." My friend said pointing.  I saw Mark from across the room. He had seen my friend and was walking across the room, then he spotted  me, with a glare, he turned abruptly and stalked away. "Friendly people you have here." I said under my breath.  My friend wasn't listening. She was again talking to one of her friends.  This friend wasn't even trying to pretend like she was listening. She was openly gaping at me.  Feeling uncomfortable, I made eye contact and gave a slight nod of my head in acknowledgment.  She blushed harder.
"Would you stop that!"  My friend whispered furiously. "Stop what?"  "Stop that." "Stop what?" I asked again, thoroughly confused. "You're flirting with her!" "I most assuredly am not!"  I retorted, shocked. "Whatever made you come to such a conclusion?"  Just then, a group of girls walked by, one of them dropping her purse. Without thinking, I bent and picked it up for her. The girl took the purse, giggling and walked away. I looked back at me friend. She had an, "I told you so" look on her face.  "What?" I asked, exasperated. She just rolled her eyes, "Do it again." "Do what again?" "That look you do. The raised eyebrow/smile thing."  "May I ask why?" "Just do it. For science, for me, whatever, just do it!" This was getting awkward. I randomly picked a girl standing in the corner and did what she asked. The result was the same. "See!" My friend said. "Proof! They like you!"  "It does not! It merely proves that dances provide the atmosphere of flirtatious people. See look: that man right there is smiling at that young woman, she in turn will....." I trailed off, the lady had walked away.
My friend looked smug. "Somebody likes Spock!" She sang.  Well, at least she wasn't mad at me. This dance had to be the most ludicrous thing I had ever attended.  Matching my friend's sing song voice, I asked her, "Are you jealous?" "Me?! Jealous? Of you!?" She looked incredulous. "No! Ew! I mean.. No!!"  She was completely flustered.  I smirked, "I think you are."  "I told you-"
"Dance with me." I interupted. "What?!" "Dance with me!" I asked, desperate now, I had spotted Heather and she was coming closer.  I grabbed my friend's hand and spun her out onto the dance floor. "Spock what on earth- "Vulcan" "Fine, Vulcan are you doing?"  "Heather."  I whispered quietly. "Ah." My friend said, "You really are a three year old, how does dancing with me prevent you from meeting her?"  Hm, she had a point. "It will simply buy me time until I can think of something." "So you don't have a plan?" "No, not really." My friend laughed.  She was quietly laughing until the song ended. She stepped back,  "Now what?" 
Heather was getting closer.