6 Slacker Behaviors that Science Says are Good for You: #4

#4: SKIPPING OUT ON COLLEGE CAN MAKE YOU HAPPIER

Back in the day, college was all about toga parties and binge drinking until your liver burst into flame. Nowadays, it's more about all-nighters hopped up on Ritalin so your GPA can justify spending 40 grand a year. But all those exhausting classes, internships and research projects have to count for something, right? According to researchers: They do. All that effort adds up to a depressed and miserable life.

Meanwhile, skipping out on all that misery might just help you live longer than those Einsteins who don't.


So How is This Helpful?

The Curtin Institute of Technology discovered that the more education you have, the more you're at risk of becoming disillusioned with life. Sinking into a soul-crushing depression is just one of the ultra-fun side effects of higher education, along with a more stressful lifestyle and unmanageable financial debt. Higher education is pretty much like Christmas Day if you expect to get a pony, but instead you discover you're trapped in a Dilbert cartoon, and also there is no pony. Only thousands of dollars of debt in a pony shaped stocking.

(cracked.com)

6 Slacker Behaviors that Science Says are Good for You- #5

#5: BEING FAT MIGHT HELP YOU LIVE LONGER

When people say that some fat can help you live longer, they're not talking about being obese here. Obesity is still worse for your health than trying to ride a bear that is riding shark. But...

In a rather morbid study, Canadian researchers observed thousands of people for 12 years, carefully noting when they kicked the bucket. Not surprisingly, the super obese subjects died first, proving once and for all that all the video games where you gain more health as you eat more are not scientifically accurate. However, people at what was considered a healthy weight tended to die second, leaving the not-exactly-svelte to laugh as they slurped a milkshake. Then the milkshake came out of their noses, and that made everyone laugh.

So How is This Helpful?

The most likely reason for the chubbies living longer is stress tolerance. Their bodies have fat reserves they can use while sick or under stress; skinny bodies don't. In other words, being an underfed, stressed out Calvin Klein underwear model is a lot more dangerous for you than lounging on the couch all day.

So fat can make you last longer under stress, but it's not like a big booty can actually save your life, right? Wrong. A study in England discovered that having fat on your back and thighs helps your body produce beneficial hormones that lower the risk of diabetes and heart disease.

Even more interesting is what happened to the patients who decided to lose their ass fat during the course of the study, presumably right around the time the scientists told them they qualified for participation in an ass fat study. The subjects who lost fat around their butt during the study were actually more likely to have a heart attack, marking the first and last time that taking medical advice from Sir Mix-a-Lot saved someone's life.

Sir Mix-a-Lot 1, Cosmo 0.

One of the reasons for fat's unexpected healing powers is that dangerous acids tend to build up in fatty tissue, instead of loitering inside your liver or heart. And in case you're wondering, having toxic acids inside your buttocks is significantly better than having them in your heart valves. It's pretty much like having an angry chipmunk bite your ass versus the same chipmunk biting your heart.

6 Slacker Behaviors that Science Says are Good for You- #6

#6: SMOKING WEED HELPS FIGHT ALZHEIMER'S AND CANCER

First of all, if marijuana is illegal where you live, printing out this article for the judge is not going to get you out of jail or make your white guy dreadlocks any less ridiculous. It's just that there may be a medical upside to go along with all the bad stuff you're been hearing about since you were a kid. When a professor emeritus of medical chemistry starts talking about the cancer-blocking properties of weed, you have to wonder if those stoners aren't smarter than they look.

So How is This Helpful?

According to Professor Raphael Mechoulam, what we should be focusing on when it comes to weed are cannabinoids. These are organic compounds found in marijuana and in a very similar form in animals and humans. It's because of the similarity between plant and animal compounds that cannabinoids from weed can create a euphoric state if smoked. However, this similarity also means they can influence our body in other ways.

One example of how cannabinoids could be used is for the treatment of Alzheimer's. Mechoulam conducted a study that found that cannabinoids could delay the advancement of brain diseases. Apparently these guys not only halt cognitive decline but reduced inflammation in the brain.

For instance, this man will live forever.

In a very similar study researchers discovered that cannabinoids could halt the growth of tumors. So far the tests were successful on mice as well as two humans, successfully delaying cancer by triggering the death gene in cancerous cells.
Again, you should always obey the laws in your area. If you're not sure, just call up the local police department, say that you're considering buying some weed, and see if they give you the thumbs-up.

(cracked.com)

I ♥ The Dentist

I lied. I totally don't.

I don't dread it like the plague as most people do, but I have so many problems with the whole experience. Firstly, how could someone want to be a dental hygienist? People's mouths (some of you more than others) are so nasty. Is their job a backup plan (say, rather than failing at being a brain surgeon), or was this someone's destiny? I'm sure it varies for many, but the lady that has been cleaning my teeth for years fucking loves her job. Oh, Paula.

I'm pretty sure Paula wiggles around so much because she wets herself a little every time she explains the techniques of flossing and the conditions of my tartar (which was a surprisingly good report today). She is absolutely one of those people who sat on the bleachers all throughout school doodling canines and molars all over her notebook. One of those that cranked their expander a few extra times and voluntarily wore her headgear longer hours than instructed.

I always get pre-dentist anxiety, where I feel like brushing my teeth for 2 minutes each (ahem, 5 times in a row) that morning will suddenly make my last 6 months of half-assed flossing legit. Heaven forbid if I were to get a cavity- luckily I've never had one before. But if that day comes, I will feel like I let everyone that has ever touched my teeth down. My orthodontist, past boyfriends, that dude at the bar last weekend (kidding),  my parents who instilled the value of oral hygiene in me, my dentist, etc.  But no need to worry about what hasn't happened yet.

After the anxiety has passed and I plop down in that chair and apply ungodly amounts of chapstick, you know what is next-- the chair. Paula presses those buttons to lean the chair back so far that my entire body is stretched out to where it feels like I'm about to get some medieval torture where they snap all your limbs off at once. When I feel like the end of my life is approaching, it finally stops.

Next: about a good 30 minutes of every tooth in your mouth getting scraped with a metal sword and that metal tooth mirror so that Paula can get in on all the action. Not only is every millimeter of my gums bleeding, so are my ears from the constant sound of the metal scraping against my teeth. This is where I try to convey to Paula that if she gouges me with her weapon one more time then her head will roll. This is merely conveyed through really squinty eyes that are desperately trying to convey the "go to hell" look, me throwing my head back a little (but not too much to avoid further mutilation) and a little drool.

Clearly, Paula either doesn't give a shit or is immune to squiggly patients in her death chair, because her brilliant method of establishing a friendly relationship is to ask me questions. Tons of them. And not yes or no questions to which I could respond with "arrgghhh" or "auuuhuhh," but rather open-ended ones. Such as, "So, what exactly is it that you do again?" Well, miss Paula, I would love to tell you about my career after you move your fingers from peeling back my lips to where I look like Mister Ed, remove the daggers that are annihilating my mouth, wipe the drool from my face, and give me a spritz of water.

But instead of doing any of those, she continues about her business and asks me to turn my head towards her, so in addition to the said above, my face is absolutely engulfed in the middle of her HUGE tits. Not a bad gig, many would say. But these are like enormous, disgusting tits that I'm not even sure how she is able to see what she is doing because I'm so swallowed in them. So I politely pull away, out of respect for the both of us, and she responds with "sweetie, I really need you to turn towards me."

Sweetie?

Thought: "Ok, listen Paula, sweetie, I need YOU to remove your nipple from my tongue right now because I'm about to vomit all over you and your expensive dental power tools."

Reality: I helplessly roll my eyes and feel tears forming

Finally, after my traumatic experience of the teeth clean, and the X-Rays that follow, I sit and tremble patiently for Dr. Allen, the dentist (obviously), to come take a look at Paula's handiwork. Dr. Allen is a typical joker that sits in the back room all day and huffs laughing gas. Since I can remember he just sounds like a creepy pedophile and talks to everyone like they aren't old enough to wipe.

I hear his typical "helloooooo theeerrrreeee" and whip my head around.

Holy Jesus, Dr. Allen, what have you been doing with your life these past 6 months? You've gained 50lbs faster than a woman can conceive a child. The grand finale of the appointment is doc pokin around in my mouth even more (much gentler than Paula, however) and breathing so hard he is practically blowing off the little white germ mask from his face. Luckily his extra chin held it in place.

Finally, relief that it's over.

Paula: "Awww, we're out of toothbrushes!!! Do you want some toothpaste? Some threaders? A balloon?"

No, freak. I want to get the fuck out of here and take a bath immediately. I feel violated.

I filled out the reminder post card to be sent in another 6 months and peeled out of the parking lot. Relief set in that I have a while to not go back there.

I just walked in the door, popped some Advil for the swollen gums, and get to admire my pearly whites for the rest of the evening. I wonder what Paula is doing right about now...