Introduction.
Here is the story of one total, unmitigated failure, and one task which was a failure only in the sense that I wasn't able to submit it to the praxis. Since I'm doing so now, perhaps it wasn't really a failure at all.

Since joining the game, I've been trying to talk myself into taking on more of the dumb little tasks that don't make for awesome praxis viewing but are fun to do anyway. I finally got around to starting on a few recently, but my first few attempts didn't go quite as planned.

Failure #1: Shrinkidink.

Several years ago, while discussing the endlessly amusing topic of recreational uses for liquid cryogens, the idea of dunking marshmallows in liquid nitrogen was proposed. At the time, I and my teatime colleagues figured that if you cooled them slowly enough, they'd shrink.

When I saw this task, I immediately knew what I wanted to do. Since damaging cute things with faces is always more interesting than damaging plain white cylinders, I decided to use Peeps. This promised to be a literal 5 minute task, with a very high L/E ratio.

I stopped by the store the next morning and discovered that traditional chicken shaped Peeps are a seasonal item. Perhaps that's obvious to peep lovers. I rank Peeps somewhere between blackboard chalk and Friskies brand Turkey and Cheese Dinner in Gravy cat food on my list of things that are good to eat, and thus I've never paid much attention to the Peeps rack of the store.

Since I didn't want to clog up my task list with this for the next six months, I gave up on the classic Peep and instead bought a package of weird halloween pumpkins-with-ears peeps. (Almost Yellow Bear Peeps.)

With 4 minutes of my allotted 5 minute tasking period remaining, I twisted together a wire body for the peep, mounted it in a styrofoam bucket, set up my camera, and began cooling it down.

After about ten minutes, it became clear that peeps do not shrink when they cool. My guess is that we were wrong in thinking of a marshmallow as a closed cell foam, but it may be that the sugar becomes rigid before the gas becomes sufficiently cold and the foam cracks instead of shrinking. Either way, a 77 Kelvin peep is just a rigid, normally shaped peep. As an attempt to shrink something, it was a total failure. (Yes, I ate a few dunked peeps. They're rather less hideous when crunchy, and there's so little heat capacity you can toss toss them in your mouth seconds after removing them from the bath, which is kind of fun.)

I vented my frustration at the uncooperative peep by turning a heat gun on him, transforming his face into a rather neat looking marshmallow cape. Then, I put away the remaining peeps and waited a few days to make another attempt.

I remember watching a Mr. Wizard program in my youth in which a plate of marshmallows is put into a vacuum chamber. As I recall, they expanded to several times their original size, and then collapsed into tiny shriveled masses afterward. Perfect, I thought, another 5 minute completion that will look pretty cool. If the expansion is sufficiently impressive, I can even document growth.

So, I put a peep in a bell jar and pumped down on it, photographing every few seconds and intending to put together an animated gif of the process.


But, it seems that not all marshmallows are the same - a peep only expands by 20% or so, and then slumps slightly along it's shortest dimension. I was left with a slightly wrinkly peep, not a shrunken peep. Once more, the peeps were put away for a few days, after a brief failed attempt to document dissolution. (Yeah, I know I lack the group permissions to sign up for that task. Furthermore, after Ink Tea splanked that task so beautifully, I'd feel silly submitting something lame like this even if I could do so. But I was desperate, and there were solvent bottles at hand.) Turns out peeps can sit in acetone for hours with no noticeable change. I was left with a wet, slightly wrinkled peep.

For my third attempt, I gave up on trying to shrink the peep itself. Instead, I decided to try using a little strip of heat shrink tubing to crush a peep head. This one more or less worked, except that the peep began to melt before the shrink tubing contracted. I did crush a peep head with a shrinking blindfold. . . but it was a bubbly, ill-shapen head at the time, leaving me with craptastic photos and no more peeps.

As I walked home, mulling over whether I wanted to submit this all-but-failed attempt at a very modest task, I recognized that I was hungry and I remembered that I had rather a lot of kale in my fridge. I decided to round thing off by shrinking my dinner.

I built a 12" tall mountain of kale on a dinner plate, artfully arranged the other ingredients on its slope, and took rather a lot of photos. I cooked the mess down to a single serving, and dumped it onto the same dinner plate. Then I decided to check the previous photos to try to get the same camera placement. . . only to discover that there was no flash card in the camera. All my *before* photos were gone! (I really like my camera, but the fact that it will happily take photos with no media annoys me to no end.)

Finally, desperate to submit this task completion no matter how lame, I drew something on a foam earplug and squished it. I'm not even going to show you that one - it's a failure not in the face-saving, "I didn't actually fulfill the task requirements but it was a cool idea" sense, but in the "damn, that just looks stupid. What was I thinking?" sense.

So, I formally give up. I'm never going to shrink something.

If I were superstitious, I could easily come to the conclusion that the universe chose to punish me for being needlessly mean to travel bug. (Who I hope has not gone away and left us for good.)

Failure #2: Cut Your Hair.


As I passed a drugstore window some weeks ago, I noticed hair clippers on sale for somewhat less than the price of a haircut. Intrigued by the prospect of this task and the realization that this is the first time in my life I've seriously considered doing something wacky to my appearance without having to argue with a girlfriend hell-bent on talking me out of it, I bought them. Then, I came home to discover that Cut Your Hair had been retired. I sent a whiney note to the admins and promised to shave my head if they unretired it, but they (quite justifiably) decided not to do so. So, I cut my hair anyway.

First I attempted a very minor scissor trim. That turned out to be much harder than I expected, and I quickly got into panic-mode frantic clipping which left my hair a total mess. I generally consider myself a dextrous tool-user, but convincing scissors to do what you want while looking at yourself in double mirrors and working behind your head is actually pretty difficult. Somehow, in a panic induced rush, I forgot that I was supposed to be taking photos and. . . well. . . didn't take any.

Once it became clear that I had no talent at giving myself a scissor cut, I switched to the clippers, and did a full trim with the max 1" blade, then cleaned up the neck and ears with a smaller piece. I took some photos, and packed up the clipper.

Four days later, I decided to continue the process. I swapped out for the 1/2" blade and went over my whole head once more. This cut wasn't particularly horrible, and I kept it for two weeks.

Yesterday I finally worked up the courage to take the last step. The obligatory it's-fashion-not-chemo mustache had grown in, and I picked up a fresh pack of razor blades on the way home. I buzzed my head down to stubble with a guide-less clipper, lathered up, and shaved it. I'm still reeling from the shock of the transformation.

I don't really consider this task a failure, because I got almost all the benefits of completing it, even though it was retired. The existence of the task prompted me to do something sort of scary that I've never had the courage to try before.

I've worn a scissor cut since birth, and the exact same scissor cut since junior high. Even a maximally long clipper cut from a professional barber is a weird, slightly frightening prospect. The idea of doing this scared me to death. (It's good to be scared sometimes. Thanks, SF0!)

The only thing I didn't get out of the task was the the chance to share it on the praxis. I know that a haircut, even a rather extreme haircut, isn't really all the exciting to see. This is definitely a task that's meant for the benefit of the tasker rather than the praxis viewers; however, it's still more fun to do if you can tell people about it.

By adding it as a slightly inappropriate addendum to this task, I manage to come away with all the benefits of completing the task. There's a tasking failure paradox here: by submitting this task as a failure, it ceases to be a failure and ought not to be submitted.

Now all I've got to do is find a Lenin hat before Halloween.

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Additional photos