I have noticed that, withthe engineers, the most difficult, least practical solution to any unsolved problem is definitely the only possible answer. And then it's so difficult that their slacker gene kicks in and, rather than find an easier solution, the engineer does nothing. Example:
Problem: This wall is dirty.
Engineer Solution: We should Paint the wall.
Problem: Painting the wall is too much effort.
Result: The wall is still dirty.
Notice, thinking of the much easier, practical, and effective solution of Washing the Walls with Water and a Sponge is impractical, because it's not a Proven Method of Removing All Scuffs.
(but it worked)

Had a little problems with the comments, should work now but the old ones have been, unfortunately, lost.

EAA AirVenture Oshkosh 2003 is going on right now, makes me wish I were there instead of sitting at work with little to do. I visted the airport two years ago a week before the main event and went to OshKosh when I was 3. Dad's got a picture of me in the left seat of a DeHavlind Beaver that he'd helped restore in South Dakota.
I've been thinking on buying a KitFox from a friend of mine. It's a two-seat, fabric taildragger, only 60 hours on it, blue and yellow. Very Pretty. The great thing is that the wings fold back so it can be stored in a garage or storage place, or take up very little space in a hanger, whatever's cheapest.

A recently graduate from an all-engineering, mostly-male, very small college that majored in Computer Science but likes to go outside, can catch something thrown to her, and like to get all creative and shit. I'm serious. Cree-ay-tive. The most liberal arts CS you'll ever meet.
She works with eleven fellow engineers, most of her friends are engineers, and she's single. These are her adventures of finding a competent date, being around CS's while having her head out of the clouds, and mixing engineering with arts.

The adventure of my first non-engineer date with TrackBoy.
Date number one: Went well. Had a blast. Laughed and talk for three hours straight.
Date number two: He couldn't find the house, lost my phone number, showed up two point five hours late and brought his roommate. His roommate with the same attention needs of a 3-year-old little boy that owns a slingshot. And he's Canadian.
Date number three: Went to an outdoor play, roommate came too, kept throwing pieces of the cork, grass, shoes at us. Wanted to call immigration. Got drunk instead.
Unfortunately, TrackBoy was busy every weekend the following month and I made myself unavailable the entire next month. Darn. So much for blind dates.