Yeah, so I kinda realized it has been a while since I have posted on here -- 92 days to be exact. A lot can happen in 92 days -- you can travel around the world once with 12 days to spare (which I believe would put you somewhere over Azerbaijan), birth 3 litters of rabbits (gestation of approximately 33 days in case you were wondering), or get a ripped set of abs with the Power 90X system. I, however, have done none of those things (as evident by my lack of passport, bunnies, and six-pack). Here's a quick run down of the highlights....
1. Completed my Medicine AI -- Somewhere between stealing mini-cans of Coke at 3 am, doing the robot during morning report (yes, I did break out that dancing gem from the '80s in front of 3 attending physicians), "discharging" patients to the ICU or the grave (I'm scared that these were the 2nd and 3rd most common way I got my patients off my service), or intentionally walking slowly to codes so I don't beat my team there (because seriously, do you really want the guy with the least amount of CPR training showing up there first?), I kinda fell in love with internal medicine. Plus more than anything else, I realized this is something at which I'm pretty good.
2. Decided to a pursue a career in Med-Peds -- Literally, its the best of both worlds (much like that Hanna Montana tour for which I still do not understand the nationwide obsession). I honestly don't know why I didn't pick up on this decision long before. It was staring me in the face much like PP stares down potential dates in the library (only not in a sexually predatory way). For those of you who still don't know about this specialty, I get double boarded in internal medicine and pediatrics in 4 years for the 6 years it would take to do both individually. That's right 3+3=4 (much like the math skills of TF's students). Come to think of it, this specialty may earn its own post later on.
3. Turned 25 years old -- yes, I am old. Somehow within days of turning 25 I went from young to old. This was most evident when I went to a college party as Penn State with CK (see item #5 below) where I realized "Hmmm, drinking hard alcohol out of a Rubbermaid bucket using a turkey baster does not seem like a good idea." (I will point out, however, that thinking it is not a good idea and not actually doing it are 2 different things). Nonetheless, I can take solace in the fact that I'm not turning 26 like some people (MKS, DK, SB, and KK just to name a few) -- now that's old!
4. Attended 2 Penn State football games in luxury boxes -- I have become spoiled to watching football games in person (much like $60 sushi a day in Los Angeles spoiled KK to dinner). There is no better way to watch a football game than on the 40 yard line in an air conditioned box while eating steak and lasagna (just like God intended). In addition, I had the opportunity to meet the great Franco Harris during one of these games. If you don't understand the transcendental experience of touching the hands that made the Immaculate Reception (much like touching the hem of Jesus' robes), you are definitely "on notice." However, the best part of the whole thing is knowing that even when I am in my mid-50s I can still act like a fool with my friends as evident by my dad and his friends sticking around the game 2 hours after it ended getting drunk and singing the full version of "American Pie" a capella (just ask CK, she saw it).
5. Moved to Pittsburgh for a month -- Ah, Pittsburgh, where the three rivers combine to form a heavenly glow of black and gold. I went there to do a rotation in pediatric heme/onc -- kids with cancer and bleeding disorders for the non-medically inclined. Yes I realize it sounds about as upbeat as well, kids with cancer and bleeding disorders. However, I had an amazing experiencing working there and currently Pitt is at the top of my list for interviews (see item #7 below). Furthermore, I ran into The Troy Polamalu in the halls of the hospital. Much like the ancient Greeks who stared into the wild haired Medusa, I froze when I stared at the wild haired Polamalu. However, he had an aura of peace surrounding him much like Jesus. (Yes, I realized I compared two Steelers players to Jesus in this blog but I think it is more than appropriate -- especially because if I meet one more I may very well die.) Most importantly, while in Pittsburgh I stayed with the amazingly fabulous CK. Thanks to lets just say due to a "dead to me list"-worthy series of circumstances, I ended up crashing on her couch for a month, but trust me, it was definitely for the best. We bonded over our mutual affinity for iPod commercials, Trader Joe's hummus, dancing to the clicks from Sheetz gas pumps, Penn State football, and secret knowledge of certain mutual members of The Circle.
6. Spent a rotation in the NICU -- This was by far one of the most haphazard rotations I have ever done -- whether it was missing days for interviews (see item #7 below -- don't you love the cross-referencing?), realizing "preemies" are a world apart from "babies" (something scary about needing literally every function for survival monitored), or having overnight call when you are not actually called (finally a rotation where the nurses realize that when you can't write orders, it is not worth calling you -- yes, I'm useless until I graduate). Either way, it should be a good learning experience (I pray) considering I have 3 months of it in residency (sarcastic "yay!").
7. Started residency interviews -- Three and half years of hard work all boils down to this. My final location for the next 4 years will be revealed on March 20th aka Match Day (insert scary ominous music here). Just to save you all from asking, here is where I am interviewing (in no particular order and a few may be added or removed depending on how I'm feeling): Christiana, Duke, Case Western, Rochester, UNC, Brown, Pitt, Georgetown, Yale. If you are a member of The Circle, I hope you like at least one of these locations because odds are I am going to convince said group to move wherever I match (and if you think I'm kidding, you obviously don't know me well).
8. Began a 10 week break from school -- That's right, Georgetown finally did something nice for me. I have until the New Year off for interviews (ie I'm sleeping in every day until at least noon and watching bad TV marathons on E!, VH1, and Bravo -- don't even ask how many times I have seen reruns of "I Love New York 2") and then I'm taking January off to study for the boards (so yes, there will be some work involved). With this much free time, I now know what KY (I just realized your initials are a little creepy) feels like when she goes to work. That being said, I'm currently held up in Punxs'y, which is very scary considering it is hunting season and about 94% of the population is wearing camouflage (because apparently you never know when you need to outwit a deer in the bank or Walmart).
Well, I hope that kinda catches you up where I have been in the last 92 days. As always, I respond to intimidating messages that politely (but threateningly) urge me to blog (as evident by TF and PP's posts).
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Lessons at 4:35 AM
Last night I had my first overnight call as a medicine AI (acting intern) -- not to be confused with that creepy robot movie starring that kid from the Sixth Sense (what ever happened to him anyways? Let's just hope puberty was kinder to him that that kid from Jerry Maguire). Anyways, the point of this rotation is to treat you like you're a real intern (think of it as being a doctor with training wheels), and as such, you take overnight call every fourth day. Maybe it was not as bad as I thought it was, maybe I was touched by the caduceus (don't pretend you know what it is, just look it up) of the med school gods, or maybe it was the fact that I was pretty delirious from only getting 25 minutes of sleep in 30+ hours, but I definitely gained some extra insight before the sun rose. Here's a little bit of what I picked up on from my overnight call....
1. I look hot in scrubs. Don't even try to question it. If I walked in with my blue scrubs, white coat, cool green kicks (its like saying, yeah I'm professional but I have fun), and stethoscope draped around my neck, you would swoon. Let alone when I have my sexy tuberculosis exposure max on, and all you can focus on are my hazel eyes.
2. Graham crackers and those freakishly tiny cans of pop (on which I think hospitals have a monopoly) are an excellent source of nutrition. True, that assumes you are housing them down 3 at a time (not that I would know anything about that), but they will get you threw the night. However, this only applies if you can sneak them by the nurses station (much like street parking, I'm pretty sure the "For Patient Only" signs no longer apply after 7 pm).
3. If I needed any additional validation that I am JD from Scrubs, last night did it. Literally, the number of scenes from season 1 of Scrubs that I unintentionally reinacted was frightening.
4. It may be hard to tell, I'm a big fan of sarcasm (if you don't understand the beauty of that line, just stop reading now and delete this link from your browser). That being said, I'm totally digging the "politely F-off" nature of many notes written in the charts. My new favorite line is "appreciate." For example, "Appreciate pulmonolgy recommendations" i.e. I am going to politely say I see what you wrote down but keep right on doing what I was planning on doing anyways. So, be leary of, "Yes, TF, I really appreciate what you want to do this weekend."
5. You know you should either persue a career in infectious disease or get serious psychological help when you hear things like "I think this person has Lyme Disease facial nerve palsy" and your first response is "Awesome Lyme Disease!". Or, they say, "This person may very well have TB," and your first response is to want to run to the room (Note: When someone has TB, I would probably advise not wanting to spend extra time breathing in whatever they are putting out.) However, I must say, I did both of these things (please insert nerd/tool/whatever joke here).
6. Blimpie's is not as good as Subway. Just throwing that out there.
7. I am fairly confident I can convince people to do anything. Case in point, I had to do three rectal exams yesterday (yes, giggle like a little school girl), which is incidently 3 more than I did all of last year (to understand how shocking it is to make it through 3rd year without doing one is like the equivalent of PP going into J.Crew and not buying anything, or MKS saying "You know what, I'm going to stay in a loving, committed relationship.") That being said, I was able to convince people that this exam would make or break them. Example, patient has difficulty chewing, if it were me, I would not necessarily think i need a rectal exam, but hey, after a few choice words, the patient was sure this would help provide the answer (I am just that damn good).
8. Stemming from item 7, patients trust me more than they trust real doctors. There were numerous times that the residents would ask the patients questions and then the patients would turn to me to answer. While this is awesome, I couldn't even pay attention to what they were saying cause all I was thinking was "Um, you definitely are betting on the wrong horse here."
9. You know you have lived a sheltered existence whenever you are impressed by call rooms. "This one has hard wood floors, its own bathroom, and a TV! This is nicer than my apartment!".
10. Despite the long hours, crazy patients, and tons of work, I actually thought all the stuff was really fun. In fact, I was both scary and uplifting at the same time. Oh yeah, that's why I decided to do this med school thing in the first place. That being said, I think we are lining up the ducks for med-peds.
Well, that's enough for now. Sorry for leaving you hanging for, um, almost 2 months. But, I do it all again Sunday morning, so I'm sure I will have a story or two for you then.
1. I look hot in scrubs. Don't even try to question it. If I walked in with my blue scrubs, white coat, cool green kicks (its like saying, yeah I'm professional but I have fun), and stethoscope draped around my neck, you would swoon. Let alone when I have my sexy tuberculosis exposure max on, and all you can focus on are my hazel eyes.
2. Graham crackers and those freakishly tiny cans of pop (on which I think hospitals have a monopoly) are an excellent source of nutrition. True, that assumes you are housing them down 3 at a time (not that I would know anything about that), but they will get you threw the night. However, this only applies if you can sneak them by the nurses station (much like street parking, I'm pretty sure the "For Patient Only" signs no longer apply after 7 pm).
3. If I needed any additional validation that I am JD from Scrubs, last night did it. Literally, the number of scenes from season 1 of Scrubs that I unintentionally reinacted was frightening.
4. It may be hard to tell, I'm a big fan of sarcasm (if you don't understand the beauty of that line, just stop reading now and delete this link from your browser). That being said, I'm totally digging the "politely F-off" nature of many notes written in the charts. My new favorite line is "appreciate." For example, "Appreciate pulmonolgy recommendations" i.e. I am going to politely say I see what you wrote down but keep right on doing what I was planning on doing anyways. So, be leary of, "Yes, TF, I really appreciate what you want to do this weekend."
5. You know you should either persue a career in infectious disease or get serious psychological help when you hear things like "I think this person has Lyme Disease facial nerve palsy" and your first response is "Awesome Lyme Disease!". Or, they say, "This person may very well have TB," and your first response is to want to run to the room (Note: When someone has TB, I would probably advise not wanting to spend extra time breathing in whatever they are putting out.) However, I must say, I did both of these things (please insert nerd/tool/whatever joke here).
6. Blimpie's is not as good as Subway. Just throwing that out there.
7. I am fairly confident I can convince people to do anything. Case in point, I had to do three rectal exams yesterday (yes, giggle like a little school girl), which is incidently 3 more than I did all of last year (to understand how shocking it is to make it through 3rd year without doing one is like the equivalent of PP going into J.Crew and not buying anything, or MKS saying "You know what, I'm going to stay in a loving, committed relationship.") That being said, I was able to convince people that this exam would make or break them. Example, patient has difficulty chewing, if it were me, I would not necessarily think i need a rectal exam, but hey, after a few choice words, the patient was sure this would help provide the answer (I am just that damn good).
8. Stemming from item 7, patients trust me more than they trust real doctors. There were numerous times that the residents would ask the patients questions and then the patients would turn to me to answer. While this is awesome, I couldn't even pay attention to what they were saying cause all I was thinking was "Um, you definitely are betting on the wrong horse here."
9. You know you have lived a sheltered existence whenever you are impressed by call rooms. "This one has hard wood floors, its own bathroom, and a TV! This is nicer than my apartment!".
10. Despite the long hours, crazy patients, and tons of work, I actually thought all the stuff was really fun. In fact, I was both scary and uplifting at the same time. Oh yeah, that's why I decided to do this med school thing in the first place. That being said, I think we are lining up the ducks for med-peds.
Well, that's enough for now. Sorry for leaving you hanging for, um, almost 2 months. But, I do it all again Sunday morning, so I'm sure I will have a story or two for you then.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Oh Simple Thing, Where Have You Gone?
Note: I feel this post may be a little different than my usual flare, and I need a little help from you, but I still tried to make it fun. Enjoy.
So, what are you going to do with your life? This question is (pun intended) unquestionably the bane of my existence. And much like herpes, it never goes away -- you think you may have beat it, but it always resurfaces, particularly in times of stress. Where are you going to college? Bucknell. What are you going to major in? Biology. Why? Cause science is awesome (And if you don't believe that, see the "Dead to Me" list). What are you going to do with that for a career? Medicine. What do you want to your residency in? Where do you want to go for it? Are you going to do a fellowship (less like Frodo and LOTR and more like additional years with crappy pay)? Where are you going to set up your practice? Private practice, group, or hospital? Therefore, I posit (oh yeah, I just posited something, stick that in your liberal arts pipe and smoke it), "Oh simple thing, where have you gone???". When did wanting to be a doctor become not enough? Where is the proverbial Valtrex to treat this question??
Why is it when stepping up to the counter of the medical Baskin Robbins, I feel like I keep choosing vanilla? I enviously look on at those who have not only chose the chocolate chip cookie dough of medical specialties but are also getting it in a waffle cone! MKS lives for the holes of the head in ENT. NP is going to take people to the bank diagnosing acne in dermatology. RD is making the life choice to stand next to lethal energy waves everyday for radiology. CS is dedicated to the senile and, well, the very senile in geriatrics. These people all have got their free mini-spoon taste and now are packing it down their throats by the scoop. Yet, I press my face against the glass of the freezer with the longing eyes of a fat, diabetic, lactose-intolerant 8 year old.
Now I come to the point of my frustration. The medicine gods have deemed that I must embark on the vision quest that is choosing a residency program beginning with choosing a field of medicine and ending with Match Day. (Or should I say Bid Day -- trust me, they are the same thing and I'll talk about the process at a different post, but I'm pretty sure the only difference is that there is just a less glitter and chanting involved with Match Day). Thus by some point in September (the earlier the better), I must choose a medical specialty, and I'm avoiding this commitment like MKS avoids....um, commitment? I hear the clock ticking in the background. I shouldn't say ticking -- its F**in POUNDING.
So, this is where you come into play. Make the decision for me. Its that plain and simple. I'm throwing myself upon the suggestions of you, my loyal readers. You may be asking yourself, "But WC, what's in it for me?" (cause I know I would be). If I actually follow your advice, I will provide you and your immediate family free care in the field I go into. Example, you have 10 kids, I do pediatrics, bring me all the inner ear infections you can for free. You get knocked up, I do OB/GYN, I rip the sucker out for free (assuming you don't care I have to stare at your bajingo at the same time). You drink enough to kill a small elephant (um, TW, I'm talking to you), I do GI, I'll hook you up with a new liver for free. However, odds are if you know me well enough, I'm probably going to hook you up for free anyways (and if you have to think whether or not this includes you, it probably means it does not).
I will provide you with a little guidance however (emphasis on little because I really want to see what you come up with). I hate surgery with the firey passion of a thousand suns burning on top of a nuclear explosion (enough said). No matter how hard I would try to relate so someone complaining about irregular vaginal bleeding, it is never going to happen. Finally, if you ask what I'm currently leaning towards, it would be pediatrics. However, as my debt accrues my desire to help people has become inversely proportional to the salary I hope to achieve. Is it better to be rich but miserable or poor (well, relatively doctor speaking poor) and happy?
So, take a moment, step back, analzye what you know about WC Anderson III and where you think I should fit in life. And help me once again find that oh so simple thing.
So, what are you going to do with your life? This question is (pun intended) unquestionably the bane of my existence. And much like herpes, it never goes away -- you think you may have beat it, but it always resurfaces, particularly in times of stress. Where are you going to college? Bucknell. What are you going to major in? Biology. Why? Cause science is awesome (And if you don't believe that, see the "Dead to Me" list). What are you going to do with that for a career? Medicine. What do you want to your residency in? Where do you want to go for it? Are you going to do a fellowship (less like Frodo and LOTR and more like additional years with crappy pay)? Where are you going to set up your practice? Private practice, group, or hospital? Therefore, I posit (oh yeah, I just posited something, stick that in your liberal arts pipe and smoke it), "Oh simple thing, where have you gone???". When did wanting to be a doctor become not enough? Where is the proverbial Valtrex to treat this question??
Why is it when stepping up to the counter of the medical Baskin Robbins, I feel like I keep choosing vanilla? I enviously look on at those who have not only chose the chocolate chip cookie dough of medical specialties but are also getting it in a waffle cone! MKS lives for the holes of the head in ENT. NP is going to take people to the bank diagnosing acne in dermatology. RD is making the life choice to stand next to lethal energy waves everyday for radiology. CS is dedicated to the senile and, well, the very senile in geriatrics. These people all have got their free mini-spoon taste and now are packing it down their throats by the scoop. Yet, I press my face against the glass of the freezer with the longing eyes of a fat, diabetic, lactose-intolerant 8 year old.
Now I come to the point of my frustration. The medicine gods have deemed that I must embark on the vision quest that is choosing a residency program beginning with choosing a field of medicine and ending with Match Day. (Or should I say Bid Day -- trust me, they are the same thing and I'll talk about the process at a different post, but I'm pretty sure the only difference is that there is just a less glitter and chanting involved with Match Day). Thus by some point in September (the earlier the better), I must choose a medical specialty, and I'm avoiding this commitment like MKS avoids....um, commitment? I hear the clock ticking in the background. I shouldn't say ticking -- its F**in POUNDING.
So, this is where you come into play. Make the decision for me. Its that plain and simple. I'm throwing myself upon the suggestions of you, my loyal readers. You may be asking yourself, "But WC, what's in it for me?" (cause I know I would be). If I actually follow your advice, I will provide you and your immediate family free care in the field I go into. Example, you have 10 kids, I do pediatrics, bring me all the inner ear infections you can for free. You get knocked up, I do OB/GYN, I rip the sucker out for free (assuming you don't care I have to stare at your bajingo at the same time). You drink enough to kill a small elephant (um, TW, I'm talking to you), I do GI, I'll hook you up with a new liver for free. However, odds are if you know me well enough, I'm probably going to hook you up for free anyways (and if you have to think whether or not this includes you, it probably means it does not).
I will provide you with a little guidance however (emphasis on little because I really want to see what you come up with). I hate surgery with the firey passion of a thousand suns burning on top of a nuclear explosion (enough said). No matter how hard I would try to relate so someone complaining about irregular vaginal bleeding, it is never going to happen. Finally, if you ask what I'm currently leaning towards, it would be pediatrics. However, as my debt accrues my desire to help people has become inversely proportional to the salary I hope to achieve. Is it better to be rich but miserable or poor (well, relatively doctor speaking poor) and happy?
So, take a moment, step back, analzye what you know about WC Anderson III and where you think I should fit in life. And help me once again find that oh so simple thing.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Randomness Vol. 3
I would like to say that I can post now because I finally have free time after finishing the incredibly strenuous 4 weeks of my family medicine rotation. However, I feel the fact that I only worked about 12 days during that time and most of those days I worked to about noon would probably beg to differ. So, let's get down to it.
1. One thing Punxs'y is not known for is a keen fashion sense (unless of course you count the combination of top hats and camouflage). Therefore, I decided I would make my own contest of "best" shirt seen around downtown Punxs'y (and by "downtown" I mean like the 5 blocks of stores not yet completely crushed by the mega Wal-Mart). There were many contenders including heavy set woman wearing black and white giant tiger head t-shirt and elderly man wearing Brady Bunch-inspired dress shirt. However, the winner by far was 50 year old man wearing "Gulf War Support our Troops" sweatshirt with the arms torn off. I really think you need to pause to consider the majesty that is this shirt. First, it easily has to be 16 years old and still a part of his regular clothing rotation. Second, he thought to himself "hmm, if only I could wear this in the summer" and thereby cut off the sleeves. Third, even though the Gulf War is long in the books, he wants to make sure we all know who won. I salute you sir and look forward to seeing your "Operation Iraqi Freedom" t-shirt converted into a tank top in 13 years.
2. I decided that at least once in my life I want to march into a room or down a hall with a posse and a sweet ass theme song blaring -- along the lines of Lucy Liu with the crazy 88 in "Kill Bill Vol. 1" or the Plastics down the hall in "Mean Girls." You have to recognize how awesome that would be (and if not, please see my "Dead to Me" list). You walk into a bar and everyone has to recognize. I feel like I'm almost there. All I need is a song and to teach TF, PP, DK, and SB to walk in formation.
3. My possibilities for entertainment in Punxs'y include hanging out in front of McDonalds, visiting the Groundhog Zoo (see post from 2/2/07), or watching television. That being said, I have easily logged 90+ hours of MTV in the last 4.5 weeks, and I came to realize that every person on their shows is younger and in better shape than me (damn you Real World casts!). The combination of the Inferno, Exposed, and the like (yes, I understand that I am but weeks away from turning 25 and still watching this crap and I've come to accept that) have perfectly aligned to cause body image doubt like a 12 year old girl flipping through Vogue. Therefore, I decided to start jogging on a regular basis. Yes, yes, you may be saying "Wait, doesn't that violate your rules on running?" (For those of you who don't know, there are only 2 reasons to run. First, to win an Olympic gold medal. You heard me WIN, if you are getting silver you may as well sit at home with your arm elbow deep in Haagen-Dazs. Second, to escape a bear or other predatory woodland creature.) Despite breaking my own oath on running, it is actually turning out fairly well. While I feel like dying at times during the run, after it I feel pretty good about what I have done (and have actually dropped a couple pounds thus far). We'll see if I keep this up upon my return to the District -- I'll have to check the MTV fall schedule first.
4. Today I was brushing my teeth in my mom's bathroom (as my sisters have permanently taken over the main bathroom in a manner similar to the USA's Manifest Destiny over North America), when I noticed something somewhat unusual. Among the various beauty products on the countertop was what appeared to be a black tube of something with the words "Paris Hilton" on it in huge pink letters. Now, I don't know what this stuff is, where it came from, or what my Catholic- community health secretary-mother of 3 is doing with it. All I know is I'm scared. Very scared. I'm half expecting to see Nicole Richie non-stick cooking spray show up in the pantry.
5. I'm worried about the state of my precious precious Circle. Now, I understand the irony of someone who has deserted it for all intensive purposes for over a month talking about the necessity of preserving its integrity, but I feel that it is still on my mind shows my dedication to the subject. Members and accessory members are leaving left and right. JMS is now in the 'Burgh being a professional and KK is in LA doing whatever it is she does on the East coast now on the West (at some point in time, I WILL understand her job). Therefore, I am announcing an emergency "Retain and Recruit" plan. As such, the remaining fragments will be held on with my dear life, and I am enlisting TF to help in this vital measure (as I know he is imprisoned working with kids for the next year). The second part is recruitment, as we now have openings available. In this regard, I am recruiting PP to be our rush chair, as I have come to realize he is probably the most social of all of us (plus, starting a new school, he is more likely to be exposed to new people). The process to be accepted will be hard and rigorous necessitating a 2/3rds majority vote of voting members. Or, the candidate can just buy us a round of beers and be instantaneously in.
6. This past weekend I went to the DuBois (pronounced Do-Boys) Community Days festival. It was like Mecca for hill-folk. Some of the choice things I saw there include the following...
-An inflatable sinking Titanic slide for kids. (If you don't see how horrible this is, just wait for the Hiroshima ride).
-Grown men with rat tails (Yes, rat tails. Mullets are a dime a dozen but the rat tail is the quarter in the penny jar).
-A "Come Play with God" booth sponsored by some local church. (I have no clue what was in there but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a "Whack-a-Heathen" game).
-The headling band was called "Vocal Trash" ("Guys, we need some name that really encapsulates our music, but what should we choose?")
Well, that's all the randomness for now. District soon.
1. One thing Punxs'y is not known for is a keen fashion sense (unless of course you count the combination of top hats and camouflage). Therefore, I decided I would make my own contest of "best" shirt seen around downtown Punxs'y (and by "downtown" I mean like the 5 blocks of stores not yet completely crushed by the mega Wal-Mart). There were many contenders including heavy set woman wearing black and white giant tiger head t-shirt and elderly man wearing Brady Bunch-inspired dress shirt. However, the winner by far was 50 year old man wearing "Gulf War Support our Troops" sweatshirt with the arms torn off. I really think you need to pause to consider the majesty that is this shirt. First, it easily has to be 16 years old and still a part of his regular clothing rotation. Second, he thought to himself "hmm, if only I could wear this in the summer" and thereby cut off the sleeves. Third, even though the Gulf War is long in the books, he wants to make sure we all know who won. I salute you sir and look forward to seeing your "Operation Iraqi Freedom" t-shirt converted into a tank top in 13 years.
2. I decided that at least once in my life I want to march into a room or down a hall with a posse and a sweet ass theme song blaring -- along the lines of Lucy Liu with the crazy 88 in "Kill Bill Vol. 1" or the Plastics down the hall in "Mean Girls." You have to recognize how awesome that would be (and if not, please see my "Dead to Me" list). You walk into a bar and everyone has to recognize. I feel like I'm almost there. All I need is a song and to teach TF, PP, DK, and SB to walk in formation.
3. My possibilities for entertainment in Punxs'y include hanging out in front of McDonalds, visiting the Groundhog Zoo (see post from 2/2/07), or watching television. That being said, I have easily logged 90+ hours of MTV in the last 4.5 weeks, and I came to realize that every person on their shows is younger and in better shape than me (damn you Real World casts!). The combination of the Inferno, Exposed, and the like (yes, I understand that I am but weeks away from turning 25 and still watching this crap and I've come to accept that) have perfectly aligned to cause body image doubt like a 12 year old girl flipping through Vogue. Therefore, I decided to start jogging on a regular basis. Yes, yes, you may be saying "Wait, doesn't that violate your rules on running?" (For those of you who don't know, there are only 2 reasons to run. First, to win an Olympic gold medal. You heard me WIN, if you are getting silver you may as well sit at home with your arm elbow deep in Haagen-Dazs. Second, to escape a bear or other predatory woodland creature.) Despite breaking my own oath on running, it is actually turning out fairly well. While I feel like dying at times during the run, after it I feel pretty good about what I have done (and have actually dropped a couple pounds thus far). We'll see if I keep this up upon my return to the District -- I'll have to check the MTV fall schedule first.
4. Today I was brushing my teeth in my mom's bathroom (as my sisters have permanently taken over the main bathroom in a manner similar to the USA's Manifest Destiny over North America), when I noticed something somewhat unusual. Among the various beauty products on the countertop was what appeared to be a black tube of something with the words "Paris Hilton" on it in huge pink letters. Now, I don't know what this stuff is, where it came from, or what my Catholic- community health secretary-mother of 3 is doing with it. All I know is I'm scared. Very scared. I'm half expecting to see Nicole Richie non-stick cooking spray show up in the pantry.
5. I'm worried about the state of my precious precious Circle. Now, I understand the irony of someone who has deserted it for all intensive purposes for over a month talking about the necessity of preserving its integrity, but I feel that it is still on my mind shows my dedication to the subject. Members and accessory members are leaving left and right. JMS is now in the 'Burgh being a professional and KK is in LA doing whatever it is she does on the East coast now on the West (at some point in time, I WILL understand her job). Therefore, I am announcing an emergency "Retain and Recruit" plan. As such, the remaining fragments will be held on with my dear life, and I am enlisting TF to help in this vital measure (as I know he is imprisoned working with kids for the next year). The second part is recruitment, as we now have openings available. In this regard, I am recruiting PP to be our rush chair, as I have come to realize he is probably the most social of all of us (plus, starting a new school, he is more likely to be exposed to new people). The process to be accepted will be hard and rigorous necessitating a 2/3rds majority vote of voting members. Or, the candidate can just buy us a round of beers and be instantaneously in.
6. This past weekend I went to the DuBois (pronounced Do-Boys) Community Days festival. It was like Mecca for hill-folk. Some of the choice things I saw there include the following...
-An inflatable sinking Titanic slide for kids. (If you don't see how horrible this is, just wait for the Hiroshima ride).
-Grown men with rat tails (Yes, rat tails. Mullets are a dime a dozen but the rat tail is the quarter in the penny jar).
-A "Come Play with God" booth sponsored by some local church. (I have no clue what was in there but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a "Whack-a-Heathen" game).
-The headling band was called "Vocal Trash" ("Guys, we need some name that really encapsulates our music, but what should we choose?")
Well, that's all the randomness for now. District soon.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Bowling and Bullet Holes
Before I left for exotic Punxs'y, I made a pledge to myself (along the lines of a "Give me liberty or give me death") that I would make the most of my last weekend in The District. While I had an absolute blast (yes, I understand that sounds like I stepped straight out of of 1954--"neat-o"), somehow my "making the most" pledge fell kinda short (more along the lines of "The Prom Promise"). Instead, I went to some random ass bars, brunch (expertly prepared by KK -- much thanks!), bowling, and a Book-It style pizza party (much thanks to TF and DK). However, if you were to have asked me at which of these activities I would have most feared for my life (and seriously, I know that's the first thing you think of when anyone tells you what they did over the weekend), I would not have guessed it would have been bowling. However, it was CLEARLY the front runner. You may ask, how can a simple game of 10-pin be frightful? Well, I would respond that it is not the game, but arriving at the destination in which the danger lies.
So, when not hanging out with my precious "Circle" (yes, yes, I am shocked as you are that I spend time away from them, and would probably have my doubts that I'm currently lying), I associate with the few, clearly not proud nor elite, Georgtown Med students. And one of our favorite past times (and by favorite past times, and by that I mean I went like twice before and it was fun) is bowling. We have only 2 requirements for our bowling adventures. First, they must have "glow bowling" or "rock 'n bowl" or the like (what can I say, we need a little Top 40 and black lights to get into it). Secondly, it must be somewhat inexpensive (as med students, we must use the money we get from selling our stem cells efficiently). When choosing a locale, I would guess the majority of people would check out Google or the Yellow Pages to find a bowling alley. I, of course, did not pursue that track.
When I wanted the foremost of bowling locations in the greater DC metropolitan area, I went to my local neighborhood surgical pathologist for advice. Yes, you heard me right, a pathologist. While most pathologist are recognized as having a social life that would be expected of one who would rather work with microscope slides and corpses as opposed to, uh let's just say, "the living," this pathologist is a little different. As a 30 something year-old mother of 5 children (all between the ages of like 11 and 4 -- SCARY!) and native of one of Punxs'y's neighboring towns, I take pretty good stock in her advice on benign social activites (more like ice cream socials than places to score cocaine). So, I listened when she came up with a quick and enthusiastic recommendation--Fort Meyer.
Now let's just pause for a moment. For those of you not familiar with this DC institution, Fort Meyer is a U.S. military base located on the other side of the Potomac. The soliders at Fort Meyer are most well known for guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Solider at Arlington Cemetery. What you may not know is that these soliders are also trained to be the first line to establish martial law in The District in the case of an attack. Therefore, while they are twirling their guns for the happy tourists, they are deep down wanting to set up a bunker with an AK-47 on M and Wisconsin. Hence, some apprehension existed on my part in entering their relm.
Despite my worries, I figured "Hey, it will be just me and EC, what's to worry about." Obviously, that's when things go horribly wrong. When I went to go pick up my friend EC at her apartment complex (where like half of my med school class lives), she informed me that there was a "small rooftop party" there earlier in the night and a "few" other people might want to come along. Okay, I thought, I can deal with that, and the more the merrier, right? However, when I pulled up to the entrance, EC came along with 4 (my care seats only 5) other of her very intoxicated friends. So let me recap, I am now cruising in my 2002 Dodge Stratus at over-capacity of drunkards with the destination of a US military base. Yeah, needless to say I was a bit worried.
As I pulled up to the gates, I prayed that this would not be my one way ticket to Guantanamo Bay. You can imagine that prison conversation -- What you in for? Threatening to bomb the U.S. How about you? I just wanted to go bowling (followed by me breaking into tears). Hesitantly, I pulled up to the gates with my clown car of drunkards. Seeing the soliders in the not so distance, a cold sweat developed between my palms and the steering wheel. Meanwhile, my passangers continued to chatter about everything from Justin Timberlake to colonics. Suddently, I snapped into my training as a summer counselor of high school students. With a swift "Be quiet, pay attention, and keep your eyes forward", I commanded the attention of the car.
After going through the gate with a polite but stearn "What's your business?" from the guards, I was allowed to proceed through. Wow, I thought to myself, this is going to be easier than DK getting thrown in the drunk tank. Rolling up through the military campus, however, I was summoned to check point number 2.
There in an omniously lit open air hanger my car was stopped by no less than three soliders, my "favorite" of which held a semi-automatic weapon that was about the same size as he was. This is it I thought. My life had a pretty good ride up to this point. I'll be bowling in heaven with Jesus and my childhood pets tonight! Now, guurd number 1 asked for my ID and requested that I open all the car doors, and pop my trunk and hood. Guard 2 requested that we all file out of the car and stand at least 5 feet away. Meanwhile, guard 3 stood there eyeing up this group of future doctors while gently stroking the trigger of his gun. With everything open and at a safe distance, the gaurds then proceded to scan every inch of my car. My mind raced, "Do I have anything in there that could be mistaken for a bomb? I know I don't own a gun but could someone have left one in there? Do I have any anti-Bush stuff in there? If they question anything, say you love freedom, support the troops, and just run."
Despite my worry, we were give the seal of approval and allowed to proceed to our final destination (yet, that guard 3 did not put his weapon down once..hmm). Surprisingly, in the end, I HIGHLY recommend the Fort Meyer bowling alley. They have excellent music, great facilities, and some kick ass rock 'n bowl for dirt cheap ($4/game including shoes). So, if you like bowling but also want the same treatment one would get smuggling heroine across international lines, Fort Meyer's is the place to go.
So, when not hanging out with my precious "Circle" (yes, yes, I am shocked as you are that I spend time away from them, and would probably have my doubts that I'm currently lying), I associate with the few, clearly not proud nor elite, Georgtown Med students. And one of our favorite past times (and by favorite past times, and by that I mean I went like twice before and it was fun) is bowling. We have only 2 requirements for our bowling adventures. First, they must have "glow bowling" or "rock 'n bowl" or the like (what can I say, we need a little Top 40 and black lights to get into it). Secondly, it must be somewhat inexpensive (as med students, we must use the money we get from selling our stem cells efficiently). When choosing a locale, I would guess the majority of people would check out Google or the Yellow Pages to find a bowling alley. I, of course, did not pursue that track.
When I wanted the foremost of bowling locations in the greater DC metropolitan area, I went to my local neighborhood surgical pathologist for advice. Yes, you heard me right, a pathologist. While most pathologist are recognized as having a social life that would be expected of one who would rather work with microscope slides and corpses as opposed to, uh let's just say, "the living," this pathologist is a little different. As a 30 something year-old mother of 5 children (all between the ages of like 11 and 4 -- SCARY!) and native of one of Punxs'y's neighboring towns, I take pretty good stock in her advice on benign social activites (more like ice cream socials than places to score cocaine). So, I listened when she came up with a quick and enthusiastic recommendation--Fort Meyer.
Now let's just pause for a moment. For those of you not familiar with this DC institution, Fort Meyer is a U.S. military base located on the other side of the Potomac. The soliders at Fort Meyer are most well known for guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Solider at Arlington Cemetery. What you may not know is that these soliders are also trained to be the first line to establish martial law in The District in the case of an attack. Therefore, while they are twirling their guns for the happy tourists, they are deep down wanting to set up a bunker with an AK-47 on M and Wisconsin. Hence, some apprehension existed on my part in entering their relm.
Despite my worries, I figured "Hey, it will be just me and EC, what's to worry about." Obviously, that's when things go horribly wrong. When I went to go pick up my friend EC at her apartment complex (where like half of my med school class lives), she informed me that there was a "small rooftop party" there earlier in the night and a "few" other people might want to come along. Okay, I thought, I can deal with that, and the more the merrier, right? However, when I pulled up to the entrance, EC came along with 4 (my care seats only 5) other of her very intoxicated friends. So let me recap, I am now cruising in my 2002 Dodge Stratus at over-capacity of drunkards with the destination of a US military base. Yeah, needless to say I was a bit worried.
As I pulled up to the gates, I prayed that this would not be my one way ticket to Guantanamo Bay. You can imagine that prison conversation -- What you in for? Threatening to bomb the U.S. How about you? I just wanted to go bowling (followed by me breaking into tears). Hesitantly, I pulled up to the gates with my clown car of drunkards. Seeing the soliders in the not so distance, a cold sweat developed between my palms and the steering wheel. Meanwhile, my passangers continued to chatter about everything from Justin Timberlake to colonics. Suddently, I snapped into my training as a summer counselor of high school students. With a swift "Be quiet, pay attention, and keep your eyes forward", I commanded the attention of the car.
After going through the gate with a polite but stearn "What's your business?" from the guards, I was allowed to proceed through. Wow, I thought to myself, this is going to be easier than DK getting thrown in the drunk tank. Rolling up through the military campus, however, I was summoned to check point number 2.
There in an omniously lit open air hanger my car was stopped by no less than three soliders, my "favorite" of which held a semi-automatic weapon that was about the same size as he was. This is it I thought. My life had a pretty good ride up to this point. I'll be bowling in heaven with Jesus and my childhood pets tonight! Now, guurd number 1 asked for my ID and requested that I open all the car doors, and pop my trunk and hood. Guard 2 requested that we all file out of the car and stand at least 5 feet away. Meanwhile, guard 3 stood there eyeing up this group of future doctors while gently stroking the trigger of his gun. With everything open and at a safe distance, the gaurds then proceded to scan every inch of my car. My mind raced, "Do I have anything in there that could be mistaken for a bomb? I know I don't own a gun but could someone have left one in there? Do I have any anti-Bush stuff in there? If they question anything, say you love freedom, support the troops, and just run."
Despite my worry, we were give the seal of approval and allowed to proceed to our final destination (yet, that guard 3 did not put his weapon down once..hmm). Surprisingly, in the end, I HIGHLY recommend the Fort Meyer bowling alley. They have excellent music, great facilities, and some kick ass rock 'n bowl for dirt cheap ($4/game including shoes). So, if you like bowling but also want the same treatment one would get smuggling heroine across international lines, Fort Meyer's is the place to go.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Homeward Bound -- I wish I was??
At the start of this academic year, I was informed that I would be able to do my family medicine rotation at an away site if I chose to do so. Having heard some of the true horror stories of family medicine rotations here at Georgetown (ranging from having to drive 2 hours to a site to being "assigned" to babysit a doc's kid instead of getting a lunch hour), I decided it may be best to get out of here. But where to go? That's when I discovered you can go to an area that is rural and underserved medically. Hmmmm...rural and underserved but still located in the continental US -- do places like that even exist? These must be desolate areas where the weak are eaten by rabid animals and the barter system is still practiced. Where have I heard of places like that before?? Oh yeah, HOME!
Therefore, I made arrangements to work with a family friend in Punxs'y. Apparently, this doc's dad and my grandfather were physicians together back in the day. So, I thought this would be a great idea -- some free food, free laundry, and 4 weeks of relaxing. That's until I went home for Easter. Having spent all of 48 hours in Punxs'y, I realized there is a reason why I moved away. So while still hoping for the best, I leave on May 22nd to spend a minimum of 4 weeks in exotic western Pennsylvania. That being the case, I felt like I should give you some insight into what I am about to experience compared to Washington, DC. Prepared to be enjoyed and mildly horrified (emphasis on the later of those two).
-The District is the capital of the US of A. Punxs'y is the "weather capital of the world." Clearly one is more influential than the other on the world stage, but I just can't place my finger on it.
-In the District, businesses of all kinds flurish. In Punxs'y, the three main businesses you will find downtown are banks, auto part stores, and beer distributors. Clearly one of those three are incompatible with the other two.
-The District is home to the Smithsonian Institutions, a gathering of some of the most revered museums in the world where one can see everything from the Hope Diamond to the works of Monet. Punxs'y has a weather museum housed in the old post office. Enough said.
-The District has one of the best public transportation systems on the East coast including the metro, buses, and taxis. Punxs'y has one bus that's used exclusively to get the elderly to the grocery store and Walmart, that (last time I checked) is driven by my 4th grade band teacher.
-In the District, summer social events range from concerts to plays to professional sporting evets. In Punxs'y, summer social events pretty much includes the carnival coming to town, where you debate whether or not the carnie running the bumper cars was that kid who dropped out of high school and no one has seen since. Side Note: My sisters and I are SCARED to go to the carnival. Yes, scared. The carnival is like a lighthouse directing the strangest of the strange to its funnel-cake shores.
-In the District, young professionals dress nicely to do such simple things as walk down M Street. In Punxs'y, people wear Steeler jerseys to Sunday mass. Side Note: My aunt and uncle came to visit me once and we drove through Arlington during the lunch hour and my aunt was shocked by the number of people wearing "dress shirts."
-The District has numerous bar scenes including Adams Morgan where the young party until 3 am. Punxs'y has one bar with red shag carpeting on the walls, and if you go you will be hit on by the likes of which include your recently divorced high school math teacher.
-The District is a blend of people from all walks of life and all cultures forming a microcosm of the world. Punxs'y includes the Amish as the majority of our "diversity." Side Note: To give you an idea of the cultural sheltering I am talking about here, people find it interesting (in the exotic way) that my sister and I have Jewish friends.
-In the District no building can be taller than the Washington Monument. In Punxs'y we have the "world's largest groundhog" -- a testament of plywood located in the parking lot of the (wait for it) combination ice cream shop/shoe repair store. At this point, honestly, I WISH I was making this stuff up.
-The District is home to some of the best restaurants displaying cuisine from across the world. Punxs'y's fine dining includes McDonalds (which only opened when I was in 9th grade) and Sheetz (where my sister went to eat before the prom one year).
-In the District, people are on the whole culturally-progressive and liberal. In Punxs'y, people have "W" stickers on their trucks while flying the Confederate flag and making entirely logical (in their minds) connections between abortion, gay marriage, and terrorism.
-Last and certainly not least, the mayor of The District is Adrian Fenty, a lawyer and councilman. The mayor of Punxs'y is the owner of the local hardware/animal feed store and is best known as "Snake." Yes, you heard me right, our mayor's name is Snake. If that does not embody everything, I don't know what does.
All that being said, I still love my little hamlet in the Appalachian foothills. And there are some positive things about the town too (but common on, you know you don't want to hear them). You are always more than welcome to come visit to experience all this on your own. However, I realize that the odds of that happening are on par with Punxs'y believing in evolution (I'm pretty sure they think God created humans and groundhogs right before Jesus showed up). With a little over a week left at my home (far, far) away from home, give me a shout so I can make the most of my limited time in the District.
Therefore, I made arrangements to work with a family friend in Punxs'y. Apparently, this doc's dad and my grandfather were physicians together back in the day. So, I thought this would be a great idea -- some free food, free laundry, and 4 weeks of relaxing. That's until I went home for Easter. Having spent all of 48 hours in Punxs'y, I realized there is a reason why I moved away. So while still hoping for the best, I leave on May 22nd to spend a minimum of 4 weeks in exotic western Pennsylvania. That being the case, I felt like I should give you some insight into what I am about to experience compared to Washington, DC. Prepared to be enjoyed and mildly horrified (emphasis on the later of those two).
-The District is the capital of the US of A. Punxs'y is the "weather capital of the world." Clearly one is more influential than the other on the world stage, but I just can't place my finger on it.
-In the District, businesses of all kinds flurish. In Punxs'y, the three main businesses you will find downtown are banks, auto part stores, and beer distributors. Clearly one of those three are incompatible with the other two.
-The District is home to the Smithsonian Institutions, a gathering of some of the most revered museums in the world where one can see everything from the Hope Diamond to the works of Monet. Punxs'y has a weather museum housed in the old post office. Enough said.
-The District has one of the best public transportation systems on the East coast including the metro, buses, and taxis. Punxs'y has one bus that's used exclusively to get the elderly to the grocery store and Walmart, that (last time I checked) is driven by my 4th grade band teacher.
-In the District, summer social events range from concerts to plays to professional sporting evets. In Punxs'y, summer social events pretty much includes the carnival coming to town, where you debate whether or not the carnie running the bumper cars was that kid who dropped out of high school and no one has seen since. Side Note: My sisters and I are SCARED to go to the carnival. Yes, scared. The carnival is like a lighthouse directing the strangest of the strange to its funnel-cake shores.
-In the District, young professionals dress nicely to do such simple things as walk down M Street. In Punxs'y, people wear Steeler jerseys to Sunday mass. Side Note: My aunt and uncle came to visit me once and we drove through Arlington during the lunch hour and my aunt was shocked by the number of people wearing "dress shirts."
-The District has numerous bar scenes including Adams Morgan where the young party until 3 am. Punxs'y has one bar with red shag carpeting on the walls, and if you go you will be hit on by the likes of which include your recently divorced high school math teacher.
-The District is a blend of people from all walks of life and all cultures forming a microcosm of the world. Punxs'y includes the Amish as the majority of our "diversity." Side Note: To give you an idea of the cultural sheltering I am talking about here, people find it interesting (in the exotic way) that my sister and I have Jewish friends.
-In the District no building can be taller than the Washington Monument. In Punxs'y we have the "world's largest groundhog" -- a testament of plywood located in the parking lot of the (wait for it) combination ice cream shop/shoe repair store. At this point, honestly, I WISH I was making this stuff up.
-The District is home to some of the best restaurants displaying cuisine from across the world. Punxs'y's fine dining includes McDonalds (which only opened when I was in 9th grade) and Sheetz (where my sister went to eat before the prom one year).
-In the District, people are on the whole culturally-progressive and liberal. In Punxs'y, people have "W" stickers on their trucks while flying the Confederate flag and making entirely logical (in their minds) connections between abortion, gay marriage, and terrorism.
-Last and certainly not least, the mayor of The District is Adrian Fenty, a lawyer and councilman. The mayor of Punxs'y is the owner of the local hardware/animal feed store and is best known as "Snake." Yes, you heard me right, our mayor's name is Snake. If that does not embody everything, I don't know what does.
All that being said, I still love my little hamlet in the Appalachian foothills. And there are some positive things about the town too (but common on, you know you don't want to hear them). You are always more than welcome to come visit to experience all this on your own. However, I realize that the odds of that happening are on par with Punxs'y believing in evolution (I'm pretty sure they think God created humans and groundhogs right before Jesus showed up). With a little over a week left at my home (far, far) away from home, give me a shout so I can make the most of my limited time in the District.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Randomness Vol. 2
Today as I was staring a slides of colon biopsies (yes, that will essentially be the next 2 weeks of my life) pretending not to fall asleep (the trick is that if you get your eyes close enough to the eye piece the docs can't tell that the they are actually closed), I let my mind wander as it naturally does, and I kinda realized that there is still a hell of a lot of randomness rolling around in there. So, I figured this maybe a good way to get some of it out (hopefully this way, when they ask me what the diagnosis is, this way I won't blurt out a random song lyric or the like.) Side note: The entire time I am typing this my "t" key is sticking and starting to piss the hell out of me.
1. I feel everyone knows I have an unhealthy obsession with Scrubs (case in point, instead of originally typing "Scrubs" right there, I typed "my friends" -- Freudian slip), but I am starting to realize it myself. For example, I'm starting to identify my feelings based on characters on Scrubs -- and not just characters, but time frame of characters. For example, early Elliot is failing despite always trying, insecure about herself, and pretty OCD about things in life that people shouldn't obsess over. On the other hand, later Elliot, is still OCD and has numerous qwerks, but is a hell of a lot more confident about those things. And I really feel the icing on the cake for my level of self-identification with J.D. happened this last week when (if you didn't see it, I dont' know why because you are obviously missing the best show on television) Elliot got egaged and he realized at the very end it should have been with him instead of with Keith. At which point, I teared up a little and thought to myself "Oh my lord how many things have I let slip through my hands in the past?" (Okay, yes, I have what is known in the medical community as "The Crazies.")
2. British female songwriters are popping up everywhere. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm saying I like Amy Whinehouse. And in fact, I feel her song "Rehab" should be a theme song for The Circle (a name I am trying to have catch on for our friends in DC primarily based on how we all originally knew each other but also kinda for our unwillingness to mingle with others at social events). Let me quote (think of it as written spoken word), "They said go to rehab, and I said 'No, No, No'." In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we acually had this conversation with someone one day (DK, KK, PP, MS, TF, and on and on).
3. I feel if I had to rank the things that I think will kill me, but are unlikely to do so, I would have to put "Accident involving my iPod" in the top 3. Understand I f*in love my iPod, however sometimes I let it take a hold of me a little too much. Two cases in point. The first occurred when driving back to Punxs'y a few weeks back when on a stretch of highway a little song by Journey called "Don't Stop Believing" came on my iPod. Needless to say, I started to sing along in my car (as I am fairly convinced I get amazing acoustics off my dashboard) and start to not so much pay attention to my odometer. By the time the chorus comes along (feel free to sing it in your head as you are reading), I look down and I'm going about 93 in a 55 area)...oops. Second example, today when I was walking to the hospital, The All American Rejects came on and be the self-convinced inner rockstar that I am (trust me, that's a blog onto itself), I actually had to stop myself from picking up my iPod and using it as a microphone as I crossed the entrance to the hospital, where there was uh, I don't know, about 10 cars pulling in and out). So, in the likelihood my body surfaces somewhere, don't be surprised if my iPod is clenched in my hand cold dead hand.
4. While I feel I may raise this topic numerous times in the future, I'll introduce it here -- I'm getting a little terrified about what to do with my life. I literally have to make this decision in the matter of a few weeks to months, and its really starting to press on me. I'm now getting to the point of asking random strangers what to do for a career. I'm currently leaning towards Adolescent Medicine, and I encourage you to read this article about it. Quite literally if I had to write a manifesto on this subject, this would be it. (Much thanks to KK for pointing this out to me). http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/24/health/24teen.html?ex=1178683200&en=f5624369d10dff6d&ei=5070 PLEASE feel free to give me unsolicited advice about career choices whether they be "W.C. I think that's a great idea" to "You are on mescaline right?"
5. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that "Mean Girls" is one of the greatest movies ever made. ("Uh, Bill, I'm starting to really question your judgement." "No, no, just give me a chance.") Okay, now that it has been airing on TNT like every other weekend, I've started to analyze it (like everything else in my life). It has a funny story that you can somewhat relate to, it is extremely quotable, and pretty funny. And for some of you guys out there that I may have not have sold yet, it has Rachel McAdams (and that also applies for some girls, I know JMS has a girl crush on her). So do yourself a favor and watch it -- it will be so fetch! By the way I feel like I identify with Gretchen Weiner (and not just because I like toaster stroodle) namely because she is not the center of the clique but lives on the side and tries to know everything about everyone (but obviously my hair is not big enough to be filled with that many secrets).
Okay, that's about it for now, I hope this satisfied your blog withdrawal (and you are no longer sitting in a corner shaking). Maybe I'll come out with something again soon cause lord knows I'm not doing anything on Surg Path.
1. I feel everyone knows I have an unhealthy obsession with Scrubs (case in point, instead of originally typing "Scrubs" right there, I typed "my friends" -- Freudian slip), but I am starting to realize it myself. For example, I'm starting to identify my feelings based on characters on Scrubs -- and not just characters, but time frame of characters. For example, early Elliot is failing despite always trying, insecure about herself, and pretty OCD about things in life that people shouldn't obsess over. On the other hand, later Elliot, is still OCD and has numerous qwerks, but is a hell of a lot more confident about those things. And I really feel the icing on the cake for my level of self-identification with J.D. happened this last week when (if you didn't see it, I dont' know why because you are obviously missing the best show on television) Elliot got egaged and he realized at the very end it should have been with him instead of with Keith. At which point, I teared up a little and thought to myself "Oh my lord how many things have I let slip through my hands in the past?" (Okay, yes, I have what is known in the medical community as "The Crazies.")
2. British female songwriters are popping up everywhere. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm saying I like Amy Whinehouse. And in fact, I feel her song "Rehab" should be a theme song for The Circle (a name I am trying to have catch on for our friends in DC primarily based on how we all originally knew each other but also kinda for our unwillingness to mingle with others at social events). Let me quote (think of it as written spoken word), "They said go to rehab, and I said 'No, No, No'." In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we acually had this conversation with someone one day (DK, KK, PP, MS, TF, and on and on).
3. I feel if I had to rank the things that I think will kill me, but are unlikely to do so, I would have to put "Accident involving my iPod" in the top 3. Understand I f*in love my iPod, however sometimes I let it take a hold of me a little too much. Two cases in point. The first occurred when driving back to Punxs'y a few weeks back when on a stretch of highway a little song by Journey called "Don't Stop Believing" came on my iPod. Needless to say, I started to sing along in my car (as I am fairly convinced I get amazing acoustics off my dashboard) and start to not so much pay attention to my odometer. By the time the chorus comes along (feel free to sing it in your head as you are reading), I look down and I'm going about 93 in a 55 area)...oops. Second example, today when I was walking to the hospital, The All American Rejects came on and be the self-convinced inner rockstar that I am (trust me, that's a blog onto itself), I actually had to stop myself from picking up my iPod and using it as a microphone as I crossed the entrance to the hospital, where there was uh, I don't know, about 10 cars pulling in and out). So, in the likelihood my body surfaces somewhere, don't be surprised if my iPod is clenched in my hand cold dead hand.
4. While I feel I may raise this topic numerous times in the future, I'll introduce it here -- I'm getting a little terrified about what to do with my life. I literally have to make this decision in the matter of a few weeks to months, and its really starting to press on me. I'm now getting to the point of asking random strangers what to do for a career. I'm currently leaning towards Adolescent Medicine, and I encourage you to read this article about it. Quite literally if I had to write a manifesto on this subject, this would be it. (Much thanks to KK for pointing this out to me). http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/24/health/24teen.html?ex=1178683200&en=f5624369d10dff6d&ei=5070 PLEASE feel free to give me unsolicited advice about career choices whether they be "W.C. I think that's a great idea" to "You are on mescaline right?"
5. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that "Mean Girls" is one of the greatest movies ever made. ("Uh, Bill, I'm starting to really question your judgement." "No, no, just give me a chance.") Okay, now that it has been airing on TNT like every other weekend, I've started to analyze it (like everything else in my life). It has a funny story that you can somewhat relate to, it is extremely quotable, and pretty funny. And for some of you guys out there that I may have not have sold yet, it has Rachel McAdams (and that also applies for some girls, I know JMS has a girl crush on her). So do yourself a favor and watch it -- it will be so fetch! By the way I feel like I identify with Gretchen Weiner (and not just because I like toaster stroodle) namely because she is not the center of the clique but lives on the side and tries to know everything about everyone (but obviously my hair is not big enough to be filled with that many secrets).
Okay, that's about it for now, I hope this satisfied your blog withdrawal (and you are no longer sitting in a corner shaking). Maybe I'll come out with something again soon cause lord knows I'm not doing anything on Surg Path.
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