Posts
At The Ohio State University, the best of the best of professors are employed to teach the future thinker of the world the right way to think. However, they don't account for the funny things, and sometimes tragic things, that come out of the mouths of the professors and students.
Biochem -
I love biochem, even thought it's kicking my ass, and I enjoy my professor. He's an intelligent man with good character. However, he said something the other day that made me actually do a double take and stop writing to make sure I heard this correctly. He was discussing starches or something which turned into a discussion on corn. The man actually said, "I'm not sure if corn is native to America or not. I think the Indians had corn but I don't know where they got it from." You're right. They never had corn. They bought it from the local greenhouse and were munching away on it before John Smith and his boat full of honkies arrived.
There's also this kid that sits around me who breathes louder than anyone I've ever heard before. He's not a mouth breather, but sounds like he's using jet engines to breathe through his nose... it's annoying to the point that everyone around him was staring at him today.
Microbio -
The professor for this class is also an intelligent woman, but her fatal flaw is that she's German. English isn't her native language, and in a profession where the words aren't easy to say, teaching it to English speaking students can't be an easy feat.
For the last few weeks we've been touching on DNA. She keeps pronouncing "guanine (gw-i-un-neen)" as "goo-uh-nine." I find this to be hilarious and laugh every single time she says it.
Today she was talking about Antibiotics and as I was jotting down something she'd said, I missed what she was talking about. Apparently so had all of my great friends sitting around me, because she said the words "Magic Bullet" and was referring to it as an antibiotic, and all three of us looked up, looked at each other, and burst into laughter. I think she's mistaken Magic Bullet with something totally different.. like Macrolide Antibiotic ?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
House, M.D. Season Finale
I thought I should take the time to write a quick little blurb about my feelings regarding House's season 6 finale last night.
I LOVED IT!!!!!!!
If you haven't seen the episode yet, I may have some spoilers here, and if you don't watch the show, then you're missing out.
I think 13 is leaving and they'll play up her Huntington's Disease as the cause of her departure. I think Foreman will have a breakdown because of this, and House and Taub and Chase will be there for him.
Cuddy and House being together will be kept a secret at first, but someone will pick up on it. I think Wilson and Sam will break up and he'll fall apart again, which means Cuddy and House will need to be there for him, and maybe that's when this whole dating thing will surface. Regardless, Wilson won't be happy about it in some ways.
I dunno... I just think this next season is going to be AWESOME!
I hear people saying the end of the episode was a hallucination. If the writers played it that way, that's insane. If anything he might wake up in a hospital bed post-op for fixing some wounds or something and the whole thing would have been a dream, but even that would be silly.
This breakup with Cuddy and Lucas started back when Lucas wanted to get even with House and Wilson for getting the condo they wanted. When Cuddy told Lucas not to get even, Lucas said something to the effect of "a less confident man may think that means you're still in love with House.."
FORESHADOWING! lol
Any thoughts?
When does the next season start?!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Retail Pharmacy
I've worked in a retail pharmacy for almost 6 years, and it's been one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had. I love my job, I love my customers, and I love being able to get to know each of them on a personal level. However, there are days when you think to yourself, "why the hell am I working here?!" Last week I had one of those days.
I believe in the power of the full moon to bring the crazy people out of the woodwork, but last week wasn't a full moon; there was no real reason for the night to have been this absurd.
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*Customer Service:
I don't work in the customer service center anymore, but when I was first hired with my company, that's where I worked. Now, the way it's set up, it's hard to see if a customer comes to the counter for assistance if they're not really all or you can't hear them. If the person working behind the counter should leave the area, he or she puts the bell out for people to ring, but if they're back there, they don't put the bell out. However, on the front of the counter, where the customer stands, there is a cartoon picture of a bell that says "Ring Bell For Service." The girl that was working in the customer service center has taken a phone call and didn't realize there was a customer standing at the window. About 2 minutes later she turns around and sees someone there and the customer actually said, " I've been over here pushing the bell! Didn't you hear me?"
When the employee said, "what bell? I have the bell back here," the woman replied with, "this bell in the sign!"
The lady was pushing on the picture of the bell thinking it would do something....
*Drug Names Are Confusing For Everyone:
I've heard people absolutely butcher the names of the medications they take, but last week I may have heard the best slaughtering of the over-the-counter drug names. A guy walks up to the counter and seemed very fidgety and almost in a hurry. He was about 20-25 years old, tattooed all over, tall, and a good build. He threw his ID and a $10 bill on the counter and just looked at me and smiled. I came up to the counter and said, "can I help you?"
He looked me square in the face and said one word: Wall-ette
I assumed it was the last name, so I say: Wall-ette, you said?
Him: Yes. Wall-ette
Me: What's the first name?
Him: Darren?
Me: Ok. Did you have something to pick up? (This patient name didn't sound familiar to me at all...)
Him: Ohh! No! It's just a medicine I'm getting without a prescription. Wall-ette.
Me: (totally baffled at this point...) You said it's called Wall-ette?
Him: Yeah.....
Me: Ok.. What's it used for?
Him: I have no idea.... (getting more fidgety) Let me go ask the.. yeah.. I'll go ask him.. Ok.. Be right back!
He grabbed his stuff off the counter and walked away very quickly. The pharmacist and I were cracking up because I honestly thought he was asking me for a wallet! He'd never heard of such a thing either! About 5 minutes goes by and the guy comes back...
Me: Did you figure out what you were looking for?
Him: Yeah. I need Sudafed.
**Blank Stare** How do you get "wall-ette" from "sudafed"? Well, after the guy left, the pharmacist says that Walgreens puts the "wal" prefix at the beginning of their generic OTC drugs. So, I called up a local Walgreens and asked if they had a "wall-ette." I told him the story and he explained that their generic Sudafed is Wal-afed, or something to that effect, but we both shared a laugh at the idea of "wall-ette."
*Arguments:
A man approaches my counter and is picking up a prescription for his wife. He tells me the name and I go searching, like normal. However, there was nothing filled for her, and, upon looking in the computer, I noticed we hadn't filled for her in a few weeks. He politely informed me that he'd call his wife from his cell phone and see what she needed. He stepped away from the counter so I could help another customer and sat on the bench nearby to talk to his wife. About 5 minutes later I can hear them arguing on the phone. I have no idea what they were arguing about, but it sounded pretty heated. He sits there for about 10 minutes arguing then gets up and leaves like nothing happened. He never did come back to tell me what she needed filled, if anything at all, so I just assumed the argument was pretty nasty and she was going to have to go without the medicine that night.
*MILK?!:
Our pharmacy is set up really strange. My counter is, literally, next to the bologna coolers and on the other side of the store from the actual OTC medicine. Next to the bologna and egg cooler is the frozen food section. I'm near your processed meats, but not near your drugs. Anyway, this Indian man comes close to the counter and is staring at the bologna. I was seated in the pharmacy reading my Biochem book when I figured I should see if the guy needed help. So, without getting up, I asked, "sir, do you need help with something?" He replied, without even breaking his awkward stare-down with the Oscar Meyer meat, "WHERE IS YOUR MILK?!" Taken aback by his brash tone, but assuming it was due to his accent, I hesitated then said, "it's going to be in the next set of coolers down, sir." Now, while I say this, I'm pointing to the right showing the man where to go. He hasn't even glanced in my general direction and has NO clue where I'm pointing. He marches down the frozen food section while I'm yelling, "Sir! Sir! Milk is this way!" but he pays no attention and wanders off. My boss was wondering why the guy even bothered to ask if he wasn't going to pay attention. Minutes later I heard that booming voice with the overbearing tones asking a girl in our Cosmetics area where the milk was. She must have also pointed and given him the direction as well, because I heard her say, "Sir! Sir! It's that way!"
*Wrapping Up The Night:
With 20 minutes left to go before we closed down the pharmacy, the phone rang. I picked up the phone and there was a man on the line with a rather forward voice.
Him: This is not an emergency, but I am gonna need to get my medications sometime...
Me: Ok. Do you need refills or do you have a new prescription?
Him: I've got refills.
Me: Ok, can you give me the RX Numbers?
(He does)
Me: Ok, do you need these tonight?
Him: (with a sarcastic tone, like I should have just implied...) Uhhh, yeah!
Me: Ok, well I close in 20 minutes, so you need to be here before then.
Him: I'm already on my way. I'll be there in 10 minutes. Will you be open?
Me: Yes. I close in 20 minutes, so if you are here in 10 minutes, I will be open. It'll take me about 10 minutes to get these filled, so I'll see you then.
Needless to say he arrived 5 minutes later and dropped off 2 more medications...
I believe in the power of the full moon to bring the crazy people out of the woodwork, but last week wasn't a full moon; there was no real reason for the night to have been this absurd.
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*Customer Service:
I don't work in the customer service center anymore, but when I was first hired with my company, that's where I worked. Now, the way it's set up, it's hard to see if a customer comes to the counter for assistance if they're not really all or you can't hear them. If the person working behind the counter should leave the area, he or she puts the bell out for people to ring, but if they're back there, they don't put the bell out. However, on the front of the counter, where the customer stands, there is a cartoon picture of a bell that says "Ring Bell For Service." The girl that was working in the customer service center has taken a phone call and didn't realize there was a customer standing at the window. About 2 minutes later she turns around and sees someone there and the customer actually said, " I've been over here pushing the bell! Didn't you hear me?"
When the employee said, "what bell? I have the bell back here," the woman replied with, "this bell in the sign!"
The lady was pushing on the picture of the bell thinking it would do something....
*Drug Names Are Confusing For Everyone:
I've heard people absolutely butcher the names of the medications they take, but last week I may have heard the best slaughtering of the over-the-counter drug names. A guy walks up to the counter and seemed very fidgety and almost in a hurry. He was about 20-25 years old, tattooed all over, tall, and a good build. He threw his ID and a $10 bill on the counter and just looked at me and smiled. I came up to the counter and said, "can I help you?"
He looked me square in the face and said one word: Wall-ette
I assumed it was the last name, so I say: Wall-ette, you said?
Him: Yes. Wall-ette
Me: What's the first name?
Him: Darren?
Me: Ok. Did you have something to pick up? (This patient name didn't sound familiar to me at all...)
Him: Ohh! No! It's just a medicine I'm getting without a prescription. Wall-ette.
Me: (totally baffled at this point...) You said it's called Wall-ette?
Him: Yeah.....
Me: Ok.. What's it used for?
Him: I have no idea.... (getting more fidgety) Let me go ask the.. yeah.. I'll go ask him.. Ok.. Be right back!
He grabbed his stuff off the counter and walked away very quickly. The pharmacist and I were cracking up because I honestly thought he was asking me for a wallet! He'd never heard of such a thing either! About 5 minutes goes by and the guy comes back...
Me: Did you figure out what you were looking for?
Him: Yeah. I need Sudafed.
**Blank Stare** How do you get "wall-ette" from "sudafed"? Well, after the guy left, the pharmacist says that Walgreens puts the "wal" prefix at the beginning of their generic OTC drugs. So, I called up a local Walgreens and asked if they had a "wall-ette." I told him the story and he explained that their generic Sudafed is Wal-afed, or something to that effect, but we both shared a laugh at the idea of "wall-ette."
*Arguments:
A man approaches my counter and is picking up a prescription for his wife. He tells me the name and I go searching, like normal. However, there was nothing filled for her, and, upon looking in the computer, I noticed we hadn't filled for her in a few weeks. He politely informed me that he'd call his wife from his cell phone and see what she needed. He stepped away from the counter so I could help another customer and sat on the bench nearby to talk to his wife. About 5 minutes later I can hear them arguing on the phone. I have no idea what they were arguing about, but it sounded pretty heated. He sits there for about 10 minutes arguing then gets up and leaves like nothing happened. He never did come back to tell me what she needed filled, if anything at all, so I just assumed the argument was pretty nasty and she was going to have to go without the medicine that night.
*MILK?!:
Our pharmacy is set up really strange. My counter is, literally, next to the bologna coolers and on the other side of the store from the actual OTC medicine. Next to the bologna and egg cooler is the frozen food section. I'm near your processed meats, but not near your drugs. Anyway, this Indian man comes close to the counter and is staring at the bologna. I was seated in the pharmacy reading my Biochem book when I figured I should see if the guy needed help. So, without getting up, I asked, "sir, do you need help with something?" He replied, without even breaking his awkward stare-down with the Oscar Meyer meat, "WHERE IS YOUR MILK?!" Taken aback by his brash tone, but assuming it was due to his accent, I hesitated then said, "it's going to be in the next set of coolers down, sir." Now, while I say this, I'm pointing to the right showing the man where to go. He hasn't even glanced in my general direction and has NO clue where I'm pointing. He marches down the frozen food section while I'm yelling, "Sir! Sir! Milk is this way!" but he pays no attention and wanders off. My boss was wondering why the guy even bothered to ask if he wasn't going to pay attention. Minutes later I heard that booming voice with the overbearing tones asking a girl in our Cosmetics area where the milk was. She must have also pointed and given him the direction as well, because I heard her say, "Sir! Sir! It's that way!"
*Wrapping Up The Night:
With 20 minutes left to go before we closed down the pharmacy, the phone rang. I picked up the phone and there was a man on the line with a rather forward voice.
Him: This is not an emergency, but I am gonna need to get my medications sometime...
Me: Ok. Do you need refills or do you have a new prescription?
Him: I've got refills.
Me: Ok, can you give me the RX Numbers?
(He does)
Me: Ok, do you need these tonight?
Him: (with a sarcastic tone, like I should have just implied...) Uhhh, yeah!
Me: Ok, well I close in 20 minutes, so you need to be here before then.
Him: I'm already on my way. I'll be there in 10 minutes. Will you be open?
Me: Yes. I close in 20 minutes, so if you are here in 10 minutes, I will be open. It'll take me about 10 minutes to get these filled, so I'll see you then.
Needless to say he arrived 5 minutes later and dropped off 2 more medications...
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Wee Bitch on a Rampage
This is a section where I'll take the time to rant about some things...
* Let's start off with Jersey Shore and shows of that nature. Maybe it's just me, but I cannot stand listening to people act retarded and know they're getting paid for it! Your spray on tan isn't cute, your lingo doesn't do it for me, and I question your manhood. Thanks.
* One hit wonders never cease to amaze me. I was flipping through my iPod the other day when I stumbled upon an old Ying Yang Twins song. WTF ever happened to those guys? Maybe it was a little odd that they did whisper or yell in all their songs, but I still liked them. Anyone able to give me an update on those guys?
* To anyone who reads this and has children, I don't mean this to be offensive. Here I am at the store the other day, doing a little shopping, politely minding my own business when I hear a scream echo through the store that sounds like it's off of a horror flick. The awful din was followed by a screeching "I WANT THAT TOY!!!" At this point I was thinking, "Oh well, screaming child... back to shopping." But for the next 5 minutes the screaming ensued. There was no end in sight! The child was on some war path and determined to piss off everyone in the friggin store until SOMEONE bought it that damn toy just to shut it up. It just so happens that I was walking past the aisle that the ruckus was coming from and the parents were, ever so graciously to the rest of the shoppers, giving the child the "I'm ignoring you" treatment. Ok, that's great if you don't want to acknowledge your child's bad behavior at home, but why make me suffer because your kid is obnoxious? My shopping experience was significantly less enjoyable because of your child and your poor excuse for good parenting in public.
* I'm sitting in my biochem class the other day when someone asked a question regarding the professor's lecture material. Now, usually there are some good questions, other times there are some that should be kinda obvious, but I could understand how an individual could be confused over the material. However, on this day, the question was so painfully obvious that I looked at the girl next to me and said, "really, did someone just ask that question?" The professor had been going over certain types of bonds within sugar residues, and he was discussing N, S, and O glycosidic bonds. Basically the bond forms to either a Nitrogen (N), Sulfur (S), or an Oxygen (O). A girl in the back of the classroom raises her hand and asks, "What does N, S, and O stand for?" The professor looked at her with that "omg are you serious" face and she promptly said, "is that for Nitrogen, Sulfur, and Oxygen?" The professor says, "yes. They bond to the Nitrogen, Sulfur or Oxygen as shown in the pictures on the screen. You can see those elements actually in the rings." I actually felt bad that she asked that question out loud. That's the type of question you whisper to the person next to you. You have to have completed general chemistry AND organic chemistry to be in this class.... and you're asking what N, S, and O stand for...
* I enjoy clothes shopping more than I enjoy most things in life. Shopping is a hobby for me, but lately I've found it futile to even try to buy clothes. I'm at some strange weight where I'm between sizes and nothing I try on seems to be flattering. I either get some awkward muffin top going on, or I get way too much baggy fabric in areas where it's very unbecoming. I wish they made those in between sizes.
Have a lovely little evening, everyone.
* Let's start off with Jersey Shore and shows of that nature. Maybe it's just me, but I cannot stand listening to people act retarded and know they're getting paid for it! Your spray on tan isn't cute, your lingo doesn't do it for me, and I question your manhood. Thanks.
* One hit wonders never cease to amaze me. I was flipping through my iPod the other day when I stumbled upon an old Ying Yang Twins song. WTF ever happened to those guys? Maybe it was a little odd that they did whisper or yell in all their songs, but I still liked them. Anyone able to give me an update on those guys?
* To anyone who reads this and has children, I don't mean this to be offensive. Here I am at the store the other day, doing a little shopping, politely minding my own business when I hear a scream echo through the store that sounds like it's off of a horror flick. The awful din was followed by a screeching "I WANT THAT TOY!!!" At this point I was thinking, "Oh well, screaming child... back to shopping." But for the next 5 minutes the screaming ensued. There was no end in sight! The child was on some war path and determined to piss off everyone in the friggin store until SOMEONE bought it that damn toy just to shut it up. It just so happens that I was walking past the aisle that the ruckus was coming from and the parents were, ever so graciously to the rest of the shoppers, giving the child the "I'm ignoring you" treatment. Ok, that's great if you don't want to acknowledge your child's bad behavior at home, but why make me suffer because your kid is obnoxious? My shopping experience was significantly less enjoyable because of your child and your poor excuse for good parenting in public.
* I'm sitting in my biochem class the other day when someone asked a question regarding the professor's lecture material. Now, usually there are some good questions, other times there are some that should be kinda obvious, but I could understand how an individual could be confused over the material. However, on this day, the question was so painfully obvious that I looked at the girl next to me and said, "really, did someone just ask that question?" The professor had been going over certain types of bonds within sugar residues, and he was discussing N, S, and O glycosidic bonds. Basically the bond forms to either a Nitrogen (N), Sulfur (S), or an Oxygen (O). A girl in the back of the classroom raises her hand and asks, "What does N, S, and O stand for?" The professor looked at her with that "omg are you serious" face and she promptly said, "is that for Nitrogen, Sulfur, and Oxygen?" The professor says, "yes. They bond to the Nitrogen, Sulfur or Oxygen as shown in the pictures on the screen. You can see those elements actually in the rings." I actually felt bad that she asked that question out loud. That's the type of question you whisper to the person next to you. You have to have completed general chemistry AND organic chemistry to be in this class.... and you're asking what N, S, and O stand for...
* I enjoy clothes shopping more than I enjoy most things in life. Shopping is a hobby for me, but lately I've found it futile to even try to buy clothes. I'm at some strange weight where I'm between sizes and nothing I try on seems to be flattering. I either get some awkward muffin top going on, or I get way too much baggy fabric in areas where it's very unbecoming. I wish they made those in between sizes.
Have a lovely little evening, everyone.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Professors Touch Themselves When Students Fail
This is going to be short and sweet due to the fact that I have to get back to studying (so I don't fail as miserably as I believe I will......).
I have a Biochemistry midterm tomorrow. This midterm is covering half of chapter 4, all of chapter 5, and all of chapter 6. Believe it or not, that's a lot of material in the 2 weeks since our last midterm. So here I am sitting in class being all diligent and preparing for the midterm when my professor drops the "on to the next chapter" bomb on us. This guy honestly added another chapter 2 days before the exam! WRETCHED! Who does this?!
There must be some joy in watching us all squirm like we're about to be tortured again. I feel like every single time this man gives us more work to do he's really just screaming, "it puts the lotion on the skin!!!!!"
He takes our failures and hangs the worst midterms on his refrigerator and the lower the average, the more satisfied he is. This has to be true. If it wasn't, why wouldn't they just make it easier? There's no argument there...
Truth: Professors get off on having a failing class.
Myth: Professors want the best for you, your general well being, and your overall mental health during a quarter.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Table Manners in a Lecture Hall
I didn't wake up in a bad mood or anything this morning, but I was agitated once I got to campus. Generally, the lecture hall is pretty chilly so I wear a jacket or a hoodie. This morning the weatherman said it would be in the 70s today, and when I was leaving the house at 6:30am, it was already in the 60s. Figuring that I would be stuck in a cool lecture hall, I sleepily threw on a nasty looking t-shirt and a hoodie and went to school.
As luck would have it, it was unbearably hot, and I couldn't take off the hoodie since I threw on some nasty looking t-shirt and a sports bra. This agitated me.
So, I've got a seat saved for my friend who is always late to class, but on the other side of her chair is a girl who spent around 5 minutes fumbling to get her breakfast out of her bag. Now, far be it for me to criticize anyone for eating in class, because I do it all the time. However, if you're going to eat in class, there's some basic etiquette.
1) don't bring obnoxious smelling food (ex: fish, Indian food, Mexican food) that will either disgust everyone or make them all very hungry.
2) don't bring it in some wrapper that makes more noise than 10,000 girls at a Justin Bieber concert.
3) don't make a mess all over everything
4) DON'T LET HALF THE LECTURE HALL HEAR YOU CHOMPING!
This girl brought a ziplock bag of Life cereal (one of my favorites with raisins! mmm) and proceeded to eat. She was placing one square at a time in her mouth and chomping and crunching it so loudly that everyone around her was giving her the side eye. This ziplock bag was FULL of cereal and after the first three chomps, I glanced at the bag to see how long this hell would last and I was just outright angry.
Luckily, so I thought, the professor started talking louder (probably because he, too, could hear her chomping), and I assumed that this would mask the sound of sweetened whole grain being mangled in her mouth, but no such luck. She actually, and I swear on this, was chomping LOUDER the as the professor spoke louder. It was obnoxious. Her appetite must have overcome her, because after about 5 minutes of the insane chewing she started eating 4 or 5 squares at a time. I must have glared at her at least 10 times, and perhaps she saw me and decided to eat faster so I didn't reach over and choke her ass to death.
This cow chomped and chomped and chomped and then chugged some water noisily, then went back to chomping. I was about to freak out when she finally finished the bag of cereal. She proceeded to make noise and meticulously close the ziplock bag while pressing all the air out of it against her desk. She then folded it up nicely and placed it in her bag with these awkward, dainty hand gestures. HELLO! You just ate like a damn Holstein cow! There's nothing delicate, dainty, and feminine about this!
Great morning that was. Luckily, the saving grace was that my quiz in that class was really easy, and I was very prepared for it.
As luck would have it, it was unbearably hot, and I couldn't take off the hoodie since I threw on some nasty looking t-shirt and a sports bra. This agitated me.
So, I've got a seat saved for my friend who is always late to class, but on the other side of her chair is a girl who spent around 5 minutes fumbling to get her breakfast out of her bag. Now, far be it for me to criticize anyone for eating in class, because I do it all the time. However, if you're going to eat in class, there's some basic etiquette.
1) don't bring obnoxious smelling food (ex: fish, Indian food, Mexican food) that will either disgust everyone or make them all very hungry.
2) don't bring it in some wrapper that makes more noise than 10,000 girls at a Justin Bieber concert.
3) don't make a mess all over everything
4) DON'T LET HALF THE LECTURE HALL HEAR YOU CHOMPING!
This girl brought a ziplock bag of Life cereal (one of my favorites with raisins! mmm) and proceeded to eat. She was placing one square at a time in her mouth and chomping and crunching it so loudly that everyone around her was giving her the side eye. This ziplock bag was FULL of cereal and after the first three chomps, I glanced at the bag to see how long this hell would last and I was just outright angry.
Luckily, so I thought, the professor started talking louder (probably because he, too, could hear her chomping), and I assumed that this would mask the sound of sweetened whole grain being mangled in her mouth, but no such luck. She actually, and I swear on this, was chomping LOUDER the as the professor spoke louder. It was obnoxious. Her appetite must have overcome her, because after about 5 minutes of the insane chewing she started eating 4 or 5 squares at a time. I must have glared at her at least 10 times, and perhaps she saw me and decided to eat faster so I didn't reach over and choke her ass to death.
This cow chomped and chomped and chomped and then chugged some water noisily, then went back to chomping. I was about to freak out when she finally finished the bag of cereal. She proceeded to make noise and meticulously close the ziplock bag while pressing all the air out of it against her desk. She then folded it up nicely and placed it in her bag with these awkward, dainty hand gestures. HELLO! You just ate like a damn Holstein cow! There's nothing delicate, dainty, and feminine about this!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Cinco de Mayo - celebrating a holiday I know nothing about
Last year for Cinco de Mayo, my very amazing friend Amy made plans with yours truly to do dinner at a local Mexican restaurant to have some celebratory drinks. I have no idea what celebrating Cinco de Mayo is all about, but I do know that I love Mexican food, and I have a deep passion for margaritas.
We went to a local place knowing that it would be a challenge and a half to get seated in a hurry, but as there were only 2 of us, we figured the wait can't be too bad. We were wrong. An hour and a half later they stick the 2 of us in a booth suited for 4, but it was getting late in the evening so there wasn't too much of a line behind us. Now, it's important to know that at this particular time I was on crutches. I had just had my second hip surgery roughly three weeks before, so I had my gimp equipment with me, but I was elated to be out of the house.
Amy and I ordered dinner and, of course, a big pitcher of the sinfully delicious margarita! We were about half way through the pitcher when, during our normal conversation, we would hear the gentlemen in the booth behind us making some strange noises or be in an uproar of laughter. We didn't think much of it, but at this point we were aware that there were at least 3 guys in the booth behind me (that we could not see into because they're closed booths with walls behind the seats). Well, we were about to head out and waste about half of a pitcher when the guy directly behind me in the booth accidentally knocked over my crutches that were resting in the area between his booth and ours. He immediately grabbed them and apologized profusely. It turns out they were contemplating leaving as well, but upon knocking over my gimp equipment, he decided to take the opportunity to strike up conversation. All three guys snatched chairs from the tables around us and pulled them up to our booth to sit and talk. They were alright guys, maybe in their late 20s or early 30s. They were well mannered and a little drunk, but all around nice. They offered to buy us a pitcher, but when we told them we couldn't finish ours, they helped us out and drank some of it while starting conversation.
Amy and I were asking the guys about what they did, who they were, and the typical things that encompass normal conversation. However, one of the guys in the group was announced as being a doctor, but what type of practitioner wasn't mentioned at all. When pressed about it, he declined to answer as well. The way he held conversation about physical therapy and medication made Amy and I believe that he was, in fact, somewhere in the sports medicine field. Not knowing that I have a fairly crude sense of humor, the guy looked surprised and was in an uproar of laughter when I said, "he's probably a proctologist but doesn't want to admit it. I mean, who wants to say they're a butt doctor?"
All the guys were laughing and grab-assing about the statement, but he took the time to assure me he was straight, which was something I never questioned. I took that as a flirt, to be honest, and Amy and I started rolling with the punches. We were busting their balls left and right about being straight and proctology. I'm not sure how it came up, but I believe Amy asked if he was a Gynecologist. He started laughing and said something to the effect of: "with all the snatch I get you'd think I was." I, then, exclaimed that he wasn't a licensed doctor at all! He was a "recreational gynecologist."
Thus began the evening with the guys that we didn't know and never saw again. We sat and laughed about recreational gynecology and what all that would encompass, and the types of "patient to doctor" conversation that might occur. This all lasted for about 45 minutes, but the conversation definitely resonated through the night. Amy and I met up with our group of boys after that and were still laughing about the medical hobby to ourselves like little kids do when they have a secret or an inside joke. We tried to explain it to our boys, but they didn't find it nearly as funny as we did. I'll attest that they were just jealous they didn't think of it first...
We went to a local place knowing that it would be a challenge and a half to get seated in a hurry, but as there were only 2 of us, we figured the wait can't be too bad. We were wrong. An hour and a half later they stick the 2 of us in a booth suited for 4, but it was getting late in the evening so there wasn't too much of a line behind us. Now, it's important to know that at this particular time I was on crutches. I had just had my second hip surgery roughly three weeks before, so I had my gimp equipment with me, but I was elated to be out of the house.
Amy and I ordered dinner and, of course, a big pitcher of the sinfully delicious margarita! We were about half way through the pitcher when, during our normal conversation, we would hear the gentlemen in the booth behind us making some strange noises or be in an uproar of laughter. We didn't think much of it, but at this point we were aware that there were at least 3 guys in the booth behind me (that we could not see into because they're closed booths with walls behind the seats). Well, we were about to head out and waste about half of a pitcher when the guy directly behind me in the booth accidentally knocked over my crutches that were resting in the area between his booth and ours. He immediately grabbed them and apologized profusely. It turns out they were contemplating leaving as well, but upon knocking over my gimp equipment, he decided to take the opportunity to strike up conversation. All three guys snatched chairs from the tables around us and pulled them up to our booth to sit and talk. They were alright guys, maybe in their late 20s or early 30s. They were well mannered and a little drunk, but all around nice. They offered to buy us a pitcher, but when we told them we couldn't finish ours, they helped us out and drank some of it while starting conversation.
Amy and I were asking the guys about what they did, who they were, and the typical things that encompass normal conversation. However, one of the guys in the group was announced as being a doctor, but what type of practitioner wasn't mentioned at all. When pressed about it, he declined to answer as well. The way he held conversation about physical therapy and medication made Amy and I believe that he was, in fact, somewhere in the sports medicine field. Not knowing that I have a fairly crude sense of humor, the guy looked surprised and was in an uproar of laughter when I said, "he's probably a proctologist but doesn't want to admit it. I mean, who wants to say they're a butt doctor?"
All the guys were laughing and grab-assing about the statement, but he took the time to assure me he was straight, which was something I never questioned. I took that as a flirt, to be honest, and Amy and I started rolling with the punches. We were busting their balls left and right about being straight and proctology. I'm not sure how it came up, but I believe Amy asked if he was a Gynecologist. He started laughing and said something to the effect of: "with all the snatch I get you'd think I was." I, then, exclaimed that he wasn't a licensed doctor at all! He was a "recreational gynecologist."
Thus began the evening with the guys that we didn't know and never saw again. We sat and laughed about recreational gynecology and what all that would encompass, and the types of "patient to doctor" conversation that might occur. This all lasted for about 45 minutes, but the conversation definitely resonated through the night. Amy and I met up with our group of boys after that and were still laughing about the medical hobby to ourselves like little kids do when they have a secret or an inside joke. We tried to explain it to our boys, but they didn't find it nearly as funny as we did. I'll attest that they were just jealous they didn't think of it first...
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Surprise in the Mail
In the last year and a half of my life, I've undergone two unsuccessful hip surgeries. Now, before you get all "OMG what happened? You're so young" bullshit on me, let me give you the general feel for the situation:
1) Yes I'm young, but it happens.
2) I'm that unlucky 2% of people where SOMETHING must go wrong with all things regarding my overall health
3) It sucks, but I'm having a 3rd hip surgery this July to HOPEFULLY fix it all back up so I can go do my thing.
4) I have no insurance, which sucks, but leads me to tell you this little story.....
So, after my last hip surgery was deemed a failure (by me and my doctor), we discussed shipping me out to Colorado to see the best of the best when it come to hip surgeries. This guy's name is Marc Philippon. Apparently this guy is super elite, as he does hip surgeries for PGA golfers, baseball stars, movie stars, porn stars, pretty much anyone that can afford him, or anyone that has insurance. It's also my understanding that he is the guy that "created," if you will, the hip surgery I need done. See, I need my labrum (on my hip) fixed, and more than fixed, I need it repaired. Until this doctor, there was no such thing. As I was doing some research on this doctor, I stumbled upon a recent article (recent as in just before the 2009 baseball season) where he had done a surgery on Alexander Rodriguez's (of the Yankees) hip.
Now, I'm not a baseball fan in the sense that I know ANYONE who plays baseball unless they're mega famous and even the blind, deaf, and dumb know who they are. So I decided to start watching baseball during this season to see how A-Rod was doing (I figured he'd not be playing at all). To my surprise he was RUNNING! This guy got fixed! He was BETTER! This was something I wanted for myself. I felt SO cheated that this guy who gets busted for steroids is allowed to be able to run, but a 24 year old with big boobs, that I'm sure someone wants to see bounce, can't get fixed! Well, sappy me started crying out of jealousy. Anyway, I digress...
At the end of the season when the Yanks won, I wrote a letter to A-Rod. The letter basically said: I'm poor and can't afford surgery with the doctor you had surgery with, and I'm super jealous. Keep doing what you're doing because it actually gives me hope that someday I won't be "gimptastic" and I'll be able to run and bounce my boobs for all the world to see.
Well, I call up the best friend and told her about my letter to A-Rod. She sounded really surprised and said, "I wrote him too! I told him about you needing surgery with his doctor, that you had no insurance, that you were broke and in college, and that he should pay for your surgery." (I LOVE MY BEST FRIEND!) LOL
Months go by......
I was going through the mail last week when I noticed an envelope hand addressed to me (clearly this wasn't a medical bill as I usually get in the mail!). It was from some photography company in Los Angeles and it said "DO NOT BEND" very boldly on the front. To my surprise, inside lay a little gem...
A-Rod sent me a hand autographed picture of himself. That's right folks, hand autographed. Not a stamp and not printed on, but signed with a silver Sharpie. That could probably score me, what, $20 on e-bay? Just enough to pay for the glass of ice water and the bag of peanuts on my flight to Colorado for a subsequent $100,000 surgery.
1) Yes I'm young, but it happens.
2) I'm that unlucky 2% of people where SOMETHING must go wrong with all things regarding my overall health
3) It sucks, but I'm having a 3rd hip surgery this July to HOPEFULLY fix it all back up so I can go do my thing.
4) I have no insurance, which sucks, but leads me to tell you this little story.....
So, after my last hip surgery was deemed a failure (by me and my doctor), we discussed shipping me out to Colorado to see the best of the best when it come to hip surgeries. This guy's name is Marc Philippon. Apparently this guy is super elite, as he does hip surgeries for PGA golfers, baseball stars, movie stars, porn stars, pretty much anyone that can afford him, or anyone that has insurance. It's also my understanding that he is the guy that "created," if you will, the hip surgery I need done. See, I need my labrum (on my hip) fixed, and more than fixed, I need it repaired. Until this doctor, there was no such thing. As I was doing some research on this doctor, I stumbled upon a recent article (recent as in just before the 2009 baseball season) where he had done a surgery on Alexander Rodriguez's (of the Yankees) hip.
Now, I'm not a baseball fan in the sense that I know ANYONE who plays baseball unless they're mega famous and even the blind, deaf, and dumb know who they are. So I decided to start watching baseball during this season to see how A-Rod was doing (I figured he'd not be playing at all). To my surprise he was RUNNING! This guy got fixed! He was BETTER! This was something I wanted for myself. I felt SO cheated that this guy who gets busted for steroids is allowed to be able to run, but a 24 year old with big boobs, that I'm sure someone wants to see bounce, can't get fixed! Well, sappy me started crying out of jealousy. Anyway, I digress...
At the end of the season when the Yanks won, I wrote a letter to A-Rod. The letter basically said: I'm poor and can't afford surgery with the doctor you had surgery with, and I'm super jealous. Keep doing what you're doing because it actually gives me hope that someday I won't be "gimptastic" and I'll be able to run and bounce my boobs for all the world to see.
Well, I call up the best friend and told her about my letter to A-Rod. She sounded really surprised and said, "I wrote him too! I told him about you needing surgery with his doctor, that you had no insurance, that you were broke and in college, and that he should pay for your surgery." (I LOVE MY BEST FRIEND!) LOL
Months go by......
I was going through the mail last week when I noticed an envelope hand addressed to me (clearly this wasn't a medical bill as I usually get in the mail!). It was from some photography company in Los Angeles and it said "DO NOT BEND" very boldly on the front. To my surprise, inside lay a little gem...
A-Rod sent me a hand autographed picture of himself. That's right folks, hand autographed. Not a stamp and not printed on, but signed with a silver Sharpie. That could probably score me, what, $20 on e-bay? Just enough to pay for the glass of ice water and the bag of peanuts on my flight to Colorado for a subsequent $100,000 surgery.
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