Ok, so I should not post (or communicate in any way, probably) when I first wake up, or am just going to bed- as I somehow say weird crazy things that I otherwise would not. Like the other night my phone rang at 4am and woke me up- I didn't answer, but responded with a ridiculous text message. Later in the day thought 'oh WHY did I say that?'

But I had the most insane dreams again last night... This time not about cool exotic travelling- but I was somehow infiltrating some secret ring- Nichols School was apparently grooming certain seniors for... well I don't know for what... but there was a select group of students that had implants placed in their arms, and were sort of brainwashed... And somehow I knew it and was trying to prove it... I was finding clues underwater, sneaking into christmas chapel services, somehow managed to do a tonsil biopsy (???) on one girl- then they released dogs on me who smelled in in my pocket...

I've never been to Nichols. I don't know if they HAVE christmas chapel. I must have been projecting my own boarding school memories. But it was wild. Sort of a cross between Harry Potter and James Bond. Then the damn alarm had to wake me up.

And on that note, I will be late for work. Later peeps. Have a peaceful sunday.

-J

Ok... So I went out tonight to "watch the hockey game", though in reality I went to drink beer and ignore the game.

But some friends were (back) in town.
Med students that graduated in may, and now are off being real mini-docs of their own.

And so we were all sitting there... drinking beer... watching hockey... catching up...

And-

no one could talk about anything but work.

"oh my god well I had this patient who..."

"oh yeah? well MY med student did..."

And I just thought "oh god... am I that boring?"

No offense to my friends... I know what they're going through... it's all new and exciting and overwhelming.... but not at a bar, guys.

I know I tell a lot of stories.
I find them amusing. I think they're worth sharing.

But now that I'm on the other end of the stick-

God I hope I don't bore you all to death.

If I do- would you please tell me to SHUT THE FUCK UP and STOP TALKING SHOP?

Ok?!

Thank you.

Then the one non-medical guy brought some friends of his over... all musicians... Including Paolo. Paolo is Italian. I was fascinated, because I speak italian (sort of), and was so excited to have someone to talk to. And damn... an italian accent is hot. Unfortunately, I think that was misinterpreted as romantic interest. Oy...

Blah.

Time for bed.

Go sabres?

(I got yelled at for ordering Sam Adams at Faherty's. "it's a boston beer". Shit... sorry... Boston's my home team, though.)

so (e:lilho,470) reminded me that I had the most crazy, awesome dreams last night. I felt like I was dreaming allll night. Unfortunately couldn't remember too much in the morning. But it was cool exotic travel stuff. I went to one place where the roads were made out of six feet of ice. But somehow it was warm out, and we slept in hammocks...

I love fun dreams. :) I wonder if it was the Belgian beer I had last night, or remnants of the weekend, or being less sleep deprived. Hmm. But when I woke up I was all confused and sort of in a daze.

And on a mostly unrelated note- boys confuse me. Simple as that.

Whew, what a weekend. So I had planned on going to Timika's party. When I got home from work, I laid down at 5:30 for "a quick nap", then I was going to shower and get ready and head over. Well, I woke up at 12:30, decided it was too late to start getting ready, and went back to bed. Slept til 9:30. 16 hours. Yeah. I guess I needed it. But I'm bummed I missed out- Timika where are your pix?

Then last night my plan was to go to a party in Allentown, and meet up with Tony somewhere along the way. But instead went to dinner/watch the game at Toro. Split a bottle of wine. Then to Merritt's house for a minute- more wine. Then to some random basement party off Hertel. More wine to go. Then finally to Allentown. The party was pretty fun. They had a band playing on one floor. And Sean has a really cute dog, so I was playing with the dog, and he said that he's trying to get another dog.... Turns out he's trying to adopt from 'the boy'. Small world. I told him I'd put in a good word for him- then realized my word will probably hurt more than help. :(

Anyway so we were at that party for a while, and all my friends were eager to meet Black Jesus. But then the call for food won out, and we were going to head to Jim's. But there were cops all over and the window was broken or something. And then all of sudden I realized I was trashed and needed to go home. That second. So I came home and went to bed. had a nasty hangover all day, and just started feeling human again around 5. Now to clean up this mess of a house, and maybe head to spot to get some studying done. Maybe. Sorry we missed you, tony.

So, here are a few terrible pix. Please tell me you can tell what I'm supposed to be. I thought it was pretty obvious. But maybe it wasn't. Here's a hint- I am NOT the Statue of Liberty- which two people thought I was.


Merritt and Kelly. Kelly is a flapper. Obviously. Merritt is a cowboy. But didn't realize how Brokeback he was in that coat until it was too late.


Me. Terrible.


Julie is about 6'1, and then is wearing like 6" platforms. That girl was tiny.


Merritt getting brokeback spanked by the naughty nurse.


Julie, me, and Kelly. I never thought I was THAT short...


Ah yes, his crotch, I think that's the best place to listen for a pulse.

Ok, so I'm a little drunk and rambly (side note- I do not recommend eating at fanny's, even if for free)- but here's a story.

So... as you may know I'm applying for plastic surgery fellowships. It is very competitive, and I think I'll need all the help I can get. So there's this forum, on "studentdoctor.net" where people write about their application experiences, etc. But mostly it's a lot of med students bitching and moaning. So... I'm too lazy to cut and paste the whole convo, and besides it's too long. But this one little shit, who goes by "moola" was debating the pros and cons of plastics vs. ent- blah blah blah. But at the end he said "but all I want is to be a real moola doctor". I couldn't hold my tongue, and I told him I recommended he cool it with the moola shit; that it's offensive.

Well he came out and tore me a new one, saying that *I* was the offensive one, he grew up poor, wants to be a self-made man, blah blah. I couldn't care less, and I don't care how poor he is- I think most people already think doctors sit on their asses all day and do nothing but play golf and make millions, which is so far from the truth. He does not need to perpetuate that myth.

So I responded. He ripped into me again, at which point I decided I was done. But someone else ripped into me, saying "it's liberals like you..." which just made me laugh. Me, liberal?! hardy har.

But seriously- is it just me, or is it tacky and gross to hear someone talking about choosing their specialty based not on a love of the field, or the patients, but on "moola"?

I hate my job sometimes. Not my job, but that I have to be lumped in with douchebags like that.

Ugh.

Ok, done ranting. time for bed.