The Prodigy without a Face

   If it comes to pass that I am suddenly and mysteriously disfigured become either too emotionally or physically scarred, or both, to explain how my face was marred by a giant fireball, please alert the proper authorities and explain that my hair dryer is trying to kill me.  Oh, it's been uncooperative for some time now, refusing to retract its retractable cords, blowing out the fuse when you turn it to high, and refusing to blow cool air, but the dryer's evil machinations have really been coming together this past week and I fear for my life each morning I use it.  It's has started hissing and making crackling noises but I know that if I ever turn it toward me to study the machinery, something will pop out and burn my eyes off.  Like a very patient time bomb, it's just waiting for me to slip.  I don't know how much longer I can hold off. 
  To add a note of levity to this entry about my impending disfigurement, Leash has the greatest stories in the world, like how for 23 years, her grandparents had given her the same three cards for birthday, Christmas, and Chinese New Year, and her dad always took it from her drawer and returned the cards to her grandparents, who would dole out the same card at the appropriate occasion.  And for 23 years, our little genius did not notice. 
  Oh, and my job may not be as secure as I think.  So I'm walking and talking with NiceDoc (that's what magnates do, they walk and talk business at the same time) and he jokes that I should fire him (firing people instead of being fired, how refreshing for a change)...

Moi: That guy (pointing to Whitecastle) is always joking about threatening to fire me.  You should probably talk to him about it.

NiceDoc: Really?  I think he might be serious.

Moi: I should stop showing up?

NiceDoc: Well, he doesn't mess around. 

Got Journal?

I love library duty because other than the duty itself, almost everything about the library is awesome. There's the oddly protective security guards, the lack of adult supervision over me, and most importantly, the opportunity to browse through hundreds of academic journals. Never mind that many academic journals start with the word Annals, which is homonymous enough for at least a few giggles, but the library shelves are just filled with stacks upon stacks of oddly specific and morbidly funny titles. Some of my favorites, as I've already discussed, are Blood, Death Studies, and Placenta. Friday afternoon brought a new favorite: the Journal of Human Lactation.

It's so perfect a title I really have no other comments. So I'll move on to a story about how I defended Indiana's honor. It's true. During our weekly meeting on Friday, whilst discussing politics and whatnot, the intelligence and political leanings of the people of Indiana were called into question and I was all, "No, you didn't," and vigorously defended the state. (Did you know that there are more interstates per capita in Indiana than anywhere else in the Union? That's why it's the Crossroads of America!) Because as you know, we all ought to make judgments and generalizations about peoples and regions based upon what we know of a couple of examples. That's certainly what I do.

It's What's For Breakfast

This morning, like many mornings that came before it, I got up and didn't particularly feel like eating, though I knew I should. I looked around the kitchen and nothing seemed appetizing. Until I remembered a conversation with Father last night. And thought of Haagen-Daz chocolate ice cream. But of course, that's not very heart healthy. So I had Haagen-Daz chocolate ice cream with fresh strawberries for breakfast this morning. God, being an adult rocks.

(Be sure to check back next week when I start running again and regret all my poor dining choices. Or in two hours, when I suddenly get incredibly hungry. But for right now... loving it.)

View from the Window

I was at Priscilla and Leash's place last night when suddenly, this girl was kicked off of American Idol and then just as suddenly, the power went out in the building. And when it all went dark, they say, is when all the fun began. At Priscilla and Leash's apartment, it's apparently OK to lean out the window and shout at people below, in fact, it's down right encouraged and expected.

Priscilla, talking out one window: What's going on out here? Did somebody die again? I want something to happen!

Moi, talking out a different window: How come no one else is curious and leaning out the window like us? Don't they want to know?

Priscilla: Oh, there's a guy downstairs. I was talking to him.

Moi (look out window, see guy waving up): Hi, guy, how are you?

Guy: Hi!

It was the most fun I'd had in years. Especially with Leash's flashlight (kept in a special Ziploc bag) and hand cranked radio. Then later, all these fire engines and police motorbikes and OnStar vans came out, so we took a stroll to try to see what was happening. Priscilla practiced her line of "how am I supposed to get my car out now?" at least 3 times as we wandered around the block, trying to get closer to the police tape and figure out what exactly went on. But alas, the power came on just in time for Top Chef eliminations and we all went to sleep after that, completely forgetting about why the blackout happened in the first place. You know, I don't think we'd make very good detectives, or even survivors, but TV and screaming out windows sure are fun.

Wayback Machine Goes to the Silver Screen

While I was in Chinar, I visited a small provincial television studio. This was a view from their window.

Bevy of Ridiculousness

On the 1 to 8 scale of ridiculousness, Ms. Sonia is a bona fide 12. Last night, Sonia had a bunch of us over for cupcakes. That's right. Five different kinds of cupcakes. Plus cookies. Plus pound cake. Plus hot chocolate. All homemade and delicious. We even got little bags to take home. Though putting the cupcakes into the bags turned out to be a much bigger challenge than we had all anticipated. I know I've been using scissors for decades now, but they still get me every time. I think I'm going to start a list of ridiculous feminist domestic goddesses and start ranking all the ones that I know. Hannah and Sonia are on top of the list. I'm not sure who is better, but I do know that I fear Hannah's wrath more and thus I place her first.

Also ridiculous about last night were the GRE books that Sonia was giving away. Amy and I greedily took them (Moi: I got a book a month ago and so far I've only memorized 20 words. Amy: That's better than me. I got my book a month ago and I've only made it to chapter 1 section 2. Moi: But it was my new year's resolution to buy a book.) and right away, Amy started testing our vocab. Yes, it is completely socially acceptable to whip out vocab books and test your peers at Bo' gatherings. Though we were all surprised by how wrong we were on words we thought we knew, like bevy. This made those of us with yet uncertain futures panic... until we realized that our educations weren't wasted, just Amy's. She had read all the definitions wrong. A dyspeptic person really isn't all that tender and mellow.

Crab Apple

I'm being lazy about sharing my pictures. Perhaps I'll dig one up from the Wayback Machine later. Last week, I went down to New York with Jenny and Zvi. Once we got into the City, we split from Zvi because we try not to see the boy more than we have to. I think Zvi did some male bonding with his brother. We're not sure. We didn't care, we were going to Karina's!

The next morning, Karina, Jenny, and I were joined by Cait and Linda, and the five of us roamed through the city, representing good ol' Bo. Late Saturday night, as we were heading for some bar whose significance I never quite got, we spotted a familiar face in the distance. Family friend? High school friend? Yet another Bo' alum? No. In the city of eight million, of all the people we could have bumped into, all the people we knew were in New York, we had the good fortune of bumping into Zvi. What were the chances? I don't know. All's I know is that everyone was excited hugging and catching up but Jenny and I had nothing to say. We had just had a 4 hour bus ride with the boy the night before. Sometimes, even the greatest city in the world isn't quite great enough. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to water my front lawn.

Pie in the Sky

Dusty has recommended that I learn humility. Nonsense. Humility is for the losers and Pauls of this world. Plus, NiceDoc told me on Friday that he recently lost his two-week old phone and had to get another one. So I like the company I keep. (We'll ignore the part about how "company" means that he's my boss's boss and that he has more degrees than I have years of work experience.) And last night, I totally schooled my opponents in Monopoly. So what if one was still in middle school, he asked for it. And so what if Amy pointed out that I buttoned my jacket all wrong tonight. I'm on a hot streak. Maybe I'll try humility sometime when I'm not being completely awesome.

What Not to Do with Your New Phone

Dunk it in a cup of water, that's what.  Phone was so new I'd only told Jen about it.  And then it went berserk on me (to be fair to the phone, I was trying to balance it atop my cup-- I thought it'd make a nice stand for my headphones-- and that was entirely stupid).  Luckily, after a night of airing out (I wanted to dry it in a vat of rice, Father said that was unnecessary) as well as some vigorous vacuuming of all parts, the phone seems to have recovered.  Beat that, all those unhelpful sites that me to get a new phone!

Lost T pass, giant fall, wet phone... this has not been an easy week.

The Munchies

Got another package of 8 cookies today and even though we split the cost, Jen let me take the credit and share the love.

Moi: Want a cookie?  Look, you're not the last one!

Whitecastle: I've already told you.  I want to be first.

Moi: But you're not last!

Whitecastle: Do you think I got to where I am today by not being last?  I got here by being first.

Moi: You know, I considered it, but then thought I didn't want to give you the satisfaction.  It'd be too easy.

Whitecastle: I could not give you the satisfaction of having a job.

Most people just say thank you...

Hodge Podge

So many things to say...

Killer Heels
My shoes are on a blood thirsty rampage. First they break Father's toe and earlier this morning, I tripped over one. instead of recovering, however, I fell down a few steps, twisted some things, and landed flat on the cold concrete. Thank the Lord for my youthful agility so that after a moment of groaning and writing, I was able to get on my feet without too much damage. My knee hurts real though. I'll be walking like a haemophiliac in winter for awhile.

Regarding Dusty
Sorry you weren't snob enough. I guess I'll put away the Lacoste jacket I bought you. I'm pretty sure you're end up somewhere better. (Not in rankings or academic caliber, of course, but you know, better in other things)
Also, People Who Are Not My Facebook Friends-- why are we not friends? I don't get it.
And finally, it's cute, Dusty, that you think you'll get the rumor lines started. If we've learned anything from the McWonder years, it's that no one is paying attention. Except kids who google Tom Severo. It appears that they're often misled here. Sorry, stalkers, I just mentioned him once! (BTW- I haven't seen the show since its premiere- is he still around, anyone?)

Regarding Lucy
How odd that you found 4 for $1 dumplings. Karina kept talking about how she knew of a guy who knew a place for 6 for $1 dumplings but did not lead us to any. You know, I don't think she's the best hostess in the world. We went to a little stall-like place with a few window seats and no workers who spoke English. Or Mandarin, for that matter.

Spring Chicken
I was in a restaurant on Sunday night that advertised its chicken special as handmade. Which made me want to check the kitchen and bear witness to the fleet of robots preparing everything else, like my salt and pepper tenderloin. Or bear witness how they crafted a chicken out of nothing but their own hands. Now, 2 days later, the forgetful dyslexic in me is wondering if it said homemade. I'm pretty sure not, but that'd be ridiculous as well. Though sometimes I do wish more restaurants would carry Chik Fil A products.

No Rinse Put Asunder
As the late great once said (bonus points for reading thus far, then more bonus for naming the great!), 2 is not big enough for 1. That's why they made 2. My 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner tells me that for best results, I should follow with conditioner. It makes me want to return half the bottle.

I swear I'll tell you my great NYC story and post my measly pictures later.

Lost Soul

One of the few awesome things about having a cubicle is the sense of camaraderie among the cubes. It's the row of us against those with their own little offices and we protect our own. We talk over our walls. Doc Query summons people by shouting from his chair. And if you sneeze, I will shout a bless you over the walls. If Doc Query sneezes, however, we may not all stir. That's because Doc Query sneezes a lot.

Earlier yesterday, from our respective cubes...

Doc Query: [Booming sneeze!]

Moi: Bless you.

Doc Query: Somebody bless me.

Moi: I just did!

Doc Query: Oh. I expect to hear a chorus of at least six bless yous when I sneeze.

NY C- List

I just had a marvelous weekend in New York City. Why was it so marvelous? The reasons are manifold.

A. Dusty is old but not creepy. I was just suggesting that keeping in touch with your 7th grader is a little sketchy, though of course, that's not what happened.

B. I got to see a plethora of Bo' friends. Not just Bo' alums, but friends. That really made the weekend. We sat around a lot, talked, enjoyed sangria, missed who we were missing, but were happy with who was with us.

C. I just overheard a doctor say "hey, bro, how are you?" And had to pretend that work was so funny that it just made me chortle. It isn't.

D. We saw Topanga! (of Boy Meets World, though it's sad if you need the reference help) She had a whopping 3 paparazzi taking her picture and shouting at her (do they even know her name? does anyone?) and was entering the tapas bar as we were leaving. She may have even sat at our table.

E. "Imagine snakes on a plane." Greatest sermon line ever. (This did not happen in New York, but I felt that I should share)

F. Dumplings in Chinatown New York are 4 for $1. And I'm pretty sure, as delicious as they were, we shouldn't have been so happy at that price. It could have gone lower. We had a great filling lunch for a little less than $4, unnecessary tipping included.


I have had a long night being on hold with customer service, so pictures and stories of just how big the greatest city in the world is shall come later. Good night.

Stone Cold Dealer

I love it when I understand NEJM enough that it makes me laugh.  This is about a case of 8 young people who showed up with what seems like lead poisoning, but the health authorities could not identify the source of lead.  Until...

After 8 weeks, we detected a common pattern: the patients were young, were unemployed or were students, had a history of smoking, and had body piercings. On questioning, all the patients eventually conceded that they were regular users of marijuana smoked in "joint" form or with the use of a water pipe.

It's sad that someone tainted their marijuana, but I love that characterization of potheads.  The authorities were eventually able to track this whole thing down and treat lots of other people who got sick. 

A Little Unwell

Some people think that I have pretty absurd taste in food.  Those people haven't met my mother.

Mother: You know what's really good?  Cream of mushroom soup and cheerios.

Moi: Why would you even think of that combination?

Mother: I figured that soup is salty and cheerios are, too, so might as well have them together.

---
Perhaps it was early in the morning, perhaps it's old age, perhaps she's crazy, but this morning, as she was about to drive me to the commuter rail station, she saw my work outfit and freaked out.  "That's what you're wearing to New York?  Why don't you put on jeans or something more comfortable?"  "Um, I've packed other clothes in my backpack, but I need to wear this to work."  "Oh, that makes sense."

Not Unlike a Typical Day with BP

It's hard sometimes, to explain BP and the friendships that have been made there.  The '04 staff is easy, we worked together, but when you get to talking about landlady-to-be (church?  we worked at the same place different summers?  counselor?), Dusty (the creepiest of all- I was in 8th grade when he was on summer staff), and the Malkemeses (former counselors, bosses, brother's landlords, always role models), the exact origin of the relationships get more complicated.  And then there's Keith.  Counselor, boss, friend, or none of the above?  Who knows. 

Sarah (wife of Keith) invited me over for dinner last night.  Just as I was about to call Keith from the T stop, however, to ask if it was OK that I was going to be about 15-20 minutes early, I got a message from him explaining that due to a mix up, Sarah was actually going to be gone for dinner (to go to a focus group… on oranges).  My invitation was still open, he said, and could be rescheduled anytime.  Or I could go over anyway, and have pizza with him and the boys.  "Um, I'm already here."  So dinner with the boys it was.  A lot of the night went like this:

Keith: What do you want on your pizza?  You can have anything you like.  We've got onions, peppers, pepperoni, sausages…

Moi: Oh, that all sounds great.

(Keith checks fridge)

Keith: Um, what I actually meant was, do you want pepperoni or cheese on your pizza?

(later)

Keith: What do you want to drink?  Does coke sound good?

Moi: Yeah, I like coke.

(Keith checks coke)

Keith: Actually, it's flat coke, is that OK?

(still later)

Keith: Uh, how would you like to babysit for a few minutes while I go pick up Sarah?

But I loved the haphazard nature of the night.  Surprises are what BP is all about.  It also helped that Joseph and Timothy were hilarious.  Three-year-old pirate Joseph apparently has a brilliant strategy in which he does something bad, gets reprimanded, but then says, "It's OK, Mom, I was just pretending to be naughty."  And Timothy?  I think my favorite moment of the night was when we found him bent over, head on the floor, butt sticking up, each little baby hand clutching an ice cube, and unsure how to move.  He sort of had to just rest his heavy head for awhile.  Oh, and Sarah's brownies and tea were mighty fine, too.

The Specialist

Just when I think I can't heart Sister Claire Francis anymore, she says something better.  This morning, I'm trying to figure out the difference between PharmaCare and PharmaNet.  I don't know much about the two and Supervisor said that since Claire was the one who works with the data, she was the one to ask.

Sister: Someone explained it to me a long time ago, but it was really complicated.  And I figured I don't really need to know it to do my job, so I just never paid much attention.  I use the term interchangeably.  They're not interchangeable.  But no one really knows the difference.

Moi: So I should just group these two as one?

Sister: Yeah, no one's really going to care.

Spring Cheating

I hate it when I'm tricked into cleaning my room. Like tonight. Earlier today, my accountant, my "people"-- my father, informed me that he was missing my health insurance form for my taxes. I knew exactly the form he was referring to and could have sworn I had placed it amongst other important envelopes on my desk. So when I got home, I searched and searched and cleaned and weeded and nothing. So I searched some more, around my computer downstairs, around the shelves upstairs, all over my desk, the floor, the chests, etc, etc. (It's a decent sized room and it's a bit of a mess, so there was a lot to work with.) I cleared out a huge pile of paper yet still, no form. I even searched around my mom's desk. Finally, I went back to Father to double check if I had left it somewhere around his desk. He quickly shuffled through the envelopes I gave him. Wait, I said. What about that white one? The one with the blue cross and the blue shield on the front? That looks like it might be from my health insurance. And sure enough, he had the form on him the whole time. Which means that my mess of a system was right. And I didn't really need to clean my desk after all. Dang it.

And a Brain, Too

Jeremy says that it's not fair to anthropomorphize my computer, but I'm pretty sure that it hates me.  I've also taken to calling it Sparky.  Last Friday, I requested a standard update for both Whitecastle and me.  Yesterday, I recounted to you my troubles.  This morning, I discovered that the upgrade scheduled for last night did not in fact take place.  But Whitecastle's did.  His PC is working swimmingly.  As is his Macbook Air.  That means he has 2 more working work computers than I do.  He also has 2 more doctorates.  Life really isn't fair.  So I called IT (to their credit, our IT department is always uber friendly) and was told that someone would be contacting me shortly.  A couple of hours later someone did.  She told me that she's never seen an error message like the one that I have.  And that she's hesitant to even play with my computer remotely.  In fact, it's so messed up (how is that possible?  I don't rightly know) that she's just going to send someone in to rebuild the whole thing.  Maybe they'll throw in a heart when they're rebuilding it so Sparky will hate me less.

Office Needs Some Space

You know what's really hard to do office work without? Microsoft Office. Just putting that out there. (hey, Microsoft, want to buy me up? I won't be snotty!) This morning, whilst explain to Whitecastle yet another stupid mistake on my part, my computer all the sudden informed me that it was shutting down in 10 minutes and that I should save any work as soon as possible. Many questions ran through my mind at that moment, like why? Is this for reals? And Whitecastle, can you please stop laughing at me? The notice looked fishy, so I stopped it then rebooted my computer. Then I realized I couldn't check my email anymore. Or open any spreadsheets. And that basically all of Microsoft Office had stopped working for me. So I called the help desk. The tech guy was as confused as I was. I hate it when I stump the tech guy. Why am I always stumping them? My computer is scheduled for a shutdown and upgrade to Microsoft 2003 (because it's still running on 2000- do you know how long ago 2000 was? Of course, you do. The math is easy) tonight, but there's no reason why it should have started 9 hours early. Or why Whitecastle's computer, scheduled for the same upgrade, was perfectly fine and mine wasn't. The only thing to do, the tech guy explained, was to wait until tomorrow morning when the upgrade should be complete.

Moi: So, um, is there anything I can do now to fix this?

Tech Guy: No. I'd just not use the computer for today.

Moi: I sort of need it for my job.

Tech Guy: (annoyed) Isn't there a different computer you could use?

I don't know how things work in IT, but where I come from, we sort of have an unspoken, one-computer-per-person rule around here, guy.

Phantom Photobooth

It's a classic, even trite, question yet one that needs to be asked: Just how many Bo' grads does it take to operate a photo booth?

Today at the Diesel Cafe (which we patronized purely for its bathrooms and free water), Son, Leash, Lauren (soon to be Dr. Lauren to you) and I decided that we just couldn't pass the photo booth without going in. We each dug around for a dollar and put it into a machine. Then realized that all the pictures had no more than 2 people in it. But whatever, we were little women and determined to make things work. So in we piled. Then started reading the directions. Then found that we didn't know how to follow them. Then bright lights started flashing. We panicked. And the promised 5 minutes was over in seconds. Then we noticed that the machine had no buttons. So e just hung out by the booth hoping a picture would come out. It took awhile, but alas, our beautiful moment in front of the camera:

Shakespeare, continued

This afternoon, I bought a pack of 8 cookies to share at work because it's Friday and raining and half of the office isn't here and the other half need some encouragement.  Plus, buying 8 'gourmet' cookies from the grocery store is much more economical than one from JP Licks and we're heading into a recession (hey, how come they don't tell us it's patriotic to buy things anymore?).  I thought of what Whitecastle said and considered offering the cookies to him first, but two offices come before his and I just couldn't pass them in good conscience without sharing my bounty.  So, with 2 down and 6 more to give, I knocked on Whitecastle's door.

Moi: Want a cookie?  I'm working on my suck up game.

Whitecastle: (sighs, motions the open package) Clearly, you've offered it to other people already.

One day, one day soon, my efforts will be good enough.

Act III Scene 2

Mad props if you get that reference.  And then why I used it.  You're no nerd at all.

I give and give at work and still they ask for more...

Moi: Oh, everything I do for you is of the greatest priority.

Whitecastle: We've already discussed this.  Your sucking up skills have to be more believable.

Moi: But I'm saying the words!

Whitecastle: I'm not buying it though.  It has to sound more meaningful.  "Thank you for the scut work!  I love it!"  

Healthy Habits

Had a chance to stop by the Warren Anatomical Museum today. It's like the poor man's Museum of Surgery (O Eddie Bert museums, you'll always have a fond place in my heart) but it did the trick and once again made me so grateful that of all the periods the world has been through, I live in the very latest one. People back then just behaved... differently, as the matter-of-fact place cards described. There was, for example, one of the many spines Dr. Dwight apparently collected. Of course he did. And a model by this other physician who "started building paper mache anatomical models when he was 19 years old." So that's what life without facebook is like. Add that to all the lancets and surgical equipment with beautiful ivory handles that "did not stand to sterilization," the entire display was a mighty effective scared-straight-into-gratefulness exhibit. I will never again yearn for those days of yore.

O Canadia

The air is warm, the days are longer, and the doctors are feeling smug. Today during our research conference (aka weekly free lunch), just about everyone was making wise cracks, including one at the expense of dear sacred alma mater, who has never done anything to deserve such ridicule.

(on Scandinavian regulators)

Whitecastle: That's right, they don't have anything better to do. They're in Scandinavia.

Moi: Said the man from Canada.

Whitecastle: Hey, Canada is a very nice country. Plus, you went to school in Maine. That's even worse. What's in Maine?

Moi: Hey, we're a good six hours from the border! And we're a part of the United States.


(later, everyone is trying to decipher table abbreviations)

Doc Gollum: OP is probably outpatient, HO for hospitalization, HD for hospital death, I don't know what RI is.

Whitecastle: RI is Rhode Island.

Doc Gollum: Right, they got sent to Rhode Island.

Doc Query: That's worse than hospital death.