Monday, June 26, 2006

Things I Learned Today (possibly yesterday)

1. It is possible to launder a thumbdrive. And retain all the data on said thumbdrive. woo $20 thumbdrive! You are a rockstar for not losing all my important med school application data, masters thesis, and all applicable data from my grant. God bless you little thumbdrive. And your resistance to the spin cycle.

2. Doing laundry at the laundromat sucks. Badly. Not only do you have to use the same washing machines as a thousand dreadlocked people (which could probably be avoided if I used a laundromat on the other side of town,) but I also have to sit there and wait for everything to be done. Between going to the bank for cash, carrying my laundry into the laundromat (while wearing 3-inch heels because I went straight from work,) and waiting for the laundry to be finished, it's quite possibly the least entertaining experience possible. Ever.

3. No matter how incredibly cute my new shoes are, they hurt like hell. (Yes Carolyn, I know you expressed your concern about this prior to purchase, but I don't care.) I have faith that they can be broken in, but in the meantime, holy frikkin' crap. Thank God they are really cute. Because otherwise I would have returned them today.

4. The World Cup referees need to be taken out and beaten. Honestly. Italy? Australia? Fair game? I think not. And I am not the only one. There are angry mobs in Sydney. And they're not even drunk, people. They are genuinely angry. As well they should be. The officiating in the world cup this year has been ridiculously unfair and has taken all the fun out of the game. Anytime anyone dives, boom. Foul. Regardless of what actually happened. It's ridiculous, it slows the game down, it's deciding matches, and it must be stopped. I would go into more detail but I don't feel like getting angry. It's almost bedtime.

5. C and I are not horrifically bad at pub trivia. I think that given possibly one or two more teammates (since we were battling teams of about 8-10 for the most part) we could have done even better. As it was, we didn't win last place, so I think we held our own just fine.

6. If you want to have your picture on the wall at my favorite bar, one of the best ways to achieve that goal is to dance on the bar. Actually, I haven't seen any pictures of anyone else doing it, but it worked for my coworker and I. We can now be seen in a Polaroid situated directly beneath the Bailey's Irish Cream. So have a buttery nipple and think of me. :)

7. My coworker that I thought was gay, is not so much. Well, he's partly gay. And partly bi-sexual. Which makes for an interesting combination the drunker he gets. Nuff said.

8. I can not drink as much as I used to. At least I can't without getting sick. Again, nuff said.

9. I can blog somewhat coherently even when drunk. We can call this post, exhibit A. Woo, go me. :) I promised myself I wouldn't drunk dial or email people...so blogging is the next best thing.

10. Registering for the MCAT is almost as boring and mind-numbing as the test itself. It took me an hour to register for the stupid exam. Mainly because after you register but before you can submit the registration, you have to take this stupid questionnaire. Which they said is 135 questions. Really it's 2 million questions, because each question has 100 parts. Honstly, one question says:

"What is your mother's occupation?"
Your choices are: 1. Unemployed or currently seeking employment.
2. Retired.
3. Deceased.
That's it! No option for those parents who are still making a living and God forbid, moving oxygen. So, I just put that she's retired...since she did retire from one job, and then put that she retired from her current job. It was absolutely ridiculous and insanely frustrating. They've been making students take this test, this questionnaire for how long? And how many anal-retentive potential med school students have been through this process? Don't tell me no one has ever pointed out this flaw. Because that would be a lie. They know about it, and they're just too lazy to change it. So, my Mom has to be retired. My Dad would have to be as well...except he really is retired. But still. You get my point.

Okay, going to bed. In the meantime, place your bets. Call in sick tomorrow or actually haul it out of bed and make it to work? (Late as usual.) Only time will tell. Laters! :)

Monday, June 19, 2006

Sending Postcards from a Plane Crash

Once again I got killed at work this weekend. Worked on 1st, 2nd, and 3rd call. Ugh. But, we had a lot of good results, so it's all good. This weekend's blog-worthy story? (And yes, I know that's debatable.) Going to Mobile.

Mobile is on the Gulf Coast...about a 4-5 hour drive from Birmingham. By plane it takes about 50 minutes. By rocket, about 35 minutes. And how did we choose to travel? Rocket, baby. So, there are 4 of us going because this is a big case. We have myself, B (another coordinator), Dr. ACP, and Dr. F-word. Dr. F-word is thusly named because I have never heard anyone use that word as often in a professional environment as this guy. Which is fine...I kind of think it's hilarious. But it's definitely noticeable. Everytime he says it, it just kind of hangs in the air because people can't believe he just said it. Which kind of adds to the hilarity. Whatever. So, it's the four of us and 5 giant heavy coolers. I drive us to the airport, we unload the van on the tarmac, and I get back in the van and go park it while they load up the plane.

As I run back to the plane, I notice that Dr. ACP (who is also a pilot) is grinning like a maniac. He is just inside the door of the plane, and he's looking up at something and laughing and grinning. So I walk up next to B while watching Dr. ACP and say "Hey, what's he grinning at?" And she's smiling and laughing. "What?!?" And then I see them. The oxygen masks. Hanging down from the roof of the plane. Dr. ACP is trying to stuff them back into their little cubbie in the ceiling. "OH MY GOD WHY ARE THOSE HANGING DOWN LIKE THAT I CAN'T GET ON THAT PLANE!! WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT?!??" And B is just laaaaughing. She says "That's why we're laughing! Dr. ACP knocked into the ceiling with a cooler and the oxygen masks came down. He saw them come down and said oh no we better get these back in before Sam gets back or we'll never get her on the plane! We started laughing when we saw you coming cause we knew you'd freak." So, I said okay, I can deal with that. Jerks. :-p They got the O2 masks stored, we got the coolers into the plane, and boarded.

We're sitting on the runway waiting to take off. And we're in this tiny little jet. With these short little wings. And these ballast-looking things on the tips of the wings. Really, it made the plane look like some kind of rocket. Which turned out to be not-that-misleading. So we're sitting there, and Dr. F-word decides to strike up a conversation.

Dr. F-word: "So, Dr. ACP, what are those things at the tips of the wings? Is that just ballast?
Dr. ACP (in his Australian accent): "Oh, no. That's where the fuel is. And it courses through the wings as well."
Dr. F-word: "Oh. So, all the fuel is through the wings. So if we, I dunno, clipped something....the wing would in all likelihood explode?"
Dr. ACP: "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. The problem with these planes is how short the wings are."
Dr. F-word: "They are pretty short. Why is that?"
Dr. ACP: "They're more aerodynamic so the plane can go faster. The problem is, if both your engines fail, this plane glides like a house-brick."
Dr. F-word: "That's f-ing awesome."
Dr. ACP: "Oh, that reminds me. Sam, I need you to do something for me."
Me (looking pretty petrified): "Sure, Dr. ACP. What's up?"
Dr. ACP: "We're going to have to do something about these new coolers."
Me: "Why?"
Dr. ACP: "They're just wayy too big and heavy for these planes. They're a pain to get in and out and they weigh far too much."
Me (considering the 5 coolers in the back): "What do you mean they weigh too much?"
Dr. ACP: "They're too heavy. One of these times we're going to get on one of these small planes and about halfway up they're going to realize they can't handle all the weight."
Me: "Halfway up?"
Dr. ACP: "Yeah. We need new coolers. Smaller ones. Can you take care of that?"
Me (contemplating gliding like a house-brick): "Consider it done."

We finally get in the air. This plane is the loudest plane I've been in. Ever. Dr. ACP says it's because it's old and has no insulation. Whatever. We are screaming through the sky at about 550 mph (there's a speedometer and altimeter in the back...handy if you want to see what speed and altitude you're going to die at) in a glorified Pringles can. And we get to Mobile in 35 minutes. The flight went without incident, but I guess you knew that. Because honestly, I think at 550 MPH, any incident is pretty much going to kill you.

And yes, it has been suggested that I start to think rationally about my fear of flying rather than just freaking out all the time. It's even been implied that I'm too smart to act like such an idiot about this. But let me break it down for you (Tom.)

Number of degrees I hold: 2.
Number of degrees I hold in Aeronautical Engineering: 0.

Bam. :-p

I hate stupid planes.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Which do you want first...

the good news, or the bad news?

Okay, the good:
"we met up with a reliable source who tells us that OLP will be releasing a Greatest Hits CD and Raine Maida will be putting out a solo project hopefully by next year."
Woo yay, I get to hear more of Raine Maida's voice. I'm excited about that...although the Greatest Hits CD isn't really that much of a bonus for me unless they add some new songs. I think OLP has 6 albums...7 if you count the "Live" cd they released which only has live versions of previously released songs. It's not that hard to get all their cds at a pretty low price. I think I got "Clumsy" from ebay for a quarter. A buck fifty with shipping. A greatest hits album? Really? Already? I guess they need to remind people that they used to kick ass. And now really Raine's voice is the only thing that keeps me hanging on. Also, maybe people will remember the time when Raine practiced personal hygiene and didn't wear the K-Fed hat. They were happier times. Really.
And the bad:
According to this article, Raine and Chantal co-wrote with Cheyenne Kimball on her song "Hanging On." **
"Who the hell is Cheyenne Kimball?" you may be asking yourself. I know I was. And then I figured it out. She is the, what, 13 year old? Maybe? That has her own MTV reality show about making it in the music business. I tuned in for about 5 minutes of an episode probably a week ago. And the girl is having a party where she's talking about not geting to spend enough time with her boyfriend (wah) because she's touring all the time. Her mother is her manager....blah blah blah typical. I hate this girl. Mainly because during the episode I saw her pitch a song to (I presume) her label. She was explaining what it was about and said something to the effect of "it's about like when you're in a relationship and you're like trying to find yourself and stuff and see where this other person like fits in your life. And like, how, like, hard it is. To like, find that balance." Um. A few points.
1. You're 13.
2. You use the word "like" waaaay too much.
3. You should not be taking up valuable airtime.
4. You should not be taking up valuable air.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
** Dear Raine,
Why do you keep working with all these losers? It's Chantel, isn't it? She's trying to bring you down. Fight the power. She is your K-Fed. I bet she even bought you that hat. I love you, but if you start wearing man-pris, it's over. I'm going to cross my fingers that your solo project blows my mind. Because that would be awesome. Also that you're going to tour in the South. Specifically Birmingham. Because driving all the way to Atlanta to see you sucks.
Love,
Sam

Friday, June 09, 2006

And so it begins...

World Cup starts today. The first match will be Germany v. Costa Rica starting in about 50 minutes. Then at 1 PM central it's Poland v. Ecuador on ESPN2. There are a couple of soccer fans in the office. We're all ducking out to watch the game. Rumor is that any match with Brazil, France, or Germany is a drinking game (I don't know how they decided what constituted a drinking game.) But we'll be getting together a lot for the next 3 weeks. I am so stoked.

okay, i'm out. laters!

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Memorial Day

Memorial Day weekend was a total blast. C, R, S, and I went and stayed at our friends' lakehouse. God bless Kent and Greg for putting up with us for a grand total of 4 days.

Follow the link for the pictures...and keep in mind that I am the least photogenic person on the planet. Luckily all the pictures of C balance out the pasty horror that I've inflicted upon this album. Enjoy! :-p

Memorial Day at Kent and Greg's!

PS- Haha...C I just posted a million pics of you in a variety of bikinis. I eagerly await your threats in the comment section. hehe :)

It's Time for Another Good Idea/Bad Idea

Good Idea: Doing laundry. So you can stop being overdressed all the time.
Bad Idea: Talking to strangers in the laundromat.

I was standing around at the laundromat doing my laundry and listening to my iPod. Random Guy walks in and grins at me.

RG: "Hey, how are you?"
Sam the Pathological Smiler: "Great, how are you?"
RG: "Good."
I go back to laundry and iPod.
RG: "What are you listening to?"
SPS: "I'm embarassed to say."
RG: "Well, now I have to know."
SPS: "Umm. The Dixie Chicks."
aaand i hang my head in shame...even though I freely admit i love almost the entire album.
RG: "The new album?"
SPS: "Mmmhmm."
RG: "It's gotten great reviews, I hear it's good."
SPS: "It is. I love it."
Then he launched into a conversation about music and how he's going to the 9-inch nails concert tonight for free...I tell him that's great, lucky him. He says he's glad they were free because he'd already spent a bunch of money on tickets to Fiona Apple.
SPS: "Ooh. I love Fiona Apple. Where's she playing?"
RG: "A small place in Atlanta. Have you heard the bootleg version of her album?"
SPS: "No, is it good?"
RG: "Oh yeah, it's great. You should check it out."
SPS: "Cool, I will. Thanks."
And then RG leaves.
When he leaves, I think that he may have been flirting with me. And then I think, no, you live in the South. People are friendly here. Maybe he was just being friendly.
When he comes back he brings me a burned copy of the Fiona Apple CD.
With his name and number on it.
I have no radar for this crap whatsoever.

Good Idea: Parking close to the pump at the gas station.
Bad Idea: Parking so close that when you open the door you dent it on the metal protector thingie.

I have scratched/dented my poor truck no less than 3 times today. Myself. No wonder the thing isn't working that well. It hates me.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys

Since moving into my new apartment, I have enjoyed complete and blissful silence. No noise. Which varies greatly from all my other apartments. Including:

* The dorms where the football players were constantly blasting music or busting through walls with their fists.
* The apartment where C, P, and I lived below a family of bowling balls. Well, actually it was a three-year-old and 4 30-pound cats that constantly jumped down from things. But it sounded like bowling balls being thrown all over the place. Except when the kid was bouncing a golf ball on the tile floor during "Friends." Every frikkin' day at 5 PM. Drove me out of my mind.
* The apartment P and I lived in where the stairs to the second level were attached to the wall next to my bed. Whenever someone from upstairs came home, my entire bedroom would shake.
* The house where the people who occupied the downstairs had very loud and violent-sounding sex every morning at 5 AM. That's right. 5 AM.
* My last apartment which included nightly car alarms and the ability to hear quite clearly any conversation taking place in the parking lot from the comfort of my bed.

Thus, I appreciate a nice quiet apartment. I more than appreciate it. I revel in it. And last night, my revelry was interrupted. I came home from work early and slept on the couch for a good 4 hours (woo for catching up on sleep.) But starting at about 7 PM, there were periodic insanely loud noises. Not unlike the thrown bowling ball sounds of my past dwelling. Except now I live on the top floor. So no one's above me making the noise. I had no idea what was going on. And the sounds were probably happening once an hour. I could deal.

Then at about 9 my friend D came over to hang out for a little while. And the noise is getting louder and less sporadic. And all of a sudden, someone's yelling. Someone's yelling a stream of obscenities and trying to bang a door down. The guy is screaming "You let me in you b----!" Which was enough for me. I called the cops. I'd seen all of someone's possessions outside of one of the doors downstairs last week, so I figured that this may have been the big redneck guy from downstairs that must have been kicked out by his girlfriend. D said that he'd smelled alcohol on his way up, so it didn't seem like a very safe situation. After about 30 more minutes of banging and screaming and what sounded like someone being chased through the apartment, the police arrived. I don't know what happened. I didn't want to stick my head out and the guy realize that I was the one that called the cops. I leave my apartment in the middle of the night quite frequently and wouldn't want retribution from a 250 pound dude in a wifebeater. But whatever happened, there wasn't a peep the rest of the night. Which is just the way I like it.

Stupid drama.

Monday, June 05, 2006

I'm Tired

I was on call this past weekend. This means that you're rotating through 1st, 2nd, or 3rd call on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. When you're on 3rd the odds are quite low that you'll have to do anything because there are 2 coordinators ahead of you. 2nd call the chances increase, and 1st call you better believe you're going to be working. I worked all three days and nights this weekend. And eleven people have brand-spankin' new o.rgans. So it's all good. The thing is, I work past the point of exhaustion. I get tired, and then I work for two more days non-stop. Because that is my job. But I've realized as of late, that when I get that tired (which generally happens about once a week at least), I get crazy. C-R-A-A-A-Z-A-Y. I get cranky, and paranoid, and depressed all at the same time. Let me tell you people, it's not a winning combination. I hate being that way.

The first night of sleep deprivation I spent the whole night on the phone for work. Talking to nurses and lab guys and our surgeons. Everyone has horror stories about each of our surgeons and their tempers. To this point I have had no reason to complain about any surgeon. They have all been super-nice to me, they joke with me, they carry stuff for me (which I'm told is something they never do) and all that jazz. Well, I guess I can consider myself initiated, because Friday night I got my first dressing down. One of the surgeons flat-out swore at me. Repeatedly. So I get off the line with him, and talk to the answering service lady...tell her what happened...she tries to be supportive...says being tired is no reason to yell at me, we're all tired, you know...the kind of stuff you say to make someone feel better. Then an hour later, I ask her to page a different surgeon for me. She pages the one that yelled at me and puts him on the line.

Dr. That Swore At Me: "Yes?"
Me: oh holy God what does he want now? "Hi doctor, what do you need?"
DTSAM: "You're the one that called me!!"
Me: why me? "Oh, I think there was a..."
Answering service girl: "Doctor, I'm so sorry, I paged the wrong person. That's my bad."
DTSAM: "FOR GOD'S SAKE ARE YOU GUYS ALL MORONS??!??"
Me: Please just let me die now. "I'm so sorry doctor."
DTSAM: *CLICK*
Me: "GIRL! Why in the world did you page him?!? Are you trying to get me KILLED??!"
ASG: "Honey, I am so sorry. (chuckling softly) I was telling J (other ASG) about him yelling at you while I was paging the other doctor and I guess I paged him since I was talking about him."
Me: "Wow. Yeah. Don't ever do that again. I think next time he might just stab me through the phone."

The second day I worked in the OR with my favorite surgeon, Dr. Australian Cutie Pie (Dr. ACP.) I hope to one day reach a millionth of his cool level. Because he is so cool. At one point during the surgery, he withdrew the line that was reading the blood pressure for us, because it was in the way.

Abdominal surgeon: "Um, Dr. ACP, I'm going to need to know the pressure."
Dr. ACP: "Oh, you don't need that machine to tell you the pressure. I'll tell you right now."
Places two fingers on the aorta...the aorta coming out of a beating heart in an open chest
Dr. ACP: "Pressure's 101."
Me: "No way. You did not just take a blood pressure with two of your fingers."
Dr. ACP: "Oh yeah Sam. You do this for twenty years, you learn to tell a pressure any way you can. Besides, they've done studies with those machines, you might as well be shaking an 8-ball to get your pressure. It's like a random number generator those things. I'm much more accurate."
15 minutes later
Dr. ACP: "Pressure's down to 95"
Me: "Now you're just showing off."
And he winked at me.

Other recent highlights included The 4400 marathon on Sunday- why is this show not more popular? People blog about "America's Next Top Model" and stupid "24" but no one's keeping up with this AWESOME twisty show!?? I watched pretty much the entire marathon and let me tell ya, I am hooked. There were several times throughout the day that I just threw something across the room, yelled "NUH-UH!" and had to call someone to tell them how great this show is. The new season starts Sunday. Get ready folks. There will be updates. Because you should be watching this show. It's good. G-E-W-D. That good.

Finally, we had many many meetings at work today. One meeting included my boss telling my favorite loose-cannon coordinator that perhaps he should find someplace else to work. You don't say that kind of stuff to loose-cannon guy. If I wasn't so damn tired I would've been highly entertained. :) So, I guess that's about it. Laters!


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