Sunday, May 28, 2006

The Ice of Boston

Man, I just love Travis Morrison:
Go into the kitchen, stand in front of the kitchen window
And I take all my clothes off, take that bottle of champagne
And I pour it on my head, feel it cascade through my hair
And across my chest, and the phone rings.
And it’s my mother.
And she says “Hi Honey, how's Boston?”
And I stand there, all alone on New Year’s Eve
Buck naked, drenched in champagne, looking at a bunch of strangers
Uh, looking at them, looking at me, looking at them, and I say:
“Oh, I’m fine Mom—how’s Washington?
I'm listening to:
blah. The Dismemberment Plan- The Dismemberment Plan is Terrified. What else could prompt this spontaneous outpouring of emotion at a time when I'm just trying to distinguish Camper's Fascia from Scarpa's (hint: Camper's is more superfical and fatty. It's what you might like to lay on while Camping. Just a thought.)

Friday, May 26, 2006

Qbusted is more like it

Medical students of the world UNITE! The Boards are but weeks away! Qbank has been down since 3 this afternoon and, according to the voicemail over at Kaplan, will not return before 8 am tomorrow morning!

I hate to say it, but there go my Friday night plans.


I'm listening to:
Soul Position- 8 Million Stories

I so rarely post anything in the hopes of actually garnering readers, and yet here I am posting about something topical to M2s around the country. Maybe we'll call this my Friday Night Palsy

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Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Here's a big I Hate You to Laura Blumenfeld who wrote the following on Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist for this morning's Washington Post:
"I gravitate towards insurmountable problems," Frist said, his long legs spilling between the front seats. "I try to use creative solutions." One day, he hopes to cure AIDS or cancer.
How can you write that sentence and not mention the fact that Frist doesn't even know how the HIV virus is transmitted:

GEORGE STEPHANOPOULOS

(Off Camera) Let me just, I wanted to move to another subject, let me just clear this up, though. Do you or do you not believe that tears and sweat can transmit HIV?

SENATOR BILL FRIST

It would be very hard. It would be very hard for tears and sweat, I mean, you can get virus in tears and sweat but in terms of the degree of infecting somebody, it would be very hard.

That from a December 2004 interview on This Week with George Stephanopoulos. Thanks for the fluff piece, Ms. Blumenfeld.

Friday, May 19, 2006

I was just about to bulk memorize that Leptospirosis spirochetes look like a Shepherd's Crook, when I realized I have no idea what a Shepherd's Crook could be. I thought it might be code for Gypsy, but according to my friends at Google Image it's not that at all:


I'm listening to:
David Bowie- Alladin Sane

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I saw Pretty Girls Make Graves play a show. I think I was disappointed, and I think it's my fault. There was a subtlety missing to their live act and I hadn't anticipated that. The albums- and I'm thinking especially of The New Romance and Good Health because I don't much care for Elan Vital- have a sparkly magical quality to them. To me they sound like Andrea Zollo's in another room recording her vocals over the music, and that's what makes them a prettier punk band. And of course at the live show, they're all up there thrashing and sweating and making loud noise. So I blame myself for wearing my party dress and hoping to bounce instead of thrash. Though bounce I did, bounce I did.


I'm listening to:
PGMG- The New Romance

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

all hail the new Bachelor

Hip hip hooray. I can hardly wait until the new Bachelorettes meet the latest Bachelor and start cooing about how they've met their own real Prince Charming.

Early seasons of my favorite show teetered between cheesy romance that any lover of the genre could enjoy (see: Meredith and Ian's proposal scene) and ridiculous campy shit (see: a drunken Amber asking Andrew Firestone if he liked Italian food because she loved the Olive Garden, or an unnamed vegetarian brunette on the same season being fed a piece of lamb by the Firestone and claiming that eating meat for the first time in 12 years was worth it because, "at least his fingers touched my lips.").

The Powers that Be at ABC have clearly abandoned the former mode of entertainment by picking a chump that looks cheesy and blow-dried even in the promo picks. If he has a thick italian accent, I'll die twice.

I'm listening to:
Pretty Girls Make Graves- Good Health

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Sunday, May 14, 2006

on Grey's Anatomy

The real problem with watching Grey's Anatomy as a medical student is not that I'm nurturing false hopes of finding my own McDreamy, thereby casting off any current suitors. No, it's being lulled into a very false sense that Medicine is Easy. The cases I watch on this cursed program, I solve them immediately. Then I break out my QBank question, and it's all damn, I have no idea which testicular tumor you're pointing to.


I'm listening to:
Wire- Chairs Missing

dreamy

I dreampt I was George Bleuth's wife.It was amazing, I think the best dream I've ever had. I woke up in the morning in my house, walked down the stairs and grabbed a mug of coffee before kissing my beloved on the cheek. I patted George Michael on the head, sending him to school with his backpack and lunch in a brown paper bag.

The dream worked because I know all the family members already, and love them in spite of that.

I'm listening to:
Le Tigre- Feminist Sweepstakes
to heck with feminism, if only I can return to that dream of living in Arrested Development, serving my husband a casserole while bickering with my brother-in-law Tobias.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

good walk spoiled?

Lily Allen is festive pop music. Lots of other people think so, too. I can only comment on the impossibly clean-shaven armpits. I'd be jealous but I can just fall back on my disdain for all things maintenance.

By the way, happy summer to me. I have a week before I must start to study for the *boards*. More on that ugliness later, for now I'm off to learn to play golf. My mother thinks it's the only way I'll be able to find a husband. I imagine I'll have an easy time finding another woman's husband; finding my own is another story entirely. At the very least it'll be a way to enjoy a bloody mary with the foxy ex-miss-florida pharmaceutical reps.


I'm listening to:
Lily Allen- My First Mixtape.
Ludacris comes in about 10 minutes in, how very

Thursday, May 04, 2006

The Times has a perfectly useless story on people thinking they hear cellphone rings at random times:
What they are hearing is a barely discernable sound — perhaps chimes, a faint trill or an electronic bleat — that they mistake for the ringtone of their cellphone, which isn't ringing. This audio illusion — called phantom phone rings or, more whimsically, ringxiety or fauxcellarm — has emerged recently as an Internet discussion topic and has become a new reason for people to either bemoan the techno-saturation of modern life or question their sanity.
See, useless, I told you. But I can feel them. When I choreograph a musical, my big dance number will be Steve's Last Night in Town off one of my quintessential high school albums, Ben Folds Fives' Whatever and Ever Amen. But at the 2:55 mark, right as I'm preparing to have my ensemble dancers shimmy downstage, spirit fingers twinkling, rising from the ground to above their heads to surround the lead singer, I'm interrupted by a background telephone ring. And that, dear reader, is no audio illusion.


I'm listening to:
Ben Folds Five- Whatever and Ever Amen
but I'll switch back to Ladytron in a moment. Over time, I've learned that pop showtunes are not conducive to the learning of heart drugs.

good morning, sunshine

I feel so wonderfully at peace knowing Zacarias Moussaoui won't get the death penalty. There is justice in the world, at least for today. The Post editorial on the trial makes me proud to be an American.

In other news, Cozaar blocks Raas, the Renin-angiotensin-aldosterone system. It's an Ang II receptor blocker. Say it like you have a 70 pack-year smoking history and you won't forget at least one dieuretic.


I'm listening to:
Aphex Twin- Richard D. James Album

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