The Trials and Tribulations of a Neurotic Medical Student

James Blunt & Malpractice Ball

2006-04-23T20:18:00.000-07:00

My future husband...should he ever figure that out.

Kim and I at Malpractice Ball

Jon (The 1 1/2 Month Mistake) and I at Malpractice Ball.

My real boyfriend, again.

Wynee, Shirlee, and I being naughty at the pre-party!

Now For Some Fun Pictures...Fall Out Boy/All-American Rejects

2006-04-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

The opening band sucked...I think I lost an eardrum from all the rawr-rawring going on.

At "The Liffey" for drinks beforehand.

The girls at the concert...how I love all my chicas!

I'm Back!!!!

2006-04-23T20:08:00.000-07:00

God it has been forever and a day since I posted last. I guess time just got away from me for a while. I am doing much better than the last post, and since that time I have dated a guy for a month and a half, been broken-up with by the same guy for no reason apparent to me, gone to several amazing concerts (All-American Rejects, The Dan Band, Death Cab For Cutie, Franz Ferdinand), taken a ton of med school "quizzes", had my father get married, went on Spring Break to Vegas, danced on the bar at Coyote Ugly, had an drunken St. Patty's day at my place, and most recently...got completely schnackered last Friday night for "Kate-A-Palooza", otherwise known as my "reintroduction to the wilds of singledom."

Any takers?

It's Official....

2006-02-16T21:32:00.000-08:00

I am "clinically depressed" and having an "episode" of some sorts. Well, at least that is what the head shrinkers say. They think it was all triggered by finding out my Grandma is at the end stage of esophogeal and liver cancer. Me, I don't know. All I do know is that everything in my life is going good right now but I feel like an incredibly large pool of gooey nothingness. Basically, I am having the hardest time imaginable motivating myself to get out of bed in the morning, shower, and make the 10 minute trek to campus in order to actually attend my classes.

Yup, med student who can't make it to class. That is me right here and trust me I am not proud of it. In fact, I am rather ashamed of myself because deep down I know I should be doing better....that I am capable of being a good student. In turn, the shame I am feeling turns to anger and I get really frustrated with the fact that my mind is thinking one thing but doing the complete opposite.

Don't worry, I am not suicidal or anything like that....trust me, I am too unmotivated to even be thinking that. I am on medications, but I am now on my second switch because the others just don't seem to be working quite like they should. I am also seeing the therapist like a good depressive should...as embarrassing as that is to me. Yup, I see a shrink. On. A. Regular. Basis.

And I will be delivering your children someday. Scary, isn't it? Right now the thought is sure scaring the hell out of me!

My saving grace is the fact that the U records all of our lectures, so I can watch them all online at my own pace. So, here I sit at 12:00 am, unable to sleep because of the subsequent insomnia and am catching up on all the neuroscience and one physiology lecture I've missed so far.

Funny thing is...I should be caught up on my classes by the morning. So why in the hell is this shit I am going through stressing me the fuck out?

Go Sea-Chickens!!!!!

2006-02-05T12:22:00.000-08:00

Ahh, it is Superbowl Sunday and I am officially cheering for the Seattle Seahawks. I have to represent for my dearly loved, and now deceased, grandpa. One of my favorite memories of him was that every summer I spent in Tacoma he would listen to or watch every baseball and pre-season football game. I don't know how many times I curled up with him in his recliner and we talked while he watched the game. He would attempt to explain the game to me, but it never really worked. To this day I still don't understand football. But today is a special day because it is the first time in my life that the Seahawks have made it to the "big game". I've got to root them on for gramps!

Oh, that and Seattle teams were the closest thing that Alaska had to root for when we were growing up!!!!!

Bad Things Come In Threes...

2006-02-03T21:32:00.000-08:00

Or at least that is what my grandma used to say to me. So, after today all that is left on my mind is: where's that third thing? Come on, bring the curve ball. I am fully expecting something horrid to happen based on what has already happened today.

#1: I received an email last night from my Dad telling me my Nanny (his mother) has been diagnosed with esophogeal cancer than has now metastisized to her liver. She has been given less than a year to live. I must say that we saw this coming because she had previously fought breast cancer, but it is still a bit of a shock to my system and brought me down a bit last night.

#2: While I was recording a fellow student's patient interview today at the hospital I almost fainted. Yup, almost fainted while standing up and holding a video camera. I had to set the thing down on a table rather abruptly because I had broken into a cold sweat, was nauseous, and thought I was going to fall over. How appropriate, or to mention unprofessional, would it have been for the medical student to fall over on the neuro ward while interviewing the patient.

Plus, once I got home I was even more naseous and had to lay down for a while just to feel relatively normal again. My roommate has a bit of a stomach bug. I sure hope I don't end up with it!

Even Though We Fight, I Still Love Her

2006-02-02T19:44:00.000-08:00

The Top Ten Reasons I'll Love My Mom No Matter What:

1. She listens to me bitch about anything and everything...even if she doesn't agree with me.
2. She raised us the best she could, even if I hated her sometimes while she was doing it.
3. She married my Dad, who adopted me, and gave me a chance to have a father when the sperm donor didn't want to be.
4. She divorced my Dad when he cheated on her, instilling in me the faith that no matter what I didn't need a man to complete me or support me.
5. Even though it doesn't always come across clearly, I know she loves me and is proud of all I have done with my life.
6. After the divorce, she raised us on her own, and while things were sometimes not the best of times we still never went without.
7. She always fostered the "bookworm" in me...I guess it worked out well!
8. We were raised to think liberally about things, be nonjudgmental about people, and try our best to "do the right thing".
9. I got my wonderful speed typing skills from her...Go medical transcriptionists!!!!
1o. I think my good looks came from her side of the family....if you've ever seen a picture of my biological father you'll know what I mean! :)

Love Ya!

MIGRAINE!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

2006-02-01T19:53:00.000-08:00

WTF?

Why do I get a migraine now, when I need to study and concentrate in order to get all my life in order before the physiology quiz and my research meeting with Dr. P tomorrow? I think it is God's way of punishing me...or telling me that caffeine is bad for me. I didn't have my usual coffee this morning, so by the time I got home at 6:00 a headache was starting to manifest itself.

To head it off at the gate I brewed a huge pot of coffee and have drank the entire thing while I attempt to study...and watch Project Runway (my guilty pleasure)...however, it is not working and the damn headache has only gotten worse. It is actually making me nauseous. Looking at anything light, i.e. my computer screen, gives me a creepy sense of vertigo.

I'm out. Time to throw up now.

Things Only Med Students Find Fascinating...

2006-01-31T21:55:00.000-08:00

I volunteer at a local clinic every once in a while as an attempt at fostering better "doctor" skills and giving back to my community. It really is a perfect fit in a way. I am learning something and I feel great about helping people that do not necessarily have the best access to healthcare. The idealistic young physician in me is fulfilled somehow by volunteering for those few hours once every six weeks. I love talking to the people that volunteer there because they seem to have a similiar perspective on healthcare and a great outlook on life.

So, Monday night I volunteered for the second time but it was my first time in as a lab technician. Lab techs are the ones who run all the tests ordered by the docs...that our rudimentary lab can handle...we are in the basement of a church after all! Some examples would be blood draws, HIV tests, immunizations, and pregnancy tests. Anything that is a bit more technical or requires fancy machinery gets sent on to a "higher tech" lab for testing.

To get to the point, I gave my first shots ever last night! Two separate patients came in needing routine immunizations and I got to inject them all by myself! God, it makes me sound like a little kid just getting potty trained, doesn't it? But I was so thrilled by the fact I actually got to stick someone with a needle. And. I. Did. It. Right.

It's the little things in life that thrill me these days. Between class, volunteering, organizing a research project, and everything else I have no time for the "fun" stuff.

My Life...

2006-01-24T17:18:00.000-08:00

Time for some more random med school musings...what else am I good for right now? Considering I eat, sleep, drink, and breathe medical school!

However, you know you are in it for the right reasons when you love it...even it if it seems really hard at times to make it through. That is what I am starting to realize about this entire journey I am on...how much I love it. When I started last semester it was all an adjustment for me. Going back to school after three years off definitely is not as easy as I thought it would be. I had to get used to the ins and outs of studying all the time, actually having to commute to campus, and the damage that an entirely new focus can bring to new and old relationships.

My old friends think I have abandoned them and I feel horrible about that at times and I regret not having made a better effort to connect with them. And, although it is no excuse, this has been a rough time to go through and there is an exponential growth curve that has been going on with me learning about myself right now. I guess the easiest way to put it is that I might not be the best person to lean on right now. It might come off as selfishness, insecurity, or any other random negative adjective...but I swear to those near and dear to me that those words are not what I mean to convey to you. I just don't feel I can support other people right now when some days I wonder how I am supporting myself!

But, I am making it through and loving what I am doing. Microbiology is fascinating to me. I aced my first quiz, so I am on a bit of a high from that right now. Maybe I am meant to be an Infectious Disease specialist. God knows I find all those creepy crawlings so interesting!

All The Best,

Kate

Beautiful...

2006-01-16T09:11:00.000-08:00

The view from our cabin at Lutsen this weekend. Isn't it amazing? Lake Superior is so huge it reminds me of the ocean...and kinda of Kodiak. It is nice to get away from the city for a while. It makes me realize how beautiful Minnesota can really be...and makes me realize I am definitely not a "city girl" but that there are parts of this state I would want to live in.

It's the little things in life...

Out of the Gate...

2006-01-16T08:58:00.000-08:00

Spring semester has started with a bang. We're are really in for it this semester with Microbiology, Physiology, and Neuroscience. Second years called it the "Unholy Trinity" or something along those lines. Personally, I am hoping that as long as I stay on top of things and keep my head above water I will do fine. So far everything we have covered in Micro I have seen before...maybe that will make things a bit easier on me in the long run.

As for the other classes, Physician & Patient is the most interesting because we are actually starting to learn interviewing skills. The fact that it seems realistically applicable to what I'll be doing later on makes the class somewhat enjoyable. Especially since our Master Tutor is having us interview "real" patients admitted at his practice vs. the "fake" patients the school provides us to practice on.

I must admit, that when I was sitting down to interview my very first patient I was nervous as I could be. However, once I got into the swing of the conversation and directing the history it felt pretty natural and was enjoyable. More proof that this is the job I was destined to be happy and fulfilled in doing! It is these little moments of gratification that make me realize the torture that medical school can be at times is all worth while.

A Sex And The City Moment...

2006-01-02T17:29:00.000-08:00

As I have previously mentioned, one of my good Minnesota friends got married last Friday evening. Sarah’s wedding was “very Sarah” and anyone who knows her will know what I mean. This girl has her own sense of style that she brings to everything and the wedding was unique to her, yet very classy.

But enough about class…on to the interesting parts of the evening.

Two friends were in town from Chicago for the wedding whom I haven’t seen in over six months. Angie and Stacy are friends left over from my time working at The Local and are two of the most definitive “Sex and the City” girls I know. They remind me of a time when I didn’t care so much about relationships and more about having fun with the girls. I need to get back to that…but it seems harder and harder to do the older I am getting.

Here are the highlights of our evening…but to preface it I must say we were all without dates, bitter about men and marriage in general, and slowly working our way to a drunken oblivion. A special shout out needs to be given to my neighbor, Jack, who made sure we were transported safely home at the end of the night!

1. Angie and Stacy came to the wedding decked out in all black because, and I quote, “another girlfriend was down for the count.”

2. As I walked in to the reception I headed straight for the bar because I knew that is where I would find the two of them, who had left before I did, cocktails in hand.

3. Jack, Stacy, Ang, and I buying the married couple Sarah’s signature shot, a “Red Headed Slut”, for the last time. Obviously, it wouldn’t be appropriate for our red headed friend to be doing those now that she was married…which is exactly why we did it.

4. All of us girls sitting around a table gossiping about any and everyone on the dance floor…because we were “catty bitches” and could do that sort of thing.

5. Me getting introduced to the only other med student that could possibly have been there then being told by Kim that it would never work out for us because he was too “Christian” for me and would be appalled by my lifestyle. Too bad I didn’t like him anyway!

And last, but not least…

6. During the bouquet toss the damn thing flying straight for my head and my having to catch it or else look like that pathetic, feminista, bitch that didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Hmmm…I think I looked that way anyway from the faces I was making after I caught the flowers. I believe I was quoted as saying: “This can’t be happening to me. I should have let it hit me in the head.”

After what we considered the appropriate amount of time to spend at a wedding reception the girls, Jack, and I all quietly exited and headed out to the bars. We were celebrating Sarah in our own way. Getting sloshed out of our minds to salute the “fallen comrade!”

Things 2005 Has Taught Me...

2006-01-01T21:03:00.000-08:00

1. If they're "good on paper" it doesn't mean they're "great at life"
2. You find ever lasting love when you least expect it, i.e. Mike & Sarah who just got married on the 30th.
3. I have to date a guy for longer than 4 months before I should consider it real...apparently, that is my own dating hump I need to get over.
4. I am smart enough to get in to medical school.
5. I am smart enough to pass medical school...well, my first semester at least.
6. I won't make a good pathologist, surgeon, or radiologist. I know this from anatomy, histology, and radiology...bleeeechhhhh.
7. Eventually, you just have to forgive family for their mistakes, even if they don't want to forgive you for yours.
8. Being "good at life" is hard work...but I think I've been learning that lesson for 26 years.
9. That I can walk away from bad relationships....twice!!!! Erik & Alex.
10. That sometimes I walk away from good relationships too, but for the right reasons, even if it hurts to do it.
11. That I need to work at myself before I work on me and someone else.
12. That I can out drink most of my prissy, upper middle class, ivy league med student friends....hee, hee, hee. State schools are good for something biatches!!!
13. How important it is to make new friends but keep your old friends close, because they are the ones who've put up with your shit before you were "a big shot med student"....I love you guys, really I do.
14. That there is no such thing as a "big shot med student" and if you think you are one you're full of shit and have a major personality disorder.
15. That sometimes I do think like a liberal, even if I am proud of my conservative ways.
16. It's okay to feel like you've failed sometimes. Failure is the best teacher.
17. My Bitch Kitty is the closest thing I'll get to a child for a looooong time...and she is also a best friend, albeit one that purrs loudly, makes me sneeze, and scratches the furniture.
18. No matter how independent I'd like to think I am...I still need my family and miss them incredibly at times...even if they can drive me up an f-ing wall too.
19. Laughter is the best medicine. That and a stiff drink, sometimes.
20. It's okay to cry.

Mr. Good On Paper Is As Good As Gone...

2005-12-29T21:06:00.000-08:00

Well, I did it. I officially "broke up" with Mr. Good On Paper....he waited until the night before Sarah's wedding to cancel on me. Apparently, the boy has some balls on him and thought I would just tolerate that hands down. Yeah, ditch me for a wedding and expect me to still say I am dating you in the morning. Ummm, HELL NO!!!!!

Funny thing is...we had the conversation that we were "dating" but not boyfriend/girlfriend. So, please tell me how this means I need to have the break-up conversation with him?

Oh well...another loser down the drain...I just need to remind myself that there are more fish in the sea and I deserve only the best!

The Downward Spiral

2005-12-28T14:18:00.000-08:00

Why is it that guys who seem so perfect on paper, so to speak, are the biggest wack jobs in reality!?!?!?!?!?

Tell me if this sounds normal:

1. I have yet to meet any of his friends, including his brother who is his roommate...and it has been almost two months. I refuse to be anyones "Dirty Little Secret".

2. After every evening he always makes it a point to leave, or attempts to send me home, around 1:30 in the morning. What, no sleepover?

3. He accepts invitations to do things with me and meet my friends, but bails at the last minute. Case in point, the wedding he was supposed to be my date to this Friday that, as of last night, he might not be able to make it to until later due to a business dinner he just HAS to attend. He has known about this for at least a month! Who shows up late to a damn wedding?

Hmmm....that about sums it up for now. I predict that another one of Kate's relationships will soon bite the dust. Men are so unpredictably stupid.

That's all I have to say about it.

The Actual Inspiration (See Below)

2005-12-24T19:48:00.000-08:00

You never lose by loving; you always lose by holding back.
--Barbara DeAngelis

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is wasted.
--Aesop

Be good to yourself, be excellent to others, and do everything with love.
--John Wolf

Love is shown in your deeds, not your words.
--Father Jerome Cummings

The only gift is a portion of thyself.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Some Christmas Inspiration...

2005-12-24T19:39:00.000-08:00

Here are a few quotes to get you...and me...through the holiday season. I wish you all the best and hope the New Year brings you happiness and prosperity. I love all of my friends and family that have supported my blogging. I really appreciate all of your comments and love!

Best Wishes,

Kate

What bad girls get for Christmas...

2005-12-22T11:07:00.000-08:00

1. A boot on their car, while Christmas shopping.
2. A $99.00 fine to get the damn thing removed.

I guess I probably deserved it because I did park in the wrong area...sorry if I am a bit of a space cadet when it comes to things like that. How was I to know the security "boot guy" guard was waiting in the damn parking lot and put the torture device on Black Betty's wheel as soon as I crossed the street. I was in the damn store for 15 minutes buying a Christmas present for 'Chelle...and as soon as I came out I saw the big orange sticker on my window and a huge ass boot on my front tire.

Damn. Damn. Double damn.

So, I called the company but Mr. Security Guard has already pulled up. It was a relatively painless transaction...basically me putting the damn fee on a credit card. However, the interesting part was his dog that sat in the passenger seat of the truck. He was named "Lobo"...which translated from Spanish means wolf...and was this baby German Shepard. He must have only been a year old and was really cute....that is until he started growling and bearing his teeth at me.

Umm, yeah, scary dog! I hate animals that are trained to be guard and attack dogs. He looked all cute and sweet, but out of the blue started growling at me. And I wasn't even doing anything wrong!

Stupid animal. Actually, I take that back. Stupid moron who trained him to be that way!!!!

God, it has been a while...

2005-12-20T17:52:00.000-08:00

I have officially survived my first semester of medical school! We actually finished our finals last Wednesday, but it has taken me this long to decompress from the horrendous hell that was histology and biochemistry and motivate to write a post. I embark into the second ring of hell (I believe there are 8...one for each semester of med school) on January 3rd. On the plate...Neuroscience, Microbiology, and Physiology.

Now I am enjoying the simple life...two weeks off, sleeping in late, actually reading for PLEASURE, catching up with friends. Oh, that and finally working on the myriad of little projects I needed to accomplish eons ago. Oh, the joys of a busy life gone slow for a moment!

Negative Comments

2005-12-10T22:01:00.000-08:00

I had a fiery post all lined up to denounce those who "don't deserve to remain nameless, but will because I am related to them" because well, honestly, they just pissed me off. However, I am refraining from my original which involved a lot of curse words, family secrets, and why I can't stand my family most of the time sort of statements because it would be wrong. But I do want you to know: I AM STILL ANGRY AT YOU AND YOU ARE NOT A NICE PERSON.

You know who you are. And I can't help biology but I am sometimes not happy to be related to you. And I am sorry if that pisses you off, hurts your feelings, or makes you write anonymous comments on my wall about my noncompassion and alleged sexual proclivities. All of which are completely unfounded on your behalf and untrue.

And people wonder why I don't want to go home and see my family on the holidays? It is because of comments like the one in the post below that I get ALL THE TIME. Passive-aggressive people are not the best to grow up with as role models. I feel that I have had my outs with both my parents and they know where I stand on my relatively crappy upbringing.

So, to make a long story short...I choose to not go home for the holidays because I really don't have a close nucleus of a family to go home to. When most of the Christmas dinners you can remember involve someone storming out of the house becuase they wanted to "work" to get away from the kids and couldn't "take it anymore" you wouldn't want to be there either. Holidays in Alaska aren't homey, fun, or meant to give you that warm fuzzy feeling inside. It just doesn't work that way where I grew up. The fact that I choose to spend the holidays alone, or with my friends' family, is my choice and one that I am willing to live with making. Especially if it keeps me sane.

Oh, and if what I write disturbs or bothers you that much. Don't read my f-ing blog. Simple as that.

I Hate Statistics!!!!

2005-12-05T21:32:00.000-08:00

We have a take home final for our Physician & Society class, which is by far considered the easiest cakewalk so far in medical school. However, since it is a take-home final they have decided to make it a gigantic pain in my freaking ass to complete. Namely, the majority of it being based on statistics....a class I haven't had in 5 years! Yes, there is supporting materials that I can use to look everything up, but for some reason I am stuck on figuring out what a stupid f-ing p-value is used for. I get that it has something to do with determining significance in regards to the null hypothesis...but I am having some trouble translating that into an explanation in regards to sex and smoking category. Gosh, that almost sounds kind of perverted....hmmm...sex and smoking....he, he, he. At least I find something funny, if only remotely, about this damn final.

In other news....the cookie exchange went well. My cookies didn't kill anyone (that I know of yet) and didn't come out tasting like absolute ass. There might be hope for me yet...doubtful, but maybe the statistical probability is not significant enough to void the null hypothesis.....any takers?

I'm So NOT Domestic

2005-12-03T15:18:00.000-08:00

I have been invited to a "cookie exchange" tomorrow, hosted by one of my female med student brethren. Until I had gotten the invite I'd never even heard of a "cookie exchange". It sounded like something little old ladies do, wearing their red hats, and gossiping about what George or Marvin was up to in the garden this year. Definitely a domestic activity...and as we know I don't do domesticity very well. I mean, what other girl do you know says that she dates a guy based on HIS cooking ability. I burn water, for crying out loud and you expect me to bake two dozen cookies from scratch?!?!?!?!?

My initial scheming consisted of ways I could get around the baking issue. My favorite was just buying them at the store and passing them off as my own....hey, it would work and you wouldn't even know! That or buying the kind in the tube, throwing them on a cookie sheet, and being done with it.

But, I sucked it up and am actually attempting to cook snickerdoodle cookies. I'll keep you posted with the most likely disasterous results...

Mr. Roboto

2005-11-25T11:20:00.000-08:00

Last night after Turkey Day festivities a few of us decided to head down to Fremont Street to check things out. Some special things to note about Fremont:

* It is at the ghetto end of the strip. Example ~ Dad telling me to be on the look out for drug dealers making exchanges...God, that just sounds so safe and makes me want to live in Vegas!

* Fremont is where the cheap casinos are. Hence the high number of completely obliterated whinos we saw on the street ambling in, out, and around the casinos.

* Due to the "high class" digs we were visiting I had numerous scary, drunk, and completely hideous men gawking at me, making lascivious comments, and/or looking to proposition me. I don't think I screamed "low-class call girl", but apparently they thought that.

* The strip clubs blatantly advertised women deep throating "deep fried Twinkies" as a means of luring people in. Yummy.

* The guy who spray paints works of art...that look like cheesy hotel paintings. However, it is amazing to watch him spray out a beach scene with spray paint in a matter of minutes.

* Mr. Roboto, as evidenced above. 'Nuff said.

Valley of Fire

2005-11-24T20:31:00.000-08:00

Petroglyphs. One word: Amazing.

More 'glyphs.

Ned and Alvin the Chipmunk.

Can way say high school senior picture, anyone?

Goofing off in a hidey-hole.

Vegas, Baby, Vegas...

2005-11-24T16:28:00.000-08:00

Flying to Vegas to visit the fam. Well, to visit mi padre, considering I haven’t had a real family holiday since second grade. Yup, they divorced early. Knew one another for a month, were engaged, and married 7 years before Mom found out Dad was banging the secretary. I guess you could say that was pretty much a dealbreaker…and for all the faults I find with my Mom at times I have to give her credit for having the balls to walk out on the cheating bastard. God knows I wouldn’t have done it in such a tactful manner. I’m more of a revenge girl myself…heaven help the poor man who decides to cheat on me.

The holidays always manage to give me anxiety. Primarily because I don’t see my family but once a year on either side, if that, and can really only handle them for a few days before they start driving me nuts. This one is going to be anxiety central because one of my aunts on Dad’s side is in Vegas with her brood for Thanksgiving. And, while I think it is wonderful to have people together like that for family events, I feel that I have to put on one of my many masks in order to make it through the “we haven’t seen you in 10 years and need to interrogate you on every aspect of your life” conversation that is inevitable. It is a mask of fake smiles, feigned attentiveness, and a constant supply of randomized quotables used to describe where I am at in my life. Nothing of substance is ever accomplished by these interactions. You just want them to think your are successful and normal…both of which I have issues with.

Reunions of any sort are often stressful and I have enough stress in my life with school as it is. For me, I find them to be even more of an uncomfortable sensation now that I have been on my own for several years and think of myself as rather independent. I am not one of those people that needs constant contact with their family to feel complete. In fact, I am the complete and utter opposite. Half the time I am running away from them as far and fast as I can. My independence is bred from my dysfunctional upbringing. It is what I had to do in order to survive.

Team Uterus!

2005-11-20T19:59:00.000-08:00

Finally a decent picture of me and my "Body Buddies"....which loosely translated means the crazy fools who were my dissection partners for 8 weeks!

The Norwegian Hitler

2005-11-19T14:17:00.000-08:00

It's a test week.

And, what does that mean, you might ask?

The answer: Michelle and I camp out at Baker's Square to do a disproportionate amount of our studying. I mean we literally sit there for six or seven hours getting our nerd on with a bunch of geriatrics and drunk college kids.

As we sit entrenched in our booth, poring over biochemistry you can't help but overhear other tables' conversations. Of course, I'm nosy, so I listen in. Who wouldn't? My A.D.D. mind loves any excuse for a "study break" (hence the reason I am writing this when I should be buried in the TCA cycle). Earlier in the day my breaks consisted of comparing membrane protein assembly to a male erection.

Here's an excerpt:

Me: "I've determined that Cadherin chains are built via a pathway akin to the male erection.

Michelle: "What the hell are you talking about?"

Me: "Ummm, the influx of Calcium makes the chain RIGID and it slowly pokes out of the surface of the cell. Now, if that isn't like a guy getting a boner I don't know what is.

Michelle: "You're sick."

Me: "How can you not see the comparison?"

But I digress. Back to the Norwegian Hitler story.

As I am valiantly attempting to understand membrane biosynthesis, Michelle clues me in on the conversation going on in the booth behind her. It is between a family of what can only be described as WACK JOBS, headed by Herr Commendant himself...Fuhrer Norwegian Freak Show.

This guy is going on and on about the various immigration problems in the U.S. and how all these Asians, Latinos, and Africans are coming in and not assimilating to the American way. Yes, these poor savage people are expecting us good NORWEGIAN Americans to turn around and ADOPT their culture. And "THAT IS SO NOT THE AMERICAN WAY" people! They should be grateful for the freedoms we offer them....blah, blah, blah, fucking, blah. It went on and on.

Meanwhile, all I could do was look at Michelle and say very loudly:

"Too bad our fucking people were here first. Last I checked, the history books said y'all didn't assimilate to OUR way of life. Instead, you just decided to assimilate us with smallpox! Oh, did I mean "inoculuate"?"

People are such narrowminded idiots at times....

Serial Monogamy...Is it a bad thing?

2005-11-16T20:54:00.000-08:00

Apparently, I am a serial monogamist.

According to some people...who shall ALL remain nameless...

I like being paired with someone and seem to bounce from relationship to relationship, choosing to laugh in the face of single-dom in favor of a warm body in my bed and a manly shoulder to cry on. I am incapable of having a relationship last longer than 4 months because I rush in to things to fast, get bored, and then kick them to the curb for the next interesting fellow who comes along. I don't believe in second chances, even though we surely are destined to be together and have things work out in the end. I am a frigid bitch because I stopped having sex with you a month before I ever ended things. I don't let people in. I am too emotional. I won't let you take care of me. I expect too much of your attention.

And so the list of complaints from ex-boyfriends goes on and on and on and on....

In fact, I could spend all night listing the various complaints I've gotten from ex-boyfriends throughout the years. And to be honest, they hurt to hear. At. The. Time. But then I sleep on it, realize they are just getting their digs in, and move on with my life because if there is one thing I have learned from all my disasterous dating experiences it is that if it is meant to be it will all work itself out in the end.

And, until that day comes I will be a possessive, distant, emotional, unemotional, needy, independent, bed hopping, warm body wanting, serial monogamist!!!!!

So, piss off and deal with it. Or at least deal with me venting about it and shut the hell up.

Stress...

2005-11-15T21:08:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling it. Quiz tomorrow. No time to study for it. Test on Monday. More studying to do for that all weekend. Feeling the pressure.....big time. On top of that, starting to date someone who I think is wonderful so far and can't stop thinking about him. Not what I need right now when I have to concentrate on school. Why is it that good things always come when you least expect them? That and they always seem to come at the most blatantly inopportune times.

Oh, yeah, and I need friend time to apparently remedy all the damage that has been done since I started med school. I guess I am a bad friend again because I have been trying to integrate into my medical school class and not spent enough time with my non-med student friends I had before I started. Some people are amazing at laying the guilt trips on me.....just amazing.

And I need to give a detailed explanation to my ex as to the in and outs of why it just didn't work out between us. And I don't have the emotional where-with-all to do it right now without breaking down. I feel he deserves it, regardless of if he wants to hear what I have to say or not...but he was the one who asked. But can I get to it after my exam!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

STRESS.

Welcome to my life.

Wine & Cheese Night...

2005-11-13T19:03:00.000-08:00

I just had to get a fix...

2005-11-12T11:15:00.000-08:00

I've been missing out on the whole Minneapolis concert scene since starting med school. It is an unfortunate side-effect to having concerts scheduled either the day before or right during a cram session for a major exam. So, when I saw that Marc Broussard was coming to town this week I initially figured I would have to blow off good 'ol Marc as well...seeing as how I am an uptight med student who felt the need to start studying for an exam a whole TWO weeks in advance.

Yup, that is how we work it here....sad, but true.

Well, I decided to blow caution to the wind and drag one of my med student friends to the show with me at the last minute. I wasn't sure if Shirlee would like Marc or not, but I am happy to report she had an amazing time...or at least she said so. That and it is a good indication when she buys the band t-shirt!

Marc rocked out in his bluesy/funk sort of way and was amazing as usual, albeit he admitted to be drunk of his ass on sake. Hey, it made the show all that more interesting, right? But the true clincher to making it an amazing show was that the opening acts were both phenomenal. So, I must give some sort of props to The Alternate Routes and the second act, Brandi Carlile. Both will be back in the TC soon and I intend on dragging more of y'all out to see their shows!

Hmmmm.....now I must be off to plan my Wine & Cheese for tonight. Photos and discussion tomorrow!

Listening To: The entire set by Marc Broussard of the concert I went to!!!! How cool is it that you can buy a copy of the show you saw....and it is amazing quality!

What did you do tonight?

2005-11-08T20:39:00.000-08:00

Me, well I sutured up pig's feet.

For fun.

Yes, that is what medical students do for entertainment as a break from studying. We voluntary enroll, and pay for I might add, workshops that give us the opportunity to slice up dead little piggie's feet and sew them back together. Next in the line-up...delivering fake babies from realistic, life-size, birth canals. Let me tell ya, it's a blast.

I guess this is the time when I could insert one of those, "You know you're a medical student when...." jokes, but I won't because it is soooooo obvious that we are all huge ass DORKS to have made it this far.

The most frustrating part of the evening was the station on knot tying. The resident demonstrating made it all seem so simple....but it truly was a little individualized segment of hell that I had voluntarily wandered into for 30 minutes.

As we all know by now, I am not the most coordinated person on this planet. Well, take my un-coordination (is that even a word?) and put me under the pressure of having all 5 of group members staring at me while the resident explains over and over (AND OVER) how to do some simple wompy-ba-job-it knot that I just can't seem to get. Yeah, I definitely wasn't going to get it then. If this pressure is what residency is like then I am screwed!

Well, I'm off......

To work on tying knots. 'Cause I suck. Bad.

But not as bad as one of my friends....and he wants to be a surgeon. He he he he he.....That's what he gets for teasing me about going in to family practice, biotch!

Singing Along With: "Momentary Setback" ~ Marc Broussard

Crush

2005-11-07T20:59:00.000-08:00

As I sit here listening to Augustana (an amazing band...one I highly recommend) and contemplating the statistical correlation between a man's shoe size and the length of his penis (personally, I think there is no direct correlation...more like an inversely proportional statistic leaving the guy with the short end of the stick...literally) I started thinking about "puppy love" and its implications in adulthood.

Yes, I know this is a complete nonsequitar from my previous perverted thoughts. Sometimes I swear I have ADD....That looks shiny! I want icecream...no I want to run naked in the rain! Okay, where was I?

Ahhhhhh...puppy love. More directly, the concept of having a "crush" on someone. Y'all know the feeling. Wanting someone so badly to notice you, but either they have little to no interest or, worse yet, you are relegated to the friend role. Hell, the wrote way to many teenage 80s "Brat Pack" movies about it...if you can't relate then rent one from Blockbuster and you will know the pain we all go through starting somewhere around adolescence and continuing....

Well, that is my question to you. Do we ever outgrow the "crush" phase of life? Or, must I just accept the fact that until I die...hedging on the fact that I don't meet Mr. Amazing and am blissfully in love for the rest of my days...I will periodically develop random crushes on guy friends, all too often relegated to the role of bestest buddy?

Not that this is a major problem in my life right now. In fact, it really isn't...but it has been in the past. I just want to take a proactive stance on the issue, seeing as how I am definitely single again! Damn, that really sounded like a politician right there...too bad I have been much to naughty of a girl in my day to ever consider running for political office!!!!

Singing Along With: "Boston" ~ Augustana

Almost Too Perfect...

2005-11-06T11:26:00.000-08:00

I had my first "real" date, post break-up, last night and it was definitely a surreal experience for me. It has been such a long time since I've done the formal date thing that I didn't really know what to expect...and was a bit nervous about the whole experience. You see, when I date someone we usually are good friends first. With Alex this isn't the case at all. In fact, how we met is an interesting story in and of itself.

As most of you know, last Saturday I went out for Halloween dressed as a naughty little bar wench. What is a newly single, hot girl, looking to have some fun to do? Ahh, yes, head to the clubs to shake my ass with the girlfriends of course! And that is where I met Alex. On. The. Dancefloor. At. Spin.

Not my idea of a blossoming romance if you know what I mean.

So, I put zero stock in him calling me...and, to be honest, I don't even know why I gave him my number. Meeting people at bars and actually having things work out as more than a casual hook-up, which I am DEFINITELY not looking for, is pretty much a statistical improbibility in my book. But there was something about him, so I gave him a chance.

And to my surprise it managed to work itself out.

He called. He called to set-up an actual date rather than the usual bar rat who calls on Friday night to see if you are "out"...all in order to meet up and attempt to get in your pants later. He took me to an amazing restuarant, Bar Lurcat, where we sat for almost four hours talking our way through wine, appetizers, dinner, coffee, and since things were going sooooo good a martini afterwards. Needless to say I was blown away.

Educated. Good Looking. Respectful. Athletic. Well Traveled. And the most important part: I COULD HOLD A CONVERSATION WITH HIM FOR FOUR HOURS! I wanted to pinch myself because he just seemed to good to be true.

And I must say it was more than the superficial things that made it a wonderful evening. We have so much in common it is uncanny! While he is a corporate business guy he wants to give it up in ten years, move to a small town, raise a family....ummm, sign me up for that! Okay, not to jump ahead of myself or anything, but that is exactly what I want to do. Weird. He loves the mountains. I love the mountains.

Okay, now I am grasping at straws. I'll just shut up while I am ahead. I have to make it past more than the first date before making any claims. But, we've already decided on climbing at Vertical Endeavors this weekend.

I'll keep you posted with any major updates.

Love Ya...

I'M FLUENT IN CHICKEN.

2005-11-02T19:54:00.000-08:00

It's a study night....like most nights these days. Therefore, Chelle and I are together yet again. Oh, I know what you're thinking....like you two aren't ALWAYS together, right? However, tonight is a bit different. We have discovered a unique trait that I apparently possess which came about due to a combination of three things: The Phantom of the Opera DVD, Michelle's excellent vocals, and my raspy (it's that sexy sick voice), warbly, and very off key rendition of showtunes.

I speak chicken.

Yup, we have determined I'm fluent. Apparently, I could never manage Spanish worth a lick, but my attempts to sing along with "Masquerade" come out more along the lines of a dying chicken.

"Masquerade" translates into bock-bock-bwock-ba-gock!!!!!!!

I think I like my version better. How about you? Although it might be scaring her dog a little.
But she hasn't run and hid under the futon yet, so I think I am still in the clear.

High School, Part Deux

2005-11-02T17:38:00.000-08:00

Do you ever want to write things, but you know certain people will read it and you don't want to risk offending them, so you don't write anything?

That is where I am at right now.

And it makes me feel like I am in high school again. Where you can't really tell people the truth because it would hurt their feelings, damage your social reputation, or have some random disasterous effect on your place in the social heirarchy. Or, in plain language, you'd just piss someone off.

Yup. That is what medical school is about.

I'm out.

I Feel Like Shit.

2005-11-01T15:32:00.000-08:00

Since I have felt down, with a bit of a sore throat, since my wonderful antics this weekend I decided to stop in to the walk-in clinic today after class. My sore throat was getting a lot worse and I had an earache to go along with it. So, after looking at my throat the nurse decided to draw some blood and various other tests....and when she came back she said...

I HAVE STREP THROAT!

You don't even know how much this sucks a huge, giant, smelly, fat...well, insert your own image here! I have a test this Saturday and feel like absolute dog poo. At first I thought I could manage it, however, it is getting worse. Now I can barely swallow, my joints ache, and I am all drooly because it hurts to swallow my own spit.

Damn it, antibiotics! Can't they start working faster!!!!

Beer Olympics 2005

2005-10-31T18:07:00.000-08:00

Team Old School!

Stephanie rocking at Flippy Cup.

The dinner party beforehand, minus me behind the camera.

Jack spinning around the bat after chugging his beer.

Julia, Brendan, Phil, and I.

Am I Back In High School?

2005-10-31T15:03:00.000-08:00

I think I have time-warped back to my high school days, and trust me I am not enthusiastic about that prospect. The cliques, awkwardness, and need for social acceptance...it's all here. Yes, I can now officially say that I believe what all those second and third years warned me about.

Medical school is like high school.

And while high school wasn't an unpleasant experience for me, I really have no desire to repeat that social dynamic in professional school. Honestly, I thought most people are supposed to "grow up" in those 4 or 5 years between high school and med school. I think it's called COLLEGE. Or, maybe we all did grow up, but the dynamic changes completely when we are stuck with the same 165 people day in and day out. Then things just seem to revert back to the 'ol standby.

Therefore, as I love the idea of lists....

My Top 5 Reasons Medical School Is Really High School Revisited

5. We are together in the same classes all day, every day. There's no variety.

4. We have a lunch hour and we usually all eat together...in our "cliques".

3. There are clubs & organizations we all belong to. Very similiar to the extracurriculars in high school.

2. We all have that same social awkwardness & insecurities...I guess that is what you get when you put 165 Type A people in a class.

1. The cliques are all the same. This relates to #4 in that we end up aggregating into groups we feel "secure" in...and once you're in, you're in. However, if you are "out" want to be "in" it ain't gonna happen.

Now, I don't mean to be knocking my school at all. I really love going here and the people are great...we get along well...and I love my class. This is just an observation...one I am not the first to make!

MUH...

2005-10-30T19:25:00.000-08:00

Do you ever get that feeling? MUH. When nothing really seems to matter all that much and even though everything in your life is going great you just feel kind of like birdie poo inside. It is akin to the I'm kinda, sorta, depressed...but not really depressed enough to warrant crawling into bed, pulling the covers over your head, and not leaving the comforter cave for a good twelve hours.

I've got a serious case of the MUHs going on tonight.

At present I am attributing them to the fact that I was socially overstimulated (is that even a construct?) this weekend and my inner introvert is rebelling against my social-ness. You see, people who know me well understand how much of an introvert I can be...but most folks just think I am some effervescent, peppy, cheer squad wanna-be. Well, albeit one who is usually quiet in class and doesn't open up to people until she gets to know them. But once I do...WATCH OUT!

My socially awkward side lately seems to overcompensate by my being extremely extroverted. I think it is finally taking its toll on me. This being newly single thing also kind of sucks and I hate not knowing what I really truly want out of my life. I seem to have it nailed down in every sector except relationships. But, hey, we all gotta fail somewhere, right?

Oh, that and the fact I managed to drown away all the worries in 80 Proof, Vino, and Hops all weekend might have something to do with it.

Cheers to being MUH!

I'll keep you posted if the status changes.

Halloween @ Spin...Pics Courtesy of Shirlee

2005-10-30T11:32:00.000-08:00

Kissing a Storm Trooper. Sober? Umm, no!

Obligatory picture with the Penis....

Tha Girls....Shirlee, Michelle, and I.

We love our men in uniform.

On Biochemistry...

2005-10-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

While making flashcards for Biochemistry:

Me: Oooops! I just messed that one up,

Michelle: Are you making up your own amino acids again?

Me: This one is Katenine! It's responsible for all the beauty in the world!

It's the little things that keep me amused. Can you tell?

Things That Make Me Go Hmmmm....About Men

2005-10-25T21:55:00.000-07:00

Why do they insist on scratching themselves anytime and anyplace?

Why is it when they say things won't be awkard, you know they're gonna be?

Why do they fall asleep after sex?

What is with the random hard-ons that we obviously notice?

Why does their penis seem to short ciruit their brain EVERY SINGLE TIME?

Why are they so proud of their sick ass bodily functions?

Why does girl-on-girl porn seem the answer to every relationship woe?

Why do they always come back after you've moved on?

Do they really like Hooters?

Why is their idea of flirting wrestling, throwing stuff at us, and basic physical punishment?

Procrastinating...Yet Again.

2005-10-23T18:46:00.000-07:00

I should be studying for my Histology quiz tomorrow, but can't bring myself to do it. Of all my classes thus far, Histo is the worst. All of those slides! Slide, after slide, after slide, after slide. The all blend together in a blur of pink, blue, black, and purple dye. And all the while I am staring at them I can't help but wonder....Will I ever need to use this again?

Probably not unless I decide to match in pathology. And as fun as that sounds, I think I am a little too social to be stuck in front of a microscope all day. It makes me go all cross-eyed and wonky in the head. Nope, not for me.

I have a feeling this week is going to get a little rough. Histo quiz tomorrow, Biochem test on Friday, and then the weekend....just in time to start studying for the Histo midterm next Saturday. However, between now and the Histo midterm is Halloween and I am hoping a fun weekend.

'Chelle and I need to make some time this week to work on our costumes...but I promise they should be interesting!

Peace & Chicken Grease.

I'm out.

Introducing...

2005-10-23T08:13:00.000-07:00

My lovely med school comrades....and founding members of The Dirty Half A Dozen, Minus One

Michelle, the sexy Latina and all around best friend (aka Pru)

Karah, who perhaps has a mind more sicker than my own (aka T.T.F.F.)

It's All About Da Nookie?

2005-10-22T17:03:00.000-07:00

As Michelle and I sit here in the quiet contemplating our numerous injuries, mainly hers, from our soccer games today we are rudely interrupted by a sound. A sound not quite ordinarily heard in living rooms across America. Especially, not heard in our living room and coming from my next door neighbor...my landlord.

It is the moaning from a women gettin' it on. I mean in a 70s "boump-chika-boump-ba" sort of way. Either landlady is getting some action, which I do not want to imagine. Or both her and her boytoy, a huge black scary truckdriver man, are watching some serious porno.

Oh well. What can I do? To each their own....I guess?

Who is the Pillow Fight Champion of the World? Why, me, of course!

2005-10-22T16:37:00.000-07:00

My Perfect Man:

2005-10-21T17:19:00.000-07:00

* Plays with my hair.
* Isn't scared of feet....and doesn't mind giving foot rubs!
* Is athletic...I don't care what he does, but gets outside and does something.
* Likes to cuddle.
* Will give me my space.
* Likes my cat...or if he doesn't won't bitch about her.
* Realizes how important my career is to me and respects that.
* Is good in bed. Well, of course that's a given!
* Can call me on my bullshit, because I dish out a lot of it.
* Wants to travel all over the world with me.
* Wants children and a family someday.
* Loves the outdoors.
* Wouldn't mind living more "Out West" because that's where I want to end up.
* Loves the mountains & ocean as much as I do.
* Can put up with my nerdiness, i.e. the fact that I am a bookworm, love trivial pursuit, etc.
* Is up for going to the theater as well as a NBA basketball game.

Things That Make Me Giggle:

2005-10-20T14:54:00.000-07:00

How can you not smile when you see the dancing gopher from Caddyshack?!?!?!?!?!?

I only wish I had the Kenny Loggins song playing in the background and him talking in that cute "animal with a cold" voice.

I'm all right....Nobody worry 'bout me....Why you gotta give me a fight?....Can't you just let it be?

Stupid Cat

2005-10-19T20:14:00.000-07:00

My Bitch Kitty has a problem with scratching things. I probably should have had her declawed from the get-go, but kept putting it off because I was poor when I first got her and couldn't afford the surgery. I am not one of those types that is really against declawing. In fact, my life would be much simpler now if she was declawed because she has an unnatural obsession with scratching up the furniture....well, not all the furniture. Just MY couch.

Initially, I started taping the sides of the couch up so that she couldn't do that little "stretch and scratch the shit out of the edges" routine that most cats do. So, now every single corner of the couch is taped up with that see through packing tape. Because of this my roommate and I have to explain to any guests why our nice couch looks like we are holding it together with scratched up tape. Yes, the cat still attempts to scratch through the tape. You'd of thought she's learned it isn't going to come off by now.

Her latest foray into turning the couch in to chop suey involves jumping on to the back of it and scratching along the headrest edge. She does this blatantly in front of me, knowing all the well that she'll get hit with the water bottle. However, tonight was a little different.

Bitch got her claws stuck in the fabric and couldn't get them out for a couple of minutes. I just had to sit there and watch. Call me cruel, but that's what she gets for clawing the damn couch!

Update...

2005-10-18T18:03:00.000-07:00

So, the dinner with the ex went fine. It wasn't as weird as I thought it might have been. Relatively nonchalant. I talked about Dan. He talked about his girlfriend. Is this what conversations turn into once you're 26? Either that or when you are married or getting close to it (as he is)? Hmmmm....maybe I am not ready for this whole uber-commitment lifestyle yet.

As for other news....the stress is beginning to mount at school again. We have tests coming up in the next two weeks so it is time to hit the books. Sorry if I disappear for a bit. It seems with this course load I have a tendency to do that now, which is the complete opposite of undergrad. Oh, how I miss those days when I could do Century Club on a Tuesday night, sleep through classes the next day, and nurse my hangover with the sorority sisters. Now my breaks come in the form of blogging. What a change.

Oh, and good 'ol Dan and I have decided to take a break for a bit. Well, to put it bluntly I have decided I needed a break. With school and all the changes going on I just need some time to get back to me and re-evaluate what I really want out of this relationship. I know, it probably sounds like I am creating more drama for myself than necessary, but it is just something I feel I need to do before things get out of hand and I ruin this relationship beyond repair....as I am so known to do.

Enough for now. Time to contemplate the meaning of life as interpreted through my belly button lint.

What I Need To Be Happy:

2005-10-12T20:21:00.000-07:00

Ok, so initially you might look at the title and think, "Oh God is this going to be some depressing post about blah, blah, blah my life sucks, blah, blah, blah." I assure you it is done with quite the opposite in mind. As I was having a contemplative moment the other day thinking about how so many shitty things happen to people during their lives...in fact I think no one is immune and if you are you're lying...well, I started thinking about what I actually NEED in my life to be truly HAPPY. Trust me, it's not an easy thing to do and by no means is this a complete list, but I figured it would be a good start to kind of "figuring myself out". So, think what you will, but I dare y'all to try it yourselves.

1. To feel safe.

Do I know what this is right now? No, not really. But, when I was having all my anxiety problems my doc made me attempt to visualize a time in my life when I was completely safe, sound, and protected. And it was really depressing when I wracked my brains and couldn't think of a single memory. I mean a single one! I am a worrier and always had something to worry about...and still do.

2. To stay thin...well, relatively. Nix that...how about to stay HEALTHY.

Okay, so I might be shallow but I really have an insane fear about getting fat. I just see so many people today that are pretty much obese...so obese it is causing health problems. I never want to end up like that and it is very frustrating for me to see it happening to members of my family and I can't really do anything to help because they won't change their bad eating habits and behaviors.

3. To feel intelligent.

I have always been a bit of a brain. I guess you could call it a point of pride. However, I detest it when people say they are stupid or call others dumb, especially if they are attempting to compare them to me. In my mind, no one is stupid. People are just smart at different things. I can't change a tire if my life depended on it but can explain the circulatory system to you in intense detail. My boyfriend is a bit of a computer geek. Do I understand a damn thing he does? Hell no! But there is no way I would say he isn't smart or that I am stupid in comparison.

4. To place all of my trust and faith in someone.

So far this has never happened to me, including my parents. I am very untrustworthy and I think a lot of this stems from having a kind of crappy childhood at times. The trust issue has probably been my major problem in relationships. I get jealous. I worry about them cheating. I need lots of attention. It might be me being "high maintanence" but the attention part is how I feel secure in some weird way. I look at my married friends and admire their relationships so much. For me to be married I would have to deal with all these trust issues and obviously those couples have. More power to them!

5. Always have a good book around to read and great friends to talk to.

This one is pretty explanatory as I can never shut up and am a total and complete bookworm.

6. To live near the mountains or the ocean.

I grew up near both and miss them dearly here in the flat and largely landlocked, except for those damn great lakes, in Minnesota. But I vow someday after all my training is through that I end up near one of the two and hopefully both.

7. To have a better relationship with my children than I had with my parents.

Again, I think this was the stem of a lot of my issues growing up....I want to break the cycle with my kids....should I ever have the little buggers someday.

That's about it for now. This is a never ending process though so you might hear more of my sentimentalizing in the future....

Finally, a decent picture of Dan and I

2005-10-12T17:06:00.000-07:00

Gettin' The White Coat

2005-10-12T17:00:00.000-07:00

Standing to recite the Hippocratic Oath.

Getting "coated" as they called it by one of the medical school deans.

Bella Da Bitch Kitty

2005-10-12T16:45:00.000-07:00

Curiosity Is Gonna Kill This Cat...

2005-10-11T10:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I try to live my life by the firm belief that ex-boyfriends are like zombies in bad horror movies. They always come back from the dead to haunt you and you pretty much have to cut their f-ing heads off, chop their bodies up into little pieces, and bury them in twelve different places to finally be rid of them. And so far I have yet to be proven wrong on this one. Take the following example:

1. Jerod

If I were ever to have a Mr. Big I would have to say it would be this guy, but I am definitely not holding out for him and can proudly say I have moved on with my life. To put it mildly things did not end well with us at all and the whole relationship put me off on the long term commitment thing for the last three years. He was a part of the college-phase of my life and I don't regret the relationship at all, however, when things ended we definitely did not need to or want to see one another for quite some time.

So, imagine my surprise when I show up for Homecoming last year and run in to him at the bar after not having seen or spoken to him in over a year. Oh, it is probably important to note that we live in the same state a mere twenty minutes away from one another and although the metro is large and you wouldn't run in to someone it is weird to me that I finally run into him in Montana. But, of course it was Homecoming and we both went there, had a lot of the same friends, and hung out at the same bars....

It was definitely awkward at first....for both of us. We basically spent the first hour at the R Bar ignoring one another and doing a blatant little crab dance (you know, that shuffling from side to side sort of thing) so we wouldn't inadvertantly run into one another and have to actually talk. But, since I have never been good at these things I decided to fuck it all and just go up to him, buy him a beer, and make things "right". I mean hell, we would be spending all weekend in pretty much a close proximity.....I didn't need the awkwardness to ruin my good time.

I must say, it worked and I was happy we were able to finally talk normally....not quite as "friends" but at least not as "oh, you are my weird ex-girl/boyfriend" sort of thing. The weekend went great, we went home, and I pretty much have spent another year having not spoken to him even though we live quite near one another.

Until now, that is.

You see, I miss Montana and all my friends and fun times I had there. So, earlier this summer I had to email Jer for some plant advice for Dan, cause Jerod is now a plant guy and runs a greenhouse...or something to that effect. At this time I suggested that we meet for coffee or something to catch up on Montana stuff, as we live in the same state and know the same people. I figured what the hell. It would be nice to talk to somebody about something other than how great this damn city is...which is what all my other friends seem to do....and I felt completely comfortable with talking to him as a friend without all that emotional baggage an ex-relationship can sometimes bring with it.

We were both really busy at the time me with school and him with work, so now that things have calmed down we are going to try and catch up this weekend. And, while I feel fine with it part of me wonders: AM I MAKING A BIG MISTAKE?????? Is it normal to still be in contact with your exes?

It's been a while...

2005-10-02T19:21:00.000-07:00

So, apparently I took a brief hiatus from blogging...but I ensure you it wasn't without a purpose. School managed to consume all of my time in the last few weeks. I really had to kick it in the butt for the last two exams because I didn't do it so hot on the first exam...and anyone who knows the over-achiever, Type A, anal retentive personality I have knows how much I beat myself up over stupid things like not doing so hot on a test.

But, after a bit of an uphill climb I can now officially say: I HAVE PASSED ANATOMY!!!

Yesterday I had my White Coat Ceremony, which the medical school puts on to "officially" indoctrinate us into medicine. My Mom was in town for the occasion, so I have pretty much had no free time since I finished my third exam at noon on Friday.

Overall, my anxiety level usually shoots through the roof when the fam is in town, but things managed to go OK for once. *Insert Huge Sigh Of Relief Here* The only problem with the ceremony being this weekend is that I unfortunately had to miss Montana State's Homecoming. I am a bit bummed about it, but hope we kicked some ass and look forward to hearing all about it from my friends, i.e. Mrs. Kim Bundy!

Go Cats Go!!!!!!!!!

Things I Do That Gross Dan Out:

2005-09-08T20:44:00.000-07:00

1. My feet....well, feet in general. I am sad to report that at present I am unable to convince him to give me a much needed foot rub.

2. My "Monkey Toes" as he calls them....this would be a subset of the feet category. I'll have to get around to posting a picture of them so you can truly appreciate this phenomenon.

3. My descriptions of dissecting out a perforated bowel, i.e. gut that has been split in about 5 places so that poo is spilling out of our cadaver. Not only did it look bad, but it has ruined chocolate pudding for me.

4. My threats to use him as a practice dummy for our clinical correlate on proper procedure regarding prostate exams, all while I am putting on a pair of kitchen gloves...think pulling them back and that awful snapping sound they make.

5. Pulling a new knife out of the Ikea boxed set and commenting, "this is sharp enough to cut your dick off before you know it!" Note: This was after he made a comment calling me a Squaw (he was joking) while referring to my indian heritage. I figured we were even after that.

6. Throwing an industrial sized box of Tampons into the cart at Costco. Dan is the type of man who refuses to even think about, let alone acknowledge, feminine hygeine...although I am sure he would bitch about it if things started smelling "not so fresh" down below.

7. Walking up behind him while he is doing dishes and pretending to thrust all up on his junk in da' trunk like I am a dude...what can I say...I do have a sick sense of humor.

8. Talking about genital anatomy, or how we cross-sectioned a giant penis in lab...basically slicing it like a pickle.

9. Calling him "Schmoopy", "Babycakes", or any other cheesy ass pet name you can think of, especially if I dare to do it in public.

10. Asking him to smell my arms after I've gotten home from a day in anatomy lab. Even if I scrub with the pumice soap for an hour the smell STILL wouldn't come out.

There is only one word to describe Tank:

2005-09-03T20:11:00.000-07:00

FUCKJOB.

As you know I am having some minor anxiety problems, which have been attributed to one of two things: school and Tank moving out of my place. Actually, it should be more like Tank NOT moving out of my place on time, asking for an extension, and then STILL not packing anything at all as of 10:00 on Saturday night.

Note: As of Tuesday, when she STILL hadn't packed a solitary f-ing thing I gave her a rather mean ultimatum that she had to be out, and I mean every single damn thing GONE, as of 10 p.m. this Sunday evening.

I was done being nice to her lazy ass. If her shit isn't gone I will start carting it out to the dumpster. Legally, it's my right and the bitch can't do anything about it. She is no longer a tenant and I was being nice giving her the extra few days.

As far as I'm concerned we really weren't friends in the beginning and she's burned all possible bridges that could even remotely ensure I would want to "know" her in the future. Call me a bitch, mean-hearted, or whatever the fuck you want but I am DONE.

So, here's the interesting part....

I got to chatting tonight with a mutual friend of Tank and I and the subject eventually turned towards my frustrations, subsequent anxiety, and now anger regarding the whole situation. Apparently, Tank had overheard me bitching to my mother about her as she was getting ready for work today and was pissed off at me that I could say those things. My only response: "It wasn't anything I have said to you and wouldn't say to her face."

However, she knows she is completely in the wrong on this one and can't even look me in the eye anymore. When I am home, which is rather infrequently because I can not stand to be in the same room as her, she won't hardly talk to me. She is honestly afraid I am going to blow up at her...and I would if I could ever corner her ass! What's even funnier is that this rant is coming from a girl known by all her friends for being nonconfrontational.

All I can say....You push my buttons enough and I will explode.

Okay, back to my story. Our friend then goes on to tell me that Tank plans on staying up all night to pack and get her shit out becuase (and I quote), "the living situation has become intolerable for her." What living situation? you are no longer my f-ing roommate bitch!

And to succeed at this all night packing session my drug addled roommate plans on pharmaceutically aiding her experience with a bit of highly illegal white powder. All I could tell my friend was that she better fucking ensure she is not doing it in my apartment and that she still better have her shit gone by tomorrow night. I don't care how she chooses to self destruct, but don't do it on my damn doorstep.

Funny thing is....she could have avoided this whole situation if she had just acted like a grown-up and used some of those time management skills people are always talking about.

Let's Get Loopy Y'All...Pharmaceutical Induced Blogging

2005-08-31T20:06:00.000-07:00

So, I've got a problem. It's called anxiety. Normally it doesn't affect my life other than those rare occasions when I become overly stressed. Usually, these periods are marked by several possible triggers: interacting with my family, arguing, talking to my family, trying to impress someone important to me....oh, and did I mention anything having to deal with my family?

Apparently my brain chemistry has decided to wire my anxiety on a level akin to CNN's terrorist RED ALERT status. Since school has begun I've been having all sorts of anxiety-related issues including: worrying about anything school related, an inability to concentrate on anything longer than 2 minutes (ADD anyone?), and a case of insomnia on par with a two week methamphetamine bender.

Sleep. Oh, glorious sleep. How I wish you and I were still friends...

I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in over a week and doping myself up with Tylenol PM wasn't working, so I decide it was time to take things to a higher level...the level that involves seeing a head shrinker and a prescription for anti-anxiety meds. The clincher for my scheduling an apppointment was the full-blown anxiety attack I had last night.

I've had panic attacks before and if anyone else out there has experienced the evil, vindictive, nature of the human body you know these are no picnic in the park. Obviously I have been stressed out with school and the fact I didn't score a personal best (more like personal worst!) on my first test. Pile on top of that the fact that Tank was taking her sweet fat ass time moving out of our place, necessitating me yelling at her for a good five minutes last night, and I was primed for anxiety attacks.

As I am no fan of confrontation, the attack started when I got back to the house to find Tank on the couch, where she had most likely been all day. She hadn't packed a single damn thing yet and was supposed to have pretty much all of it moved out on Tuesday. I blew up at her and then started hyperventilating, shaking, and had tears running down my face. NO FUN. It ended after about 15 minutes of pure torturous hell, but I was fucked in the head for the rest of the night.

Hence todays visit with Dr. Headshrinker where I left with 3, count 'em 3, prescriptions for various antidepressants and antianxiety meds. Granted one of them is only to be used during severe panic attacks, but the other two are popped daily before bed to a) balance me out and b) knock me the hell out so I can sleep through the night without having anatomy nightmares.

Therefore, I come to you tonight in a drowsy pharmaceutical haze. AND I LIKE IT. A LOT. The meds are starting to kick in and the sleepiness is taking over. Pretty soon I'm not going to be able to type a coherent sentence anymore.....

All I can say.....

THANK GOD FOR MODERN MEDICINE!!!

You reach a point in every relationship....

2005-08-29T13:19:00.000-07:00

...where your boyfriend decides it is now okay to blatantly pass gas in front of you.

For me that momentous occasion was Sunday night and boy was it a doozy. Dan and I had just gotten done with a great "nookie" session, which as usual has been spurred by the amount of stress in my life. And, as I think that sex leaves me feeling all slimy and icky afterwards (if you don 't believe me, please see my dislikes list from a previous post), I suggested we hop in the shower for a quick rinse down.

Showering held a dual purpose. Not only was I rinsing off all the icky guy stuff that just so happens to be a regular part of the sex act, but I would be clean for class tomorrow...and that meant an extra twenty minutes of sleeping in time, which is something I value more than gold at this point in my life.

We're in the shower, doing your basic shower duties when Dan accidently squeaks out a little *poot*. I just had to laugh, as this was the first time he had ever farted in front of me. I hadn't even caught him doing it in his sleep yet, which is usually the norm with relationships or at least in my experience it is.

However, the fart stunk. To high heaven! So, my little laughter turned into me plugging my nose and laughing so hard that tears came to my eyes, all the while I was criticizing his smelly ass in a sort of Pee Wee Herman voice (due to the plugged up nose).

I should have thought about my actions because we ladies know that all men find farting to be the funniest thing in the world. Apparently, I was egging him on 'cause it didn't end with just that little *poot*.

Next thing I hear is an all out, earth shaking, could have been a 7 on the Richter Scale, blew the shower curtain out of the tub, fart from the depth of his bowels. Yes, I have now learned that men can fart on command. Oh, and how it stank. Not quite peel the paint off the walls and make your eyes water stank....more of that blunted, rotting meat that has been left in the sun for a day sort of stank.

Dan literally laughed his ass off, as I think the damn thing was blown away. And, being the sick tomboy-ish girl that I am.....I laughed too.

All I could say was, "Why'd you have to do it a second time? I think I got the point with the first one!"

His response:

"Oh, come on! You were asking for that one. I could have let it out all silently, but I figured I would go for the gold and let 'er rip."

All I could say back to him.....

"You know I will be putting this on the internet."

Silly Grandma....Are You Sure You Aren't Senile?

2005-08-24T21:07:00.000-07:00

For anyone to understand why I think my Grandma is gonzo you have to know my dysfunctional family history, which is a book and a half, in and of itself. And as I HATE explaining it to people I've just met because they usually look at me as if I am either:
A. An orphan akin to Fievel in An American Tale (Am I the only one who remembers this?)
B. Am looking for their pity and/or attention.
I usually forgo the story for a condensed, Reader's Digest, sort of version to get my point across.

It goes a little something like this......

My biological father, aka "The Sperm Donor", epitomized the term Deadbeat Dad. He bailed on my mother shortly after she found out she was preggos with me; they divorced and out popped me, her little bundle of joy. As my mother is generally a decent human being (unless she's fighting with me) she promoted me having contact with the S.D's parents. As for the S.D.? I never really knew him or cared to...and I still don't.

Key Point: I've got three sets of grandparents. The gonzo grandma is the S.D's mom.

Mi madre remarried when I was still in diapers and not only did I get a new baby brother (and future pain in my ass), I got a new Dad too. In all reality, as a child I had a relatively normal family, except for the three sets of grandparents thing.

Well, long story short...I got older and still chose to have no contact with the S.D. even though Grams kept pushing him on me in all sorts of uncomfortable situations.

An example of such would be the Thanksgiving I got to meet his new wife. He had married a woman 3 years older than me and they have a kid together for fuck's sake! Do you really expect me to want a relationship or even to respect that? Sorry if I sound callous, but my "step-mom", as if I would ever call her that, is 29...I can't even wrap my mind around that. It is just WRONG in my book.

Fast forward to the present day where I get a call from Grams letting me know she is planning a trip out to Minnesota to visit with my great-aunts up north. Primarily it is a shitload of small talk, but then the conversation took a turn towards interesting...

"Katie, do you know what happened on Monday?"

"Ummm, no."

Meanwhile, in my head I am racing through all manner of important dates but pulling a complete blank as I always do. My mother is my personal roladex of birthday info. She remembers everything, whereas I remember no dates at all. I can usually hit the month but that is about as accurate as I'll ever be. My dad has the same problem. He misses my birthday every year, and I probably get that trait from him.

"Are you sure you can't think of anything important that would have happened this week?"

"Grandma, did I forget Grandpa's birthday or something? I've just been really busy with school...."

(Note: I unsuccessfully try to cover my ass.)

"No, Katie, a certain someone turned the big 5-0 on Monday. I am sure you know it now!"

"Ummmm, Uncle Michael?"

"NO, your Dad. Mark just had his 50th birthday! How can you not remember that."

"Grandma, you know we don't keep in touch....how would I know that?"

As I start to fume that she is brining this up AGAIN I am thinking that a) I haven't kept in touch with his ass ever and b) we've already had the fight over me "fixing" the family....it ain't gonna happen and c) I HAVE NEVER, EVER, CALLED HIM DAD AND NEVER WILL.

"Well, maybe you should call him once in a while and you would know these things. Family is important, especially when you are older."

"Unless he needs to match me as a donor for some transplant, we really don't need to talk. (And even then he might be pushing it....) We've been over this Grandma."

She then proceeds to change the subject to something more "pleasant", her word not mine, and the convo was over within a couple of minutes. I know she just wants to mend broken bridges in her old age and that is admirable and all, but it was his fuck-up not hers. I don't think she should have to fix something he isn't able to!

And that is what I think about it!

Later!!!!!!!

Does Stress Make You Horny?

2005-08-23T21:33:00.000-07:00

I have my first anatomy test on Friday and subsequently am stressed out beyond all belief and recognition. Normal people would be living, breathing, and dreaming anatomy. And, if they are hard core, sweating it out of there pores. Oh wait, I do that already.

During our kickball game on Friday I started sweating my ass off in the mad humidity and it smelled like dead body. Two words: Fucking Disgusting. One sentence: All I wanted to do was shower, but it wouldn't go away.

Back to the living, breathing, dreaming about body parts...apparently that doesn't apply to me.

All I can think about is sex and how I want to get laid. CONSTANTLY.

So, instead of budgeting my study time and all that other time management bullshit they cram down our throats I am looking for any opportunity to corner my boyfriend and "relieve some stress." And while the poor guy isn't complaining he's definitely wondering what the hell is up with my libido.

Oh well, I guess there are some perks to medical school. Let's just hope I pass the test.

Time to go wake Dan up....AGAIN.

A Supportive Family? What's That?

2005-08-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

I finally got enough time, after studying for six hours straight, to call the 'rents and let them know I am alive and have survived my first "full" week of med school.

They really didn't care. I have a very sympathetic and understanding family if you couldn't tell.

I also had to call my Dad and discuss my computer's unfortunate suicide attempt. Yes, unfortunate attempt because it had to occur the very week of my first anatomy exam, when I need it to load up my lectures online so I don't have to spend countless hours in the slow as shit school computer lab! So, unless Dan is able to resurrect Darwin (Yes, I named my computer after Charles Darwin....I am a HUGE dork, I know) from the life eternal I will be forced to budget in a new laptop because a laptop is one of the few "extras" that is absolutely necessary for me to make it through school.

My Dad's reaction to my incessant bitching, whining, and/or complaining was to say, "I am glad you finally found something that challenges you. It sucks being on the bottom for once, doesn't it, Kate?" Yeah Dad, I love you too and thanks for all the wonderful support you've given me. Am I supposed to make medical school sound all peachy-keen all of the time? 'Cause it definitely ain't! If I can't bitch to the fam then: WHO AM I ALLOWED TO WHINE TO?

Oh, yes, that would be you, poor and unfortunate, souls.

My Mom, on the other hand, was worse than Dad. When I was telling her how worried I was about passing this first exam, as I ALWAYS get some major test anxiety, she interjected with, "I wonder what percentage of medical students fail out?" I told her that the actual percentage was less that 1% that fail, drop out, or are kicked out....yet another worthless and random fact I picked up between nap sessions at orientation. She then just had to pull one of her signature underhand jabs by saying, "Well, watch you be that 1%." Again, thanks for the freaking support family!

Apparently, med school is like the mafia. Once you're in, you're in for life. Dropping out does two things for a medical school:

1. Make them look like crap because they can't keep their students by ruining all those wonderful statistics they contrive to place on every possible piece of promotional propaganda.

2. Actually costs them money. I just found this out and it came as a surprise to me, but apparently medical education is actually more expensive than the horrendous tuition I pay every year. At least at my state school, the school subsidizes a decent portion of the tuition...so if I drop out, they're eating that cost.

Now, as if I give a rat's ass if the school looks bad if I were to drop out. The main reason I wouldn't even freaking consider it is because I still would have to pay back the 40 grand in loans I have taken out for my first year....and on my measely microbiologist salary that would take a long ass time.

It's the mafia, man. I'm made, baby. Made. And I like it.

Where did my time go?

2005-08-20T12:36:00.000-07:00

I wish I could post more often than I have been, but my internet time now is truly a luxury. My life consists of sleep, school, and studying. It sucks. But I have to keep telling myself it will pay off in the end. Anatomy is seriously kicking my ass. We have a test next Friday and right now that is all that's on my mind...that and the huge bender I am going on that weekend.

The sad thing is anatomy is pretty much the only thing that is on my mind. I dream about anatomy parts and even visualize my cadaver when I close my eyes! I hope this means I am learning this shit...but I still thank God my school is a pass/fail system.

As for anything new and interesting in my life....

My Dad read one of my blog entries talking about my first reactions to anatomy. He only comment:

"Kate, now that you are an actual "professional" maybe you should stop with all the swearing. I know you can articulate yourself better than that, so why do you insist on sounding so crass?"

My response:

"Don't worry about it, Pops. You'll still be able to marry me off someday.....or else I'll be able to support myself and won't be your problem!"

He just laughs at me. I think he worries that I am not lady-like enough. I guess that is what you get when you raise your daughter to be a tomboy!

Why I Hate 21-Year Old Bitches...And Am Glad I'm Now 26

2005-08-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

As you have now seen the camping pictures from this weekend, I should probably explain to you the misery that I went through in that one hellacious day because:
A. I don't think I've managed to do that yet.
B. I really need to bitch about it.
C. I know that only women will really understand the shit fit (or "Kate
Fit" to coin a term previously used by Kim!) I threw that evening.

From the start I knew this weekend was going to be a pain in my ass. Were I able to extricate myself from the commitment earlier, I would have. Problem is...I'm too nice. That and there was no way Dan would have let me weasel my way out of it after I had been so excited to go. Yes, initially I was all for camping and floating the Apple River (You Montana folk, think floating the Madison) but that was before I started medical school and was immediately buried up to my ass in anatomy. Also, I had just spent four nights camping the week before. I didn't think one could be "burned out" on camping and drinking, but after WeFest I pretty much was.

Okay, so I went in to the trip with a bad attitude...but in my case, who wouldn't? We did managed to get out of camping on Friday night, thank God, because our kickball team would have had to forfeit if we couldn't make the game. Dan still wanted to head up after the game, but I exercised the power of a relationship veto. After all day at school, five hours of which were spent on my feet with the dumbest f-ing lab partnet one could have (more on that later), and then playing kickball we had no time to pack. I didn't see the point in rushing to pack all of our shit up only to get to the campsite after 11:00 at night. All I would want to do at that point would be to pitch the damn tent, inflate the air mattress, and pass the fuck out.

So, we trekked up to the Apple River, about a one hour drive from Minneapolis into Wisconsin, just in time to meet up with the already drunk posse that had been there since Friday. After setting up the tent, having a few drinks, and playing some games of washers and polish golf the group decides it is time to float the Apple River. Now I must say I was on the fence on this one because it was a bit breezy and chilly out...but apparently I am a slave to peer pressure and was convinced to float the river. My night went downhill from there.

Here is the breakdown:

* Float three hours down the Apple River freezing my ass off the entire way. I am actually shivering most of the way down, shaking legs and all. I was miserable.

* Witness drunk teenage, whorish, girls flashing their tits to the guys in the group all the way down in order to get cheesy-ass Mardi Gras beads. I am so glad I wasn't like that...and even if I ever were to be, I had great friends to keep my ass in check!

* On the mini-hike back to the campsite, get asked by some drunk, creepy, old guy at a nearby campsite to, "show me your clam". Are you f-ing kidding me?!?!?!?!

* As I am freezing my ass off I burrow down into my sleeping bag in order to attempt to gain feeling back into my toes. After almost three hours in there, I realize there is no hope of warmth I emerge only to find it has become a 21 year old bimbo party at the campsite, of which I want no part of.

* I eat and socialize for a bit before heading back to the tent. However, before this I distinctly remember telling Dan to come to bed soon because I didn't think this would be a good situation. The drunk, single, thirty-something friends of his coudl flirt with the hootchies all they wanted...but I really didn't want him doing it.

* I pass out for the time being only to wake up to hear these girls telling Dan he deserved a blow job for him finding their purse...that and their incessant flirting with him.

* Learning after the knock-down drag-out fight with Dan about this whorish chicks that one of them actually wanted him to "take a walk back to her tent."

Yup, that was my campinig trip. Dan and I eventually made up the next morning, but boy did he sure get the brunt of my hissy fit...and I must say I think he deserved it.

As he put it, "I don't think I did anything wrong." And then there was my response....

"You didn't do anything RIGHT either."

Being Drunk & Stupid...

2005-08-14T17:53:00.000-07:00

Camping @ The Apple River In Wisconsin

2005-08-14T17:46:00.000-07:00

I can't look at human bodies the same...

2005-08-14T17:15:00.000-07:00

Ever since anatomy started and I spend 4 hours a day dissecting a fairly obese human body I can not look at people with normal body weights the same. For example, the conversation I had with Dan, my super-skinny boyfriend, yesterday morning:

"You know, you would be a perfect cadaver."

"Wha-what are you talking about? Why?"

"Because you have almost 0% body fat and good muscle definition. You would be an easy dissection."

"I hope you realize how sick and wrong that sounds."

"Yeah, I do. But when you spend an hour of your lab time peeling of globs of fat you start to wish you had a skinny one too. Even if they dry out faster."

"Kate, that's disgusting."

"Sorry. I can't help myself."

"As long as you don't talk about it while we're eating you're fine."

Does anyone else see where I'm coming from? Probably not...but I just had to say it.

The First Dissection

2005-08-11T21:49:00.000-07:00

Thank God that Med School Orientation is finally over! It couldn't have been a more worthless waste of my time....unless you count the time I was forced to sit through an entire convention on the History of Medicine. There is a reason I'm no longer a student in that program and it wasn't all the crazy, left wing, liberals that were going to be my future colleagues. Honestly, orientation could have been crammed in to a day and a half at max. My recommendation for next year folks....actually make shit mandatory. I sure as hell wasn't going to show up for the optional seminars on spiritual well being. That was just another hour I could sleep in.

However, on the flip side to the boring-ness that was orientation, my ass is offically being handed to me on a silver f-ing platter when it comes to the material I've got to study. They waste NO time in throwing you into the mix of anatomy. Today was my first lecture and lab and my mind is still unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the information we are required to investigate, assimilate, and then regurgitate.

Oh, and yes...I am working on a Pass/Fail system. But let me tell you, that doesn't make it one iota easier.

As for the dissection...here's some key points from today's experiences...hopefully you find them as entertaining as I did....

* No, I didn't pass out or do anything embarrassing upon first seeing my cadaver. Overall, it didn't have that much of an affect on me.

* The smell of embalmed body does reek to high heaven and stays on your hands for the rest of the night, even after double gloving....I am still catching wiffs here and there and it is now midnight!

* Body fat is disgusting and my individual has quite a bit of it. It is not fun to work with at all, is oily, an awful yellowish color, and reminds me of cooking oil. The take home lesson to you folks is this: DON'T GET FAT. I now know what y'all look like on the insides and trust me. It ain't pretty.

* Textbooks lie. Anatomical structures are not always where they're supposed to be and sometimes you might not have one of something or worse yet you'll have two.

* Another thing about the books....they make dissection look easy. Reality: IT IS HARDER THAN F-ING HELL TO FIND ANYTHING ON A CADAVER. And once you do, you lose it in the mix of body parts as soon as you glance away.

* As depressing as it might sound to y'all...I am actually really enjoying it. Well, so far.

Give me a week and I am apt to be singing a different tune.

WeFest

2005-08-08T17:44:00.000-07:00

I'm alive. I made it through four nights of camping, being drunk by noon everyday, and ninety degree heat...and still have my sanity. However, don't let my optimism fool you. It was definitely a rough ride.

We arrived at the campground by midafternoon on Wednesday to the crowd of drunk girls who left in the wee small hours of the morning in order to claim "prime" camping territory. No sooner had Dan unloaded the coolers than there was a cold beer in my hand...and it all went downhill from there.

I proceeded to get pretty buzzed, then due to my inebriated state became pissy at Dan because he was too busy playing volleyball with some dumb underage bimbos...and their male equivalents. That is what I get for dating a sports freak. When it comes to volleyball (or softball for that matter) he is like my Mom's labrador retriever, Kristy. That damn dog will chase her freaking ball until she is dead on her feet. In comparison, Dan would have spent all night playing volleyball...not to hit on the women, but just to play the damn game.

My pissiness led to an interesting trek with the chicas throughout various campsites where we came across a group who decided to make 5000+ Jello Shots for the weekend. Somehow I managed to consume over 12 shots in the span of our little visit and it was 'Bye-Bye Katie' for the rest of the night.

The next day was no better.

I started drinking at 10:00 in the morning, was passed out by 3:00, and had yakked by 4:00. I blame the drinking games, especially Tippy Cup. Coming from the great Montana college drinking tradition (Okay, so I do still admit I am a lightweight) I thought I had seen most drinking games out there. I wasn't prepared for Tippy Cup!

This game consists of two groups of five lining up on either sides of a Ping Pong table with partially filled cups of beer. The goal of the game is to chug your beer, place your cup lip side down on the edge of the table, and flip it upright into a standing position. The team that gets through all their people first wins.

Sounds easy, right? WRONG!

You try doing that when you are already well on your way to shitcanned. Coordination is everything and seeing as how I am not the best in that department already I was screwed from the get go. That and the fact that you play in a "World Series" of seven games. If you weren't drunk when you started you are blitzed at the end.

Tippy Cup put me over the edge that night. I passed out, yakked, and passed out again...missing all the concerts that evening. BAD KATE!!!! However, I don't feel so bad because Dan was right behind me in the yakking department....he he he he.

As for the concerts I did make it to...they were great! Toby Keith was the headliner on Thursday night and put on a rough and rowdy show. Prior to him was Big & Rich who really rocked it in their redneck way. Saturday I saw Trick Pony, Gretchen Wilson, and Tim McGraw. All were great and Tim doing 'Don't Take The Girl' brought tears to my eyes. I am such a sap!

Well, more later. I start med school this week so I am sure will have great tales of my first cadaver experience.

Check Ya!

--Kate

I just have to keep telling myself, "It's only one more month, Kate...."

2005-08-02T09:18:00.000-07:00

Did I ever mention that I absolutely can not stand my roommate, Tank?

Oh yeah, it makes it into my blog on a weekly basis. Anyone who has even glanced at this blog has to know that even the most remote gesture on her part to be human annoys the piss out of me. And last night was no exception....

Prior to my rude awakening at 3 in the freaking morning I had spent a quiet night at home catching up on all those random chores you seem to forget about when you spend every night at your boyfriends....in order to get away from Tank. I had gone to bed at 11:00 and was looking forward to a peaceful nights sleep because my allergies had been flaring up due to all the nasty ragweed in bloom. Having spent the previous two nights fitfully tossing about the bed, nailing Dan several times in the process, and having my nose morph into a dripping garden hose left me quite crabby. I was prone to snapping at any moment...and that I did.

It is important to note that I had taken 2 Tylenol PM prior to bedtime so that I would be completely comatose to anything the Tank could throw at me come bar close. Oh, how I wished it had worked.

I was jarred awake at 3 a.m. to the sound of a herd of elephants converging on our front room. It wasn't just the stomping of feet either...there was a lot of loud trumpeting sounds, which I have now determined is Tank's mating call. Her laugh is loud and booms throughout the entire duplex. I don't know how the landlord next door stands it...I would have evicted her just on that premise a long time ago.

I stewed in my own anger for about 5 minutes before I burst out of my room in a fit of rage. Remember, I am the queen of nonconfrontation. It was my hope that she might attempt at respecting her roommates for once in her alcohol-induced stupor of a life.....I was wrong, again.

Rounding the corner into the living room I came across Tank's idea of a Monday night afterparty, 15 people crowded into the living room drinking all of the booze in the liqour cabinet (of which 0.0% is Tanks) and watching The Blue Collar Comedy Tour. Quickly scanning the room I realize that the offending roommate is nowhere to be found, which pisses me off even more. At this point everyone has stopped their laughing/mindless conversations and is now staring at me as if I've sprouted three heads and an extra set of breasts for good measure.

"Can you guys please keep it down in here. It is three in the damn morning and both Sarah and I have to be up at 7 for work."

This is followed by a series of garbled apologies and promises to attempt a modicum of queitness...all of which I know is unachievable in their state of inebriation.

"Oh, and where is my roommate who is actually responsible for this little party?"

People pointed at the door, saying she was outside with the others...and one of the girls snidely remarks, "Oh, she is in for it now. She pissed off the wrong roommate."

I turned to her and said, "Your right she pissed me off. It is a Monday night. Why aren't you at one of YOUR houses, instead of mine?" I then stomp out the door looking for Tank, who I find on the front steps toking a bowl with three of her cronies.

She knew she was in trouble when she saw me behind her and immediately started apologizing. I told her the same thing I told the retards inside, which motivated Tank to yell through the door (after I had just told her that I wanted QUIET), "EVERYBODY BETTER BE QUIET IN THERE. MY ROOMMATES ARE TRYING TO SLEEP."

At this point I just gave up and stormed back to my room. There is no getting through her cro-magnon brain. But apparently my bitchiness to everyone else worked because the quickly shut up and the party had dispersed within the hour.

One month.

The countdown begins....

Why I Am A Redneck....

2005-08-01T13:07:00.000-07:00

From Wednesday on you won't be hearing from me because I will be "Up North" in Detroit Lakes, MN for WeFest. This is a series of concerts that just goes to show you can take the girl out of the country....but you'll never be able to take the country out of the girl! It is a three day concert series featuring some of the best names in country music. For example, this weekend I will get to see Toby Keith, Tim McGraw, Alan Jackson, Big & Rich, Gretchen Wilson, Trick Pony, Sawyer Brown, and The Charlie Daniels Band.

Now that is my idea of one last hurray before I start medical school on Monday! Good music, great friends, and an endless river of booze. Could a girl really ask for more?

I think not.

Is this a predictor for our relationship?

2005-07-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

Last night on our way home from softball Dan had a revelation.

He decided what "our song" was.

Yes, I know this makes him sound like a big pansy because what real man comes up with the song that defines your whole relationship? However, don't write him off yet. You don't know what he picked.

Get ready for this.....it was....

Talk Dirty To Me

Poison

"You've got to be kidding me,"I said through my gales of laughter, but then paused when I saw the semi-serious look he had on his face. God, I hate it when he does that. I can never tell when he is joking.

"Nah, I'm just giving you shit," he says as he is singing along with the song, which is conveniently playing in the background.

Down the basement...Lock the cellar door...And baby...Talk dirty to me

He further clarified with,"This can be our pseudo-song...we'll find something better...but you have to admit that's funny."

"Yeah, it's funny all right. But if we ever manage to get married you do realize I'll make damn sure this song is played at the reception."

"And that is why I like you."

Good God. I can already see the looks of horror on the faces of our religious, uber-conservative, relatives faces when the realize we are dancing to a song about horny teenagers getting it on in a basement.

And so goes my life..........

Now this is a tour I want to do...

2005-07-27T11:58:00.000-07:00

We all have movies from our childhood we can't let go of. Ones we loved so much the VHS was worn down from all the times we "just had to watch it".

My all-time favorite has to be The Goonies. Who can forget Chunk's "truffle shuffle", Sloth hollering out "Hey, you guuuuuuuuuys!", or Data's gadgets? And everyone has a favorite character. Mine, you ask?

Data.

Man, that kid had the coolest inventions ever! And, being the technology nerd that I am, I would have given anything for his rockin' utility belt. What can I say...I wanted to be Data. Screw the girls. Simpering, whiny, Andie....no way! And what was my other option? Oh yeah, Stef, the geeky, bespectacled, dork of a friend. I'll pass, thank you very much!

Now, back to the point of this entry....as I was mindlessly surfing the internet superhighway today I came across this website that you have to check out if you are, or ever were, a true Goonies fan.

You can actually tour the Goondocks!!!!! How freaking fun would that be? Go on a mini-vacay to Astoria, OR...get a little buzz going...and check out all the places The Goonies was filmed at.

Okay, so maybe I am one of the few and the proud who will actually admit I would do this if given the opportunity, but is was a piece of my childhood!

Hey, Erica....if I manage to make it to Portland in the near future I have a little adventure for us....are you game?

God, I am still such a kid at heart. And I hope it never changes.

Quote #5

2005-07-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm a guy's girl...a total Betty with a Veronica sex drive.

And, while I don't remember exactly where I saw it...I think it describes me to a T.

What do you think, Dan?

He he he he he he....

My name really should be CLUMSY, not Kate.

2005-07-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

As I am still bored at work and have exactly 30 minutes until I can "back that ass up" (it was playing on the radio is stuck in my head, sorry.) out the door and head for freedom I figured what else better do I have to do than entertain y'all with embarrassing stories about ME.

*insert gleeful, happy, noises here*

And what better to make fun of your narrator for than the fact that she can't seem to put two feet in front of the other without tripping over them. I have numerous stories that involve me tripping, falling, slipping, or sliding my way into an oblivion of scrapes and bruises.

Here let me give you the rundown since childhood....it'll be entertaining. I promise.

Age 3: We were living outside of Portland, OR for a short while in an area known for its preponderance of slugs. Big, slimy, ooozy, nasty ass Banana Slugs. To get rid of these gooey monsters you walk around your deck with a saltshaker, salting the fuck out of them until they shrivel up and die.

Have you ever seen one? They get huge. Here... take a nice long look.

Aren't they disgusting?

Well, imagine being a 3 year old and getting one of those fuckers attached to your leg. You'd freak out to, right?

I did. And proceeded to fall down the deck stairs, nearly escaping a broken neck or something-or-the-other. After the shock wore off at almost having lost their first born my parents couldn't stop laughing their asses off.

Age 8: I was staying with my Aunt at her cabin on Crystal Lake (yeah, I thought the analogy to Friday the 13th was creepy too) for the weekend. Well, I'm scared of the dark. Oh, the dark and especially outhouses in the dark. What can I say...they're scary man. You don't know what could come crawling up out of there. I had to pee really damn bad, but it was dark and I didn't want to go by myself. My family thought it would be character building, or some shit like that, for me to do it on my own so no one would walk out there with me and keep watch.

What was a girl to do?

I threw open the sliding glass door and ran like hell for the outhouse, did my business, and sprinted back into the cabin. Oh yeah, the Fam also thought it was a good idea to shut the door behind me on my way out. My face disagreed with them. Running full-throttle into a sliding glass door isn't fun. After I came to, because of course I managed to knock myself out cold, I had two black eyes for weeks.

I still hate outhouses.

Age 10: Recreational soccer league, sixth grade. We were scrimmaging one another when this behometh of a twelve year old decides to get all agressive-like with the defender, me. I played defense for a reason, damn it! So that big, ugly, testoterone pumping adolescents...and I do mean females here...would leave me alone. My job was to kick the ball away from our goal not get in the mix with these brutes.

Well, she came after me when I had the ball and kicked me in the fucking knee. WE PLAYED ON THE SAME TEAM! We were just scrimmaging! Who does that? Especially when they are twelve years old. Needless to say, my knee locked up and I had to have surgery a year later. And while this isn't an instance of me being clumsy, per se, it only adds to the injuries I have sustained throughout my predominately uncoordinated childhood.

Okay, time is up. I can go home. I guess I will round out the rest of my stories later because there definitely are more!

On Sororities

2005-07-26T11:14:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been thinking about the comment made in my med school "Survival Guide" about how sorority girls are the only ones who completely understand the residency match process because it is like Rush. Her sarcastic comment, which I found to be absolutely hilarious (don't ask why...I am easily amused), has gotten me thinking about my experiences with Greek life and how it varies so much from those stereotypes I am sure you've all heard about.

Without knowing or ever having met me, having heard I was a sorority girl do you envision...
* A party girl, who drinks 5 out of 7 nights a week.
* Someone who sleeps around with every frat boy she can.
* A girl who cares more about how she looks, who her friends are, or the next sale at Saks 5th Avenue than school.
* A ditz, bimbo, easy lay, alcoholic, or that girl from high school you just utterly hated and you didn't know why....
* The leader of the pack from Mean Girls....taken to the collegiate level.

I could go on and on with the stereotypes...they really are endless. And I'll be honest, while I wasn't any of these girls, they do exist in any Greek system but are fewer and far between than you think. Maybe its because I went to Montana State instead of 'Ol Miss that I didn't get the whole stereotyping thing, but I do know those bitchy, self absorbed, and girly to the point of making me want to vomit wenches are out there. Trust me. I've met them at national conventions. I just chose not to deal with them and made the best of my experience. And, in all honesty, it was those girls that were probably in it for the wrong reasons.

Don't get me wrong...the rest of us were by no means innocent little angels. We did our fair share of drinking and have the crazy stories to go along with it, but it wasn't what defined us. And, in my eyes, what we did was no different than shit the average college student does on a daily basis. Our crap just got more publicity.

At MSU, the Greeks had their hands in every campus organization...usually holding leadership positions. Not to sound egotistical and big headed but we really did seem to run the school. It was the Greeks who organized people to go to the football games, were student government president, planned Homecoming, or were involved in any number of honors societies. As a Greek student we were expected to show up for things. And we did. Sometimes because we were threatened and had to...but we were there....a testament against the student apathy I often see in undergraduates as I walk across the med school campus.

You might say we were trained to be that way. To just show up. And that we didn't really put any feeling into the causes we supported. You call it showing up. I call it a sense of responsibility. And it has taken me farther in my life than pretty much anything else I learned in school. On being Greek, all I can say is that you get out of it what you put in it.

The stereotypes exist and unfortunately when I tell people I was a "sorority girl" I often have to justify why I did it. I hate doing this and usually write those people off very easily. If you can't look through the stereotype and see the real person are you really worth my time?

Okay, I'll get off my soapbox now that I've cleared my mind. I just consider myself lucky that I can call so many wonderful women sister instead of friend.

As for the residency match system, that girl who said it is completely right! Residency match is the same process as the bid system used by sororities nationwide....makes me wonder if the original match designer was a sister.....

Why I Chose The Right Medical School...

2005-07-25T07:57:00.000-07:00

Recently I received a HUGE packet in the mail from my future medical school (yes, I am choosing not to name it due to liability issues...it just seems better that way) regarding all the extraneous crap we need to accomplish before we start on August 8th. And, while most of it was boring info on financial aid, required immunizations, and our White Coat Ceremony the powers that be also included a "Survival Guide" for first years put together by the Class of 2008. This was sheer entertainment and completely reaffirms that I made the right decision to go to school here.

I can only prove this to you by giving you some excerpts of my favorite part, which they entitled "The Bathroom Wall". It was included at the very end of the packet and was meant as humorous tips on making it through your M1 year without going crazy.

So, here's what I need to do to be a successful M1:

On Attending Lectures:

* It's okay to sleep in the front row...it lets the professor know how boring they are.
* Medical school would be a real downer if you had to go to class.

On PWB 2-470: (M1 Lecture Hall)

* Watch out for the seats with the oddly protruding springs.
* There are cockroaches.

On Asking Questions:

*Don't be that guy.

On Getting Along:

* Be nice to your classmates...If you are a jerk now, you'll be a jerk forever...but you don't have to be Miss America either.
* Don't be that guy.
* Enjoy your classmates while you can, a couple weeks after anatomy an eighth of them will disappear...you are 80 % more likely to see them grinding at The Lodge than taking notes during lecture.

Wise Words:

* Mack a shit load in the fall cause Monday quizzes put a big damper on weekend hookin' up in the spring.
* Sex is wonderful, sex is nice; not everybody does it, but everybody should.
* With enough ass kissing , you can really go places.
* Don't read "Chicken Soup for the (insert anything here)" books...ever. Especially the ones for troubled teens or premature ejaculators. They ruined my life.
* Chicks dig doctors.
* "The rectal exam is like our handshake." --A Human Sexuality Professor

And my personal favorite....

* On Sorority Girls: Mock us if you will, but apparently we are the only ones who truly understand the complexities of residency matching. It's just like rush, which cracks me up!

More On Tank...What Else Do I Have To Make Fun Of?

2005-07-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

I think my roommate is a borderline-narcoleptic. Either that or she has some weird sleep disorder not yet discovered by modern medicine.

Case in point:

Today I got back from Dan's, where I had slept the night before in order to avoid said roommate even though he is out of town for the weekend, at roughly 11:00. Tank was in her usual position on the couch sound asleep. I don't even think an atomic bomb dropping next door would have woken her.

So, I got ready and left to run several errands. I returned many hours later...at around 5:00 to find her still asleep on the couch! Same position. I don't even think she'd shifted an inch.

Who does that? It definitely isn't normal.

Doesn't your back hurt after that long in a horizontal position? Mine would. I know hospital patients get bed sores....makes me wonder if she has any.

Scratch that. I don't want to know if she does.

Tank...Again

2005-07-22T07:46:00.000-07:00

As you may, or may not, know I have been avoiding my house like the plague lately, primarily because I can not stand to be in the same room as Tank for more than half an hour. Tank exists in our living room. She just is. And the living room has apparently come to accept that. It now smells like her and I find that to be thoroughly disgusting. Hence the reason I choose to stay at Dan's house if given the option.

However, Dan is in Denver for the weekend so I've been banished back to the den of inequity that is our apartment and forced to interact with Tank. The worst part about it is that my normal roommate, Sarah, is also out of town for the weekend so I have no one to talk to but Tank when I'm at home...there is nowhere for me to run people!

While Tank is usually comatose while she's in her bedroom, I mean the living room, sometimes she wakes up....and when that happens it pure torture for the unsuspecting schmoe who has sat down to enjoy reading a book, watching tv, or even having a phone conversation. She butts into everything, putting her two cents in even if she is wrong 99% of the time. Tank is a know-it-all in the worst way imaginable, but she seems to think she is a knowledge guru. She comments on anything from cooking to medical school to sex...all of which makes me wish she was deaf, dumb, and blind. Helen Keller would have been a better roommate!

All of this raving brings me to the disgusting-ness I saw on my way out the door this morning. It was definitely something I did not need to see:
1. In our living room
2. On MY couch
3. At 8:00 in the morning when I'd only be awake for 20 minutes.

As I am not a morning person at all I got out of bed with 15 minutes to hurriedly wash my face, put on make-up, and scramble out the door to make it in to work by 8:30. Yes, I spend a half hour commuting out of the cities...but it is better than the hour and half most people spend commuting IN to the cities. So, as I am in the kitchen gathering my things to bolt out the door I hear some unnatural noises coming from the living room, namely sucking face noises that no one has heard since we were in high school and making out with a guy for the first time.

I slammed my work bag onto the kitchen counter in the hopes of causing her to detach from random dude's face....but it was of no use. I think the woman lives a second life as a leech, because when I rounded the corner I got an eyeful of Tank straddling this random, who wasn't half bad looking by the way...I don't know how she gets them, and sucking his face off like there was no tomorrow. Just the site of her thunderous, pasty, white thighs and her bathrobe jacked up to her nether regions about made me gag...but then the face sucking!?!?!?!?! I began to have flashbacks to Monday night's yakking episode and the nausea set in.

I quickly exited with the minimal amount of conversation. And thank God she is working tonight so I'll only have to see her on the couch when I wake-up in the morning. Let's just hope she's flying solo.....

My Chronological Progression In To Drunkenness...

2005-07-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

Chug-a-Lug, Chug-a-Lug....Mmmmm...The Wanderer's Punches were tasting yummy at this point.

Got a bit of a buzz going. I am demonstrating how I dance like a "soccer mom" as my friends so aptly named it.

Where'd my drink go? Come on guys...no fair taking it away from me!!!!

Going, going, and pretty much gone by this point. Too bad I still had a full drink!

Evil Ducky Is Watching You.....

2005-07-22T07:07:00.000-07:00

A great big thank you goes out to Bubba for this fun birthday present! Of course, it is my oldest and bestest friend who truly knows how evil I am at times....

Oh, and on a side note, the duck and I both have some slanty looking eyes going on in the picture....

Birthday Night....Still Sober..But With A Double Chin?

2005-07-22T07:03:00.000-07:00

Wanderer's Punch

2005-07-22T06:58:00.000-07:00

Better known as....

The evil poison that made me yakk on my birthday.

An everchanging list of things that piss me off and bug the shit out of me at any given moment....

2005-07-21T14:25:00.000-07:00

1. Biting flies. I don't remember ever having to deal with these fuckers 'til I moved to Minnesota. They're worse than mosquitoes and impervious to bug spray.

2. Drivers who don't use their turn signal on the interstate/freeway/backcountry roads....you name it. It pisses me off to no end.

3. My roommate, Tank. 'Nuff said.

4. My worthless job where I sit and surf the internet all day when I do have better things I could be doing with my time; however, those things don't pay the bills. Only 8 days left people and I am free from this mind numbing torture!!!!!!

5. Packing up my crap and moving, followed closely behind by finding a new apartment. It is on par with getting a tooth pulled without anesthetic.

6. Department meetings where they don't turn the lights off during a presentation...that way I can't subtly nod off and have naptime like I usually do.

7. People borrowing my shit....clothes, jewelry, food.....IT'S MINE DAMN IT! Get your own if you want it that bad!

8. Buying a whole new box of Tampons for the bathroom, only to find they are all gone, and the wenches haven't replaced them, when I actually need one.

9. Arguing with the Customer Service center at Target about returning something. Could they take any longer and be any more stupid about it? Is it really that hard to return something?

10. How you sometimes can feel all slimy and icky after sex. There is a reason people want to shower afterwards and I don't blame them! Okay, so you probably didn't want to hear that one...but it's true!

The Birthday Blues...

2005-07-20T13:39:00.000-07:00

Never before has two drinks gotten me wasted to the point of yakking. I guess I never fully experienced the phenomenon known as "Wanderer's Punch" though. Yup, two of these babies and I was bent over the commode yakking away at midnight on a Monday....after my failed attempt at drunken seduction...my poor boyfriend! There really is nothing I can say to defend my actions that evening. I was a word slurring, stumbling into walls, drunken fool. So, a big thanks goes out to everyone who put up with me!

I guess I should explain the events of the evening and my subsequent hangover the next day so you have a better idea of the hellacious poison I was imbibing. The drink is called a "Wanderer's Punch", and is quite appropriate because if you drink two of these babies you WILL be wandering around like a drunken idiot...or more aptly like my crazy Indian brethren who loiter around the I-94 off-ramp near my house. The drink consists of about a bazillion different kinds of rum, including the "light me on fire 'cause I'm 100+ proof" 151.....with a splash of something fruity to take the edge off. And let me tell you...the splash of juice...it doesn't work.

We'd decided on the Red Dragon for drinks because it's locate two blocks from my house. Therefore, no one would be drinking and driving....yeah, we thought we were being responsible. Who knew that responsible actually meant limiting me to one drink for the entire evening? NOT ME! The problem is, for all the alcohol in that little glass goblet, they went down awfully smoothly...so I just had to have another....and then half of another.

While I was not the only one in the group a wee bit tipsy by the time we walked home, I was by far the worse for the wear. Everyone knew I was getting drunk when my ever present P.C.-ness (at least in the cities because everyone bites my head of at the mere mention of something that isn't politically correct) went out the window. I believe that occurred when we were toasting to our respective heritage. It went something like this:

Friend #1: Here's to being German! I'll drink to that. You know it's in my blood.
Friend #2: I second that!
Friend #3: Well, I'm Irish so you know we can drink, even more than you Germans.
Friend #4: I'll drink to that...but I'm worse. I'm Scottish too!
Me: Well, I'll drink last because I'm Indian. And we always have to have the last drink! It's what we do best!

Note: Sorry if I offend anyone by my statement. Remember I was completely obliterated by this point. Oh, and I AM Indian...I own it so I can say it!

Needless to say my statement caused everyone to about sneeze their drinks out of their noses...all the while they were furtively looking around the room to see who I could have possibly offended now. No one even noticed or would have cared in that joint. But I still got a tongue lashing on how I needed to work on being tactful in public. Awww, hell. It was my birthday and I was drunk.

The walk home was relatively uneventful. While I was unable to walk in a straight line I managed to make it home safely with the support of Dan. This meant me leaning on his shoulder the entire way and walking at a 45 degree angle.

Bed time. Now that was a different story.

I went to bed, still blissfully drunk, thinking, "Hey, I haven't seen my boyfriend in almost a week and it's my birthday...I better try and get some." Wow! Was I an idiot. I don't think I could have formed coherent sentences let alone try and make-out with someone. So, our "make-out" disaster was cut abruptly short, with me deciding the room was definitely spinning and that I needed to sleep on the floor. For whatever reason this usually works for me. Call me what you will, but when I am that wasted I usually pass out on my bedroom (or bathroom depending on how bad the night is) floor.

Well, the floor wasn't cutting it. I guess I scared the crap out of Dan, who was passing out in the bed above me, when I bolted out of my room for the bathroom. I guess the spins got me. And I yakked. And then I felt alot better. But not better enough to sleep in the bed. I camped out on the floor, waking up to my alarm at 7:30 in the mornign with a pounding headache and the urge to throw-up AGAIN.

There was no way I could go to work. Honestly, I thought I might still be drunk! So, I called in "sick" saying I'd gotten food poisoning the night before. Yeah, likely story, but it worked. I proceeded to spend the rest of the day sleeping off my hangover and quelling the ever present nausea with greasy McDonald's fries and a Super Size 7-Up. And I still had a headache at 10:00 at night!

What is the take away lesson from this experience?

Don't drink RUM. It fucks with your head. Big time. I mean really. TWO DRINKS and I was this bad? I'd hate to see me on an all-night rum bender.

DRINKING RUM = MY OWN PERSONAL HANGOVER HELL

Proof The Company I Work For Is Odd....

2005-07-18T14:25:00.000-07:00

They want us to turn the lights out in the huge coporate (we're talking 10+ stalls here, people!) bathroom after we are done using it to conserve electricity.

Maybe it is just me, but isn't that weird to you?

Stupid liberal CEOs with their uber-left wing liberal company and their even crazier liberal ideas about environmental conservation. I can't even pee in peace now without someone forgetting I'm in there and turning the lights off on me as they leave.

And trust me it's happened. TWICE.

That and the toilet bowl water is always this funky yellow-green color from the "environmentally friendly" bowl cleaner they use. Everytime I go in a stall it looks like someone has been there before me and just forgot to flush. It's gross.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Some Things I've Learned After 26 Years...

2005-07-18T08:34:00.000-07:00

1. You can't pick your family, but you sure as hell can pick your friends.

2. Never sacrifice your dreams for a relationship. It's either going to blow up in your face or if it works out you will be wondering "what if" for the rest of your life and holding it against them.

3. Don't have kids until you are good and ready. And never have a child to try and "fix" any problems in your relationship. It never works.

4. Do make every effort to stay in touch with old friends. Good friends, regardless of how far away they live from you, are a rare commodity that need to be cherished and not forgotten.

5. Don't be afraid to take the road less traveled and make a lot of mistakes along the way. Hell, I never would have ended up in med school if I hadn't tried graduate school first, hated it, and then had to work in a "real" job using my degree for a year....It took all that for me to realize I would only be happy in my career if I went in to medicine.

6. Never look at setbacks in your life as failure. I like to think of them as hiccups...sometimes hiccups that won't go away for years at a time, but hiccups none the less. It's when you start to view them as mountains that they'll become insurmountable.

7. Fall in love and get your heart broken at least once in your life. It hurts like hell, but you learn an infinite amount about yourself in the process.

8. Don't be afraid to say "I Love You." You can never know if or when you will see that person again.

9. At some point in your life...live alone. It's interesting. You either love it or hate it. But it teaches you how to be self-sufficient and responsible.

10. Life passes way to quickly. Don't waste it. Try anything, well almost anything, once. You need to have stories to tell your grandchildren when you are old!

Sorry if this sounds overly nostalgic and sappy. Maybe I am turning into a philospher in my old age.....

Nah, a better explanations is that I am just PMSing, moody, and emotional. Hey, the emotional Kate has got to be a step up from the "I Want To Bite Your Head Off And Feed You To The Wolves" angry Kate! So, you're getting the lesser of two evils...

Here's to 26 Years...

2005-07-18T08:23:00.000-07:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME....
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME....

Okay, enough of my self-aggrandizing. I am now officially 26 years old...and in reality, it doesn't feel all that much different than 25 did. And 25 didn't feel all that much different than 24, except for the fact that I could legally rent a car without paying for all that extra insurance anymore.

What is so special about 26? I would really like to know.

Why I'm Proud...

2005-07-15T12:13:00.000-07:00

To Be A Country Girl...

*We're taught to enjoy life at a slower pace, rather than all this hustle and bustle I find here in the cities. Everything is go-go-go and people seem to run themselves ragged rather than "stopping to smell the roses".

*Status wasn't as big of a deal as it is here. Here it is all about how you act, what you wear, what places you go to...I don't know how these people do it! Working on their "image" seems more time intensive than a full-time job.

*I was raised not giving a shit about "name-brand" anything...too bad that part changed when I got older, well, at least in regards to what I buy. However, I am still a bargain shopper at heart....thanks for that, Mom!

*Playing outside when we were kids didn't mean in an abandoned old lot across the street. It meant "in the woods" and by that I mean a big f-ing forest, not a sedate little park.

*While people are judgmental everywhere, never before have I met people who make such biased snap judgments of people based on such superficial things. I am not talking about writing people off because of race, religion, political views, etc....what I see is people being stereotyped by what they say, the clothes they wear, the job they have, or the bars they choose to hang out at.

*Coming from a small town you were forced to look behind its confines to see the world and while not everyone does this...we all know stories of the person who was born, never left, and died in Hicksville, USA...I am glad I got out of Alaska, lived in a big city, and know it isn't where I want to be for the rest of my life. I meet city people who are scared shitless of small town America and will only set foot in it if absolutely forced to. These are the same people that are completely content with their overpriced Metro existences and also make fun of me for where I come from...personally, I say you can start giving me shit about being a small town redneck when you've been there. God knows I've put up with the "citidiots" lifestyle now...and feel I can comment on it.

*I hate traffic...God, do I loathe it. I would rather be in Kodiak, which only had one stoplight when I was growing up than this stop and go commuter's nightmare I go through everyday!

*I loved the fact that when you live in a small town you only have to drive about 5 minutes and you are out in the middle of nowhere...and by nowhere I mean you can't even see the town anymore. Another peeve about city livin' is that it takes a half hour drive to be officially out of the metro, but even then when one city limit ends...the next immediately begins.

*Growing up we had dogs...huge Labrador Retrievers. I love big dogs, but it is so hard to own one in the city because there is no room for the poor things to run. To me, it would be cruel to own a dog that size and with that energy level, only to keep it caged up in my teeny apartment or small backyard.

*Not until I moved to the metro did I ever have to pay to park somewhere and DAMN does it get expensive!!!

*Lastly, I loved the space you have in the country. Sometimes I feel so claustrophobic here with people, cars, and buildings everywhere.

Now, to all my friends who love the city lifestyle and have either:
a) told me I should move if I hate it this much
b) said I should quit bitching about it and just deal with it
c) tell me there has to be something I like about and I need to concentrate on those things

I agree with all your comments....to some extent...but THIS IS MY BLOG and my time to vent. So if you don't like what I fucking have to say about your precious city you can kiss my lily white, redneck, country ass! Oh, and just don't bother reading the blog because I doubt that your criticism will do much to motivate me to change my ways.

Note: There are some things I do like about this place...and I probably will comment on them at some point...just not right now. As cynical as I am about city life there is always good that comes with the bad.

Quote 4

2005-07-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

Randomly overheard at work today....

"They should make bottles of liquor with "Heaven" printed on the bottom. . . that way, the more you drink, the closer you get to it!"

How very, very true....SAD, but true.

Reel Big Fish

2005-07-12T13:34:00.000-07:00

King salmon, caught Labor Day weekend 2004. Now do you know what I mean by big fish?

Bitch Kitty A La Andy Warhol

2005-07-12T11:56:00.000-07:00

Financial Aid Or, Give Me My Money Bitches!!!!

2005-07-12T09:08:00.000-07:00

Medical school is expensive. Very expensive. So expensive that the only people who can shell out of pocket to pay for it are people like Paris Hilton or Nicole Ritchie....and you damn well know they sure as hell wouldn't make the cut. Well, maybe they could buy their way in, but would you really want these two removing your appendix? Talk about a nightmare or bad episode of The Simple Life.

"Umm, appendix,where's that again? Yeah, that's hot!"

In order for the common folk (i.e. ME) to be able pay for medical school the the good 'ol federal government has come up with a wonderful system to ensure that each and every medical student receives just enough funding to get through this torturous hell. It is called STUDENT LOANS and they are paid bad ten-fold in the long run, even if naysayers tell you "interest rates are at an all time low!!!!!"

I only wish I had a Sugar Daddy wanting to drop 200k on me....because paying off that amount of debt over the next 30 years sounds soooooo inviting. Dan, are you sure you aren't a millionaire just posing as your average guy? So, while all of my college friends are now established in "real" jobs and actually making money you can think of your poor friend Kate who will be living at the poverty level for the next 4 years while she toils away as a slave to the University hospital system.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic considering what I will end up making 5 years out of residency...but just let me bitch and moan about it for a bit right now, please?

Problem is, and my rant for the day, is that at this current moment I have no f-ing clue what my financial aid is for the fall. And I start school in one month!!!!! Apparently, the University of Minnesota is having some "problems" with their financial aid office getting package proposals out to the students and aren't anticipating having our funding allocated until the 22nd of July.

Did I mention we start classes on August 8th?

I am as Type A as the next med student; therefore, I am growing an ulcer the size of my fist worrying about being underfunded for the fall semester. Now if I was your average student that entered med school straight out of undergrad I really wouldn't be worrying...because I had no income the year before to apply to my taxes! Then there is me, who worked a fulltime job and was taxed in a higher income bracket....because of this I have an excessively higher student contribution on my FAFSA and am worrying.

While in the long run there is probably very little I should be worrying about....I still manage to. Just one of the many little neuroses I have!

What is NORMAL?

2005-07-07T12:47:00.000-07:00

I have finally come to accept the fact that I'm not like most people. Not, for lack of a better word, normal. I'm quirky, moody, passive-aggressive, and a total product of my parents whack job of an attempt to raise me. Funny thing is that for a large portion of my life all I ever wanted to be was NORMAL.

Normal to me was parents who actually loved each other and didn't get divorced because, according to my mother, "You're Dad was banging the secretary."

Normal was not having to explain to anyone who got close to you that you were adopted, but "not from the orphanage"; rather, I was a product of the union between my Mom and a "sperm donor" who treated her like absolute shit and wasn't deserving the responsibility of a child.

Normal was having a Stay-At-Home Mom rather than being a Latch-Key Kid.

Normal was everyone eating dinner together in the dining room and talking about how your day went. It wasn't putting a casserole in the oven and feeding your baby sisters because your Mom had to work nights to pay the bills.

Normal wasn't throwing your brother into rehab when he was 21.

Normal sure as hell wasn't the knockdown drag out fights you used to have with your mother or the fact that you and brother are no longer on speaking terms.

And, for as fun as it seemed and the void it filled at the time, normal wasn't having a "Disneyland Dad" that was never around but instead thought presents bought love.

But, in this day and age, what really is NORMAL?

Half the people I meet seem to have similar stories to mine. Either that or their parents are unhappily married, not wanting to give in to the divorce stigma for the sake of the kids. Honestly, I can count on one hand the families I have met that aren't ABNORMAL in their own screwed up way. And, in all honesty, the truly amazing people in my life are the ones who have taken the crappy childhood dealt to them and risen above it rather than wallowing in the "coulda, shoulda, woulda-beens".

Okay, so maybe this post is a contradiction because it seems like I am mired in self pity. Remember though....I never said I was perfect!

Even if I like to think I am.

Gay PRIDE Weekend: Dan & I

2005-07-07T08:18:00.000-07:00

Gay PRIDE Weekend: Me, Dustin, & Jillian

2005-07-07T08:12:00.000-07:00

Twins????

2005-07-07T08:04:00.000-07:00