Update From Pathology Class

I'm not really in pathology class.

Sometimes Ten and I really don't see eye to eye. For instance, I think that I can replace her very broken shed doors, but she thinks it's a better plan to call a "professional," whatever that means. Just because I've never used a power tool, or a hammer for that matter, doesn't mean that I won't do as good a job as any handyman, which is a sexist term anyway. I'm frankly insulted.

We also don't seem to agree on what is "important." For instance, I'm allowed to call Ten at work when something "important" comes up. But, just a few minutes ago, I called her at her desk and she didn't seem very happy to hear from me. I guess that fact that my favorite George Michael CD had gone missing -I'm talking nowhere to be found- is not "important" to Ten. Tell me Ten, what did you have in mind when you told me I could call you at work? Do I have to strike gold? Find Jesus?

Update from Bacteriology Class

My lip is split.
It feels like [bad].
It will not heal.
What's the deal?
Blood from my face,
On my pillowcase.

Tomorrow I am going up to Burlington for a few days for a Study Thursday, 3 loads of laundry, and Thursday Night Trivia at Nectar's. Sweet!

My parents were on the David Letterman show last night. And by "were on" I mean that they got free tickets and sat in some folding chairs in the back of the audience, laughing loudly at things that were not funny.

Update From Neuroscience Class

Highlights from spring break:
- My parents picked Ten and me up at the N.O. airport and took us straight downtown for drinks and dinner. Our table polished off 3 pounds of crawfish in addition to our entrees.
- Ten saw her first alligator in my neighborhood.
- Ten met my grandparents. My grandmother asked us if we knew what "hiatus" means.
- Ten swears she saw the near-extinct ivory-billed woodpecker while we were kayaking in the swamps with my dad. I've been having to pretend like I believe her ever since.
- Ten and I rode (my parents' old fogey) bikes to the Abita Springs Pub, singing Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al" for 16 miles.
- We missed our flight home from Cleveland to Burlington by precisely 15 seconds, forcing us to fly to Manchester, NH, and drive the 4 hours home.

Highlights from Third Term thus far:
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How Ten Spent Her Spring Break

The Great Duck Slipper Accident of March 2008

For Valentine's Day this year, my mother gave me a cute new pair of yellow duck slippers. I've been keeping them at Ten's because Ten's too selfish to give me her slippers when I'm at her house.

From the get-go, the duck slippers were a little hard to walk in. They would often fling forward off of my feet, and I nearly tripped a couple times in my first few days with them. But they were warm, and cute, so I continued wearing them. Even to the supermarket a few times.

Last night, while I was descending the flight of stairs at Ten's house, the duck slippers performed their coup de gras. They tripped me, knocked me onto my back, and sent me bumping down the stairs. I hit every step on the way down, while Ten watched from the top of the staircase in shocked dismay.

Finally, I came to the bottom of the stairs. First I cried.

Then I asked Ten to take pictures.



Then I recovered my dignity on the couch with some ice packs
.
Then I got revenge.


Dick Cheney's got his duck hunting, and I've got mine.

Got Me Lookin' So Crazy Right Now

Eeeeek! Two and a half days until Spring Break!!! Friday night Ten and I are going out to First Friday Womyn's Night, where I plan to wow all of Burlington with my phat, as it were, dance skills. (And by phat, I mean pitiable. And by all of Burlington, I mean twenty to thirty people and a volunteer DJ.)

All that stands between me and the-pencil-sharpener-to-the-music-of-Her-Highness-Beyonce are an immunology final and and an anatomy final.

Saturday we'll fly to New Orleans. Here's hoping I don't get life-changing diarrhea in the airport like I did on our trip down to Houston. Sunday, if I've recovered, we'll go out canoing/kayaking with my dad. I'm packing some rope so I can just tie my boat up behind Ten.

Other than that it'll be lunch with the GP's, walks on the lake front with Dip, frozen coffee every morning, The French Quarter, The Office, Scrabble. Oh, and I have to do my taxes and apply for financial aid. That might not wind up being a highlight.

In other news, guess whose landlord put up the only McCain sign in all of Norwich?

What Metabolism Means To Me

I dislike you. (Metabolism, I mean. Not you. Unless you're in any way connected with metabolism. Then you too.)

B. Button

I apologize for posting such a disturbing picture. Sometimes I just don't want to have to face embryology alone.

This morning, as I was sipping coffee in bed, as I'm wont to do every morning of my life, I rested my coffee mug on my bare stomach to fully enjoy its warmth. Then, reaching for my stack of bedside index cards, I jostled my mug and spilled coffee inside my belly button. It felt so strange! I was too comfortable to get up, and I still had a fair amount of coffee left, so I decided to just let it dry there.

For some reason, I didn't want to be alone with this secret.