Archive for November, 2008
As i type Smoketh is talking about the date she has just finished 15 minutes ago. This puts a dent on my plans to breed her with Grass. Smoketh and Grass are destined together, and I foresee 7 babies in the future, all smoking grass at birth. However, Smoketh has just finished a date with Perfect English Speaking Dude. Perfect English Speaking Dude is a counselor/english instructor online, has an interesting family background, he went to 5 colleges, the last one being Ateneo. Prior to eating dinner Smoketh toured PESD in PGH, saying stuff like “This is the ER, this is the ward, etc.” to which PESD said, “What’s… the most romantic thing about your job?” The two of them had desert in Cerealicious, which is quite annoying as I almost went to Cerealicious and would have caught them giggling and giving each other kilig. Smoketh has just asked me if she should text PESD some thank you whatever, which i said is ill-advised as post-date messages tend to resonate with post-coital gratitude. Make your move, Grass, bring her flowers, bring her weed, bring her meth, because Perfect English Speaking Dude is bent on… raising a family, and bringing such family to Kenya to distribute canned goods.
November 26th, 2008
…………….meh.
November 18th, 2008
Back in med school days every transcribers’ dream and every readers’ nightmare is this tiny portion at the end of each transcription called… Greetings! Fonts and paragraphs and spacing allotted for the actual lecture transcriptions are meticulously arranged in such a way as to make a lot of excess room for… Greetings! Not knowing of course that such greetings will document… heartaches!!! Heartaches, indeed, for those who found love in the anatomy dissection table and lost it all afterwards. Because truly, all that formalin must have distorted everyone’s concept of love or something. Such greetings also document a multitude of cringe-a-thons. For instance: DETOX, anyone? Anybody want to go DETOX in ROB after the ANATOMY EXAM? Speaking of which, is the term DETOX still in current use? Or did it just die out the way of CS (Counterstrike), Diner’s, and Backseat Boys?
So in the spirit of those old transcription greetings, here are some rather kitschy… greetings!!!
Hey, Myra and Ditz! Can’t believe you watched Coldplay. And in such close proximity to the stage too. I should go there sometime, then we can watch Keane and Coldplay, and in the summer go to Cabo! Cabo!!! You know like we can go to the prom and all and I can introduce you to Stephen and stuff and then you’ll probably make out in the car and stuff! Hey, Jeff and Tin, can’t believe you’ll be starting in December already! I hope you don’t test positive for syphilis the way I did! Hey, Mar, shall be lugging around that huge green audit bag again soon to FT, hope you’ll still be W&A to FT in GJ. Hey, Kathy and Jhana! I would just like to say that I quit lurring as of ten minutes ago, but I’ve just changed my mind and am lurring right now!!! Hey Mrs. Therese! Hope you’re all well-recovered and sound, we should eat isaw and kidneys again soon! Hey, non-Kathy IM residency batchmates! None of you is reading this, so I can freely write about you in this blog!!! In gossipy non-integrity!!! Haven’t done it before, but the potential for callroom dirty stories is endless!!! Hey Len-Len and Abe! May you continue to live the American Dream! Hey Les, Rain, Calvin, Niko, and your entire block! May you all find love in some bookshop in Germany or Vienna or something like Donna!!! Heya, Queenie! I am yet to look for a bowtie and bling bling!Hey, Netty Jao! I’ve been looking all over—where the heck are you?!?
There. Kitschy much, eh?
November 7th, 2008
For some reason I always seem to be walking in on a porn shooting in progress. You’ve probably read about my misadventure with the toweled guy who can beat me to a pulp, and this called to mind another porn movie in progress a few months back. And of all places, Glorietta 4. Hear that, authorities and morality police? Glorietta 4, specifically, the restroom in Food Choices, the one near Bizu. Maybe because I was there so early at around ten am so the performers felt more at home, but as I was checking my teeth I noted in the mirror that the two guys peeing behind me were checking each other’s cocks out. And they started… (I’m still quickly deciding if this blog entry is GP, R-rated, or X… okay maybe X)… they started… they started… jerking off. Themselves. Themselves, okay, not each other, you lewd, lewd people. So how did you know they were jerking off, you ask? You are absolutely right, I can’t be totally sure. Maybe they were just having a synchronized simple partial seizure of the right forearm.
One of the dudes was in a corporate attire, and I can only imagine what stuff were in his attaché case. The other one was in a baby tee. Maybe this is some sort of a new quickie business transaction that is not as messy, and one you can do on your cigarette break.
But this is not hardcore enough. Next time I want to walk in on a genuine snuff movie.
November 7th, 2008
1.You’ve probably heard about the Secret Invasion storyline in Marvel where a race of shape-shifting aliens, the Skrulls, are infiltrating the Marvel Universe and replacing important super heroes and political figures. Yes, the one where GMA had a cameo thanks to the Pinoy artist and was revealed as a Skrull after all, which explains a lot of things. But more importantly, Spider Woman is the Skrull Queen! Even for those of you who don’t read comics you know who Spider Woman is. She had a cartoon in the 80’s. She is Jessica Drew, the one with venom blasts, the one who flies, the one with armpit webs. So she is the Skrull Queen. Secret Invasion concludes next month.
2.Jonathan Kent, Clark’s dad, is dead. He is killed in the recently concluded Brainiac storyline in Action Comics. Also in Action, the Kryptonian Bottle City of Kandor is finally free and grown back to its original size, but is now situated in Earth, so this could spell a lot of trouble with a hundred thousand powerful Kryptonians roaming around.
3.Captain America is still dead. He died in Captain American #25 last year, but replacing Steve Rogers is Bucky, his sidekick back in World War II, who is revealed to be alive.
4.This volume of The Legion of Superheroes as relaunched by Mark Waid in 2003 is finally getting cancelled come issue #50. It just couldn’t get its footing. Jim Shooter took the helm recently which initially made me all giddy (Shooter wrote those great Legion stories in the 60’s including the death of Ferro Lad when he was still 13 years old), but failed to churn out good stories. Obviously, the original Legion as being masterfully written by Geoff Johns in Legion of 3 Worlds should take over the monthly ongoing.
5.Batman R.I.P. is coming to a close. The story as written by Grant Morrison is slow-paced, bizarre, and all sorts of weird. And I don’t get it.
6.Sometimes the best person for a woman’s job is a man. Specifically, an Amazon’s job, because Wonder Woman has been deemed a failure in her mission of peace and understanding. So who shall replace the Amazons but… The Manazons!!! It all sounds stupid, but still looking forward to it.
7.Final Crisis is still… so… very… slow.
8.This is actually old news, but the Martian Manhunter is dead. He was killed by his old nemesis the Human Flame or Torch or something, under the supervision of the mysterious Libra. The Martian Manhunter, for some reason, never really had a lot of fans despite the fact that he is the only character who has ever been in every single incarnation of the Justice League ever, so I predict that he won’t get resurrected anytime soon.
9.So we all know that the spirit of God’s Vengeance is The Spectre. Apparently, there is also a spirit of God’s Mercy… Radiant!!!
10.And in the pages of the Justice Society of America, a deity-like being called Gog is walking the planet and sowing good cheers and stuff, but the JSA is not convinced. This is still part of the Kingdom Come sequel/Magog/Gog storyline that seems to be going on forever. Just kill Gog already! And fire those thirty other members of the JSA!!!
November 7th, 2008
Receiving PFs (professional fees, sort of) from charity patients is fun. Because you feel like your work is appreciated, and that you’re doing something worthwhile, etc etc etc. but more importantly, because it feeds your hunger… for food. Specially if you haven’t had lunch or even breakfast yet. I’ve received a lot of different stuff from a whole Tupperware of pichi-pichi to a ham sandwich with Zest-O, but the best I’ve received so far and it couldn’t have come at a better timing is a chocolate house, ie, a huge amount of chocolate shaped in a form of a house. Very quickly I tried to dispose of the remaining patients, just so I could ravenously eat the entire house by myself, but after eating a portion of the roof and the wall I started getting DKA so I shared it with all the other residents in the clinic, who ravenously feasted on the floor, the windows, the gate, the pet dog, and the base which I think is made of cardboard and inedible. Since I don’t think any of my continuity patients is reading this, in the spirit of hunger here are some… fantasy PFs:
1.pizza with garlic, cheese, olives, chives, and tomato. Like the one our block had in Community Med in 2005, I can’t quite recall the name of the place but it’s near the place where they sell a lot of shoes and sandals.
2.a huge tub of typhoid-laced ice scramble with a generous topping of Brown Cow and milk powder on top
3.isaw from Ilang-Ilang in UP Diliman.
4.Termoonator or Nutting Hill. With extra granola. And mangoes. Blockbuster.
5.Kanin at ulam
Hungry… just so very… hungry.
November 7th, 2008
…I have dysgeusia. I am not making this up, I really taste things differently. I can also taste music, color, pruritus, light, darkness… no wait, that’s synesthesia.
No, really, I’ve been having dysgeusia for the past month. This should not be your problem, of course, but it’s fun insinuating personal minor concerns on other people, unless you’re on the receiving end. Water tastes like oil. Salty nuts taste like Styrofoam. But the weirdest taste I’ve been having is that Coke Zero tastes like Yakult. I’m too lazy to brush up on possible etiologies, so shall therefore ask: Differentials? Cancer? Auto-immune? Poor mouth hygiene? Too much drugs? Coprophagia? Taking metronidazole for fun?
November 6th, 2008
Just seen the latest Bond movie, and no, Pusong Pinoy, I decided to save myself a trip to MOA, with the long lines, the waiting, the feigned collective gasps and cheers, and the presence of more doctors than I will ever need to see in my lifetime for that supposed premiere, and just watched the movie in Town Center, where the movie is showing in 3 cinemas, and there were vacant seats around me, and the cinema is small and cozy, and there were no collective, palpably bloated cardiologist egos. Really, what is the point of doing a premiere on the opening day? Sure, it will probably buy a few permanent pacemakers for poor patients thereby saving precious lives, but since I’ve already paid the compulsory bloated tickets, I’m sure no one missed me there. And, having given that long, exhausting, tirade of an introduction, back to Bond:
The best way to enjoy the movie is to pretend that you don’t understand the story and that you are only there to see James Bond hit things because really, I didn’t understand the story. Maybe it was the British accent, or the jumpy storylines, or my own poor comprehension after years of head injury, but I didn’t understand the story one bit—and if some of you did, I hope you feel superior. The only good thing about this movie is Daniel who fits the repackaged, non-sissy, non-metro Bond whose solution to everything is to whack it. The dude looked invulnerable, like he could fall from all that height and get pummeled and stuff and you’d really believe he didn’t hurt one bit. Nobody I know likes this actor particularly because he’s not pretty pretty, he has coarse facial features, he looks grimey all the time, and just all around rough around the edges, but I am partial since he played Joe Rose in the movie version of the great book Enduring Love by Ian McEwan.
In Enduring Love a freaky dude (I think he is played by the underweared guy in Notting Hill) gets fixated on the university professor Rose, and attempts to save his soul or something. Of course he’s just a sicko, particularly, he has a condition called DeClerembault’s Syndrome. Sicko stalks Rose and tries to insinuate himself in Rose’s life in every annoying way possible. By the end of the movie the two share a rather long and weird torrid kiss terminated only when Rose finally stabs Sicko (a scene not in the book, by the way). I lent Therese the book Enduring Love back in July 2005, and she read the entire thing in one sitting during an ENT duty. It freaked her out, particularly because someone was DeClerembaulting her as well in real life.
My brother-in-law complained that there are no double D girls climbing up the pool or walking out the beach this time as the staple in the old movies. In Casino Royale there was no such thing either, and I remember a review pointing out that instead of the girl it was the muscled Bond walking out the beach instead to the collective gasps of lonely women everywhere. My sister complained that there are no gadgets involved this time, which I think is great. The very concept of gadgets just stopped becoming impressive 10 years ago. The corniest gadget in James Bond history is the invisible plane, I mean, invisible car. I think that is in the same movie where Denise Richards wears pekpek maong shorts and plays… a rocket scientist.
November 6th, 2008
While perusing stuff in my favorite comic book shop Druid’s Keep a depressed looking guy was chatting with Felix, and of course I had to eavesdrop. It just felt so scenic, me pretending to private read the latest issue of Justice Society of America when in fact was trying to eavesdrop on a comic book conversation. Comic book shop conversations are fun—you can hear guys frothing in the mouth at the crapfest that is Amazons Attack!, guys getting genuinely depressed at the death of Captain America over a year ago, and guys pumping their fists in triumph because Elektra has been revealed as a Skrull after all. There’s just so much passion, so much heart over supposedly trifle issues, so much… frothing in the mouth. Back to that particular conversation–apparently this guy was trying to sell all his comic books and action figures because his wife was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. He was looking for potential buyers and asking Felix for contacts and such. To have amassed such a huge amount of fandom material then to sell it because of a real life crisis—to quote Holden Caulfield, it killed me.
Cancer is such an annoying thing. Annoying might fail to carry its weight, but cancer indeed is annoying. Everything can have cancer, from the tiniest ducts to the nerves to everything. And if you think you’ve destroyed it it’s only a matter of time before it comes back. Years and years ago whenever I was playing scrabble with my family playing the word cancer was forbidden. It’s not something you can even speak. Like if you say cancer cancer cancer cancer you will eventually have, yes, cancer.
The best thesis on cancer I’ve come across is not any medical journal or any writing by a cancer survivor or anything, but in Supergirl as written by the great Kelley Puckett. In one issue Supergirl does all she can to try to save a young boy from cancer. The first thing she thinks of is to enlist the help of Resurrection Man. Resurrection Man is a D-lister character in DC comics. He dies over and over but lives again immediately, and every time he comes back to life he has a new super power. He is over fifty-thousand years old. Supergirl’s plan is to kill Resurrection Man repeatedly until he randomly gets the ability to cure cancer. But as RM explains:
RM: Look, when I was born, and for about forty-seven thousand years after that? Humans didn’t live long enough to get cancer. They got “tiger”, or flu. It’s a sign that things basically are good. You live that long and just from living your cells get worn down… the DNA gets damaged. It’s a consequence of living. Of breathing that long. It’s part of being human. It’s natural.
Of course Supergirl’s retort is: He’s five, what’s natural about that.
Eventually the boy dies and Supergirl’s next plan of course is to time travel, either go back to try and save the kid earlier, or bring his grieving parents back to the past to have more time with him. But she decides not to, as she accepts that it’s time to, pardon the cliché, move on.We can’t always work beyond our limitations, because the limitations were set there by someone else for a purpose. For what particular purpose we don’t know, but it’s there.
November 6th, 2008
Special Agent Rain made mention of how I missed Bukkake in my salacious-comment inviting blog entry, Damn You Sluramurb. I did hear of it once but totally forgot what it means, so onto Google to refresh my memory. Bukkake, apparently, is the sort of fetish where a group of men ejaculate on a guy’s or a girl’s face/body in sequence. This supposedly has historical Japanese torture roots or whatever. The next Google entry on Bukkake is an advertisement: we will ejaculate on you in series then wash it all off with a warm dose of pee. $5.95 for 3 days. Anyone?
November 3rd, 2008
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