tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67692501226730053312024-03-13T13:24:43.885-07:00Read My MindMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-33722345574891186632011-01-24T22:10:00.000-08:002011-01-25T06:03:08.034-08:00Deleted Scenes from Week 4<span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">--Michelle's Date--</span></span><br /><br />(BRAD has just finished talking with ASHLEY H, prior to taking MICHELLE on the romantic one-on-one.)<br /><br />BRAD: Michelle, I know today is all about you, and I thank you for allowing me to talk with Ashley H. There was just something I had to get off my chest. And now if you don't mind, I need to talk with Stacey about what an idiot she was to admit, during what was apparently our only conversation thus far, that she has cheated in relationships before. Hope you don't mind.<br /><br />MICHELLE: Rrrrrrrrrrrr<br /><br />(Exit Brad and Stacey. Fifteen minutes pass before they return.)<br /><br />BRAD: Thanks Michelle, you're a trouper. Now there's just one more person I really need to talk with, if that's okay.<br /><br />(Signals off camera to seemingly random stagehand. Exit Brad and stagehand.)<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">--Later, with Michelle, back at Brad's place--</span></span><br /><br />BRAD: Michelle, I have planned the most romantic, amazing date for you tonight. No doubt about it.<br /><br />MICHELLE: Tell me what it is before I paint another black eye on myself!<br /><br />BRAD: Have you ever heard of something called "Netflix?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">--Later still, with Michelle in the chopper--</span></span><br /><br />MICHELLE (swooning): Ohhhh Brad, where are you taking me???<br /><br />BRAD: Back to the house. Could you get Chantal for me?<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">--During dinner with Michelle--</span></span><br /><br />BRAD: No doubt about it Michelle, I'm keeping you here because you're physically attractive, and also because the Bulls are my favorite team and I'm trying to keep you away from Boozer. Oh wait, was that out loud?<br /><br />MICHELLE: We are in a fight. It's our second fight.<br /><br />BRAD (in best cyborg monotone): Come....here....you...come to...Lovebot 3000...He will....console....you<br /><br />MICHELLE: I'm mad at you because you can't remember my daughter's name.<br /><br />BRAD: What? Rielle?<br /><br />MICHELLE: Rielle! That was it! (Hurriedly writes name down on post-it, slips into her purse with note to call later)<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">-<span style="font-weight:bold;">-Fast Forward to the Final Rose Ceremony--</span></span><br /><br />(We see a bride, dressed in white, walking down the stone pathway on a beautiful summer's day. Birds chirping. A nervous yet excited BRAD looks on, dapper as always in a $3000 suit. Will the bride be the lovely Emily, the racecar widow with a heart of gold? Will it be the fierce yet vulnerable Chantal, always flirting with emotional instability? Or perhaps the darkhorse, Shawntel, having furiously scrubbed those stubborn formaldehyde fumes away?)<br /><br />BRAD: I'm so glad you're here on this magical day. It was obvious from the very start that you and I had the biggest connection of anybody. The times when we were together were my happiest during these past months. I can't go on without you. I do find your dress a bit odd, however....<br /><br />JAMIE: Brad, you've come a long way since those first few therapy sessions. Of course I accept!<br /><br />-------------------------------------<br /><br />There is a clear Top Four this season: Emily, Chantal O, Shawntel, and Ashley the nanny. I'm a huge Chantal O fan, especially since she likes to push Michelle's buttons. I'm also a Shawntel the mortician fan. I like that she's not freaking out all the time that -- shocker -- Brad is dating other girls, too.<br /><br />NEXT WEEK on a very special Bachelor: Brad flies Emily on a small aircraft to the NASCAR Experience. To heighten the drama and deepen their connection, Brad pretends the airplane is experiencing turbulence, and sends it into a nosedive before pulling up safe at the last second, laughing uproariously. Afterward, he takes Emily on a romantic "Pit of Despair" one-on-one: dinner in a pitch-black cave filled with venomous snakes, piranhas, deranged clowns, and vermin. Will she accept his rose? Or stab him in the eye with a pitchfork? And will Brad's wiring short-circuit in the cave's high humidity? Tune in next week to find out!Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-13820571313323837342010-08-03T19:45:00.000-07:002010-08-03T20:53:52.049-07:00Five Sure-Fire Ways to Improve "The Bachelor"Ali chose "Roburdo." Shocker! Looking forward to seeing the March issue of Us Weekly detailing the breakup. That finale was so vanilla that I really don't have anything else to say about it.<br /><br />Let's face it: Nobody watches this show because of the romance (since it never works). We watch for the drama and the unintentional comedy (often off the charts). With that in mind, I've got a few ideas on how to spice up the franchise, because right now it's staler than medieval bread.<br /><br />1. For the love of pete, can we please have a spelling bee at some point? You're telling me that watching some of these bimbos try to spell "cravat" or "rapport" or "rabbit" would be just luscious. How about a geography bee? The Miss Teen South Carolina clip still delivers after 44 million views. <span style="font-style:italic;">We could have that every season!</span><br /><br />2. Alert reader Corbin Clawson has suggested the ladies be forced to clean sewers. At the very least, we need to get the potentials into some more stressful situations, to see how they perform. No, the cliche tandem tightrope walk/bungee jump doesn't cut it. Seeing Ali beaching it up in Bora Bora or spelunking in Iceland and exclaiming, "This is what life would be like with So-and-so!" was nauseating. Real life has real adversity, dang it! Let's invite the crew from Punk'd to pull some crap with a few random suitors next season, just to sweat 'em. Have the tanning bed "accidentally" turn them blue instead of orange. Have their employers call and tell them they're fired, Trump style. Have them robbed at gunpoint on a date. Do something. Anything. Press the flesh a little.<br /><br />3. The Batch should have access to more data about the suitors -- stuff that would come out eventually if the relationship timeframe was more realistic. Or maybe it wouldn't, but at least it would be funny. Medical records (including STDs), performance evaluations from past employers, report cards, criminal records, etc.<br /><br />4. Weekly truth serum administrations. Potentially hilarious when combined with Idea #3. Dimmed lights, a comfy chair, and Chris Harrison brings in a little pentobarbital. Soon, we're hearing things like "Yeah, I know Monica's had the clap 6 times, 3 DUIs, has never had a job for more than 48 hours, and spelled her own name wrong, but the thing about Monica is. . . she's just really hot and I'm just in this for a good time. In fact, I actually have a girlfriend at home." Not realistic, you say? Well the show as presently constituted doesn't exactly reek of authenticity, pal!<br /><br />5. Tie-ins with other reality shows. The suitors could compete weekly for Immunity, a golden rose which would prevent them from being voted out. How funny would it be to see a psycho like <a href="http://www.realitytvworld.com/images/dbpeople/1388.jpg">Shannon</a> stick around for a few weeks because no one could best her in the immunity challenges? Also, we could have The Mole, whose job it is to sneak laxatives into the Batch's drink, hide fish in shampoo bottles, etc. But my favorite tie-in is The Duel, from Real World/Road Rules Challenge. You think Jana isn't here for the right reasons? Step into the inferno with her, and whoever emerges gets to stay. Just so he has some say, the Batch could be on the sidelines, passing foreign objects to his preferred suitor -- pepper spray, folding chairs, books with more words than pictures -- anything goes. This needs to happen.<br /><br />Other ideas are welcome. Maybe some poor ABC exec will hear them one day. We live in a world where Vienna was someone's final choice -- anything can happen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/TFjkK9hxwMI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WOjMpOX8BxI/s1600/vienna-girardi-ugly.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 269px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/TFjkK9hxwMI/AAAAAAAAAQM/WOjMpOX8BxI/s320/vienna-girardi-ugly.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501397821799121090" /></a>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-67379778070893474722010-07-13T21:53:00.000-07:002010-07-14T01:06:11.749-07:00Bachelorette Finale Sneak PeekBefore we move on to this season, can I just point out that the whole Vienna/Jake situation could have been avoided if the producers would have implemented my <a href="http://matthewweed.blogspot.com/2010/02/bachelor-season-in-review.html">toilet-cleaning contest</a> idea? Vienna would have quit the show and spared us all.<br /><br />Jake and Sausage were apparently trying to outdo each other in terms of despicability during their interview last week. Watching that garbage, aside from making me nauseous, also made me laugh, especially the part about Jake flying Vienna's cat with the two IVs across the country. Was there a life support team standing by in jumpsuits? Were the cat's relatives notified? Were the tiny instruments on hand, just in case it needed surgery?<br /><br />But enough of that! Maybe this season will finally be the one that yields a permanent relationship from the final two (0/14 so far)!<br /><br />Ali has a schoolgirl crush on Roberto, and he stamped his ticket to the Fantasy Suite way back in Week 1. I guarantee she picks Roberto. I also guarantee it's over before the year's out. It's not him, it's her.<br /><br />Frank has also had a Fantasy Suite ticket for a while now, but he keeps ripping <a href="http://hbimg.com/uploads/images/0000/0522/george-costanza.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 145px; height: 120px;" src="http://hbimg.com/uploads/images/0000/0522/george-costanza.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>it up and glueing it back together. He constantly projects his feelings onto the other guys, e.g. "I think we're all a little upset right now that we're not with Ali," "We are all worried about the Rose Ceremony," etc. Take off the hair and add 40 pounds and he's George Costanza. Can't hold a regular job, lives with his parents, overly analytical, constantly screwing things up. Ali's not picking him.<br /><br />Chris is going to get his heart broken. Out of everyone during this season, he most obviously really likes Ali. But she's not the Cape Cod type. I just don't see her sitting quietly, watching the ocean with a blanket and a book on an Adirondack chair. Chris is likely the producers' top choice for next Bachelor, though he probably shouldn't accept. I think he should get Tenley's phone number--they'd be a smart match.<br /><br />Ali is a nice person but she's not ready for a serious relationship. When Chris's Dad asked her about her personal goals, the only thing she mentioned was her career. She's been very noncommittal about why she's actually on the show, and seems like she doesn't really know herself or what she wants right now. She kindly avoided making Tattoo feel like crap when she easily could have, and she somehow didn't slam Rated R with a Flying Turnbuckle Leap, but she's about as ready for marriage as Vienna is to join a convent.<br /><br />Here's how I see the final Rose Ceremony playing out:<br /><br />HOST: Ali, it's been the most amazing season in Bachelorette history. There have been ups and downs, and you've come so far. Are you ready to fake propose to someone?<br /><br />ALI: It's been hard, but I feel g...wait, what?!<br /><br />(<em>enter CASEY, looking dissheveled in dirty raincoat</em>)<br /><br />CASEY: I got another tattoo since you dumped me, Ali. Can I share it with you? Guard and protect this, you tramp!<br /><br />(<em>He moons Ali, revealing giant "YOU SUCK," and runs away, sobbing</em>)<br /><br />ROBERTO (smiling): Do you want to go look at my baseball card some more? I'll put on the Lion King pelt...<br /><br />FRANK: I think we're all feeling a little jealous that Casey got to show Ali his butt before we did.<br /><br />HOST: Order! Come to order! Ali, this moment is about you and your choice. What have you decided?<br /><br />(<em>Suddenly, the lights go out. Darkness prevails. FRANK screams. A familiar tune begins to boom through the set.)</em><br /><br />HOST: Oh no! That's RATED R's music!<br /><br />(<em>Lights. Enter a smug-looking RATED R, clad in speedo, knee pads, and black wrestling boots. Without a word, he knocks out FRANK, CHRIS, and ROBERTO in succession.)</em><br /><br />ALI: Justin, I can't escape the feeling that you might not be here for the right reasons. I don't want to believe it!<br /><br />RATED R: Wait, this is a dating show? Man I'm dumb! (<em>Exits</em>)<br /><br />HOST: Ali! I can't get a pulse on Roberto! I'm afraid he's gone!<br /><br />ALI: (wails) Noooooo! I was all ready to make him my 6-week boyfriend! Now I'll never find "love"!<br /><br />(<em>Enter KIRK'S DAD, with freezer bags and toolbox</em>)<br /><br />KIRK'S DAD: Perhaps I can be of some assistance? Bringing things back to life is what I do!<br /><br />(<em>Curtain</em>)Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-60438577440341601762010-07-08T19:55:00.000-07:002010-07-08T20:05:33.237-07:00New BlogSince I started posting about intern year, I've had several people say thanks and that they really enjoyed reading. I decided to start a new blog dedicated solely to thoughts on all these new experiences I'm having now.<br /><br />Here's the <a href="http://thoughtsfromanewdoctor.blogspot.com">link</a>.<br /><br />I'll try to post at least once or twice a week. <br /><br />Thanks again for your thoughts, comments, and prayers. They mean a lot.<br /><br />P.S. Yes, this means this space is now reserved for Bachelor stuff and the like. Although after that Jake and Vienna debacle the other night, I don't know if I can justify watching anymore.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-38428594372605251062010-06-29T01:46:00.000-07:002010-06-29T03:02:00.021-07:00Thoughts from the ICUIt's about 2 am, I've got a few minutes, and I figured I would post a few thoughts.<br /><br />There was a game we played sometimes as kids in which a new player had to figure out the rules of the game as he went along, without knowing anything about them before the game started. It's torturous for the uninitiated, because they don't know what they're supposed to be doing, and when they try something, they're told they're not doing it right -- and they aren't, because, again, they don't know the rules.<br /><br />Although everyone around me has been very nice and supportive, I often feel like I'm trapped in this game. Everyone else seems to know the rules, how things are supposed to be done, but I feel like I don't even know the objective of the game, much less how to achieve it. Learning the rules -- where to be, what to put in the note, how to order things, how to dictate, how to operate all these computer systems, how admissions work, etc. etc. etc. -- takes so much time that I feel like I can't work on the game's objective -- what's going on with this patient and how should I intervene. I'm used to being good at things, and I don't feel like I'm particularly good at this yet.<br /><br />The ICU feels like the last place in the world you'd want to be if you're used to perfectionism. Unknowns abound, and either those around me aren't considering them, or they're more comfortable with not knowing. What's wrong with the patient in room 204? Who knows! Multiple concurrent disease processes to be considered, volumes of history to review, piles of medications to sort through. It's exhausting. I guess I anticipated that things would be a lot more lucid.<br /><br />An elderly male patient of mine died last week. He came in Tuesday with trouble breathing, pneumonia, and leukemia. I talked to him for a little bit before he was sedated, paralyzed, and intubated. His family decided that their father wouldn't want to go on like this. The tube was pulled on Friday afternoon. He died five minutes later. I never talked to him after that first night. We never figured out what caused the pneumonia that ultimately killed him.<br /><br />A man came in two nights ago after being in a car accident. He has a severe traumatic brain injury. He's in a coma. The prognosis is extremely grim; many are surprised he hasn't died yet. He almost did last night. He has a lot of family members here at the hospital, and I've found myself reluctant to introduce myself to them for fear of not knowing what to say. I know I wouldn't be able to answer any detailed neurosurgical questions. I don't know specifics about his prognosis. If I talk to them and can't answer their questions, it seems like I wouldn't be much help. So I read his chart, glance at his vital signs, and walk away, feeling like I've failed.<br /><br />These two stories, and many others like them, leave me thinking frequently about what success is. Is it keeping people alive overnight? Nobody has died on my watch yet, but somehow I don't feel successful. Is it figuring out what is going on with each patient? I hope not, because it seems like the ICU in general, and especially at night, is more about keeping patients alive long enough for others to figure out what's wrong with them. But isn't that just passing the buck? If I'm caring for this person, don't I have an obligation to try my best to figure it out?<br /><br />Maybe success is knowing the answers when the attendings, nurses, and family members ask me questions. I've never said/thought to myself "I don't know" this much in my life. Is success continuing to come in every day? That seems insufficient. For now, I guess it's continuing to give a crap, doing my best to think critically, paying attention to detail, and trying to learn.<br /><br />Thank you for your comments, thoughts, and prayers. I'm committed to keep trying.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-78744093836519820192010-06-21T13:55:00.000-07:002010-06-21T14:16:14.244-07:00My First Night of InternshipI finished medical school two weeks ago, and have sinced moved to Spokane, Washington to start my year of internship at Sacred Heart Medical Center.<br /><br />Last night was my first experience as a new doctor/intern. My first rotation is "Night Float ICU," which basically means I take care of patients in the ICU overnight while their primary doctors get some rest. I also take care of any new patients that come to the ICU overnight until the main team comes back the next day.<br /><br />I showed up at 5:30 pm and got the scoop on who I would be taking care of. Here are some highlights/lowlights of the night:<br /><br />-- Writing my first order as a physician: "Ok for patient to take ice chips by mouth."<br />-- Introducing myself as Dr. Weed for the first time and thinking that it sounded silly<br />-- As I'm sure you know, the ICU is full of really sick people. I have never done an ICU rotation before, and I can't remember the last time I felt as inadequate as I did last night. These poor people are in bad shape. Some are young, most are old. I kept cursing the situation that puts me in this position.<br />-- The senior resident was fortunately extremely patient and kind, and made me want to work harder and better so I didn't disappoint her.<br />-- An older woman lost feeling and movement below the waist yesterday due to bleeding around her spine. As soon as it was recognized, the neurosurgeon removed the clot, but the prognosis is grim for her recovery, and she knew it. What am I supposed to say to comfort someone who now possibly faces a life of paraplegia? That I'm sorry? That's all I could think of, but it seemed like so little.<br />-- There is a young woman in there who is extremely ill and we don't yet know why. I feel like I should figure it out.<br />-- I participated in two "codes." At around midnight, I got paged to go to the 6th floor. There were about 15 other doctors and nurses already there, doing CPR on an elderly man. I did chest compressions part of the time. The man was having a massive heart attack. 20 minutes later he still had no pulse. We stopped CPR. His wife and sisters came in, crying. We talked for a bit and then shuffled out of the room. It was horrible.<br />-- I didn't even so much as lay down all night. Miraculously no caffeine was involved. Around 3 am, I went to the cafeteria for a "rally breakfast" of bacon, eggs, potatoes, and chocolate milk.<br /><br />I haven't wanted to quit anything so much since the first few days at the MTC. I've never wondered if I was really cut out for this until last night. It was a long, fatiguing night filled with feelings of inadequacy interspersed with a few moments of pride and exhilaration. I'm hoping that tonight, when I go back there, the patients are doing better, and that I feel at least a little more comfortable than last night.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-88415229600105301252010-02-16T17:38:00.000-08:002010-02-16T20:06:54.048-08:00The Bachelor: Season in ReviewThe people have spoken, and they want more Bachelor. I've been meaning to blog about this perfect storm of unintentional comedy ever since the hilarious hijinx from last January. Jason sent the lovely Molly packing and picked Melissa, only to show up on the "After the Final Rose" special--aired immediately after his proposal to Melissa--looking like someone just sent him a turd sandwich. His subsequent confession that the Molly tattoo (likely applied during the sensuous massage she gave him in the finale) had not exactly washed off, followed by his dumping Melissa on-air and professing his undying Molly-love, was great TV.<br /><br />But that's all in the past. Without further ado....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">A Few Highlights from the Season So Far:</span></span><br /><br />-Jake letting Vienna "Sausage" Girardi (not pictured, blog standards) through the first cut, yet eliminating the likes of <span style="font-weight:bold;">Emily</span> from Ohio. After seeing and meeting Vienna, clearly the decision of most sane men would have been whether to tell her to go back to the limo immediately or to do it classy, letting her stay for 48 hrs if she agreed to wear a bag over her head and not speak.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/S3tctKTRj8I/AAAAAAAAAMw/hThAnsEh1uo/s1600-h/eae5573dccd2101dfae1c5a3b849cdc6.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/S3tctKTRj8I/AAAAAAAAAMw/hThAnsEh1uo/s200/eae5573dccd2101dfae1c5a3b849cdc6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439042905909071810" /></a><br /><br />-Rozlyn the Scandalous getting eliminated for hooking up with a crew member. She's like the Amelia Earhart of reality TV, just pushing us forward into uncharted territory. The best part of this story is the camera guy's decision making process. "Let's see, there are cameras everywhere. . . . I will without a doubt lose this job and many potential future ones. . . . This girl cannot possibly be clean. . . . But man, is she hot!" Thanks for giving the rest of us a good name, buddy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ali's</span> growing discontent over Vienna's shocking, continued rose-finagling. Honestly I think Ali left the show not over work concerns but because she thought if she had to be in the same room as Vienna for one more day, she would drown herself in her spray-tanner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/S3tdnzm_M-I/AAAAAAAAAM4/NS1yMMbRgOw/s1600-h/9b730f7248111f936123df8aeac73e6c.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 174px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/S3tdnzm_M-I/AAAAAAAAAM4/NS1yMMbRgOw/s200/9b730f7248111f936123df8aeac73e6c.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439043913430021090" /></a><br /><br />-Jake's decision to use "absolutely gorgeous" as his go-to adjective. Every Bachelor picks one; Jason's was "amazing." Maybe a limited vocabulary is what has kept these guys single all this time?<br /><br />-Channy's foul pick-up line during the opener seeming so ridiculous for what we thought was a classy, virtuous guy in Jake, followed by Jake himself dismantling this notion week after week by handing out roses to Vienna the Orange, former Hooter's waitress.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">And now, some Scenes I Wish We Could Have Seen:</span></span><br /><br />-During the romantic 1-on-1 date in St. Lucia, Gia and Jake are on a private beach at sunset, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ear. Jake inwardly wonders why Gia's lips look like Jack Nicholson's Joker. Suddenly, a ripple in the water. A larger ripple. A veritable tidal wave. A deranged Vienna emerges from the sea, looking even more like Swamp Thing than usual. "JAKE. WHY ARE YOU SPENDING TIME WITH THESE OTHER WOMEN!!"<br /><br />-Jake explaining to Ali that yes, she could come back, but technically there was only one Fantasy Suite experience left, so she would have to share with Vienna<br /><br />-A toilet cleaning contest held among the girls. I've been arguing for this one for years. Ostensibly, Jake is looking for a wife. I've got news for you pal, most women are going to seem like pretty good choices when you're flying them all over the country going on $10,000 dates. You want to separate the wheat from the tares? Send them all into the jon after Gus the overweight mic operator drops a load in there. You think Tenley doesn't clean that toilet, even if she hates it? And Vienna's more likely to be responsible for the toilet's current condition than to do anything to fix it.<br /><br />-Along with the toilet contest, I would also make the girls take some sort of basic academic test. Everything else about this show is unrealistic, so why not this? I've even written a couple of questions for Vienna's test:<br /><br />1. If I have five (5) apples, how many apples do I have?<br />2. What is the capital of Austria?<br />3. Count the number of times you've wrapped Daddy's car around a telephone pole without using your fingers<br />4. YOU:JAKE as...<br /> a. OIL:WATER<br /> b. BRITNEY SPEARS:MONASTERY<br /> c. OPRAH:SITUP<br /> d. HEIDI MONTAG:HEALTHY SELF IMAGE<br /> e. YOU:ATTRACTIVE<br />5. Essay: In 50 words or less, list all the words you know<br /><br />-A hard-hitting piece on the crew that was forced to film and edit Vienna and Jake's Fantasy Suite experience. We see a scene of a support group, all the men in a circle. Silence prevails. Finally, one man speaks. "They told us it would be okay. But then it started. . . . We couldn't help it, vomit everywhere. . . . I have lost all hope for mankind." Other members of the circle nod, numbly. One just sobs as he looks at the floor.<br /><br />-Michelle was this season's token crazy person. She was so desperate for a rose that, even after she left, I hadn't ruled out the following scene taking place during a later episode's rose ceremony:<br /><br />Chris Harrison: As you know, those of you who do not receive a rose will be asked to leave. Jake, are you ready?<br /><br />Jake: I am. It's been a tough decision this week, and all you girls look absolutely gor--<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">(Michelle enters, wearing black ski mask, with finger pointed like gun beneath her satin gown)</span><br /><br />Michelle: Everybody DOWN ON THE GROUND!!!Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-28876143703015806802009-11-23T15:15:00.000-08:002009-11-23T15:32:09.345-08:00Interview Trail by the NumbersI've been out on the road for awhile, but I'm back for Thanksgiving (more on that soon!) Here's the breakdown for the past two weeks:<br /><br />14 days<br />14 flights<br />10 cities<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SwsZvjoMrKI/AAAAAAAAAKg/2pWnniqXmhw/s1600/horse-ise_t290.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SwsZvjoMrKI/AAAAAAAAAKg/2pWnniqXmhw/s200/horse-ise_t290.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407444082396802210" /></a><br />6 programs<br />4 hotels<br />2 kind hosts<br />4 time zones<br />1 demonic red-eyed horse statue<br />3 supercilious sycophants encountered<br />1 medical emergency flight detour<br />6/6 programs asking about barbecue<br />0 days I wasn't grateful for iPhone and red sweatshirt<br />0 missed flights<br />0 times getting lost<br />3 pulled pork sandwiches (in 4 days)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/Swsap2eOsZI/AAAAAAAAAKo/QuoLagaRaLc/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/Swsap2eOsZI/AAAAAAAAAKo/QuoLagaRaLc/s200/photo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407445083887677842" /></a><br />6 caps nearly busted in my rear<br />0 vomiting episodes<br />1 attempted joke in interview met with stony silence<br />1 nice guy in the Lou who didn't want to mug me but instead gave me my headphones and told me my backpack was open<br />1 shuttle driver who looked, drove, and acted exactly like Meredith from "The Office" ("I'm a bad girl")<br />1 maple-glazed cedar planked salmon smoked on a snowy nightMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-32053296510559734262009-11-06T11:18:00.000-08:002009-11-06T11:28:05.490-08:00Stay Classy, New Mexico<object width="640" height="505"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lp2DbvWmu4M&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lp2DbvWmu4M&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object><br /><br />I can't believe the BYU players kept their heads. I know I couldn't have.<br /><br />As many of you know, I'm a fiery guy on the field/court as well, and I understand that the BYU players may have provoked her. But her response was beyond dirty play -- it was dangerous. She has been "suspended indefinitely" by her coach. We'll see what that means.<br /><br />Was it worth it, Liz?Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-15178121223310587322009-09-16T19:20:00.000-07:002009-09-16T19:54:57.625-07:00A Chicken in Every Pot and a Deodorant Under Every ArmAre you like me? Do you think that in 21st century America it's reasonable for all undergraduates to wear deodorant? You do? Good, I knew you were like me.<br /><br />Tragically, not everyone is like us.<br /><br />I boarded the shuttle on campus today, headed home after another hard day's work at the library, set to take my board exam tomorrow. Nothing like a relaxing drive through La Jolla to calm the nerves, I thought. Unfortunately, approximately 3700 other people also thought a shuttle ride sounded good, and I soon found myself standing wall-to-wall among them.<br /><br />At this point, I would like to publicly say that whoever invented the handrails for use by standing passengers is a <span style="font-weight: bold;">real piece of crap</span>. I'm sure he thought he was doing us all a favor, but in <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SrGivlfwQUI/AAAAAAAAAKY/feky2GJxKP8/s1600-h/diao113.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SrGivlfwQUI/AAAAAAAAAKY/feky2GJxKP8/s200/diao113.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382261968087302466" border="0" /></a>reality he screwed up big time. I say "he" because I'm sure it was a man who invented these blasted things -- no woman would possibly have invented something with such smelly consequences. It would be much better if we all just stood, arms at our sides, and played one big game of "jello" around every turn.<br /><br />So there I am, about to asphyxiate at any moment under the horrific stench. I see a girl sitting nearby, with a look on her face like she just stepped in feces. Poor soul, she probably won't make it out alive. Do I do the gallant thing, and cover up her nose with my own shirt before she passes out? Do I kick open the emergency hatch and lead us all to freedom? And what in the heck IS THAT SMELL.<br /><br />Well, I decided to just endure. I hope it's okay for ophthalmologists to be hard of smelling, because I think I sustained permanent damage. And if I didn't, I'll self-inflict it before I board the shuttle the next time.<br /><br />P.S.<br /><br />Here's a photo of something my "baby" made last week.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SrGiLWpCahI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/3rhIL44n0Pk/s1600-h/P1000740.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 182px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SrGiLWpCahI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/3rhIL44n0Pk/s320/P1000740.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382261345624418834" border="0" /></a>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-77060730584386818402009-09-06T04:37:00.000-07:002009-09-06T04:48:22.224-07:00New Baby Keeping Me UpIt's 4:37 am, and I'm awake. How did I get into this situation?<div><br /></div><div>Well, it started when the new delivery arrived at a friend's house a few days ago (we chose to have it there). Since then, it's been a whirlwind of friends coming over to see the new addition and family begging for pictures. Mommy has been bonding somewhat but seems a bit standoffish at times. Madeline is indifferent and more concerned about her own "Dee Dee" (baby).</div><div><br /></div><div>But Daddy has had a special relationship with this little guy since the moment he laid eyes on him.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here are a few quick facts about our Bundle of Joy (name pending):</div><div><br /></div><div>Height: 44" (99th percentile)</div><div>Weight: 37 pounds, 0 ounces (99th percentile -- some question of gestational diabetes)</div><div>Color: Black</div><div>Favorite foods: 7 pound pork shoulders, entire bags of Kingsford, and chunks of apple wood (as a special treat)</div><div>Favorite activities: Smoking</div><div>Unusual features: Has three legs, head lifts off body</div><div><br /></div><div>So here I am, caring for him in the wee hours of the morning as only Daddy can. I've been up all night, and I couldn't be happier.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pictures soon to follow!</div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-68932703161052394712009-07-22T21:05:00.000-07:002009-07-22T21:22:05.852-07:00Back from the Grave<div style="text-align: left;">My name is Matt Weed. I used to blog in these parts, until I became lost to follow-up.</div><div><br /></div><div>But now I'm back.</div><div><br /></div><div>These last few months have been very good to me. Looking back on them, obvious highlights include finally figuring out what type of doctor I want to be, taking up barbecuing, finishing the third year of medical school, watching the epic Bachelor finale in which Jason proposed to Melissa, then canned her and went back to The Lovely Molly. Also, I haven't had to perform any rectal exams lately, which is good because it reduces my <a href="http://matthewweed.blogspot.com/2009/01/why-you-dont-want-to-go-to-medical.html">exposure to dangerous gases</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I'm back, and to quote Frank Costanza, "I feel reborn. Like a phoenix, rising from Arizona." I've got a grundle of posts to do in the near future, and I'll be covering everything from my newfound passion for barbecue, the exploits of the now-18 month old Madeline, career plans, and the state of the (Red Sox) nation. Heck I may even work in a Bachelorette post for next week, which I'm aware of only because. . . uh. . . my wife watches. . . . yeah, that's it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I'll kick you all to the curb with a recent photo of my little princess.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SmflCJ8hQmI/AAAAAAAAAKI/87MOn_UaIgU/s400/Mad+10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361505706600120930" /></div><div><br /></div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-30385927797755298962009-02-03T21:06:00.000-08:002009-02-03T21:11:19.491-08:00Doing What I Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SYkjA-CqfbI/AAAAAAAAAJs/mgsKj3j3VJs/s1600-h/P1000138.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SYkjA-CqfbI/AAAAAAAAAJs/mgsKj3j3VJs/s400/P1000138.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298804936139242930" border="0" /></a>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-41780878324015381962009-01-12T18:47:00.001-08:002009-01-12T19:03:10.843-08:00Why You Don't Want to Go to Medical SchoolI'm currently working at the VA on the general surgery service. Our team sees a lot of patients with colorectal issues. Today in the clinic, I saw a patient with prolapsed rectal hemorrhoids. As part of the physical exam, the attending physician and I took a look at the rectal area.<div><br /></div><div>Some of you might cite that tidbit right there as reason enough not to go to medical school. Tragically, as you may have guessed, there's more to the story.</div><div><br /></div><div style="font-weight: bold;">WARNING: DO NOT READ FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH IF YOU HAVE RECENTLY EATEN, ARE CURRENTLY EATING, OR ARE CONSIDERING EATING AGAIN.</div><div><br /></div><div>The attending spread the gluteal muscles to expose the anus. Not seeing any prolapsed tissue, he asked the patient to bear down, so as to potentially prolapse the tissue and expose it for inspection. Well, the patient bore down, and with my attending's face literally a foot from his anus, he "broke wind."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://greyfalcon.us/pictures/mushroom_cloud.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 186px;" src="http://greyfalcon.us/pictures/mushroom_cloud.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently that wasn't enough for my attending, however; he asked for another bear-down. Meanwhile, I was too stunned to be able to make my escape or duck and cover or stop, drop, and roll. So the patient jettisoned some more gaseous cargo. Fox-2, Fire-3!</div><div><br /></div><div>My attending never so much as batted an eyelash. And I know what you're thinking -- but he's not deaf. Or hard of smelling.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that is why you don't want to go to medical school.</div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-64154824111404633542009-01-11T08:57:00.000-08:002009-01-11T19:50:00.195-08:00It's BaaaaaaaaaaacckThey said it couldn't happen. They warned me never to do it again. But in the end, they knew it was useless to resist.<br /><br />I might be busy on my new rotation at school, but I'm certainly not too busy to present<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Top Ten Highlights from the Season Premiere of "The Bachelor"<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">This season's bachelor is Fr</span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">eddie Prinze III, from the looks of things. Actually, he's a single dad named <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelor&d=161943">Jason</a> who, as one of the final two contestants on "The Bachelorette," proposed to the wicked Deana before she ripped out his heart, stomped on it, and threw it in the trash on national TV. He's back this season, and this time he's got </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" >his </span><span style="font-size:78%;">choice of the ladies, so look alive, people!<br /><br />10. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162958">Sharon</a> getting out of the limo to meet Jason for the first time, and instead of engaging him in an introductory conversation like a normal person, immediately grabbing his hands and telling him to salsa dance with her. If I'm Jason, I tell Sharon to just get right back in the limo.<br /><br />9. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162956">Renee</a>, this season's token cougar, claiming she wants to dispel the myth that all L.A. women are flaky -- and then telling us about the visions she has and how the "stars" are in alignment for her and Jason to be together. Cougar, is that all you got?!!?!<br /><br />8. Realizing that Jason's son, Ty, is doomed to an adolescence of appearing on reality TV shows. I personally can't wait for 2021, for "The Bachelor 83," when we'll see Ty wearing a trenchcoat, listening to Korn a lot, and flunking out of school while Dad wonders whether he should go blonde or brunette this time.<br /><br />7. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162957">Shannon</a> disclosing to Jason that she stalks him on myspace, right down to knowing the name of his brother's girlfriend. Knowing Jason's underwear size, his shower routine, and what he looks like when he takes out the garbage should really give her a leg up on the competition. Nice going, Shannon!<br /><br />6. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162964">Treasure</a> from Salt Lake City greeting Jason with the explanation, "It's my real name, not my stage name." Exactly what an apparently wholesome guy with a 3-year-old is looking for in a mate, Treasure! A girl who has to explain she's not a stripper!<br /><br />5. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162947">Naomi</a> looks like Eva Mendes. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162954">Raquel</a> looks like Sela Ward. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162962">Stephanie</a> looks like <a href="http://www.staralicious.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/patrick-swayze.jpg">this guy</a>.<br /><br />4. <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/bachelor/index?pn=bios#t=bachelorettes&d=162943">Megan</a> proclaiming to be an expert on parenting...because she has a 14-month-old. Listen honey I have a <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9_0jY5L9ECM/SWRIXzdRS8I/AAAAAAAAAsg/HD3_gZnoNkY/s1600-h/P1000081.JPG">12-month-old</a>, and I still have no idea what I'm doing.<br /><br />3. Megan's effusive talk about how the other girls don't know jack about parenting earning her the majority vote from the group for "Girl You'd Most Like to See Go Home." Megan was then told she'd be leaving the house that night...but with a rose. Now she's got a chip on her shoulder the size of a 14-month-old.<br /><br />2. Dancin' Fool Sharon deciding to vote out Raquel (another salsa dancer), "because she stole my gig. I was going to be the salsa dancer." That slayed me.<br /></span></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SWq9022w5PI/AAAAAAAAAJE/cOu1DDZZr6w/s1600-h/deana.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SWq9022w5PI/AAAAAAAAAJE/cOu1DDZZr6w/s200/deana.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290249428076127474" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">1. Seeing that later this season, none other than Evil Deana will be returning to the Bachelor Mansion, apparently deeply regretting what she did to Jason's heart, and throwing her hat in the ring. Will Cougar claw Deana's eyes out? Will Ty go up to her and say "my daddy says you're a tramp"? Will Sharon dance her into submission? Only time will tell.<br /></span><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-61481797091129851302008-12-16T22:08:00.000-08:002008-12-16T22:34:17.966-08:00The 2nd Biggest Loser, Transformed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUiYNFE3bdI/AAAAAAAAAH0/p5EQUgnvJQg/s1600-h/Picture+3.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUiYNFE3bdI/AAAAAAAAAH0/p5EQUgnvJQg/s200/Picture+3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280637913560214994" border="0" /></a>This is Ed Brantley at the beginning of this season of "The Biggest Loser." Ed is fat.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUicZwIj93I/AAAAAAAAAIc/S-V80byCR-Q/s1600-h/Picture+8.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 159px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUicZwIj93I/AAAAAAAAAIc/S-V80byCR-Q/s200/Picture+8.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280642529323382642" border="0" /></a>This is Ed today. Ed lost weight, but only enough to earn 2nd place. Ed is skinny, but not the Biggest Loser.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUicsANcvAI/AAAAAAAAAIk/GIssP7073WY/s1600-h/Picture+9.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 169px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUicsANcvAI/AAAAAAAAAIk/GIssP7073WY/s200/Picture+9.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280642842876492802" border="0" /></a>This is Ed six months from now. Ed wishes he won Biggest Loser. Ed appears maladjusted.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUibRtFlqNI/AAAAAAAAAIU/n7L8mIC51e4/s1600-h/Picture+7.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SUibRtFlqNI/AAAAAAAAAIU/n7L8mIC51e4/s200/Picture+7.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280641291555023058" border="0" /></a>This is Ed in a year. Maybe if Ed didn't eat all those coneys and hobbitses, he would have won Biggest Loser.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-10827229058155189262008-12-14T08:50:00.000-08:002008-12-14T09:47:00.459-08:00Back in the Saddle AgainIt's been a few weeks since my last post, so I thought I'd hit a couple of recent highlights to start things off.<br /><br />1. Thanksgiving Day -- Malerie woke me up and told me there was a football game <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.robbinssports.com/sporting-goods-store/images/rawlings-pro5-official-high-school-game-football.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 131px;" src="http://www.robbinssports.com/sporting-goods-store/images/rawlings-pro5-official-high-school-game-football.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>going on that morning that my friends wanted me to go play in. Now, when Malerie (harpist) and I got married, I envisioned being woken up every morning to the melodious sound of the harp. Hasn't happened. But the next best thing is being told I'm wanted at a football game. I'll have some more of that.<br /><br />Later on, we feasted at our place with some friends, watched the parade, the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.erzo.org/shannon/images-rpg/citiesknights1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 115px;" src="http://www.erzo.org/shannon/images-rpg/citiesknights1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>dog show, and some football, and then capped off the night with two games of Cities and Knights of Catan. I'd like to thank the sheep that helped me bring home a warm, wooly victory.<br /><br />That night, after such an amazing day, I didn't want to go to bed. So I didn't. I drove to Target at 1:30 in the morning and got in line for Black Friday. Holding down the fort as #2 in line out of I don't know how many hundreds, I sort of dozed on the cement outside the front door, covered up by a blanket I found in my car, which if memory serves was the same blanket I peed on one time when I was little. But my dutiful patience with the unforgiving concrete and urine-stained coverings paid off, as I was rewarded with $13 seasons of "The Office," unnamed Christmas gifts for Malerie, and the very last Guitar Hero. As I grabbed that last one, much to the chagrin of a middle-aged female bargain hunter who swore at me like I had just peed on her blanket, I knew I had succeeded.<br /><br />2. Winter in San Diego -- Is not like winter in Utah. Or Spokane. At all! Malerie and I both really miss the snow and can't wait to see it soon. I am grateful, however, that it has at least been cooling down here in California. After living here for 2.5 years without ever turning on the heater or the (non-existent) air conditioner, we finally caved and cranked up the thermostat this morning.<br /><br />And now, a list of a few things I'm planning on doing while in Utah for the first time in 9 months:<br /><ul><li>Double Country H -- <a href="http://www.hiresbigh.com/">Hires Big H</a><br /></li><li>Bacon cheeseburger (ketchup only), fries, blackberry shake -- <a href="http://www.apolloburgersonline.com/">Apollo Burger</a></li><li>Reconnaissance mission to Hires for <a href="http://matthewweed.blogspot.com/2008/03/hhh.html">Triple H</a></li><li>Shredded beef burrito, enchilada style -- <a href="http://www.caferio.com/flash/index.html">Café Río</a></li><li>Giant tofu log -- Wayne's Tofu Hut oh who am I kidding I can't even type that with a straight face</li><li>Walk in snowy canyon with my mom and dad</li><li>Build first snowman with Madeline</li><li>Go to <a href="http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n141/drsevrin/IMG_0685.jpg">Cottonwood Mall</a>, get gag picture behind bars in "old jailhouse," stop in at old saloon, tour old abandoned mine shaft</li><li>Taking a break from all things medicine for a few weeks.</li></ul>Merry Christmas, everybody!Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-40522994576203879032008-11-21T18:50:00.000-08:002008-11-22T09:24:46.989-08:0050 Ways to Blow Your Cover<span style="font-style: italic;">In preparation for the BYU-Utah game tomorrow, I've been reviewing some footage of the past two years. Doing so has inspired me to re-write the lyrics to "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover," by Paul Simon. If your volume is up, you should be hearing this right now, since it's the Song of the Week.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />It’s been a year now since you came to Lake City<br /><br />Saying, “Coach Whit, won’t you please just start me at DB.<br /><br />My man will never score and this I guarantee,<br /><br />I’ve got game according to my mother.”<br /><br />Now these days Coach Whit says lose the attitude,<br /><br />Furthermore I hope my job’s not lost and that I won’t be sued<br /><br />But Harline and Collie have left me one unhappy dude<br /><br />Because you’ve found fifty ways to blow your cover<br /><br />Fifty ways to blow your cover<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8A4xTro9Ypk&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8A4xTro9Ypk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FDAj0y3JEJ4&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FDAj0y3JEJ4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If BYU pulls it out on Saturday, maybe I'll try to do a few more verses. If they lose, look for me at the bottom of the bay.</span>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-5021642612643693792008-11-20T16:27:00.000-08:002008-11-20T19:33:45.631-08:00The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.kirwanesque.com/gallery/images/Four_Horsemen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 167px; height: 167px;" src="http://www.kirwanesque.com/gallery/images/Four_Horsemen.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />What's the worst movie you've ever seen? It's a question I've been contemplating lately. Doing so has given me some bad PTSD, and I plan on suing the makers of the following four movies for the irreparable damage they've done to me and mine.<div><br /></div><div>Here are my top 4, in reverse order, with a little Four Horsemen theme:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">IV. Str</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">ife - "Wild Wild </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">West" (1999)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/images/cinema/wild-wild-west.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 209px;" src="http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/images/cinema/wild-wild-west.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>When not even Will Smith and Salma Hayek can save you from the top 4, you know you've made something truly horrible. I remember being excited to see this movie, driving with my equally-unsuspecting friends to the movie theater in West Jordan, and then being subjected to two hours of absolute crap.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a sucker for Will Smith movies (yes, even "I, Robot"), but there was one too many jokes in here about him winding up "in the saddle" with old-west floozies. And the plot, if you can call it that, was just ludicrous. I'll spare you the details and just say that it involves Kenneth Branagh constructing a giant mechanical spider which he uses to terrorize the western United States. Yes, someone actually thought that was a good idea for a movie.</div><div><br />I left thinking, "There's two hours and eight bucks I'm never getting back."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">III. War - "Here on Earth" (2000)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div>Few people I know are familiar with this craptastic chick flick. Sadly, I am. I sent the girl I was dating at the time to Blockbuster with no specific instructions, and this was the consequence. Since then, anytime someone goes to rent a movie for the night, I give them the strictest of orders to avoid Leelee Sobieski like the plague.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/6305962979.01.LZZZZZZZ.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 183px;" src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/6305962979.01.LZZZZZZZ.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Two friends crash a car into Leelee's parents' restaurant. They're ordered to fix the restaurant as punishment (note: if I had been the judge, everyone would have gone straight to the gallows -- the boys, Leelee, her parents, the customers, everyone). One of the boys comes from a wealthy family, and Leelee is the daughter of poor restauranteurs. You're not going to believe this -- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">but they </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">fall in love! </span>Groundbreaking territory to be sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>So there I am, trying to be a decent guy and watch the movie, miraculously stifling all of the thousands of snide remarks that were bubbling up inside of me. Then, at the dramatic end, Leelee's boyfriend returns after an extended absence and the two play "Marco Polo" inside their new home. He actually wanders around looking for her saying "Marco. . . Marco. . . " I couldn't take it anymore, and blurted out something about the movie sucking worse than 10 vacuums. It's like the production team played Marco Polo with their brains. . . and lost.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">II. Famine - "A Walk to Remember" (2002)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/e1/A_Walk_To_Remember_Poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 185px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/e1/A_Walk_To_Remember_Poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I feel like going on a hunger strike when I think about this movie and the circumstances under which I watched it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some girls convince me and my friends to watch it one Friday night, and since I'm interested in one of the girls, we go along with it. After two hours of Mandy Moore's maudlin performance and Shane West acting a fool, I'm nearly catatonic. But the girls go on and on about how sweet a movie it was and how romantic and what a good message blah blah blahhhh.</div><div><br /></div><div>And because I'm interested in this girl, I do something I had never done before and haven't done since -- I totally sell out. I remark loudly about how I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">liked </span>the movie. "What unbelievable chemistry they had," I say. "What a perfect ending. I'd watch that again," and other tall tales. Somehow my buddies refrain from calling me out right then and there, which is what they should have done.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I. Death - "Bicentennial Man" (1999)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/images/cinema/bicentennial-man.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 145px; height: 215px;" src="http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/images/cinema/bicentennial-man.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div>I was a senior in high school looking for a good date movie. Apparently, the summer of '99 wasn't exactly a vintage year for movies, because we ended up going to see this thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a quick tip for you young daters out there: On your date, when you wake up your date, explain to her that the movie is probably only another 15 minutes, and ask if she wants to stay, things probably aren't going so well. And when you then decide to stay <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">and then the movie goes on for another hour</span>, you can just throw that pack of gum in the garbage, because you won't be needing it for quite som<div>e time.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Robin Williams stars as Andrew, a robot who wants to be a real boy. If only a giant whale would have swallowed them all up. . . but I digress. Andrew's best friend, "Little Miss," is the little girl in the family he lives with. Through the miracles of modern technology, Andrew becomes human. We follow his life as Little Miss grows up, has children, and then has grandchildren, one of whom Andrew falls in love with. All of this is happening so slowly that for a minute I wonder if they're filming in real time a la "24." Needless to say, it wasn't a great night, and it was the last date we ever went on -- the death of our relationship. That had to happen, but this movie did not.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Agree/disagree? Feel free to share your picks and/or traumatic experiences.</span></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-28621659277229366422008-11-06T14:31:00.000-08:002008-11-06T14:35:38.809-08:00Overheard on my last day in the OB clinic......asked by a woman who had recently started breastfeeding:<div><br /></div><div>"If I eat steak and don't chew it up well enough, will my baby choke on it?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Discuss.</div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-33250804395329803182008-11-02T18:38:00.000-08:002008-11-02T19:11:58.449-08:00Oooh weee oooh I look just like Buddy Holly<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5kgC1WT7I/AAAAAAAAAF8/9JfeZqXPqy4/s1600-h/1952.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5kgC1WT7I/AAAAAAAAAF8/9JfeZqXPqy4/s200/1952.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264255516121911218" border="0" /></a>1952 - Big Forehead, Small Brain<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5kpeUBLAI/AAAAAAAAAGE/UMN21ywJUC8/s1600-h/1956.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5kpeUBLAI/AAAAAAAAAGE/UMN21ywJUC8/s200/1956.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264255678117129218" border="0" /></a>1956 - Rebel Without a Cause<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5kwZ6EbSI/AAAAAAAAAGM/tVgq6dvCKLQ/s1600-h/1960.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5kwZ6EbSI/AAAAAAAAAGM/tVgq6dvCKLQ/s200/1960.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264255797193633058" border="0" /></a>1960 - I don't care what they say about us anyway<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lBfgWq8I/AAAAAAAAAGU/AZ8vNX5ddCQ/s1600-h/1968.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lBfgWq8I/AAAAAAAAAGU/AZ8vNX5ddCQ/s200/1968.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264256090754165698" border="0" /></a>1968 - Marine Helmet No, Hair Helmet Yes<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lJS5hchI/AAAAAAAAAGc/l2n08PFdkhA/s1600-h/1970.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lJS5hchI/AAAAAAAAAGc/l2n08PFdkhA/s200/1970.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264256224809021970" border="0" /></a>1970 - Professor Who Always Made You Uncomfortable<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5mlC3QVHI/AAAAAAAAAHE/vkHQ8RP3t5o/s1600-h/1974.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5mlC3QVHI/AAAAAAAAAHE/vkHQ8RP3t5o/s200/1974.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264257801052509298" border="0" /></a>1974 - Father of Screech<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lZMpqCnI/AAAAAAAAAGs/BLyuKuxVat0/s1600-h/1976.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lZMpqCnI/AAAAAAAAAGs/BLyuKuxVat0/s200/1976.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264256498009770610" border="0" /></a>1976 - Wait, I said "male"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5liJIpb9I/AAAAAAAAAG0/QvCdj9m0BeY/s1600-h/1980.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5liJIpb9I/AAAAAAAAAG0/QvCdj9m0BeY/s200/1980.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264256651684835282" border="0" /></a>1980 - Wayne Arnold<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lp5HakOI/AAAAAAAAAG8/6VDzS6IzYKI/s1600-h/1982.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5lp5HakOI/AAAAAAAAAG8/6VDzS6IzYKI/s200/1982.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264256784823652578" border="0" /></a>1982 - I finally grow an afro and they're "out?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5m2QjYhII/AAAAAAAAAHM/Yw-oQ3_Qkr8/s1600-h/1988.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5m2QjYhII/AAAAAAAAAHM/Yw-oQ3_Qkr8/s200/1988.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264258096785032322" border="0" /></a>1988 - All Business Up Front, All Party Out Back<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5nBGwHCUI/AAAAAAAAAHU/FeSR5zC5Iu4/s1600-h/1994.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5nBGwHCUI/AAAAAAAAAHU/FeSR5zC5Iu4/s200/1994.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264258283132619074" border="0" /></a>1994 - A Little Too Realistic<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5nMWcLQmI/AAAAAAAAAHc/6ki5da8aIUU/s1600-h/1996.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5nMWcLQmI/AAAAAAAAAHc/6ki5da8aIUU/s200/1996.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264258476322538082" border="0" /></a>1996 - Trapezoid Hair<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5na2mDNPI/AAAAAAAAAHk/z71Cu0bbPYM/s1600-h/1998.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 141px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SQ5na2mDNPI/AAAAAAAAAHk/z71Cu0bbPYM/s200/1998.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264258725472056562" border="0" /></a>1998 - I just ate '88-'96<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-8495804913231377112008-10-25T11:57:00.000-07:002008-10-25T12:42:13.622-07:00In the Navy NowThird-year medical students, having spent the first two years largely in the classroom, spend the majority of their time on different rotations, as they are called. At UCSD, these third-year rotations are all mandatory, and include internal medicine, OB/Gyn, psychiatry, surgery, neurology, pediatrics, and primary care.<div><br /></div><div>I'm currently on OB/Gyn at the Navy Hospital in San Diego. Going into the rotation, I had three concerns:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.usmilitarystuff.com/images/united%20states%20navy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 154px;" src="http://www.usmilitarystuff.com/images/united%20states%20navy.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>1) How would I cope with having to get up at 4:30 am?</div><div>2) Would I ever want to have children again?</div><div>3) If called upon, with little prior preparation, would I be able to salute in adequate fashion?</div><div><br /></div><div>The verdict so far:</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Uhhh</div><div>2) Hmmmm</div><div>3) Yes, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">sir!</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Actually, I've enjoyed it much more than I thought I would. I've gotten to do two deliveries by myself (with a resident physician supervising), and they were both incredible experiences. I'll tell you about the first one.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a Sunday afternoon, and I went into the labor and delivery room to meet the expecting parents. This was to be their first child, and they were both very excited. They had a traditional Irish name picked out for their son-to-be. More importantly, the father was wearing a Red Sox jersey, which was obviously appropriate because Game 3 of the Sox-Angels playoff series was that night.</div><div><br /></div><div>The resident and I put on the sterile gowns and gloves, and a short while later, something unexpected and disturbing happened: The Red Sox lost. But before that, we all welcomed a beautiful and healthy baby boy into the world. As I pulled him out and made sure not to drop the slimy little guy, the parents both burst into tears of joy. The room may or may not have gotten a little dusty at that point.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I was getting ready to leave the room, I heard the parents talking about how their son was bigger than they had anticipated. I told them he was "a regular <span style="font-weight: bold;">Kevin Youkilis</span>."</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 186px;" src="http://blog.masslive.com/redsoxmonster/2008/01/medium_youkslumpbuster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></div><div>What better compliment to pay a new mother/wife of a Red Sox fan!</div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-79235179197342964772008-09-28T16:33:00.000-07:002008-09-28T16:59:35.763-07:00Phil's in my FutureI had never been known as a real big meat eater, but that all changed when I met Phil.<div><br /><div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.fluidsound.biz/images/phils_bbq_san_diego_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><a href="http://www.philsbbq.net/">Phil's BBQ</a> is a San Diego favorite despite having only been around 10 years. Before their recent relocation to a barn-sized building in Point Loma, Phil's was just a hole-in-the-wall in Mission Hills. Rumor has it that the local residents were so overwhelmed by the intoxicatingly potent barbecue smell that they actually forced the restaurant to move elsewhere.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SOAZMjHvV_I/AAAAAAAAAE0/YYLKwYRjwTM/s200/Picture+1.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251224868890826738" /></div><div>I hadn't been to Phil's in about a year when, a few weeks ago, I stopped in at lunch for some take-out. I was running a little late, but such is the power of the Phil that I could not resist. And that's where I met my new love: the pulled pork Broham sandwich. A giant mess of sweet, tangy pork grilled to perfection slathered all over a toasted bun. It's impossible to eat without getting sauce all over yourself; I actually had to stop off at home that day just to wash up before going to work, lest people in the clinic think I was some meat-crazed savage. Which is exactly what I have become.</div><div><br /></div><div>That sandwich was so good that I had to have more. The very next day, while Malerie was out of town, I convinced our friends Pete and Rachel to try it out. Pete liked it so much that he reportedly lobbied to go there a week or so later for their anniversary dinner (didn't happen). Since that first Broham, I have had many other Brohams like unto it. Malerie thinks the sandwiches are a bit much for her, but really likes the onion rings. Madeline hasn't yet had Baby's First Broham, but that's coming.</div><div><br /></div><div>Any non-vegetarians who read this, do yourselves a favor and go to Phil's. Vegetarians, it's for the best that you stay away -- eat a little of the good stuff and you might just switch teams.</div><div><br /></div></div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-24019245355157369402008-09-05T13:47:00.000-07:002008-09-05T14:36:05.222-07:00Grand RoundsGrand rounds are a time-honored tradition of medicine, an age-old practice that even predates waiting rooms and breezy hospital gowns. Formerly, grand rounds were led by a wizened clinician who would present a patient's case to the group of attending physicians, fellows, residents, and students. The group would meet in the hospital, discuss the case, then go see the patient.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pano-boston.org/pictures/etherdome.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.pano-boston.org/pictures/etherdome.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Sadly, that type of grand rounds has gone the way of leeches, lobotomies, and the four humors. Today, grand rounds typically consist of that same group meeting in an auditorium somewhere and discussing the patient's case. . .but without ever seeing the patient. Some dumpy auditorium and no visiting patients? Maybe grands rounds are neither grand nor rounds.<div><br /></div><div>So then what are they? Last week, I got the chance to find out.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got up extra early on a Wednesday morning and made my way over to UCSD's campus, to Liebow Auditorium, where these supposed grand rounds were to be held. Much to my chagrin, I had actually heard this same exact lecture twice already from the same presenter. And there was no discussion whatsoever of any patient's case. Luckily, there was food.<br /><br /></div><div>Afterward, I had to hoof it back over to Thornton Hospital for my day's work. Despite it being only 9:00 am, it was already blazing hot and humid outside, and I was in my dress clothes and white coat.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SMGgtnUp0dI/AAAAAAAAAEs/NUCMfUaOiXo/s1600-h/Grand+Route.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 593px; height: 428px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3ch2qUhaypk/SMGgtnUp0dI/AAAAAAAAAEs/NUCMfUaOiXo/s400/Grand+Route.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242648146746134994" border="0" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>This is the route I was forced to take. You'll notice the drastic northward deviation I had to make in order to cross I-5. You'll also notice I ended up passing through a rather unfortunate locale there near the baseball field. I was running late, and if climbing over a giant mound of whatever is the only way to get to work on time, then that's what I'll have to do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Basically, I've decided that the term "Grand Rounds" must actually refer to the following three things:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. The approximate shape of my route to Thornton Hospital.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. What I'd like to fire off at the person who decided that spot was perfect for a compost heap.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. The waste products of the various animals through which I was forced to walk.<br /><br />Anything in the name of patient care.<br /></div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6769250122673005331.post-62045273030790033322008-08-19T18:20:00.000-07:002008-08-19T22:14:48.310-07:00Gymnastics Judges' Identities. . . Revealed!!Millions have wondered, but only now has the truth come to light.<div><br /></div><div>Just who are these women's gymnastics judges? A little digging on the internets was all it took for me to find out. You heard it here first.<br /><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.property-casualty.com/Mr.%20Magoo-2.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 177px; height: 153px;" src="http://www.property-casualty.com/Mr.%20Magoo-2.bmp" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 133px;" src="http://forgottenjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/10/stevie-wonder-photo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.sonsofsamhorn.net/wiki/images/c/ce/HeilPanda.jpg" alt="" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08630817478976925071noreply@blogger.com3