Read My Mind

Deleted Scenes from Week 4

2011-01-24T22:10:00.000-08:00

--Michelle's Date--

(BRAD has just finished talking with ASHLEY H, prior to taking MICHELLE on the romantic one-on-one.)

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.

MICHELLE: Rrrrrrrrrrrr

(Exit Brad and Stacey. Fifteen minutes pass before they return.)

BRAD: Thanks Michelle, you're a trouper. Now there's just one more person I really need to talk with, if that's okay.

(Signals off camera to seemingly random stagehand. Exit Brad and stagehand.)

--Later, with Michelle, back at Brad's place--

BRAD: Michelle, I have planned the most romantic, amazing date for you tonight. No doubt about it.

MICHELLE: Tell me what it is before I paint another black eye on myself!

BRAD: Have you ever heard of something called "Netflix?"

--Later still, with Michelle in the chopper--

MICHELLE (swooning): Ohhhh Brad, where are you taking me???

BRAD: Back to the house. Could you get Chantal for me?

--During dinner with Michelle--

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?

MICHELLE: We are in a fight. It's our second fight.

BRAD (in best cyborg monotone): Come....here....you...come to...Lovebot 3000...He will....console....you

MICHELLE: I'm mad at you because you can't remember my daughter's name.

BRAD: What? Rielle?

MICHELLE: Rielle! That was it! (Hurriedly writes name down on post-it, slips into her purse with note to call later)

--Fast Forward to the Final Rose Ceremony--

(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?)

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....

JAMIE: Brad, you've come a long way since those first few therapy sessions. Of course I accept!

-------------------------------------

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.

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!

Five Sure-Fire Ways to Improve "The Bachelor"

2010-08-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

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. We could have that every season!

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.

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.

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!

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 Shannon 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.

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.

Bachelorette Finale Sneak Peek

2010-07-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

Before 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 toilet-cleaning contest idea? Vienna would have quit the show and spared us all.

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?

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)!

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.

Frank has also had a Fantasy Suite ticket for a while now, but he keeps ripping 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.

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.

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.

Here's how I see the final Rose Ceremony playing out:

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?

ALI: It's been hard, but I feel g...wait, what?!

(enter CASEY, looking dissheveled in dirty raincoat)

CASEY: I got another tattoo since you dumped me, Ali. Can I share it with you? Guard and protect this, you tramp!

(He moons Ali, revealing giant "YOU SUCK," and runs away, sobbing)

ROBERTO (smiling): Do you want to go look at my baseball card some more? I'll put on the Lion King pelt...

FRANK: I think we're all feeling a little jealous that Casey got to show Ali his butt before we did.

HOST: Order! Come to order! Ali, this moment is about you and your choice. What have you decided?

(Suddenly, the lights go out. Darkness prevails. FRANK screams. A familiar tune begins to boom through the set.)

HOST: Oh no! That's RATED R's music!

(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.)

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!

RATED R: Wait, this is a dating show? Man I'm dumb! (Exits)

HOST: Ali! I can't get a pulse on Roberto! I'm afraid he's gone!

ALI: (wails) Noooooo! I was all ready to make him my 6-week boyfriend! Now I'll never find "love"!

(Enter KIRK'S DAD, with freezer bags and toolbox)

KIRK'S DAD: Perhaps I can be of some assistance? Bringing things back to life is what I do!

(Curtain)

New Blog

2010-07-08T19:55:00.000-07:00

Since 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.

Here's the link.

I'll try to post at least once or twice a week.

Thanks again for your thoughts, comments, and prayers. They mean a lot.

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.

Thoughts from the ICU

2010-06-29T01:46:00.000-07:00

It's about 2 am, I've got a few minutes, and I figured I would post a few thoughts.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Thank you for your comments, thoughts, and prayers. I'm committed to keep trying.

My First Night of Internship

2010-06-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

I finished medical school two weeks ago, and have sinced moved to Spokane, Washington to start my year of internship at Sacred Heart Medical Center.

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.

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:

-- Writing my first order as a physician: "Ok for patient to take ice chips by mouth."
-- Introducing myself as Dr. Weed for the first time and thinking that it sounded silly
-- 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.
-- The senior resident was fortunately extremely patient and kind, and made me want to work harder and better so I didn't disappoint her.
-- 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.
-- 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.
-- 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.
-- 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.

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.

The Bachelor: Season in Review

2010-02-16T17:38:00.000-08:00

The 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.

But that's all in the past. Without further ado....

A Few Highlights from the Season So Far:

-Jake letting Vienna "Sausage" Girardi (not pictured, blog standards) through the first cut, yet eliminating the likes of Emily 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.

-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.

Ali's 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.

-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?

-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.

And now, some Scenes I Wish We Could Have Seen:

-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!!"

-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

-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.

-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:

1. If I have five (5) apples, how many apples do I have?
2. What is the capital of Austria?
3. Count the number of times you've wrapped Daddy's car around a telephone pole without using your fingers
4. YOU:JAKE as...
a. OIL:WATER
b. BRITNEY SPEARS:MONASTERY
c. OPRAH:SITUP
d. HEIDI MONTAG:HEALTHY SELF IMAGE
e. YOU:ATTRACTIVE
5. Essay: In 50 words or less, list all the words you know

-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.

-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:

Chris Harrison: As you know, those of you who do not receive a rose will be asked to leave. Jake, are you ready?

Jake: I am. It's been a tough decision this week, and all you girls look absolutely gor--

(Michelle enters, wearing black ski mask, with finger pointed like gun beneath her satin gown)

Michelle: Everybody DOWN ON THE GROUND!!!

Interview Trail by the Numbers

2009-11-23T15:15:00.000-08:00

I'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:

14 days
14 flights
10 cities

6 programs
4 hotels
2 kind hosts
4 time zones
1 demonic red-eyed horse statue
3 supercilious sycophants encountered
1 medical emergency flight detour
6/6 programs asking about barbecue
0 days I wasn't grateful for iPhone and red sweatshirt
0 missed flights
0 times getting lost
3 pulled pork sandwiches (in 4 days)

6 caps nearly busted in my rear
0 vomiting episodes
1 attempted joke in interview met with stony silence
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
1 shuttle driver who looked, drove, and acted exactly like Meredith from "The Office" ("I'm a bad girl")
1 maple-glazed cedar planked salmon smoked on a snowy night

Stay Classy, New Mexico

2009-11-06T11:18:00.000-08:00

I can't believe the BYU players kept their heads. I know I couldn't have.

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.

Was it worth it, Liz?

A Chicken in Every Pot and a Deodorant Under Every Arm

2009-09-16T19:20:00.000-07:00

Are 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.

Tragically, not everyone is like us.

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.

At this point, I would like to publicly say that whoever invented the handrails for use by standing passengers is a real piece of crap. I'm sure he thought he was doing us all a favor, but in 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.

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.

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.

P.S.

Here's a photo of something my "baby" made last week.

New Baby Keeping Me Up

2009-09-06T04:37:00.000-07:00

It's 4:37 am, and I'm awake. How did I get into this situation?

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).

But Daddy has had a special relationship with this little guy since the moment he laid eyes on him.

Here are a few quick facts about our Bundle of Joy (name pending):

Height: 44" (99th percentile)

Weight: 37 pounds, 0 ounces (99th percentile -- some question of gestational diabetes)

Color: Black

Favorite foods: 7 pound pork shoulders, entire bags of Kingsford, and chunks of apple wood (as a special treat)

Favorite activities: Smoking

Unusual features: Has three legs, head lifts off body

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.

Pictures soon to follow!

Back from the Grave

2009-07-22T21:05:00.000-07:00

My name is Matt Weed. I used to blog in these parts, until I became lost to follow-up.

But now I'm back.

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 exposure to dangerous gases.

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.

Anyway, I'll kick you all to the curb with a recent photo of my little princess.

Doing What I Love

2009-02-03T21:06:00.000-08:00

Why You Don't Want to Go to Medical School

2009-01-12T18:47:00.001-08:00

I'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.

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.

WARNING: DO NOT READ FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH IF YOU HAVE RECENTLY EATEN, ARE CURRENTLY EATING, OR ARE CONSIDERING EATING AGAIN.

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."

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!

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.

And that is why you don't want to go to medical school.

It's Baaaaaaaaaaacck

2009-01-11T08:57:00.000-08:00

They said it couldn't happen. They warned me never to do it again. But in the end, they knew it was useless to resist.

I might be busy on my new rotation at school, but I'm certainly not too busy to present

The Top Ten Highlights from the Season Premiere of "The Bachelor"

This season's bachelor is Freddie Prinze III, from the looks of things. Actually, he's a single dad named Jason 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 his choice of the ladies, so look alive, people!

10. Sharon 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.

9. Renee, 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?!!?!

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.

7. Shannon 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!

6. Treasure 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!

5. Naomi looks like Eva Mendes. Raquel looks like Sela Ward. Stephanie looks like this guy.

4. Megan proclaiming to be an expert on parenting...because she has a 14-month-old. Listen honey I have a 12-month-old, and I still have no idea what I'm doing.

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.

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.

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.

The 2nd Biggest Loser, Transformed

2008-12-16T22:08:00.000-08:00

This is Ed Brantley at the beginning of this season of "The Biggest Loser." Ed is fat.

This is Ed today. Ed lost weight, but only enough to earn 2nd place. Ed is skinny, but not the Biggest Loser.

This is Ed six months from now. Ed wishes he won Biggest Loser. Ed appears maladjusted.

This is Ed in a year. Maybe if Ed didn't eat all those coneys and hobbitses, he would have won Biggest Loser.

Back in the Saddle Again

2008-12-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

It's been a few weeks since my last post, so I thought I'd hit a couple of recent highlights to start things off.

1. Thanksgiving Day -- Malerie woke me up and told me there was a football game 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.

Later on, we feasted at our place with some friends, watched the parade, the 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.

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.

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.

And now, a list of a few things I'm planning on doing while in Utah for the first time in 9 months:

Double Country H -- Hires Big H
Bacon cheeseburger (ketchup only), fries, blackberry shake -- Apollo Burger
Reconnaissance mission to Hires for Triple H
Shredded beef burrito, enchilada style -- Café Río
Giant tofu log -- Wayne's Tofu Hut oh who am I kidding I can't even type that with a straight face
Walk in snowy canyon with my mom and dad
Build first snowman with Madeline
Go to Cottonwood Mall, get gag picture behind bars in "old jailhouse," stop in at old saloon, tour old abandoned mine shaft
Taking a break from all things medicine for a few weeks.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

50 Ways to Blow Your Cover

2008-11-21T18:50:00.000-08:00

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.

It’s been a year now since you came to Lake City

Saying, “Coach Whit, won’t you please just start me at DB.

My man will never score and this I guarantee,

I’ve got game according to my mother.”

Now these days Coach Whit says lose the attitude,

Furthermore I hope my job’s not lost and that I won’t be sued

But Harline and Collie have left me one unhappy dude

Because you’ve found fifty ways to blow your cover

Fifty ways to blow your cover

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.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

2008-11-20T16:27:00.000-08:00

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.

Here are my top 4, in reverse order, with a little Four Horsemen theme:

IV. Strife - "Wild Wild West" (1999)

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.

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.

I left thinking, "There's two hours and eight bucks I'm never getting back."

III. War - "Here on Earth" (2000)

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.

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 -- but they fall in love! Groundbreaking territory to be sure.

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.

II. Famine - "A Walk to Remember" (2002)

I feel like going on a hunger strike when I think about this movie and the circumstances under which I watched it.

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.

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 liked 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.

I. Death - "Bicentennial Man" (1999)

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.

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 and then the movie goes on for another hour, you can just throw that pack of gum in the garbage, because you won't be needing it for quite som

e time.

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.

Agree/disagree? Feel free to share your picks and/or traumatic experiences.

Overheard on my last day in the OB clinic...

2008-11-06T14:31:00.000-08:00

...asked by a woman who had recently started breastfeeding:

"If I eat steak and don't chew it up well enough, will my baby choke on it?"

Discuss.

Oooh weee oooh I look just like Buddy Holly

2008-11-02T18:38:00.000-08:00

1952 - Big Forehead, Small Brain

1956 - Rebel Without a Cause

1960 - I don't care what they say about us anyway

1968 - Marine Helmet No, Hair Helmet Yes

1970 - Professor Who Always Made You Uncomfortable

1974 - Father of Screech

1976 - Wait, I said "male"

1980 - Wayne Arnold

1982 - I finally grow an afro and they're "out?"

1988 - All Business Up Front, All Party Out Back

1994 - A Little Too Realistic

1996 - Trapezoid Hair

1998 - I just ate '88-'96

In the Navy Now

2008-10-25T11:57:00.000-07:00

Third-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.

I'm currently on OB/Gyn at the Navy Hospital in San Diego. Going into the rotation, I had three concerns:

1) How would I cope with having to get up at 4:30 am?

2) Would I ever want to have children again?

3) If called upon, with little prior preparation, would I be able to salute in adequate fashion?

The verdict so far:

1) Uhhh

2) Hmmmm

3) Yes, sir!

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.

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.

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.

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 Kevin Youkilis."

What better compliment to pay a new mother/wife of a Red Sox fan!

Phil's in my Future

2008-09-28T16:33:00.000-07:00

I had never been known as a real big meat eater, but that all changed when I met Phil.

Phil's BBQ 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.

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.

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.

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.

Grand Rounds

2008-09-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

Grand 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.

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.

So then what are they? Last week, I got the chance to find out.

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.

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.

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.

Basically, I've decided that the term "Grand Rounds" must actually refer to the following three things:

1. The approximate shape of my route to Thornton Hospital.

2. What I'd like to fire off at the person who decided that spot was perfect for a compost heap.

3. The waste products of the various animals through which I was forced to walk.

Anything in the name of patient care.

Gymnastics Judges' Identities. . . Revealed!!

2008-08-19T18:20:00.000-07:00

Millions have wondered, but only now has the truth come to light.

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.

Beijing Beef

2008-08-17T18:13:00.000-07:00

I am nothing if not a huge Olympics fan. I can remember watching every Olympics back to 1988 in Seoul when the roid-racing Ben Johnson blew everyone away with a 9.79 in the 100m dash. He was disqualified after testing positive for stanozolol three days later. But I was in love -- not with Ben Johnson, but with the Olympics.

So naturally I was stoked for this year's games in Beijing. I've been able to watch a lot of the events because this month I've got a great schedule. Overall, I have been really happy with the way things have gone, but I do have a couple of beefs with Beijing.

1) Chinese gymnasts being replaced with prepubescent cyborgs. Olympic policy is that the athletes must turn 16 during the year of competition, and if you've seen these Chinese girls, you know that such cannot possibly be the case. The girls produced Chinese passports "proving" their legal age, but the world smells a rat. Just a few days ago, I found an article, published earlier this year, on the Chinese government's OWN NEWS WEBSITE stating that gymnast He Kexin was 13 years old. That article has since been removed from the site. Basically, the Chinese government just told the world, "These aren't the droids you're looking for."

2) I am in absolute awe of Michael Phelps. To do what he has done, with all the pressure on him, is phenomenal in the truest sense of the word. I love sports because I love finding out who will wilt under the pressure and who will come through. He reminds me of Michael Jordan: the perfect combination of talent and the will to dominate.

So where's the beef? Well, I heard a few people say this past week that it "would be good for swimming and for Michael Phelps" if he lost. Uh, no. This is an example of when people just say things to get attention but have no clue what they're talking about. How, exactly, would it be good for swimming? The more Phelps does, the more attention he brings to the sport. Losing his bid for eight golds would have brought less attention, not more. His story is now everlasting, and will capture the imagination of more children and get them in the pool because people will still be talking about it for years and decades to come.

And what of this nonsense that it "would be good for Phelps" if he lost? It's true that defeat early in an athlete's career can provide motivation for later greatness. But Phelps already did that -- four years ago in Athens, the first time he tried for 8 golds in one Olympics. Beijing represented the last attempt at something of this magnitude, so what purpose would defeat have served? To fire him up to nail down 4/4 golds next time? I don't buy it. Go come up with some other weightless argument, maybe something about how it's actually good for America to get fatter, or how Lucky Charms are neither lucky nor charms.

3) The Opening Ceremonies were great, until I found out that some of the fireworks may have been about as authentic as Panda Express. Also, the cute little girl who sang the song was lip-synching; apparently the real singer wasn't attractive enough for TV, and was relegated to singing off camera. That sends a great message, don't you think? "Kids, you may have loads of talent on the inside, but it's what's outside that counts." Imagine the backlash if this happened in America. . . .

Arm Amputation Recommended for Wunderkind Yankee Pitcher

2008-08-05T21:44:00.000-07:00

Joba Chamberlain, New York Yankee pitching phenom, received some sobering news Tuesday evening regarding his recent shoulder injury.

Chamberlain, 22, left Monday night's game against the Texas Rangers in the 6th inning complaining of shoulder pain. After an MRI in Arlington, Chamberlain flew to Alabama to be examined by

the world-famous orthopedic surgeon and noted arm injury expert Dr. James Andrews. After conducting a thorough examination and additional imaging studies, Dr. Andrews concluded that the only appropriate treatment would be amputation.

"Joba's pitching shoulder is damaged beyond hope. He's done irreparable harm to it by throwing that famed 100-mph gas of his. Thing is, if I just take the right arm, he might learn to throw lefty and then ruin that shoulder, too. So I've decided to just go ahead and cut off both of them."

Upon hearing the news, Chamberlain immediately inquired as to how long it would take for his arms to grow back so he could pitch again.

"I didn't even know what to say," said a mystified Dr. Andrews.

Chamberlain has drawn heavy criticism this year for his excessive celebrations and head-hunting pitching style. Many in the media are already wondering if this injury represents some sort of karma.

"I've seen him pump his meaty little fists after striking out some no-name in the second inning," commented a Boston Globe sportswriter who wished not to be identified. "I guess that won't be happening anymore."

Prior to Dr. Andrews' bombshell, many figured Chamberlain would simply miss a start or two; most anticipated he would be back in time for a potential Yankee playoff run. But no one could have foreseen this.

"First Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy (two other highly acclaimed New York pitchers) stink up the joint, and now our one good starter has to have his arms cut off," quipped Brian Cashman, the team's general manager. "Fortunately for us, we're the Yankees. We'll get some more arms from small-market teams strapped for cash." When asked which pitchers he was considering acquiring, Cashman clarified, "No, I mean arms as in actual arms. We don't want the whole pitcher, we just want everything from the shoulder to the fingertips."

Chamberlain has a 2.63 ERA and a 4-3 record this season.

What Not To Do With a Pacifier

2008-08-04T16:55:00.001-07:00

This is my daughter, Madeline, getting her game face on. Note: her hair is actually light brown, not red. Anyway, we're getting ready to follow game 4 in the post-Manny Red Sox era. The first three games have been wins, and we've got high hopes for tonight.

The Red Sox are not the topic of this post, however. The topic is my daughter's growing dexterity. She's figured out how to take her pacifier out of her mouth and how to put it back in. The other day, she was doing this very thing while also playing with her stuffed hippo. I noticed a rather objectionable behavior, and said the following:

"Madeline, pacifier doesn't go in hippo's bum."

Malerie, sitting nearby, started choking with laughter and very nearly spat her milk out all over the place.

Who says parenthood isn't exciting?

Casting Change in "Twilight" Drives Stake Through Hearts of Women Everywhere

2008-07-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

Females across the nation are in mourning in the wake of today's announcement of a casting change for the role of "Edward" in the upcoming movie Twilight. The movie, based on the eponymous book by author Stephanie Meyer, features the heartthrob Edward as perhaps the only vampire whom most women wouldn't fight if he asked to drink their blood. Hunky Edward was set to be played by the little-known yet devastatingly handsome Robert Pattinson. . .at least until today. According to producers, that role has now been given to Christopher Mintz-Plasse, best known for his work as "McLovin" in Superbad.

When asked why they made such a drastic decision so late in the process -- much of the shooting had already been completed -- director Christopher Wren says, "If we want to market our movie to people besides women age 16-45, we need something in there besides a dreamy vampire. We need a dreamy vampire who wears glasses, farts a lot, and is socially awkward. We need McLovin."

"I'm at a total loss," comments crazed Twilight fan Brenda Gowdry of Sioux City, Iowa. "I read all of Ms. Meyer's books fantasizing about the day Edward would take me away to his lair and give me passionate, toothy kisses. Edward makes me swoon. McLovin makes me barf."

Other fans remain convinced that the casting change was done out of spite. "I just know my boyfriend is behind this," claims 17-year-old Jane Theyer. "He complains that ever since Edward came into my life, I've made unreasonable demands of him. Whatever. I even offered to pay for those incisor implants and for the set of 30 satin capes, and he still balked."

Yet not everyone sees the switch as a negative. Mintz-Plasse, for example, describes himself as "stoked to the max" to don the cape and fangs. "I plan on bringing my own natural charm to the role," he says, yet also admits he knows little about the character. "As long as Edward's one of those vampires that acts like an idiot and gets drunk in public a lot, I've got it made."

The movie is due out December 12.

The Bus Thing That Ever Happened To Me

2008-07-13T13:15:00.000-07:00

I finished my work at the hospital earlier than anticipated this morning, leaving me in a quandary over how to get back home. Malerie was at church with the car and had her cell phone off. What to do? Walk? That would take like 5 hours and I'd most likely keel over on the way. Ask my attending for a ride home? Probably frowned-upon, especially since he lives in the opposite direction. Then a thought occurred to me--with my phat monthly income of $0, I could probably spring for a taxi.

So I checked into cab fares, and I fully intend to report my findings to the Better Business Bureau. Have you seen the racket these cabbies have going? $35 for a 12-mile ride?? For that kind of coin I ought to be going by helicopter, or at least one of those crappy stretch-Geo "limos."

My last option was none other than The Working Man's Champion, The People's Choice--the city bus. Always an adventure in sounds and smells, the bus offers many people the one thing they desperately need. And what might that be? Conveyance? No. Shelter? Wrong again. What many bus riders are really looking for is a captive audience. Go ride one sometime if you don't believe me. You'll feel like an actual captive.

Upstairs in the hospital, I planned out my route online, hoping I wouldn't get to hear about a co-passenger's intestinal complaint again (this actually happened). And then I remembered February 2003.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In February 2003, I was a missionary living in Costa Rica. Another missionary and I had been travelling down near the Panamanian border and were due to return to San José, a healthy seven hours away. As the bus approached, my companion informed me that he had forgotten to buy tickets, which meant we would be riding standby. Rapture. We would be able to sit as long as no other passenger boarded with a ticket for our seat. The first three hours, mercifully, we were able to sit down.

That changed all too soon, as I suddenly found myself standing, packed into the back of the bus like a sardine. Despite my efforts to be a good soldier, I soon started noticing how uncomfortably hot the bus was becoming, what with the wall-to-wall people. Costa Ricans are under the impression that exposure to any sort of cool air causes serious illness, so opening the windows on that inferno bus was out of the question. I even tried to sneakily crack one open an inch or two and steal some air, but the other passengers balked.

After standing in the heat for two hours, I started feeling nauseous. What could I do? There certainly weren't any sickness bags to be found. Thanks to my shenanigans with the window, the other passengers had edged me to the center of the aisle, so I had no easy way to open the window if the worst should happen. Like any good missionary, I cast my eyes to the heavens...

...and saw the emergency exit. Perhaps I could somehow pop open that hatch and release my burden? But nauseous or not, I didn't want my head getting lopped off by a low hanging branch. I thought about just exploding all over the place--that would serve these people right for not giving me window privileges. But then I would have to stand in my own vomit for two more hours.

It soon became apparent that I would need to act, and fast. Desperately, I lunged toward the nearest window, landing, arms extended, on the laps of a seated man and his young daughter. Still laying across their knees, I forced open the window and tossed a surprise into the night. Relief was instant, but also temporary. 30 seconds later, I did it again.

Missionaries are there to answer questions, but I'm almost positive those two poor souls didn't board that bus wondering, "I wonder what it feels like to have someone wretch while in physical contact with me?" But maybe they were.

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Perhaps now you can understand my aversion to buses. Fortunately for me and the other passengers, today's trip home was much less eventful. It cost a total of $2.25, so I can buy more motion sickness bags. Plus, the driver looked just like this guy:

Maybe next time, I'll get Mini-Me or even Mr. Bigglesworth.

"iPhone?" iThink Not!

2008-06-23T09:35:00.000-07:00

In Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point (which is excellent, by the way), he details how new trends catch on, describing the key players and various stages. For instance, there are some people who must have the latest innovations; it is often a source of pride for them. They deal with the early kinks and bugs, sacrificing stability for novelty. These are the "early adopters."

I am not an early adopter. In fact I'm not sure I'm even an adopter. I waged a dying war against owning a cellphone until 2006, when I was 23 -- if anyone reading this held out longer than that, I'd love to hear about it. Why the anti-cellphone sentiments, you ask? Three reasons: 1. The thought of people being able to get ahold of me whenever they wanted scared me. 2. I liked spending time by myself just thinking, not talking. 3. I liked telling those hyper-aggressive cellphone salesmen at mall kiosks that I didn't own/want a phone -- the incredulous looks on their faces were priceless.

In 2003, during my first semester back at BYU after my mission, as I walked across campus, some dude handed me a flyer for a bit of newfangled technology. It was for some music player that could hold a bunch of songs, and it had the ridiculous name, iPod. Like something named iPod would ever sell! Silly Apple. "No wonder your company went to the dogs!" I thought. Five years later, I own two of the 170 million of these babies that Apple has sold. Not coincidentally, I decided not to go after an MBA....

Technology isn't the only arena in which I play a little slower than the rest, however. A few months ago, I was in the library studying for an anatomy test with some friends. I don't usually listen to music while studying, but that day, I couldn't help but listen to the Justin Timberlake song I had just downloaded. I leaned over to one of my friends and told her to listen in with one of my earbuds. She listened for about 10 seconds and then said, "Yeah, I listened to that song a lot when it came out a year and half ago." Zing. She just laughed.

Sifting through my memories, I have come to realize that my late-adopter ways began in childhood. When I was in third grade, if you didn't have Girbauds, you were not cool. I didn't even know how to pronounce this, and I certainly didn't own any. A couple years go by, I'm in seventh grade, and I finally decide to "cave" and get some of these hot French jeans. As no doubt all of you know, Girbauds by this time had gone the way of Milli Vanilli and New Kids--if you had Girbauds, you were not cool. Shoot! Luckily for me, fashion is cyclical, and if I could just fit into these again, I'm sure I'd be the man one of these years.

So now here I am about to start my third year of medical school and my first clinical rotations. Many of my classmates are excited about the upcoming release of the 3G iPhone, as they plan to make good use of its no-doubt stellar features on the wards. Me, I don't even know what 3G stands for. Is that how many grand it costs? Is it how I'm supposed to feel if I don't buy one (Grim, Guilty, and Gutless)? Does one of the G's stand for Girbaud?

Until such time as mandated otherwise, I'll be taking notes and looking up drugs the way our forefathers intended--in a book. And I'll be doing it wearing some pleated slacks, which are due for a comeback, because like JT sang that day in the library, what goes around comes back around.

Goatee or just Goaty?

2008-06-09T21:30:00.000-07:00

As part of a time-honored tradition of the NHL playoffs, most hockey players grow a playoff beard. You might think it is just another way for hockey players to transform into the smelliest, nastiest human beings on the planet, but it's supposed to bring good luck to those hoping for an extra edge.

I've got to take the board exam next week, and I too am looking for any advantage I can get. I considered wearing my lucky underwear for the month of June. I thought about taking a week off to visit the Blarney stone. Instead, I've decided to grow a savage playoff beard of my own.

And more savage, it could not be. Savage like cro-magnon man was savage. Savage like Tarzan on both the cream and the clear. Plus, besides the intangible luck the beard brings me, it has also provided me with quantifiable extra hours upon hours of study time as I no longer have a wife who allows me in the house.

But the best thing about my "beard" is that it has also given me the ability to read minds. When I pass people in the library or on the street, for instance, I can always tell what they're thinking. Most of the time, it is one of the following:

1. Should I buy him a hot meal?

2. I feel sick

3. Should I tell him?

4. Aaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiii

Anyway, I'll let you know how the exam goes. In the meantime, if you see Malerie, tell her I will be home, hairless, in a fortnight.

Madeline Marie Weed

2008-06-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

Today, my daughter turns five months old. She was born on January 3, and we hadn't really decided on a name for her. During the delivery, everyone--doctors, sonagraphers, janitors--seemed to think she was face down, which is the preferred position. Her birth was a little bit complicated, and when it finally happened, much to everyone's amazement, she was face up. It's like she came out ready to face and take on the world and do things the way she wanted them done. This reminded me of Madeline from the children's books, and we settled on "Madeline" as her name.

Madeline and strength go together in my mind. She's always been physically strong; even in the delivery room they remarked about her muscle tone. She could hold her own head up before she was a month old. She's also strong-willed, and refuses to give up easily, when we try to keep her eyes away from the TV, for instance. Finally, she has been a source of personal strength to me as a father and as a human being trying to do the right thing.

She has brown eyes just like me.

Be Ye Therefore Perfect

2008-06-01T12:53:00.000-07:00

I've had two experiences with perfection recently, and today you're going to hear about them.

The first occurred a little over a week ago with Jon Lester on the mound for the Red Sox. Lester was diagnosed with a type of lymphoma two years ago; he fought through the chemo and returned to the Sox last year. He pitched the clinching game of the World Series last year. This year, he has showed better command of his pitches, which is encouraging.

So anyway, I was in the library studying for a final, following Lester and the Sox game on the internet. After four innings, I noticed he had yet to give up a hit, which made me excited because it meant he would be able to go deep into the game and rest the bullpen. After six innings, a no-hitter started to look possible. Lester seemed to be getting stronger as the game wore on -- he was more guys out, and hardly anyone was making good contact off him.

I didn't dare leave my seat for fear of jinxing it, as I am superstitious when it comes to baseball. When my buddy Pete shaved his "playoff beard" last year during the miraculous Red Sox comeback, I admit I was worried. So I texted Malerie, told her to turn on the game on TV, and that I would be a little late for dinner. Yes I realize this is strange.

But Lester did it! For the last out, he reached back for a little extra and threw some 97-mph gas for a strikeout. No-hitters are so rare anyway, and for it to happen to Lester, coming back from cancer, was just awesome. A week later, he revealed that his dad has been diagnosed with cancer, as well. Guy's been through a lot.

So that was experience numero uno. Number two came last week on Friday.

Finals week was over, and I got home while Malerie was out with her family. With the house to myself, the only logical thing to do was to crank up the amp and become a Guitar Hero. I ripped off a face-melting rendition of "Welcome to the Jungle," and followed that up with some tasty licks from Queens of the Stone Age and Poison. My fingers flew like a bluebird over the toy plastic guitar. Just like Lester, on that day, I had my good stuff. Not as good as this guy, but still:

The quest for perfection began as I fired up "My Name is Jonas" by Weezer. 596 perfect notes later, I had done it. Some of those riffs had tripped me up before, but not this time. I was in the zone.

So whose perfection is more impressive, mine or Lester's? I'm voting for yours truly. I mean, Lester's wasn't technically "perfect," since he walked two guys. History will have to decide.

Mr. Jones and Me

2008-05-20T12:20:00.001-07:00

With this week's release of "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull," I thought I'd run a little quiz on our leather-hatted friend.

1. Which of the following serves as the archvillain in "Crystal Skull?"

a. A thrill-seeking Japanese billionaire
b. The chief of a godless native tribe sworn to avenge the white man's aggression
c. A rival archaeologist determined to finally make it big
d. The new nursing home attendant who won't give Indy his favorite bingo card

2. This movie marks the biggest box-office release for Harrison Ford since:

a. "K-19: The Widowmaker"
b. "Random Hearts"
c. "Water to Wine"
d. excuse me?

3. Which of the following was not among Ford's chief motivations for doing another Indiana Jones movie?

a. To prove to his skeptical public that he's still got it
b. To cash in on a surefire box-office smash
c. To work with proven Hollywood talent like Shia LeBeouf
d. To potentially meet some twentysomething, 92-pound hotties

4. What was Ford most worried about during shooting for the new film?

a. Remembering all his lines
b. Looking good cracking the Indy whip
c. Doing some of his own stunts
d. The other actors forgiving him for "Six Days Seven Nights"

5. Identify the rejected Indy line from the new movie:

a. "Only the penitent man shall pass"
b. "It belongs in a museum!"
c. "Snakes! Why did it have to be snakes!"
d. "Man is my arthritis bad today!"

6. In ten years, whom of the following is least likely to play Indy in a sequel?

a. Kevin Federline

b. Dwight Schrute

c. Rosie O'Donnell

d. Harrison Ford

ANSWERS: 1-6: d. Seriously though, I'm excited for this one.

Our Long National Nightmare is Over

2008-05-13T15:44:00.000-07:00

Britain and America haven't warred since 1812, but that's going to change in the very near future. After last night's epic "Bachelor" finale in which one of the all-time dumbest and most annoying "U.S. Americans" successfully beguiled London's Matt Grant into proposing to her, I'm afraid the Queen Mum and the House of Lords and the PM and all the rest have no choice but to declare war on us. Don't say I didn't warn you.

It's not like we didn't see this proposal coming a mile away. Shayne was clearly Matt's favorite since very early in the show. We'll never know what it was that sold him on Shayne -- if it was her D-list celebrity father, her infuriating sing-song voice, or the orange greasy residue that hugging her always left on his clothes.

Leading up to the climactic proposal scene, we learn that Matt's nickname for her is "Monkey." Given her coloring, one can't help but wonder if Matt thinks she is an actual orangutan, but I digress. The point is, if the best nickname you can come up with for your fiancee is that of a smelly, sweaty, social-grooming feces thrower, something has gone horribly wrong.

During his proposal to Shayne, as Matt was recounting the various good times they'd had together, he said (British accent), "There's been rugby, there's been skiing, there's been monkey." I almost puked. And in his proposal, he actually said, "Monkey, will you marry me?" Disgusting.

Anyway, after watching this drivel, I've come up with a few surefire suggestions for improvements:

1. This whole show is supposed to be about people choosing marriage partners, only nobody ever gets married. A quick search reveals that in 12 seasons of this show, only one couple has ever actually gotten hitched. Obviously this is unacceptable.

The Bachelor and his chosen fiancee should be forced to wed during the final episode. Immediately. Get a minister or priest or a sea captain out there and make them tie the knot. And they should be forced to stay married, living together, for at least a year. This could be its own spinoff show. We'll see who's calling who "monkey" when Matt repeatedly leaves the toilet seat up and leaves his knickers out when Shayne's orange friends come over.

2. During the first episode, the Bachelor should narrow the field by playing a rousing game of "Weight or IQ?" This would consist of girls taking the stage one at a time and the host rattling off a number, e.g. 94. The Bachelor guesses whether that's her weight or her IQ--if he's right, she stays; if he's wrong, she goes home immediately.

3. Not sure if you knew this already, but the word "amazing" is now on the Endangered Species List due to gratuitous overuse on this show. Amanda's dress was amazing. Chelsea's personality was amazing. Matt's bathroom trip was amazing. Enough already. Whenever the Bachelor uses this word, a bucket of goo should automatically dump on his head until he learns. Like that wouldn't increase ratings.

Other ideas are welcome. I just want this to be the best show it can be.

The Dean Gave Me Syphilis

2008-05-05T20:53:00.000-07:00

One of our deans is an infectious disease doctor, and she has recently given us some lectures on various bacteria. The other day, she showed a clip of an old movie about syphilis and asked if anyone in class knew who played the lead actor. Nobody did; it was Edward G. Robinson.

She then asked if anyone knew the name of Robinson's character, a doctor.

I drudged through my memories of microbiology from BYU and remembered that Dr. Paul Ehrlich discovered the first antibiotic, an arsenic-containing compound called salvarsan. Trivia such as this sticks in my brain sometimes.

Anyway, as a reward for knowing this useless bit of minutia, the dean gave me syphilis. Don't believe me? Here's a picture!

Yes, this is Treponema pallidum from the GIANT Microbes stuffed animal collection. They make perfect gifts. Mother's Day is coming up, and what mother wouldn't love a little Flesh-Eating Bacterium on her special day? And why stop there? What better way to get that pesky ex to stop calling you than with a raging case of The Clap? Oooohhh -- burn!!

The morale of the story? Stay in school. It might earn you a dose of the pox.

Social Irresponsbility

2008-04-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

In Barbara Kingsolver's The Bean Trees, there is a story about how in both Heaven and Hell, there is an identical giant pot of food with a giant spoon that is too big for anyone to use. The people in Hell all mope around starving, but the people in Heaven are full and content. The idea is that those in Heaven are willing to help each other by holding the spoon while another eats; to those in Hell, however, this thought either never occurs or is never acted upon, as it is so contrary to their self-centeredness.

Well, I've discovered a third type of person in this little parable. This person, although unable to eat from the pot, somehow manages to wash his feet in it, much to everyone's chagrin. As the others stand there, mortified, this person shoots them all back a nasty look, as if to say, "What's your problem? My feet were dirty."

I am sad to report that a few of these socially unconscious individuals have yet to see the fire and brimstone or the pearly gates, and are still living among us. When you gently tap your horn when they're stopped in front of you at a green light, they flip you off. They are the ones who can't be bothered to turn away from the buffet table when they have to sneeze. They are uniquely responsible for most of elevator flatulence, and although I can't prove it, I'm pretty sure 90% of public bathroom ectopic urine (PBEU) is their doing as well.

I've recently discovered a new variant in the species, the Library Cellphone Talker. Seemingly oblivious to traditional library etiquette and obviously illiterate given the number of "No Cellphone" signs posted everywhere, the Library Cellphone Talker's inconsiderateness knows no bounds. Not only will she take calls while sitting at your table, she'll leave her ringer on and treat you to "Brass Monkey" every time someone calls! And he (LCT may be male or female) won't stop there. He'll call up his buddies and ask them what they did last night. If he keeps his handset volume as high as I think he will, you'll get to hear, too!

This is all very bothersome to someone like me, a hardworking, unassuming student who uses the library to study. I do most of my studying at UCSD's Biomedical Library, which has recently become infested with LCTs. What to do with them? I've thought of a couple options:

The stare -- Try to bore holes in their head. Usually ineffective in my experience.

The snitch -- Report the LCT to the library authorities. I'm not sure if you're familiar with librarians, but they're not the most intimidating of people. This usually results in only a temporary interruption in the undesirable behavior.

The swipe -- Haven't tried this one yet, but it would consist of stealing the offender's cellphone out of their hand, running into the bathroom, and dropping it into a puddle of urine, which, like as not, they themselves created 15 minutes ago. Sort of a karmic justice thing.

Call me if you have any suggestions. I'll be in the library.

INFESTED

The Penultimate Bachelor ReCrap

2008-04-24T14:26:00.000-07:00

I thought this was a reality show, but this week featured some really incredible acting. For those who somehow missed it, let's recap the "actors" and the roles they played:

Chelsea (bachelorette) -- "Somewhat interested"

Lorenzo Lamas -- "Concerned father"

Two random people -- "Amanda's parents"

The fabulous Shayne introduces Matt to Lorenzo Lamas, her father. Now at this point I was really hoping for a Bobby Sixkiller cameo in which Sixkiller interrogated Matt at knifepoint, but no such luck. Instead, a perfectly-coiffed Lamas seemingly throws his daughter under the bus, saying Shayne only came on the show because she "wants to be famous."

Luckily I saw right through this little charade. Shayne immediately protests, saying she is only there for Matt and has no ulterior motive. Hmm-mmm. I think you could actually see her reading off the cue card. Lamas then claims he "just wanted to see where her heart was," trying to convince the Britchelor that Shayne's impassioned defense means she truly does care for him. Riveting stuff.

What really killed me about this was that anyone, anywhere would consult a guy who's been married four times about marriage. Isn't that like asking Trump for tips on hair? Or Miss South Carolina on geography? Did I mention this guy used to traipse around in leather jerkins as a character named "Reno Raines?"

Anyway, they leave Lamas to do whatever it is he does these days, and head off to Shayne's mom's place. Now, I tried to find a headshot of Shayne's mom, because trust me, you want to see it, but all I could find was this stunning likeness pictured at the left. I've seen Barbie dolls that had more real parts than Shayne's mom, and cows that had a less-leathery hide. But Matt seems to dig her because she made him Yorkshire pudding.

Now, I don't mean to offend anyone here, but it's a time-honored truth that if you want to know what your girlfriend will look like in 30 years, you look at her mom. Women, I hate to break it to you, but every male knows this and considers it. But apparently they don't teach Mother-Daughter Similitude in British school, because Matt seems unfazed by this harrowing look into his potential future. Shayne gets a rose.

Chelsea also somehow survives again this week, despite showing less interest in Matt than Wesley Snipes does in paying taxes. Meanwhile, the lovely and devoted Noelle gets the boot. Is there no JUSTICE???!!!

For her hometown date, Amanda hires two actors to pretend to be her parents. I thought maybe she was an orphan and this was an attempt to appear normal. Anyway, "Dad" acts extremely suspicious of Matt and the two sit down on a backyard bench to hash it out. But then "Mom" shows up with some wine and tells her husband to make tracks.

"Mom" sits down next to Matt and commences to hit him up with a full-court flirtation press, cougar style. I wish I was joking, but no--she starts rubbing his chest, as Matt blurts out, "You're touching my nipple!!" Suddenly, the faux father returns, wild-eyed, and demands to know what's going on. Amanda comes clean and introduces her real parents. Matt claims that he liked the prank, and gives Amanda a rose.

Finale next week.

NOT AN ORPHAN

By Popular Demand

2008-04-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

The people have spoken, and they want more "Bachelor" analysis. What started as a one-time experiment will now become a recurring feature of the blog. Unfortunately. This means by the time I take the board exam in June, my IQ will have sunk like a stone, possibly into the negatives, from having to watch this garbage. Fortunately, I hear most residency directors are big "Bachelor" fans.

This week, the Britchelor had to prune some more dead wood in order to get it down to four lucky ladies for next week's "home town dates" (more on this later). For this week's date, the handsome young male host--we'll call him Token--announced everyone would be going to Sun Valley, Idaho for some skiing.

So they hit the slopes. The snow bunnies frolic in the freshly fallen powder. Except for Marshana, who, away from the others, tells the camera that she looks so good that she doesn't want to "get snow on her clothes." At this point it was unclear to me if anyone had explained to Marshana that skiing is typically an outdoor activity. Or if Marshana had ever been outdoors, period.

Regardless, we next see Matt take off after Marshana. I thought the following scene would unfold something like this:

Matt (returning, alone, with shovel and workgloves on hands): Now that that's all taken care of, who's ready to hit the slopes?

Girl #1: Where's Marshana? Didn't you run after her to throw her into the snow?

Matt: Uhh....yeah, that's it.

Token: Well, I guess that's one way to "eliminate" contestants!

(General laughter)

Actually, though, all that happens is that Matt throws Marshana into the snow. Marshana says it was "sexy." I bet she wouldn't say that if the Britchelor at least nailed her with a few point-blank snowballs, Dumb and Dumber style.

Another matter of interest on the ski trip was from the famous Shayne. In a sit-down conversation in the middle of the slope (not recommended), she whips out enough makeup products to stock a Clinique counter. She has them all on her person! In her giant coat! On the slopes! Who does this??? By the way, I know it was a lot of makeup because Malerie, who claims to not like this show yet somehow always watches, told me so.

After the ski trip, ABC throws to commercial, promising that tonight, we'll see "the biggest confrontation in Bachelor history." I was hoping for fisticuffs, or at the very least a slap/hairpull. All I got was the lovely Marshana launching unstrategic F-bomb strikes all over the household and Chelsea walking away, upset. My favorite part was the Marshana confessional that aired in the middle of all this in which she said, "I am a great person. I am nice. I am friendly. I am loving. I am giving. I am so thoughtful. I am charitable."

Anyway, the episode ends with Matt finally showing some degree of intelligence and bouncing Marshana and Robyn the Desperate. Token asks everyone to get ready for next week's home town dates, in which each girl takes Matt home for a few days to meet her family and see her town and whatnot. We catch a sneak preview which includes none other than. . . Lorenzo Lamas himself!! This could be live-blog worthy material, so stay tuned....

GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

The Office of Milk and Honey

2008-04-10T12:48:00.000-07:00

Before we get to today's topics, I wanted to advertise two of the blog's new features: the links box and the comment feed, both found on the left.

For the past six months, I've had a preceptorship with a local primary care physician. I come in about every two weeks on Wednesday afternoons and see patients. I talk to them about what's been going on, do a physical exam, and then present the case to the physician -- pretty standard stuff. I've seen all sorts of different ailments, everything from heart murmurs to toenail fungus to kidney failure to Alzheimer's disease. It's been fun to meet new people, practice my physical exam skills, and learn from firsthand experience.

So here's the deal: I'm the only male that works there. Period. The physician is female. The nurses are all female. The receptionists and secretaries are female. Futhermore, they all are obsessive calorie counters, cursing themselves for eating two Girl Scout cookies and the like.

This aversion to food is complicated by the fact that drug reps bring in enormous meals on a daily basis. I'm not kidding. It's a postgame team buffet in there. It's like having an Alcoholics Anonymous meetinghouse right next to a saloon and two liquor stores -- you're just waiting for the inevitable fireball when the willpower fails.

But so far, these women have held strong, which means there is, continually, in the office, a quantity of food that could easily satisfy John Madden, 1990s Oprah, and this guy here on the right. So what do I do? I feast like it's my last meal before the firing squad.

Yesterday, for instance, we had a giant spread from La Salsa, and I took down a boatload of chips and salsa, a quesadilla, some salad, and a chicken burrito. Two weeks ago we had California Pizza Kitchen for lunch followed by "mid-afternoon snack" two hours later of smoothies, doughnuts, and danishes. Then, as I was leaving, they forced an entire chocolate cake and a box of oversize muffins on me.

Well, it's been six months and I'm not dead yet, although they have been calling me Hansel and asking if my father's a poor woodcutter. Anyway, I've got one afternoon of work left, and my goal is to eat/bring home the following items:

1) 2 dozen doughnuts

2) Giant wheel of cheese

3) Three smoked hams

4) Entire Thanksgiving dinner complete with turkey, yams, and pie

5) Roasted pig on spit with apple in mouth

I'll let you know how it goes.

Lost in Translation

2008-04-01T14:37:00.000-07:00

Last night, I stumbled across a special on ABC that warrants mentioning in these pages. The 90-minute documentary centered around a fascinating species unlike anything I've seen in nature.

The females in this species outnumber the males like 10:1 and worship him as a result. Doing little but lounge around the hive or nest or whatever it is, the female contributes nothing to the welfare of the species. Somehow, though, these creatures have survived long enough to develop the ability to walk erect, and even a rudimentary form of communication that appears to consist entirely of high-pitched squeals and crying. The crying is particularly prominent, and must serve some adaptive function because the female appears to be able to turn it on and off at a moment's notice.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered I wasn't watching a nature special at all, but that these bizarre creatures were actually "human" (debatable) and I was watching "The Bachelor."

This year's bachelor is British. I learned last night that what the Brits call "brilliant," we call "awesome." What they call "football," we call "rugby." And what they call "a very attractive and mature girl," we call "a hideously made-up phony who I wouldn't want to share a continent with, let alone a night out."

Last night, the lovely Holly got to go on the first one-on-one date with Matt the Britchelor, and you're not gonna believe this, but the other girls got jealous. Holly, meanwhile, told Matt about her career as a children's book author. At this point, she held some redeeming quality in my eyes. Then, later that week, she revealed to another girl that she had brought along her own spray tanning machine. Unreal. Which leads me to wonder, what are the titles of these books she's writing? I came up with the following:

-- Why Are You Orange, Mommy?

-- Basal Cell Carcinoma...It's Not So Bad

-- Ol' Grandma Wrinkley's Favorite Nursery Rhymes

But by far the best moments of the night came from Shayne, the 22-year-old actress who claims to be really mature and who took advantage of Holly's spray tanner. I think she might have a speech disorder because anything that comes out of her mouth is in this infuriating little-girl sing-song voice. I kid you not, if I were the Britchelor, as soon as she pulled that crap I would have thrown her in the loo or the watercloset or whatever it is until the producers took her away.

Unbelievably, the bachelor finds Shayne worthy of his attention. Last night, they went on a one-on-one wine tasting date. Matt asked Shayne why she was so hesitant to talk about her parents. Shayne reluctantly revealed that her dad is none other than the Renegade, Lorenzo Lamas.

So if you're scoring at home, here's an abridged list of Shayne's "deal-breakers:"

1. Questionable ability to talk not like Barbie

2. Questionable ability to have skin tone not like Barbie

3. Questionable ability to hold more intelligent conversation than Barbie

4a. Knows who Lorenzo Lamas is

4b. Immediate relative of Lorenzo Lamas

To me, that's more than enough to send Shayne packing. Will she survive? Tune in next week, to what I'm still convinced is ABC's first prime-time nature special.

Endangered Species?:

Winter is Finally Over!

2008-03-26T21:30:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's time for the annual "Red Sox Season Preview" edition of the blog. This season is particularly exciting because it features the Sox's second attempt at defending at World Series title in the last few years. The previous attempt (2005)...well, let's just say it was a bit problematic.

Let's have a quick rundown of the lineup, beginning with the pitching staff:

Josh Beckett -- The unquestionable ace of the staff. The only 20 game winner in the majors last year. The reason I knew Boston wouldn't lose Game 5 vs. Cleveland in the ALCS. Currently on the DL for a bad back, but will likely pitch in early April.

Daisuke Matsuzaka -- After a largely mediocre first year, will he settle in this year? Has difficulty at times throwing pitches for strikes, especially the changeup. Also prone to "one bad inning" disease. Boston will need him to be on.

John Lester -- Beat cancer, won the deciding game in the World Series. Good: somehow always seems to pitch his way out of trouble. Bad: somehow always seems to pitch his way into trouble. Has trouble going deep into games. Reportedly in best shape of career.

Tim Wakefield -- The only starting knuckleballer in the majors. Typically has a fantastic first 2/3 of season and craps out late. Pitches especially well in domes. Enjoys archery.

Clay Buchholz -- Pitched a no-hitter in his second major league start last year. Nuff said.

Hideki Okajima -- Little-acclaimed lefty reliever who absolutely befuddled hitters last year. Has added a two-seamer which, from all reports, is filthy.

Jonathan Papelbon -- Just got a new contract. So intense on the mound that he got a few migraines last year. The best closer in the game. Enjoys dancing in spandex.

Now, the position players:

Dustin Pedroia -- AL Rookie of the Year last year. Solid leadoff man despite unimpressive speed. Spectacular playoffs last year.

Kevin Youkilis -- My favorite beard. Gold Glove winner at 1st base last year -- made no errors all season. Favorite target of Joba Chamberlain, who will pay for his sins this year.

David Ortiz -- Big Papi. Last season, his homers were down, but virtually every other category was up. He finally had knee surgery and is now healthier than he has been in years. Look for another big year.

Manny Ramirez -- This is a contract year for Manny, and he knows it. Last year wasn't his best, but he'll redeem himself this time around. Reportedly in fantastic shape. Once tried to sell his barbecue grill on eBay.

Mike Lowell -- The MVP of last year's squad. An absolute stud at the plate and in the field. Has one testicle due to cancer. Most "experts" predict he can't match last year's numbers, but we'll see.

J.D. Drew -- Until his grand slam against the Indians in the ALCS, would have been my bet for "Player Most Likely to Be Killed by Crazed Fan." His even demeanor at the plate, especially after strikeouts in key moments, infuriates fans. Last year's numbers may have been down in part due to his son's health issues. Has strong throwing arm in right field.

Jason Varitek -- The captain. Notorious for strikeouts, yet still capable of the "Holy Crap?!!" home run in clutch moments. Has not looked good in first two games this season. My favorite Red Sox.

Jacoby Ellsbury -- Scored from 2nd on passed ball last year. Blazing speed. Questionable power. Likely to be the starter in center this year -- will have to learn quirks of Fenway. Picks up girls at will all over New England.

Julio Lugo -- Let's not talk about him.

That's all I've got for now. The Sox have a very tough schedule at the beginning of the season. I'm predicting another 95-win season and a good playoff run, but I can't complain if it doesn't happen. World Series victory count, this millennium: Boston - 2, Yankees - 0.

HHH

2008-03-18T09:04:00.000-07:00

I have a confession. I used to have a problem. During my teenage years, for about 18 months, I watched professional wrestling. Religiously. Each week, I watched the three hours of "Monday Night Nitro" and the two hours of "Thursday Night Thunder." In a strange coincidence, I was also often available to watch the hour-long Saturday night special as well.

I remember being in southern California on a family vacation during this time. All my dad's family was there, and a beach volleyball game started up one night. The sun was setting on the still-warm sand, and between the family and the beach, it was quite the idyllic setting. I, however, was nowhere to be found on the beach. I was inside, watching "Nitro." That night, Lex Luger, aka the Total Package, finally defeated Hulk Hogan for the championship belt. At long last! I came running out onto the beach, screaming the good news to my family. My dad looked as if he was going to just start wading out into the water, never to be heard from again. I came to my senses and quit watching, cold turkey, shortly thereafter.

So I haven't given much thought to wrestling lately. . .until yesterday. Back in Salt Lake on spring break, I obviously had to hit up my all-time favorite restaurant, Hires Big H. The Big H, their signature burger, is a marvel; the Double H is the burger that makes the Whopper cry. The Double Country H (with bacon) is simply culinary perfection -- that's what I usually order. So imagine my surprise when the waitress told me that, off the menu, one could order the Triple H.

What does this all have to do with wrestling? Take a look at this walking steroid here: that's Hunter Hearst Helmsley, aka Triple H. Also wrestling under the names Jean-Paul Lévesque, Terra Ryzing, and the Connecticut Blueblood, Triple H developed his famous but incomparably crappy finishing move, "the Pedigree."

As I sat in my blue vinyl chair at Hires, my mind flashed over the countless foes who suffered ignominious defeat at the hands of Triple H. I myself had never squared off against such a massive burger in my storied burger-eating career. Would I be man enough to handle it?

Of course I was. I pounded the burger and then chased it with Hires' signature fries and raspberry shake. Take that, Triple H.

Mac OS X Leper

2008-03-09T20:59:00.000-07:00

Let me mention two things up front. First, thanks to my buddy Taylor for the free copy of Leopard. Second, I have been extremely satisfied with my Macbook up to this point.

So Mac's newest version of its operating system, titled "Leopard," arrived in my mailbox a few days ago. Despite being in the middle of finals and needing my computer to study for the following day's pathology test, I was so eager to get this bad boy up and running that I began the installation process right away. Foolish me.

It soon became apparent that I could go outside, track, and trap an actual leopard in the "wild" faster than my computer could finish the installation. After a few hours, it finally finished. I installed all updates.

No problems. Things were quiet...too quiet.

The next evening, I discovered that I could not load certain websites anymore. One of these was espn.com. Obviously this was unacceptable and debilitating. So I decided to go back to the old standby "Tiger" operating system.

Well, at 4:00 am later that same night, I was still working to recover all my files which apparently decided to enter the Witness Protection Program during this reversion. At one point it looked like I had lost everything; miraculously, everything was recovered.

After that, I've decided to stay away from Leopard for now. One wonders what other big cats Mac can possibly use for titles here. Cheetah, Puma, Jaguar, Panther, Tiger, and now Leopard are taken. What's next? Lynx? Cougar? Ocelot? For my money, this "leopard" would have been more appropriately named "Diseased Wildebeest" or "One-legged Nag."

P.S. Who voted "$100" in the poll? My school would like your phone number.

Dr. DRE?

2008-03-05T21:29:00.001-08:00

When you think of the letters "D-R-E," what comes to your mind is probably the man pictured here. Born André Romell Young, he adopted the well-known stage name and became a most influential rapper. Not only did he develop the West Coast sound, he also discovered Snoop and the Dogg Pound, helped make rap mainstream, and won three Grammys in the process. So yeah, you wouldn't be wrong to think of him when you think "D-R-E." I am sad to report that I can no longer do this.

You want to know what I think of when I hear these letters?

This:

Why a gloved hand, you ask? I'll tell you why. Because today, I administered my first but unfortunately not last Digital Rectal Exam. Ahh yes, the dread DRE. The bane of the male existence. The one thing that sucks about being a guy (other than paying for everything while dating). The ugly, stupid cousin of the female pelvic exam. The perfect birthday present for that 50-year-old guy in your life.

Medical students learn all sorts of exams. Usually, we just practice on each other. This sort of thing isn't really a problem when we're learning the heart exam, or the lung exam, or the eye exam. But I definitely did not sign up for free practice prostate exams. So the school pays volunteers.

Now I know what you're thinking: "Where can I sign up?" Before you do that, let me tell you what this volunteering entails. You show up, enter an exam room, drop ya drawes, put on one of the incredibly modest patient gowns, and then....Uh....20 medical students, with no previous experience, practice the exam on you. Males, females, come one come all. This process lasts about two hours.

So here's the question: How much would it take for you to be willing to do this for 20 unknown medical students? Vote in the poll. (I should mention that our volunteers get paid $200 for doing this exam, double the usual rate.)