Not dead yet

A great song by Styx. Also my current Status of Living. I just thought I'd let that be known, since I've made my triumphant return into the real world (as opposed to the sick, painful world that I've been in for 10 months, which mostly consisted of my couch, a TV, and something to read.) Anyway - I'm on week 3 of my last 3rd year rotation (it's about time - with all of these medical leaves, I've been a 3rd year student for eons), which is surgery, and therefore I'm all crazy busy and tired and stuff. But thanks be to God, this splachnic nerve radioablation (I really do need to tell y'all about that sometime) has kept me from being crippled by pain, and allowed me to get back to life. Praise the Lord forever and ever. I'm actually really enjoying Surgery, too, which was a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect to like the rotation as much as I do. On my other blog, The Blog Which Shall Not Be Named (that's not the name of it - I'm referring to my anonymous blog) I'll be more prolific about things. I'm sorry that I can't do that here, but you know. I just play by the rules and try to keep people happy.

In other news - uh, I actually don't have any other news. This rotation has literally taken all my time and energy, but I'm enjoying it. And in about 5 1/2 weeks? I'll be finished with this pain-infested, medical leave-interrupted, never-ending third year! Yay!

Oh wait, I did have other news. RIP Patrick Swayze - nobody will ever put Baby in the corner, my friend.

Michael Jackson dies at 50 - RIP

My local news is reporting that Michael Jackson has died after suffering cardiac arrest this evening. Despite the controversy later in his life, I always thought that he was absolutely a musical genius - probably in the top few of all time. He was a trailblazer - ahead of his time - and was one of the most fantastic performers I have ever seen. Maybe it was because I grew up to a soundtrack that included a lot of his music (and lost sleep when I was little due to the Thriller video) but everything that has happened surrounding him in recent years made me sad, in a strange way. (Disclaimer: Not that I condone messing around with kids, if he was guilty.) And the news of his passing leaves me with that unusual heavy heart that I always feel when a celebrity dies who had been in the pop culture cloud surrounding my life for many years. I can't judge anyone's heart and don't know where he stood with the Lord, but I do hope he sought forgiveness in Christ before it was too late, and that he is at peace now.

American Idol and such

Disclaimer: I'd appreciate it if everyone would refrain from bashing me a la Carrie Prejean (Miss California). This is my blog, my opinions - if you don't like it, don't read it. That is all.

So, I think that Adam Lambert will be okay (and by that I mean that he'll have labels knocking down his door) whether he comes in 1st, 2nd, or 12th. On the other hand, Kris Allen needs to win in order to end up with a good debut album - so I'm going to have to watch the finale with Team Allen tonight. Although I'll be surprised if it isn't Adam Lambert who sings the Idol Cheeseball Coronation ballad at the end of the show, eyeliner-flecked tears being wiped away by black polish-tipped fingers. Not that he doesn't deserve it - dude has an awesome voice, and he did very well last night. I think, though, that the voice is only part of his "Google popularity", discussed in this article: American Idol Winner: Can Google Predict the Results? (from mashable.com). Some of the Googlers may have been looking for those infamous pictures of Adam kissing other fellas. Personally, I would prefer to see Kris win - he has the talent, and he seems to be a nice guy, with morals and values that mesh well with my own - and he has a cute family, too.

There was an article published within the past week or so - in Time, I think, and after spending about 10 minutes trying to find it so I could link it, I decided y'all could live without a link. Anyway, the article discussed the Christian element in the Idol voting process, particularly this year, when we have a married Christian who is active in his Arkansas church versus a flamboyant, black/blue/purple haired (lighting dependent), guyliner & nail polish wearing, poured-into-his-leather-pants contestant from the liberalist of the liberal Los Angeles, California.

There are a lot of things about this season that remind me of Idol's season 2 (which I'll admit, with a modicum of embarrassment, as being my most-studied season by a mile - and I know way too much random trivia about it. Shut up.) First of all, we have the Rubenesque (by that I mean "large" as well as "as it was with Ruben Studdard") tongue-bath that the judges give Adam each week (I remember reading Television Without Pity faithfully during that season, when the fantastic recapper Shack would sum up Ruben's critique something like this: "RANDY: Vote for Ruben! IRRELEVANT GUEST JUDGE: Vote for Ruben! PAULA: Vote for Ruben! SIMON: Vote for Ruben!") Which was funny, because, you know, it was true. And apparently America followed like sheep, because Ruben obviously won that season* (where is Ruben, anyway?) while Clay Aiken, the effeminate coverboy for Lisa Simpson's Non-Threatening Boys magazine, had to settle for second. The judges constant instructions to vote for Ruben played a role in his win, but there was another big reason, as I know from living through that season as a ridiculously huge, and ridiculously obvious, Clay Aiken fan [what do you want from me? His voice is flawless, he's a fantastic performer, and listening to him sing still makes me smile - People covers notwithstanding. If I had to agree with a celebrity's lifestyle before I would allow myself to be entertained by their music/movies/television shows, I'd be able to listen to Toby Keith and the guy who sings Butterfly Kisses (I stole that quote from someone, but I can't remember who) and watch Facing the Giants and Fireproof (both of which I liked, but a DVD collection consisting of two movies?)] Multiple people that I encountered on a daily basis assumed Clay Aiken was gay - and therefore they didn't like him, wouldn't let themselves like him, liked him but couldn't reconcile voting for him, or something similar that resulted in not calling his phone line that week. I believe if he hadn't been so "ambiguous", and had given us a different impression, he would have won easily.

It will be interesting to see that if, six years later - with actual photographic proof that Adam Lambert is either gay or at least, doesn't mind smooching around on guys - America looks past that and votes for him based on his talent only. I have to say, since I believe that my beloved country is headed in a very wrong direction, miles and miles from the ideals outlined in my even more beloved Bible, and quickly - I'll be a little sad to see Kris come in second. To me, it will show how things have changed in six years - while American Idol is a singing competition, of course, the contestants who get the farthest also resonate with the voters with their personalities, their values, their backgrounds, their similarity to the rest of us. Clay Aiken didn't quite resonate well enough in 2003. In 2009, has the "rest of us" changed to the point that Adam Lambert does?

* Incidentally, this also works in presidential elections. See Obama, Barack.

P.S. - GleeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE! Loved it so very much. If you didn't watch it, go watch the pilot here: Full-length Glee pilot on Fox.com. Seriously, isn't Don't Stop Believin' one of the best songs ever ever ever? It makes me want to run out and achieve a dream or something. And I can't wait to see the group sing Kanye West and Jamie Foxx's Gold Digger (promised in the upcoming season montage at the end of the episode, a wee montage which is supposed to hold us over until new episodes begin airing in the fall. Bah!)

This is a shocker.

Clay Aiken Impregnates 50-year-old Producer Jaymes Foster?

GET. OUT.

I fully expected the AOL link to "Former 'Idol' to be a Daddy?" to be anoter Corey Clark "Look at me, look at meeeee!" story. Holy crap.

Still crazy, but possibly sincere

You know, it just occurred to me that the day that Tom Cruise was boinging around on Oprah's couch, that he may have really just been that excited. Since he and Katie are seemingly still together, and Suri (which I still think sounds like a British apology) exists and doesn't appear to be a robot or an alien. How about that.

I would write about the wonderfully good day that I had on Saturday, in which I actually FELT WELL, and the fact that Jim Sturgess (from 21 and Across the Universe) has gone directly to the #1 position on my Geeky Hollywood Fake Boyfriends List. Don't worry, Scott knows all about this. But it's not a threat to him, given that he's the only person on my Geeky West Virginia Real Boyfriends list.

But I can't elaborate now, because I've just discovered that I'm accidentally watching Jerry Springer: My Boyfriend is a Woman. Ack.

American Idol Randomness

I've only been randomly watching Idol this season - I keep forgetting it's on, and then usually I've fallen asleep (because I've felt so crappy for months) and if I do watch it, I don't feel like sitting at the computer and blogging. With that said, tonight I'm feeling a smidge better and I have a few thoughts.

I've only seen Danny Noriega sing once, at Hollywood, but he did this one thing that reminded me of Clay Aiken for a second. I'll keep an eye on him.

And speaking of Clay Aiken, every time they say "Hotlanta", it reminds me of the crazy Clackhouse. I'm not so sure why that is - Clay Aiken must have done something in Atlanta (besides audition - hey, I *am* a PRoCer at heart, after all - I do remember some random Clay trivia.)

I might have to call shenanigans on Asia’h Epperson's story about her dad. She just wasn't reacting the way that I would be if my daddy had died suddenly two days before (God forbid.) Also, her apostrophe reminds me of a post that I need to do, because it's something that really grinds my gears - people who name their kids stupid things with phonetic spellings and random punctuation scattered throughout.

I like Amanda Overmyer. I'm thinking she may scare the old people at the nursing home, though.

I also like Josiah Leming, but I don't understand why he has this occasional British accent.

Nice to see that Pauler is still talking about happy spirits and magicalness. Randy is sitting in the middle, though, and it's throwing my world off a little bit. Also, about Randy - he doesn't know how to work percentages. And so he should just stop saying things like, "Eleventy billion percent yes!" Because it annoys me when people mess up percentages. And it's all about ME.

Perrie Cataldo - oversang everything, like his life depended on it. Good thing it didn't.

That guy who kept talking about the "tingly feeling" that he only gets when he sings (didn't catch his name) reminds me of a junior-high version of Scott. A little bit.

Amy Flynn & her abstinence curriculum (not that there's anything wrong with that) always looks freshly scrubbed. And also, unfortunately for her and her Caruso hairstyler, freshly eliminated.

Dear Bruce Dickson, it's very creepy to have one of those "half" necklaces with your DAD. You probably shouldn't tell that to the entire country (and my BFF Corrie, who I'm sure is watching from Dutchlandia.)

Kristy Lee Cook, Amazing Grace is a great song - no doubt about that. But things usually don't fare well for people who always sing the same song. Just ask ... uh, that one girl. Whose name I can't remember. See?

It's hilarious that Jeffrey Lampkin is singing so passionately about PEE-kan pie. (Speaking of PEE-kan pie - I can't eat it normally. I'm allergic to tree nuts, so I have to scrape the PEE-kan layer off and just eat the filler goo and the crust. It's really good that way, too.) Anyway, Jeffrey Lampkin. I might like him if he's not too Ruben-esque. Not rubenesque, Ruben-esque. You know.

Angela Martin's dad just died too? Geez - all the other contestant's dads better watch themselves.

Oh! Did I tell y'all about the American Idol concert that I went to back in the fall? It was actually pretty entertaining (shut up!) - I went with my mom, and met a random person who is now my Facebook friend (she's applying to my medical school.) But the most interesting part was afterwards, when I met Scott at a movie theater (within walking distance of the concert arena) to see 3:10 to Yuma. A few minutes after the movie started, two guys walked in with a few other guys and sat right in front of us, and I am like, 95% sure that it was Blake Lewis and Chris Richardson. Well - 97% on Blake and about 90% on Chris. "Blake" spent a good bit of the movie IMing on his phone, and I spent a good bit of the movie watching Possibly!Blake and Possibly!Chris - so much so that Scott gave me a quiz on the movie on the way home. Heh. I can pay attention to two things at once, you know - it's installed in the female brain.

It was barftastic.

Yesterday, since I'm taking this rotation off (I really need to give y'all details on that, because I KNOW you're clamoring for them) I was lazily watching afternoon TV while editing the eleventy billion pictures that are on my baby (my Canon 30D) that I've let pile up over the past 6 months or so. But I digress.

Afternoon TV includes The Oprah, and she had Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks as guests, promoting Charlie Wilson's War. But what they were really on there to do was to remind us all how FAMOUS they all are (The Oprah included.) For crying out loud, they might as well have been saying things like, "Look at me! I'm FAMOUS! I have babies and give them names that make them sound like they're 80 years old!"

"No, I'm MORE famous! My son is also an ACK-tor."

And then Oprah chimes in, "I'm so glad that I'm so FAMOUS that I can have my BEST FRIENDS Julia and Tom on my show, so that I can emit my charming horse laugh at their every word! Hoo hoo hoo hooooo!"

Ack.

Seriously - Hazel and now baby Henry? Geez. And I'm not going to mention Phinnaeus, because I don't even know what kind of ridiculous name that is.

They also talked at length about a scene in which Tom spends a large amount of time in a milk bath (see also Eeeeeeeew, eeeeeeeeewwww!) The whole show was just very vomitus-inducing. I was thinking, "Did I accidentally drink 12 raw eggs mixed with milk and mustard? Because I don't recall ..."

All three of them suffer from a SEVERE case of Full-Of-Themselvesitisosis, and one oddity associated with that syndrome is that it nauseates other people. Especially people who aren't famously FAMOUS and are educated instead.

Reasons Why I Want Christy to Guest Blog

You guys know I'm trying to cajole my medical school BFF (BMF?) to blog here - until I finally twist her arm, I'll just post things FOR her. I ALWAYS get my way! Mwahahahaha! So on Tuesday, she and I were watching American Idol (because we had our Pharmacology miniboard/final exam that day, and we totally took the evening off) and she said, "I have a small to medium to large to extra-large crush on Simon Cowell." That made me laugh. I have the same type of crush on Simon Cowell - it's something about angry/arrogant British guys (see Laurie, Hugh) who is Christy's other husband. That is all.

Postpourri

Well, this afternoon I emerged unscathed from the bowels of the Evil Pharamologic Emperor Zurg (I hope.) NOTE: Sometimes I type bizarre things, like "Evil Pharmacologic Emperor Zurg" to see if someone eventually Googles them and finds the bizarrity-containing post. They usually do.

Tomorrow at noon I have pathology and then patient care (have I started studying for patient care yet, you ask? The answer is no. No, I haven't. I'm still knee-deep in the breast and ovary - which are our pathology topics this test block.) I'm almost to the point of not caring, though. That happens long about midnight the night before a test - I just get too tired to care. I'll do all I can do, and that's all I can do at this point. I can always study more efficiently next time - besides, I did well on our last pathology and patient care block (thanks be unto the Lord!)

I had the Grammys on last night while I crammed drugs into my head (I mean, drug names and uses and adverse effects and such, which is really like learning another language) and I have some thoughts. (They include the Dixie Chicks and how flarking annoying they are. And no, it's not just because they're liberal. I really could compose a manifesto entitled, "Why the Dixie Chicks Make Me Want To Peel Off My Own Skin". But I just don't have that kind of time.) I'll elaborate on the Grammy broadcast later, maybe tomorrow - as soon as I take The Best Nap Ever™, scheduled to begin somewhere around 3:30, after Christy, Michael, Todd and I have our post-block celebratory lunch. Er - pre-dinner, post-lunch. Afternoon snack. Whatever.

I adore the new Blogger, because it lets me add tags to my posts, like "Medical Scruel" (thanks to Rush Limbaugh for the "scruel" thing - it so applies to the "medical" variety. Medical school is tortuous (like the splenic artery) and I can't wait to be finished with it.) I've made some good friends, though, and I ::heart:: them. It can't be said enough.

Al Gore, can you 'splain to me why it's colder than it has been in a decade in this area, and why I had to go buy a space heater for my apartment this winter because my toes literally turn blue from the outside drafts? Hmm? I thought the sun was progressively working on incinerating us all. (Don't wax poetic on the truths of global warming in my comments, please - I'm just not going to believe you, and it will waste both of our time.)

Has anyone seen Mozart and the Whale? I'm thinking of renting it tomorrow, but not if it's crap (like Edmond with William H. Macy and Julia Stiles, which without a doubt is the worst movie I have ever seen in my entire life.)

Nicholas Cage always looks like he's about to fall asleep.

And Christy has a cat that barks. For real.

Goodnight, y'all.

Dave Matthews on House? Squeeeee!

I read in TV Guide this week that Dave Matthews is going to be a guest star (i.e., Patient of the Week) on House M.D. in March. He'll play a pianist. Oh man, my head may explode. I am endlessly entertained by them both.

In other House news, there was a good song at the end of tonight's episode - Grey Room by Damien Rice (iTunes). I Googled the lyrics and then added it to my iTunes cart.

Speaking of lyrics - some particular lyrics of one of my favorite songs in the world, Long Ride Home by Patty Griffin (iTunes - go preview it at least - Patty Griffin is amazing) have been really hitting home with me lately:

Forty years go by with someone lying in your bed
Forty years of things you say you wish you'd never said
How hard would it have been to say some kinder words instead
I wonder as I stare up at the sky turning red

I've had some time to think about you
And watch the sun sink like a stone
I've had some time to think about you
On the long ride home

Headlights staring at the driveway
The house is dark as it can be
I go inside and all is silent
It seems as empty as the inside of me ...

I guess I'm grateful for life's ebbs and flows - it makes you appreciate the good times when you have to go through bad ones. But still - sometimes, I just feel emotionally drained - like I just have nothing left to give.

*sign*

I love Hugh Laurie so very, very much and could listen to him give speeches all day. He works words like "caboodle" into ordinary conversation, which is obviously a commendable quality.

In other news, I will not be the least surprised if I fail pharmacology.

The end.

An open letter to Leonardo Dicaprio

Dear Leonardo Dicaprio,

An anti-venom is not the same thing as a vaccination. If you were bitten by a black mamba* snake, having someone standing by with a syringe of vaccine would do you no good at all. You should call me first, I'd keep you from saying goofy things like that on national television. But don't go thinking that I'm going to listen to your environmentalist crap, because that's just stupid.

Kisses,
Kim

*When I typed "black mamba" up there, I first typed "black malva", which, as it turns out, is an Aveda shampoo. And it's not at all dangerous - requires no vaccination OR anti-venom. So there you go. Don't confuse your snakes with your shampoo.

I just have to say that it was quite bizarre to see Matthew McConaughey, Oprah, and her audience chanting "We are Marshall." Bizarre, but cool all the same. Go see the movie when it comes out on December 22nd, everybody - it looks like it should be pretty good. The dang preview makes me tear up every time. Speaking of the preview, watch it here:

In other news, I can't believe that my computer doesn't know that "phagocytosis" is a word. Oh, what it's missing.

AND, my semester ends TOMORROW. I'm going to sleep for three weeks.

Tyra Banks wants me to fail medical school (in addition to Flavor Flav)

I mean, Flavor Flav also wants me to fail medical school - not that Tyra Banks wants Flavor Flav to fail medical school. Just so we're clear.

I'm telling you, since I have been a medical student, there is an America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1 the weekend before a big exam - EVERY TIME. (A few times, that's not quite true - but Flavor Flav has picked up the slack with a Flavor of Love marathon to fill in those gaps.) And when there's an America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1, I must watch it. All of it! I think Tyra Banks is some kind of voodoo queen with her emaciated girls and their giant rats' nest hairdos, and their crazy photo shoots on shaky runways - sucks me RIGHT IN. I can't help it.

And true to form, there's a marathon on today, and I have a pathology final tomorrow morning. What to do, what to do. Of course, I do only have to get a 75 or something to keep my B* in pathology. So I don't think Tyra will completely sabotage me this time. Mwahahahaha!

*This B brought to you by my friend Christy, who forces me to study, no matter how badly I want to get up and do The Running Man to an Ace of Base song on the 90s Music Choice channel.