Its been a while. Thanks to the creation and emergence of the WCD in the Madden world, my blogging has gone down in a serious way. Any free "computer time" is usually spent writing up the games - at least when I'm not playing Counter Strike, that is. The games are a blast to watch - I'm writing them in so much detail now that a single game with 8 minute quarters can take up to 3 hours and change to get through. And that's just watching and recording the game. After that there is about four to seven hours of writing up the game and arranging the pics on the site. The write ups are tedious, but the end product is fun to see. I just hope my web site doesn't run out of room.
When last I wrote on this blog, it was about the Seattle Seahawk playoff game. Since then, the NFL playoffs have continued. Most years I'm totally pumped on the NFL post-season, but this year I'm finding that its dragging on. I long for the Eagle to lose - just as Gwen longs for the Steelers to win. Given those sentiments, its easy to see why today was a bad football day for she and I who spent most of the day watching the games in my apartment. Now, I have to listen to two weeks of Eagles this and Eagles that. It will be enough to drive me crazy. I've said it once and I'll say it again - I hate that fucken team. (And I'm trying not to swear as much in this blog - mostly because I heard that Adam's mom reads it! But the Eagles can still bring that out in me. And of course, I hate them even more for it.)
Luckily, I'm fairly confident that the Patriots can take down the filthy birds and all can be right in the universe. I don't think I can handle the idea of the Eagles as the World Champs. In fact, typing that just now has sickened me. *SHUDDER*
Yes, this hasn't been my favorite NFL season, and not just because the Giants weren't all that good. Sundays just seemed to drag a little this year. And though I still love it, I suppose I loved football just a little bit less this time around. A trend perhaps? That remains to be seen. I do look forward to getting my Sundays back. There's too much to do while I'm still in the country.
I say that last sentence like I know for sure where I'm going next year. But I still don't. It looks favorable that Germany will still be the plan. But, I'm still not 100% sure, and won't be until at least a month. More as it develops, of course.
A week ago I finished my last official "WARD" month as a resident. Its sort of a milestone, I guess. The last guy I admitted was some guy who fell while he was sawing wood and landed on his hip. There was no fracture, so orthopedics wouldn't touch him, but he had to come in to the hospital because he couldn't walk secondary to severe leg and back pain. So I gave him some IV morphine around 2 am and then went up and went to bed. And that was it. There was some work before that but otherwise it was a quiet night. I had that Sunday (last Sunday) and Monday off, and I spent it mostly lazing around. (And watching football, of course).
We were supposed to go snowboarding last Monday, but some crazy "warm front" rolled through Washington and absolutely killed the snow conditions, turning fresh snow into rain and actually depleting the already meager bases. Its been a terrible season for Washington skiing, and I'm not happy about it. It's nearly the end of January, and I haven't even been up yet. Sad, really. Things will change, however, as in 2 weeks we'll be heading up to Canada for a week in Whistler. Its managed to stay somewhat better that far north, but still it remains a subpar season for the legendary Canadian powerhouse.
I'm doing rheumatology now, which is a great elective month. Its all clinic, with no weekends and no call. The staff docs are really chill. Most of the patients are old people with bad arthritis. I'm doing a lot of steroid joint injections. Not the Barry Bonds type steroids, but rather the anti-inflammatory type. Its kind of odd and cool to stick a needle into someone's joint space. You expect to run into bone most times (say when you're injecting under the knee cap), but there are lots of little synovial fluid spaces that line the joints and the needle just slides right in. Neat.
This weekend a bunch of us (Gwen, Pete, George, Cristin, Dave and myself) headed out on Friday night. I haven't been drunk for at least 5 weeks now (sort of a long streak given my infamous 'city livin'), and I was ready and willing to have a few drinks that night. We started off at a Teppan style Japanese restaurant. The waiter was dressed like some sort of Spiderman chef - with this crazy red and blue uniform. He did the usual schtick, which includes throwing knives in the air, spinning eggs, making onion oil towers, setting things aflame, and the like. It was all very routine. He was also some sort of NFL nut, however, and when he overheard us talking about the playoffs, he simply activated and launched into all sorts of dissertations on why the Patriots were the best team, why the Seahawks faltered down the stretch, why the Falcons were too streaky to win it all, and all sorts of other theories. It was fairly impressive, actually. His english was somewhat broken, yet he was hailing the details of a zone blitz. It was cracking George and I up - that's for sure.
After dinner we rolled out to Belltown and hit some hipster bar called "The Viceroy". It was one of those annoying overly crowded, overly loud bars where there are a lot of guys who come straight from they gym and stand around the place with their heads on swivels and one eyebrow permanently arched. The only reason we ended up there is because we were meeting some other people from work. It was good people watching, at the least. After that we hit a few more bars and then headed home. A bunch of people crashed in my little pad that night.
The next day, (yesterday), I went back out for some more touch football action with John boy and his boys. I hadn't played in about 5 weeks, and was itching to go. It was a rainy, 50 degree day and I loved every minute I was out there. Touch football is so fun I don't know what to say. Throw in some wet conditions and a few other willing participants and you have some fun time. We played for at least 2 hours straight. It was a great time. Some day I'll have to bring my camera out there.
After that I got back and Gwen and I lounged around and watched some Arrested Development, which she had net flixed. We've been watching and LOVING this show. My boy David Cross is in it. But besides even him, the show is amazing - superbly well written and absolutely hilarious. Jason Bateman is gold (yes, you read that right). I can't rave enough about it. I really think Iwan would love it. Anyway, it rocks.
After that, we watched "Lost in Translation", which I hadn't seen since the theater. Like the first time, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Its hard to describe why I like it so much. For one thing it takes place in Japan, which rocks. The other reasons, to summarize, include Bill Murray, Scarlett Johannson, and the power of subtlety. An excellent film. And I'll never forget the time my dad was telling my mom, George and I about watching it on the plane. "Nothing happened!" he shouted at us with exasperation. "I kept waiting for something to happen....and nothing did!" He was all giggles about it, as if he couldn't even contemplate why they'd make a character driven film. Or least one without a single explosion. Ah, my pops. Hey - he likes what he likes.
And on that note, I think I'll take off. It's been a long day of playoff agony between the Eagle's win and the Steeler's loss. In the end, though, I'd rather have the Pats playing the Eagles because they're more likely to beat 'em. And beating the Eagles is the most important thing.
One more thing about football. I loved...absolutely LOVED, the whole Randy Moss debacle. I was watching that game against Green Bay live and I was SO fired up when Joe Buck went nuts after Moss mock-mooned the crowd. I was so amused at how it sent the middle-aged white media into a bristling tizzy. Hi-larious. I mean, HIGH-LARIOUS. Unbelievable. I can't believe people make so much out of this - a man paid to catch footballs is held under the microscope for doing something juvenile. Dude - it cracks me up. Here are two snippets from the ESPN site that sum it up for me:
First from Bill Simmons, the sports guy:
"Best all-around performance: Randy Moss
First, he gets all the uptight guys on the studio shows in a hilarious lather. Honestly, Boomer Esiason became so angry during his pregame tirade on Moss, it was like watching Hitler give those crazy speeches in the late-30's. (Not to compare Boomer to Hitler, but you know what I mean.) Then, Moss decides to wear Thelma's afro from "Good Times." Then he kills the Packers downfield, drops a few 12-letter swear words on camera while screaming at the Lambeau fans, and caps things off with a second TD and the fake moon, which drove the MAWSM (middle-aged white sports media) bonkers again. And then he took credit for the Minny win by claiming that he caused such a distraction leading up the game, everyone was focusing on him and not the annual Minnesota collapse -- which was actually sorta true.
Funniest meltdown: Joe Buck
Seeing him gunning for an Emmy after Moss' moon had to be one of the funniest TiVo moments of all-time, right up there with the Jackson wardrobe malfunction and everything Stephen Jackson did during the Artest melee. Hey, remember the days when play-by-play guys were only there to provide play-by-play and set up the color guys? Then Bob Costas started doing baseball games ... within ten years, we had Buck unilaterally deciding the groundrules for moral decency during NFL games, starting a chain reaction that actually led to FOX and ESPN refuse to replay the clip that night. Since when did Buck turn into the Dad from Footloose? Isn't he like 35?"
And from David Fleming, another ESPN Columnist:
"Indeed. Tagliabue then denounced both Randy and T.O. as being classless, immature and beneath the dignity of the game ... then the networks cut away for several commercials. The first one was for beer, where a horse passed gas in a woman's face. The next one was for a $29.95 video highlight tape of the game's most gruesome, bone-snapping hits. The third one was an ad campaign for the Cardinals new publicly-funded, gazillion-dollar stadium. And the last one was for the new show, 'Who's Your Daddy?'"
In the context of the article, that last quote rocks. I can't believe how much people make of Moss's shit. I loved how Jimmy Johnson, of Fox, just sat there, sort of half smiling, while Bradshaw and "sensitive" Howie Long went nuts on Moss. He must have been thinking, "Holy shit - do you know what half of my Cowboy players were doing between games?" It just goes to show how the average American still fears an unpredictable black man with an attitude. Unbelievable.
And lastly, my favorite quote, from Gwendolyn regarding Bill Bellichick, as she saw him strutting the sideline in today's game with that weird head warmer hat and the sweatshirt on:
"He looks like a middle aged lesbian."
AHAHAHA! Great stuff.
And...scene.
MARATHON MAN
Wow – have I been busy. The wards are the wards, after all. And this rotation (my final wards rotation as a resident I might add), has certainly lived up to its billing. Every call this rotation has had a story, and this last Friday was no different. And here's the story:
Last Wednesday or so my boy George and I found ourselves at work staring at a computer screen and contemplating purchasing tickets to the Seattle NFL playoff game. The game hadn’t then sold out. The tickets weren’t cheap, but both of us were huge football fans and neither of us had been to a playoff game before. We went ahead and clicked the button. For 110$ apiece, we took the plunge – getting some solid seats (great, even) about 25 rows up from the 25-yard line behind the Seattle bench.
The only wild card in attending the wild-card game (OH!) was that I was on call overnight the Friday night before the game, which was on Saturday. (George was on call Thursday, and had to work Saturday, but only for a few hours in the morning). No problem, I thought. On even the worst call nights, I usually still manage to get an hour or two of sleep and make it possible to function the next day at least until I hit my bed.
Well, that was my mistake, I suppose. The “day” part of the Friday call actually went quite well. It was busy, but the hospital was sort of full so bed availability was a bit of a problem. We had a few admissions trickle slowly in, but nothing too crazy. Around dinner time, however, a different nursing supervisor hit the floor, more nurses became available to work, and all of a sudden there was a vacuum of space in the hospital with beds a plenty. Around 8 pm or so, things became insanely busy and didn’t cease until about 4 am. So I spent nearly the entire night in the ER, admitting patients, writing orders, laying hands, and all that. At about 3:30 am, I had finished my 9 full consults that had come in after 8 pm, and I finally settled in to catch up on the incredible battery of paper work (which makes the job a sheer pain in the ass at times).
I pulled out my CD case (we have a stereo in our resident area), busted out some Chemical Brothers, pounded some caffeine, and started hacking away at the keyboard until the notes were completed. When I had finally finished the maddening tedium, it was about 6:30 am, or just about time to start pre-rounding for the new day. Shit – absolutely no sleep. And man I was getting tired. (On top of that, I was getting sick – I was coughing all over the place and feeling quite congested. I had feared I was getting a cold the night before and had taken some Nyquil (ah, sweet Nyquil). And yup, staying up all night being stressed is not a good thing when you are trying to stave off illness. And hence – I got sick. First time in two years, I might add, which shocks me given the number of times people have coughed nastily in my face while I listened to their hearts and lungs at the bedside…)
Well that sucked. The morning officially arrived when my staff doc strutted in (this month my “staff doc” has been my chief resident, which is awesome – such low stress) and we started talking about the new patients. I busied myself with work until about 10 am and then finally left at about 10:30 am. Kickoff was at 1:30 pm that day. Damn.
So I drove home the 45 miles, trying to stay awake. (I know, I know, VERY safe indeed). I did fine, of course, given all my practice. And the coughing helped, too. (On a side note, however, it is incredible to think of how similar the states of “intoxicated” and “severely fatigued” are. You lose fine motor tone in both. Your perception ability goes down. You can’t think as clearly. Coordination slows. There really are a lot of similarities – so for those of you who don’t drink but always wanted to know what it’s like, force yourself to stay up for 30 straight hours and then start trying to do stuff.)
When I got home, I hit the shower and then packed for the game. The temperature was about 40 degrees that day so we had to essentially pack a ton of layers (standing outside for 4 hours in that). After that I laid down for a grand total of 5 minutes (but never got fully asleep), but got up once more when George arrived. We got our stuff together, and headed out. He was pumped, I was trying to get there amidst recurring waves of fatigue.
We hit a quick convenience store and I bought and slammed a Starbucks Frapaccino. Then we hailed a cab and went to the stadium. When we got there, we decided food would be good. George likes this Philly Cheese steak place in Pioneer Square, down near the stadium. Their steaks really are quite good, though to get one you have to brave the Philly-themed restaurant (always difficult) and all the Eagles shit on the wall. Come to think of it, I suspect that was part of the reason George wanted to go there.
So we went, bought some cheese steaks (which really were good), and the clerks and I and George talked a bunch of shit about the Giants and the Eagles. Which brings up another point – George and I had decided to put away our differences in football allegiances that day. We agreed to come together and collectively root for the Seahawks. (Hey, if he and I can do it – I really don’t see the problem that Israelis and Arabs have…)
So we rolled to the stadium, stood in a huge line to get in (they were searching everybody), and ate our steaks. Good stuff. With the energy of the massive crowd, I felt myself starting to wake up again.
This part of the stadium is called the HAWK'S NEST
We finally got into the stadium and were amazed at how good our seats were. Qwest Field (formerly Seahawks Stadium) is a really nice field, and I’ve been there a few times now. The crowd was large and fired up, which made the air in the place quite charged. It was a blast. We opted not to get any sushi or espresso pregame (yes, you can get those things in a Seattle stadium) and went instead to our seats. I must say the energy of that crowd, combined with the cold air, really helped me stay pretty fresh and awake.
This play was the first Seattle TD pass to Bobby Engram
Kickoff was shortly thereafter and George and I found ourselves getting swept up in the passion of the crowd – at many points in the game both of us were cheering vehemently for the Seahawks. They had given us small dark blue towels upon entering, and we waved those things all over the place to boot.
George had a couple of beers, while I had none. (I was sick, the beers were 6.50 a pop, and it was 40 degrees out at best). We yelled “De-fense” on third downs, we cheered for the Hawks on offense.
I love going to NFL games in person. Every time I go, I’m reminded of the vast difference in the perspective of the game. The field seems smaller, the play much tighter, than on television. It’s fun to watch the things away from the ball that they don’t show often on TV. I enjoyed watching Torry Holt blast off the line (man he’s fast). He got open all over the place.
Angry Bird Flags run wild after the first Seattle TD
Qwest field had some nice things going for it. Every time the Seahawks got a first down, the digital scoreboard would go nuts – they had this animated “death hawk” come out of nowhere, pick up a digital football, and drop it off down field all the while looking menacing as hell and loosing this incredible raptor shriek. It was simply, awesome. “NNYYYEEAA!” George and I seriously couldn’t wait for first downs. Furthermore, when on defense, any big third down was accompanied by the Under Armour signature. Namely, a lot of clapping followed by an explosive “WE MUST PROTECT THIS HOUSE!!!” right before the snap, aired out in full volume across the entire stadium. Again, awesome. (Hell, George and I found ourselves rooting for Rams third downs!). It was also cool to check out the ESPN gang in the booth above us, and Suzy Colbert on the sideline looking about 3 feet tall compared to the players.
The game itself was pretty good. It was a close game, which made it intense. It came down to the very last play, and in perfect Seahawk fashion, it was ended with a Seattle dropped pass that would have forced overtime. That play really took the air out of the stadium, but since George and I weren’t “real” Seahawk fans, it didn’t really get us down.
Preparing for Kickoff
In the Red Zone
After the game, we trudged home. Traffic in the city was a mess, so George and I took the 25-minute walk up the hill back to my house instead of hailing a cab. It was at that point when the fatigue really hit me. When I got back to my apartment, where it was warm, I was pretty much done. I had a bit to eat, and then by about 6 pm, I was laying in bed struggling to say good bye to Gwen as sleep loomed seemingly eternal over me.
After 36 straight hours of being awake (My longest streak ever, I believe), I fell asleep. And didn’t wake up until 6:30 am the next day. But it was worth it – the game had been a blast.
In other news:
-It snowed the Sunday morning after game. I should have taken a picture, but didn't, sadly. It was beautiful, if short lived. About 2 or 3 inches topped all the buildings and cars in Seattle. A few hours later, it turned to rain, and went away. But it was sweet while it lasted.
-That Sunday night after the game, Gwen and I went to a play with her brother and his boyfriend. It was called “Noises off” and it was pretty solid, if not spectacular. I hadn’t been to a play in a long time, and I just enjoyed watching “ACTING!” right there in front of me. Definitely worth going – the second act was the best.
-This week has been more business as usual. More ward work. I have one last call as the MOD ever – this Friday night. It’s kind of cool to think I’ll be done with ward months next week. I still have a CCU month and 2 ICU months left, so call itself is certainly not completely done. But getting the dreaded MOD out of the way will certainly be nice.
And that is that. For now.
Wow – have I been busy. The wards are the wards, after all. And this rotation (my final wards rotation as a resident I might add), has certainly lived up to its billing. Every call this rotation has had a story, and this last Friday was no different. And here's the story:
Last Wednesday or so my boy George and I found ourselves at work staring at a computer screen and contemplating purchasing tickets to the Seattle NFL playoff game. The game hadn’t then sold out. The tickets weren’t cheap, but both of us were huge football fans and neither of us had been to a playoff game before. We went ahead and clicked the button. For 110$ apiece, we took the plunge – getting some solid seats (great, even) about 25 rows up from the 25-yard line behind the Seattle bench.
The only wild card in attending the wild-card game (OH!) was that I was on call overnight the Friday night before the game, which was on Saturday. (George was on call Thursday, and had to work Saturday, but only for a few hours in the morning). No problem, I thought. On even the worst call nights, I usually still manage to get an hour or two of sleep and make it possible to function the next day at least until I hit my bed.
Well, that was my mistake, I suppose. The “day” part of the Friday call actually went quite well. It was busy, but the hospital was sort of full so bed availability was a bit of a problem. We had a few admissions trickle slowly in, but nothing too crazy. Around dinner time, however, a different nursing supervisor hit the floor, more nurses became available to work, and all of a sudden there was a vacuum of space in the hospital with beds a plenty. Around 8 pm or so, things became insanely busy and didn’t cease until about 4 am. So I spent nearly the entire night in the ER, admitting patients, writing orders, laying hands, and all that. At about 3:30 am, I had finished my 9 full consults that had come in after 8 pm, and I finally settled in to catch up on the incredible battery of paper work (which makes the job a sheer pain in the ass at times).
I pulled out my CD case (we have a stereo in our resident area), busted out some Chemical Brothers, pounded some caffeine, and started hacking away at the keyboard until the notes were completed. When I had finally finished the maddening tedium, it was about 6:30 am, or just about time to start pre-rounding for the new day. Shit – absolutely no sleep. And man I was getting tired. (On top of that, I was getting sick – I was coughing all over the place and feeling quite congested. I had feared I was getting a cold the night before and had taken some Nyquil (ah, sweet Nyquil). And yup, staying up all night being stressed is not a good thing when you are trying to stave off illness. And hence – I got sick. First time in two years, I might add, which shocks me given the number of times people have coughed nastily in my face while I listened to their hearts and lungs at the bedside…)
Well that sucked. The morning officially arrived when my staff doc strutted in (this month my “staff doc” has been my chief resident, which is awesome – such low stress) and we started talking about the new patients. I busied myself with work until about 10 am and then finally left at about 10:30 am. Kickoff was at 1:30 pm that day. Damn.
So I drove home the 45 miles, trying to stay awake. (I know, I know, VERY safe indeed). I did fine, of course, given all my practice. And the coughing helped, too. (On a side note, however, it is incredible to think of how similar the states of “intoxicated” and “severely fatigued” are. You lose fine motor tone in both. Your perception ability goes down. You can’t think as clearly. Coordination slows. There really are a lot of similarities – so for those of you who don’t drink but always wanted to know what it’s like, force yourself to stay up for 30 straight hours and then start trying to do stuff.)
When I got home, I hit the shower and then packed for the game. The temperature was about 40 degrees that day so we had to essentially pack a ton of layers (standing outside for 4 hours in that). After that I laid down for a grand total of 5 minutes (but never got fully asleep), but got up once more when George arrived. We got our stuff together, and headed out. He was pumped, I was trying to get there amidst recurring waves of fatigue.
We hit a quick convenience store and I bought and slammed a Starbucks Frapaccino. Then we hailed a cab and went to the stadium. When we got there, we decided food would be good. George likes this Philly Cheese steak place in Pioneer Square, down near the stadium. Their steaks really are quite good, though to get one you have to brave the Philly-themed restaurant (always difficult) and all the Eagles shit on the wall. Come to think of it, I suspect that was part of the reason George wanted to go there.
So we went, bought some cheese steaks (which really were good), and the clerks and I and George talked a bunch of shit about the Giants and the Eagles. Which brings up another point – George and I had decided to put away our differences in football allegiances that day. We agreed to come together and collectively root for the Seahawks. (Hey, if he and I can do it – I really don’t see the problem that Israelis and Arabs have…)
So we rolled to the stadium, stood in a huge line to get in (they were searching everybody), and ate our steaks. Good stuff. With the energy of the massive crowd, I felt myself starting to wake up again.
This part of the stadium is called the HAWK'S NEST
We finally got into the stadium and were amazed at how good our seats were. Qwest Field (formerly Seahawks Stadium) is a really nice field, and I’ve been there a few times now. The crowd was large and fired up, which made the air in the place quite charged. It was a blast. We opted not to get any sushi or espresso pregame (yes, you can get those things in a Seattle stadium) and went instead to our seats. I must say the energy of that crowd, combined with the cold air, really helped me stay pretty fresh and awake.
This play was the first Seattle TD pass to Bobby Engram
Kickoff was shortly thereafter and George and I found ourselves getting swept up in the passion of the crowd – at many points in the game both of us were cheering vehemently for the Seahawks. They had given us small dark blue towels upon entering, and we waved those things all over the place to boot.
George had a couple of beers, while I had none. (I was sick, the beers were 6.50 a pop, and it was 40 degrees out at best). We yelled “De-fense” on third downs, we cheered for the Hawks on offense.
I love going to NFL games in person. Every time I go, I’m reminded of the vast difference in the perspective of the game. The field seems smaller, the play much tighter, than on television. It’s fun to watch the things away from the ball that they don’t show often on TV. I enjoyed watching Torry Holt blast off the line (man he’s fast). He got open all over the place.
Angry Bird Flags run wild after the first Seattle TD
Qwest field had some nice things going for it. Every time the Seahawks got a first down, the digital scoreboard would go nuts – they had this animated “death hawk” come out of nowhere, pick up a digital football, and drop it off down field all the while looking menacing as hell and loosing this incredible raptor shriek. It was simply, awesome. “NNYYYEEAA!” George and I seriously couldn’t wait for first downs. Furthermore, when on defense, any big third down was accompanied by the Under Armour signature. Namely, a lot of clapping followed by an explosive “WE MUST PROTECT THIS HOUSE!!!” right before the snap, aired out in full volume across the entire stadium. Again, awesome. (Hell, George and I found ourselves rooting for Rams third downs!). It was also cool to check out the ESPN gang in the booth above us, and Suzy Colbert on the sideline looking about 3 feet tall compared to the players.
The game itself was pretty good. It was a close game, which made it intense. It came down to the very last play, and in perfect Seahawk fashion, it was ended with a Seattle dropped pass that would have forced overtime. That play really took the air out of the stadium, but since George and I weren’t “real” Seahawk fans, it didn’t really get us down.
Preparing for Kickoff
In the Red Zone
After the game, we trudged home. Traffic in the city was a mess, so George and I took the 25-minute walk up the hill back to my house instead of hailing a cab. It was at that point when the fatigue really hit me. When I got back to my apartment, where it was warm, I was pretty much done. I had a bit to eat, and then by about 6 pm, I was laying in bed struggling to say good bye to Gwen as sleep loomed seemingly eternal over me.
After 36 straight hours of being awake (My longest streak ever, I believe), I fell asleep. And didn’t wake up until 6:30 am the next day. But it was worth it – the game had been a blast.
In other news:
-It snowed the Sunday morning after game. I should have taken a picture, but didn't, sadly. It was beautiful, if short lived. About 2 or 3 inches topped all the buildings and cars in Seattle. A few hours later, it turned to rain, and went away. But it was sweet while it lasted.
-That Sunday night after the game, Gwen and I went to a play with her brother and his boyfriend. It was called “Noises off” and it was pretty solid, if not spectacular. I hadn’t been to a play in a long time, and I just enjoyed watching “ACTING!” right there in front of me. Definitely worth going – the second act was the best.
-This week has been more business as usual. More ward work. I have one last call as the MOD ever – this Friday night. It’s kind of cool to think I’ll be done with ward months next week. I still have a CCU month and 2 ICU months left, so call itself is certainly not completely done. But getting the dreaded MOD out of the way will certainly be nice.
And that is that. For now.
Playing Catch-Up
It’s Sunday afternoon in my cozy apartment. The sun is setting outside on a brisk Seattle day. It’s cold.
New Year’s
There’s not much to say about this New Year’s Eve because I spent it in the hospital. The 24-hour period (from 7 am New Year’s Eve to 7 am New Year’s Day) was unexpectedly quiet. I got only 3 consults in the whole time, which may be a new record for me. Of those, I only had to admit one to my team. Not too bad. Sitting with my intern around 11:45 pm that night, we reminisced about some other, better New Year’s Eves. Here’s a brief list of the locations of my recent New Years that I can remember:
2005 – On call, Madigan Army Medical Center, Ft. Lewis, Washington
2004 – Radio station party on a pier, Seattle, Washington
2003 – Whistler Village, Whistler, British Columbia, Canada
2002 – Gabe Buhr’s house, Poway, California
2001 – Hotel Room with Sara, Denver, Colorado
2000 – Jonny G’s Castle Party, Ramona (?) California
1999 – Casino Area, Reno, Nevada
1998 – Year of the bum – I don’t remember (Pacific Beach?)
1997 – The Beachcomber, bar, San Diego, California
They get pretty hazy before this point…
The House Cleaner
A couple of weeks ago I decided to get a house cleaner. Given my ‘eclectic’ location in an artsy (read: gay) part of Seattle, I wasn’t too surprised when the company I hired sent a flamingly gay man to come polish up my pad.
I made it a point to be home for the first visit because I wanted to make sure this company wasn’t sending some hoodlum to come steal my stuff. Enter Peter. He’s nice enough, and queer as a three-dollar bill. He’s a mildly overweight guy from LA and he came equipped with the requisite cleaning supplies and token lisp.
When he got to my place, we chatted for a while as he began his cleaning process. Over the next three hours, it was mostly quiet as I did work at my desk and he cleaned. A few times, however, he’d notice something in my apartment and ask about it, and that would spark some friendly conversation. He also told me some “cleaning guy horror stories” about gross apartments he’s been in, etc. Told with the predictable flamboyant flare, these stories were quite amusing.
At the end of the first session, I gave him a solid tip and he rolled out of there. My place was clean.
Three weeks later he was slated to come back. I was going to be at work this time, so I left a key with my apartment manager and told her to let good old Peter in. Before I had gone to work that day, I had left him a 20-dollar check for a tip and a note with a few details about what to clean (my laundry, etc). When I got home that day, Peter had once again made the place spotless. He also left a note of his own, which has hilarious. (See pics). The best thing about the note was the final tally on flare in said note – namely 10 stars, 6 exclamation points, and 4 smiley faces. Nice work gay guy!
Anyway, that was that and I didn’t think much more about it until the next night. On that Saturday night (he had cleaned my place and left the note on a Friday), I was chillin’ at my place and playing some Madden.
It was about 7 pm when I heard a knock at my door. Not expecting anyone, I crept up quietly to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Peter. Whoa.
I considered creeping back to the couch and ignoring the whole thing. But then I realized my TV is on pretty loud. It was pretty unmistakable that I was in fact home. Not wanting to offend Peter, a man who could potentially steal my stuff, I decided to open the door.
The encounter:
“Hey,” I say. I notice Peter is dressed to kill.
“HEY!!!” Peter beams with a voice that explains the flare on his note.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I totally forgot to give your key back to your manager, so I’d thought I would bring it by!” Bring it by, I thought. On Saturday night. At 7 pm. Dressed up.
“Oh. OK,” I reply. Peter’s expression gets a little more serious for a second. He looks at me with a slightly devilish twist of the mouth.
Awkward pause. At this point I realize Peter is probably hoping for a little more than to simply return my key.
“Great job on the place – it looks great,” I add hurriedly, hoping it will distract him.
“Oh yeah – I LOVE YOUR TREE BY THE WAY!” he squeals. We chat about the tree for a half a minute. Then the awkward pause comes again.
Oh Lord, he wants me to invite him in, I’m thinking. What a perfect fantasy. I invite him in, next thing you know we’re rolling around in my immaculately groomed apartment making passionate gay love! Whoa. The thought almost makes me crack up. Instead, I quickly say thanks and good-bye and close the door.
Dude. Hilarity. In some ways I think it would be really fun to be gay. Unlike with men and women, there seems to be absolutely no brakes on sexually charged situations. You share a look – and boom – next thing you’re having sex. Good stuff.
Even more hilarious then that story is Gwen’s reaction. I can tell she can’t quite tell if she should be jealous or not. Either way, it sure is easy to rile her up about it. ("Sorry Gwen, I'm busy - Peter's coming by later....") Lately, she’s been demanding to be here the next time Peter comes to clean so she can tell him to stay away from her bitch!
Oh Christmas Tree
On a final note, I’d like to add some pics of my sweet X-mas tree. It’s loaded with all the coolest ornaments. Star Wars stuff, mostly. But there’s also Spiderman, Wile E. Coyote, some LOTR stuff, and a few other assorted odds and ends. There are several audio ornaments, and when I plug it in it goes nuts with about 8 different Star Wars quotes and noises. I’m sad I have to take it down soon. Here are some pics:
It’s Sunday afternoon in my cozy apartment. The sun is setting outside on a brisk Seattle day. It’s cold.
New Year’s
There’s not much to say about this New Year’s Eve because I spent it in the hospital. The 24-hour period (from 7 am New Year’s Eve to 7 am New Year’s Day) was unexpectedly quiet. I got only 3 consults in the whole time, which may be a new record for me. Of those, I only had to admit one to my team. Not too bad. Sitting with my intern around 11:45 pm that night, we reminisced about some other, better New Year’s Eves. Here’s a brief list of the locations of my recent New Years that I can remember:
2005 – On call, Madigan Army Medical Center, Ft. Lewis, Washington
2004 – Radio station party on a pier, Seattle, Washington
2003 – Whistler Village, Whistler, British Columbia, Canada
2002 – Gabe Buhr’s house, Poway, California
2001 – Hotel Room with Sara, Denver, Colorado
2000 – Jonny G’s Castle Party, Ramona (?) California
1999 – Casino Area, Reno, Nevada
1998 – Year of the bum – I don’t remember (Pacific Beach?)
1997 – The Beachcomber, bar, San Diego, California
They get pretty hazy before this point…
The House Cleaner
A couple of weeks ago I decided to get a house cleaner. Given my ‘eclectic’ location in an artsy (read: gay) part of Seattle, I wasn’t too surprised when the company I hired sent a flamingly gay man to come polish up my pad.
I made it a point to be home for the first visit because I wanted to make sure this company wasn’t sending some hoodlum to come steal my stuff. Enter Peter. He’s nice enough, and queer as a three-dollar bill. He’s a mildly overweight guy from LA and he came equipped with the requisite cleaning supplies and token lisp.
When he got to my place, we chatted for a while as he began his cleaning process. Over the next three hours, it was mostly quiet as I did work at my desk and he cleaned. A few times, however, he’d notice something in my apartment and ask about it, and that would spark some friendly conversation. He also told me some “cleaning guy horror stories” about gross apartments he’s been in, etc. Told with the predictable flamboyant flare, these stories were quite amusing.
At the end of the first session, I gave him a solid tip and he rolled out of there. My place was clean.
Three weeks later he was slated to come back. I was going to be at work this time, so I left a key with my apartment manager and told her to let good old Peter in. Before I had gone to work that day, I had left him a 20-dollar check for a tip and a note with a few details about what to clean (my laundry, etc). When I got home that day, Peter had once again made the place spotless. He also left a note of his own, which has hilarious. (See pics). The best thing about the note was the final tally on flare in said note – namely 10 stars, 6 exclamation points, and 4 smiley faces. Nice work gay guy!
Anyway, that was that and I didn’t think much more about it until the next night. On that Saturday night (he had cleaned my place and left the note on a Friday), I was chillin’ at my place and playing some Madden.
It was about 7 pm when I heard a knock at my door. Not expecting anyone, I crept up quietly to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Peter. Whoa.
I considered creeping back to the couch and ignoring the whole thing. But then I realized my TV is on pretty loud. It was pretty unmistakable that I was in fact home. Not wanting to offend Peter, a man who could potentially steal my stuff, I decided to open the door.
The encounter:
“Hey,” I say. I notice Peter is dressed to kill.
“HEY!!!” Peter beams with a voice that explains the flare on his note.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I totally forgot to give your key back to your manager, so I’d thought I would bring it by!” Bring it by, I thought. On Saturday night. At 7 pm. Dressed up.
“Oh. OK,” I reply. Peter’s expression gets a little more serious for a second. He looks at me with a slightly devilish twist of the mouth.
Awkward pause. At this point I realize Peter is probably hoping for a little more than to simply return my key.
“Great job on the place – it looks great,” I add hurriedly, hoping it will distract him.
“Oh yeah – I LOVE YOUR TREE BY THE WAY!” he squeals. We chat about the tree for a half a minute. Then the awkward pause comes again.
Oh Lord, he wants me to invite him in, I’m thinking. What a perfect fantasy. I invite him in, next thing you know we’re rolling around in my immaculately groomed apartment making passionate gay love! Whoa. The thought almost makes me crack up. Instead, I quickly say thanks and good-bye and close the door.
Dude. Hilarity. In some ways I think it would be really fun to be gay. Unlike with men and women, there seems to be absolutely no brakes on sexually charged situations. You share a look – and boom – next thing you’re having sex. Good stuff.
Even more hilarious then that story is Gwen’s reaction. I can tell she can’t quite tell if she should be jealous or not. Either way, it sure is easy to rile her up about it. ("Sorry Gwen, I'm busy - Peter's coming by later....") Lately, she’s been demanding to be here the next time Peter comes to clean so she can tell him to stay away from her bitch!
Oh Christmas Tree
On a final note, I’d like to add some pics of my sweet X-mas tree. It’s loaded with all the coolest ornaments. Star Wars stuff, mostly. But there’s also Spiderman, Wile E. Coyote, some LOTR stuff, and a few other assorted odds and ends. There are several audio ornaments, and when I plug it in it goes nuts with about 8 different Star Wars quotes and noises. I’m sad I have to take it down soon. Here are some pics:
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