Sunday, October 31, 2010

Kudos

Wherein I give kudos to the things, people, stuff, and drugs that deserve them this week. Yes, we can transform from P.U.S.S.Y. to posi in a matter of seconds, because lithium rules.

1. KUDOS to: ice scramble galore

I have long contested that ice scramble with huge amounts of powdered milk (preferably Klim) and brown cow on top is one of the best food around, but it has not really caught on, until some smart entrepreneur brought Manila Scramble to the malls and other stalls and brands started popping up. Stay away from those other toppings, it should just be the pink gunk+milk+brown cow. Or sometimes sago, the tiny ones. Screamingly the mall version tastes exactly like the one in the streets. I've noted that mostly old people eat this while walking in the mall, basically because it inevitably has some memory attached to it. I am not making inarte, but these nostalgic bits always pop in my head as soon as I eat ice scramble: 4th year high school catechism, some guy oblivious to the kulangot atop his lip, circumcision, and 2-peso pizza.

2. KUDOS to: Thymes

For dancing and gyrating and wielding sharp weapons on stage, all while wearing a pair of horns and a pair of wings. We couldn't get her to do anything back in med school, we couldn't get her to show up in residency, but now that she is a mighty fellow she can make like a Tuesday Group member and climb atop someone's shoulders.

"Your vagina would make kaskas to his batok," I told her while she was lining up in the ATM.

"EEEEEEK!" Thymes screamed. "Don't call it vagina. Let's just use the term papaya for it. Papaya, not vagina."

3. KUDOS to: Mayhem of the Music Meister!

The season 1 Brave and the Bold episode Mayhem of the Music Meister is probably the most wonderful 22-minute cartoon episode of all time! See, I couldn't even say anything else, I'm just raving. It's a musical and everyone's singing, from Gorilla Grodd to Batman to the Black Canary. Everyone. I usually hate musicals, but this is a total hoot. I've converted the entire episode into a 22-minute MP3 and am now listening to it incessantly. Pano ka naman hindi mapapakanta pag bumirit na si Clock King, Black Manta, and Gorilla Grodd ng "Drives us bats! Drives us bats! He really drives us bats! Bats! Bats! Bats bats bats bats!!!"


4. KUDOS to: my batchmates

For enduring all the stuff I force feed them to watch. This week, it's... The Twilight Zone! The magnificent black and white version, with Rod Serling in it! They mostly got bored with it (!!!) but I take it upon myself to spread the good news of The Twilight Zone! We have recently watched the top two episodes of all time: The Eye of the Beholder and It's A Wonderful Life. This week I will force them to watch the episodes A Howling Man and The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street.

4. KUDOS to: The Human Centipede

Yet another fine choice of movie by HIV, who was also the proponent of Teeth featuring a girl with toothed vagina. This time it's The Human Centipede, featuring a mad scientist who wants to create a human centipede, basically 3 people attached to each other through an ano-oral anostomosis so there's only one long digestive system for all three victims. If this happens to me I demand that I be the guy in front.


PUSSY

If there is a male version of menstruation this must be it, although I can't quite lay a finger on what this is. It was better in a way back when I still had a gallbladder which would give me severe monthly pains, at least there was something to blame for just wanting to lie down the whole day and whine. WHINE! And MOAN! And GROAN! And writhe in pain--EMOTIONAL PAIN (jinarts)!!! But looking back now, I wouldn't trade this "emotional pain" (may quotation marks na bigla) to real life, tangible, physical COLIC pain, which could not be resolved by any tossing, turning, crouching, or any high-grade delicious pain meds. Yes, I would rather feel like crap than feel my gallbladder rebelling against the yummy sinigang and pata tim fat swirling deep inside. DEEP INSIDE!!!

And because I'm having a PUSSY (Pre-Unknown Something Syndrome, Yes) and Prozac/Zoloft wouldn't work until after two weeks of regular intake, I would just rather wallow--WALLOW!!!--in it. And yes--YES!!!--there will be more of these dashed-repeated-emphasized-exclamation-pointed words--WORDS!!!--in this bleeping entry. And how do I wallow, dare you ask, why by recalling all my deep-seated annoyances and sadnesses, that go as far back as grade 2!!!!!

Why, back in Grade 2, I can still remember, it was in bleak December, we were told that the following week would be our Christmas Party! This was probably just my 2nd Christmas Party in life and my mother had told me there would be something called... EXCHANGE GIFTS!!! Mum told me she would get me something but I told her not to bother, because I've remembered that our adviser told us we do not need to bring gifts to exchange, because she would give all 40 of us gifts--GIFTS!!! So I didn't bring anything, much to my mum's happiness (tipid!). And then Christmas Party came, and everyone else brought gifts to swap!!! HUGE gifts wrapped in SHINY PAPER!!!! But adviser went in front and declared that those of us who do not have gifts (to the tune of "to the pobre ones who don't have money to buy gifts") not to despair because as promised she would give all of us something!!!! We fell in line--LINE!!!--and I was extremely excited at the prospect of getting something for absolutely nothing, and when it was my turn she grabbed something from her giant sack of sorts and gave me a tiny box wrapped in some sort of cutesy (but not shiny) paper. I opened the said box and inside are... two paper clips.

Well you know what, I can now buy a SACK of paper clips! Which I will shove up your... Oh wait, someone's asking if we want to eat in Caramia, I want I want I want Caramia, and in the spirit of materialism and self-indulgence I want I want I want the mocha sansrival flavor RIGHT NOW! Jinarts over!

Saturday, October 30, 2010

The Haikufication of Smoketh, Tennille, and Callistus N.

On to our continued quest to haikufy everything, as everything can be reduced to a haiku: the geometry of flower petals, the rates of water dripping, feelings such as hatred, even diseases such as Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, blather blather blather, because obviously I've just seen the movie Pi which proposes that everything can be reduced and expressed as numbers. We henceforth welcome three new, very diverse haiku entries into This Could Be A Job For Mulder and Scully!

Our first entry for today is from Callistus Netromedev, who was probably inspired to write this haiku after reading my blog entry Feydruta. Or was he. Or was he, in fact, inspired by whatever he was doing at the time he was creating this in his head. Either way, this is probably dedicated to lonely men out there with the pat-on-the-back message that yes, there is always hope.

hands around your shaft.

rubbing. teasing. caressing.
this 'til your next fuck.

Ahem. Thank you Callistus, that last line gives us hope. Now wipe that gunk from your keyboard. Our next entry is from the long lost Smoketh. Smoketh has been remarkably absent the past twenty entries, basically because she is dead. Emotionally. In the dialysis unit. She'll be back in the scene after just a couple of days, but as she is still stuck in the dialysis unit sucking poisons and stuff herself she has sent us this haiku of despair.

dejected. alone.
synonymous with eth-dee.
will this ever end?

Of course it will end, Smoketh, it will end tomorrow, in fact. Everything ends. Love ends. Life ends. Lurring ends, quickly, unless you buy those really long ones. Or the electronic ones.

Our final haiku for the day is from Tennille, a haiku which can be interpreted in many ways: we want to eat bulalo, those people are really stupid, or stop doing this teaching rounds on me I have no interest to learn I don't give a crap about electrolytes and stuff because I just want to play Plants and Zombies and getouttahere!!!

i wish they had brains.

but the zombies just ate them.
let's play P V Z.

More haikus!

Friday, October 29, 2010

Feydruta

Back then as high school seniors we would go to the local public schools and teach stuff about Jesus and stuff. And these elementary kids are sharp. One of them has asked Paulita Gomez how she would explain the 3-in-1 concept of the Holy Trinity. Paulita Gomez got a banana, and broke it into 3 pieces.

PG: Ilang piraso ito?

Kids (collectively): Tatlo!

PG: Pero ilan ang saging ko?

Kids (collectively): Isa!

PG: Yan ang Holy Trinity. Ngayon mabalik tayo sa Parabula ng Buto ng Mustasa.

One day while waiting for the kids to enter their rooms after lunch I noted Feydruta sitting alone in a corner looking quite dejected. Feydruta is one of my favorite people of all time since elementary. When once asked by our Math teacher why he wasn’t listening while she was teaching us integers and stuff Feydruta declared without batting an eyelash, “Because I have powers!!!” We all kept quiet when we overheard this, but in our heads: slow clap slow clap slow clap.

Now back to the scene where I saw him sitting alone: In Peer Counselor (Peer Counselor! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!) mode I asked Feydruta what was up. He said he’s bored. He’s bored today and he was bored yesterday. He was so bored yesterday, he told me, so bored in fact that he never left his room the entire day and masturbated 6 times.

“I see,”—is what I would probably say now. I can’t remember exactly how I responded to it, but I’m pretty sure I must have said something coarse like, “may porn o walang porn?”

Eventually Feydruta has moved on to become some sort of a very respectable high-ranking navy officer with multiple trips and trainings abroad. I don’t have his number and I can’t find him in Facebook, but now that I’m recalling these things I would like to ask him, something that I’ve been dying to ask him but for some reason never got around to asking him: Anong powers ang pinagsasasabi mo?

Thursday, October 28, 2010

For More! Cannibalism.

And because someone else made patol to my quest for haikufication of everything, I now present to you another entry by a reader, which she has composed while we were uncomfortably ensconced in some dark, mapanghi stairwell somewhere. She has posted this originally as a comment in UHBJAW's haiku entry, but of course we couldn't miss any opportunity to cannibalize everything to churn out another blog entry. Ladies and gentlemen (in Rod Serling voice hee hee), I present to you, the deep and dark entry of the long lost Smoketh entitled, "Lur".

lur lur lur. to lur.
how i look forward to lur.
nod. nod. nod. tara!

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Ever Ever Ever!!!

And just when you thought I couldn't go any lower, here I am cannibalizing the comment--the only comment at that ha ha ha--and using it to fill up blog space! But truly, Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore's haiku is worth a blog entry all its own, with fancy fonts at that. This haiku encapsulates the weltanschauung of everyone in 3 years of residency, so we gladly dedicate this magnificent haiku to the incoming batch of first year internal medicine residents. So I proudly present, UHBJAW:

yoko na sana
magduty ever ever
please lang, pacover

Friday, October 22, 2010

What Broad Shoulders You ALL Have

Just recently most everyone in the department have (has?) been sporting the black-maroon Department of Internal Medicine jackets brought about by the efforts of HIV who made karir to make sure this would come to fruition despite the disseminated chikinini he has been afflicted with at that time. We are all high school students at heart, of course, so every batch of residency has to have its batch name emblazoned on it, hence we have IM-Perfect and IM-Kebs. It was only recently during a common annoyed state over lunch that we realized what the perfect batch name could have been: IM-Byerna! (exclamation point included). But too late, we are stuck with IM-Perfect. I have long lobbied--LOBBIED!!!--that since I have a kitty (pussy, hee hee) fascination it would have to be IM-Puuuuuuuuuurrrrrfect, but what the heck, that idea was immediately shot down, the same way my idea to turn Graciepoopiloopiroop into a pillar of salt as Lot's Wife during our first talent show contest was shot down, well we know what happened when that idea was rejected (talagang may grudge pa rin AHAHHAHAHAHA).

Pyro and Tits immediately took to wearing the fucking jackets with much excitement as soon as the fucking jackets arrived. "Panindigan nyo yan," I said as we walked out of the airconditioned callroom and into the blazing afternoon. In fairness to them, pinanindigan talaga.


Fulet esplana, Marth V, BL, Tits, Pyro, Hurricane K, Graciepoopieloopiroop, HIV, Lloydie


So far we've been getting good reviews for the jackets:

"In fairness, REVERSIBLE!"- Pyro, Frivolous Fascist of Fashion
(as the jacket could indeed be worn inside out and you would look totally maroon)

"Di ko alam yan. GUSTO KO RIN NYAN!!!"- Sir Nemi, Esteemed Endocrinologist.

"Gandaaaaaaaaaa!"- Graciepoopiloopieroop.

"Pahiram pag pinagsawaan mo na."-- My dad.

But the process that led to the creation of this awesome, awesome jacket was not without emotional consequences. While getting measured for it I immediately checked out the list of measurements of everyone.

"Mas broad pa ang shoulders mo sakin," I told Smoketh. "Pati si Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore. And si Tessieloopagooparoop. Pati si..."

Back when I was growing up when all sorts of weird things were supposed to be happening to the male physique one of my favorite afternoon readings was some teen-age encyclopedia of sorts where they explain science in supposedly simple and interesting terms. I distinctly remember a paragraph which said, "an adolescent male would notice that his voice becomes deeper and that he develops what is usually called the adam's apple. He would also note that huge amounts of facial hair would start to grow and that his shoulders become broader". To all of those points, all I can say is, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Failure to Shop

I think I've blogged a few blogs ago that I've been thinking of going shopping for clothes, shoes, watch, etc. in one swoop, which I must now report was a complete failure as my money immediately went elsewhere, in particular: The thick compilation Showcase Volume: Legion of Superheroes Volume 4, a loose (and much bargained) Supergirl and Larfleeze action figures from the recent Collecticon 2010 in Rob, mint condition Blue Lantern Saint Walker and Indigo Lantern Indigo-1 action figures, and all that stuff we had to pay for the IM boards coming very soon. The last one I inserted so I wouldn't look like a total wastebag. What I sort of--sort of--regret not getting among the supposed necessities however was the wristwatch, as I haven't had a wristwatch since high school. Or maybe elementary. And just in case some HAMI or future HAMI is reading, I never did Q-tingin during monitoring--I would usually use with much inconvenience my PDA, the nearest wallclock, my cellphone, and my favorite: the patient's wristwatch.

Back in high school Namtab Pots had this watch with the strap made of some green fatigue cloth-like material. It would absorb all the sweat his arm has accumulated the whole day. At 5 pm before buying ice scramble or something he would remove the watch and bring it to everyone's noses, and scream, "AMUYIN NYO!!!" I don't know why I remember these things.

Closure Crap

Ligawin ang kaibigan kong si Data Scanner. Lahat ng klase ng tao nanligaw na sa kanya. Totoo, saksi ako sa lahat ng ito, kaya tingin ko alam na alam na nya dapat ang siyensya ng pagiging ligawin. Pero kung pagiging ligawin rin lang ang pag-uusapan, wala nang mas ligawin pa kaysa sa akin. Sa apat na taon kong ipinamalagi sa UP Diliman hindi ko natutunan kung papaano pumunta ng Eng mula Gym, o kaya Islamic Studies mula Math Building nang tama ang jeep na sinasakyan. May bago lang na basurahan in sight or bagong halaman or bagong poster ng mga kakandidato for USC (like V for Viniegra! Peachy Viniegra!) nalilito na ako at kailangan ko na bumaba ng jeep in the middle of nowhere para hanapin ang lugar nang naglalakad.

First day ko pa lang Ikot na kaagad ang sinakyan ko e kailangan ko pumuntang Math galing Kalayaan. Syempre baba ako nang malayo, kaya pagdating ko sa first class ko na Math 17 ay pure hingal ako at wala nang maupuan kundi sa likod, na nalaman ko na lang later ay mga irregulars pala ang mga katabi ko at hindi blockmates, kaya late rin ako nagkaron ng blockmate friends (arte) ahahahah. For more katangahan, ang akala ko kasi dati ay pareho lang ang Ikot at Toki, baliktad lang ang ruta, na kung inisip kong magaling noon ay totoo namang walang point.

Naalala ko lang lahat ng ito dahil nakausap ko recently ang isang die-hard UP student, by die-hard I mean yung iisipin mong tipikal na UP student na umaattend ng mga rally, active sa student politics, at yung may pakialam talaga sa mga isyu. Hindi kagaya ko, na aattend lang ng klase, kakain sa Philcoa, at babalik na sa dorm para magbasa ng comics. Comics, dahil kahit nung college hindi naman talaga ako masipag mag-aral. Except yung Math 17, inaral ko talagang mabuti yun, dahil wala nang mas tatanga pa sakin pagdating sa Math 17. Gusto kong sabihin ngayon sa teacher ko sa Math, o ayan, matanda na ko, ano naman ang pakialam ko sa mga integers at word problems like kung anong timba ang unang mapupuno sa ganitong x numbers ng tulo ng gripo o kung ilang taon na ang uncle ko kung sa isang bukas ang birthday nya kung twice the age sya two years ago ng pinsan ko ahahahahaha. Wala! WALA!!!! Walang closure, dahil hanggang ngayon naiirita pa rin ako sa Math 17 teacher ko ahahahaha.

Feelings

No one can say I didn't try. I did, I really did (in a whiny voice). I offered comic books (the Marvel ones I didn't like hee hee hee), offered love advice, I even debased--DEBASED!!!-- myself and said I could give you a pedicure or free body massage if you would just guest blog, but obviously no one was interested. How can Mulder and Scully live on with just me babbling around? How can that be, when I always get BK (Baseline Karindihan) from reading my own voice? So just to lessen the pressure, I would just ask for very short entries, in particular... haikus.

I hate poetry, but haikus serve the purpose of shortening things up so we can go home, drink coffee, and lur. As we abhor long rounds, both as the roundser and the roundsee, I often would ask the interns to present the history and the 1-month hospital course of the patient in a haiku. Of course, no one was again interested, so basically there is just the generalized lack of interest in all things all around. Having ranted that, let me give the mechanics for the haikus you can submit:

1. It has to be about feelings. Yes, feelings. So we can all vomit.
2. It can also discuss big, sprawling things like the environment and women empowerment, if you're into that sort of thing, so long as you follow the haiku format.
3. And of course, since no one will really guest haiku anyway, disregard any of the rules and go on with your porn watching.

And what do we have here, our very first haiku submission! And it's aptly called, "Nega"

Nega

How poverty sucks
It's always "ideally"
So they die, die, die

More haikus!

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

BF!

We've tried everything (within the norms of decency), and yet we still failed to breed some form of romantic relationship within the batch. We have all formed all sorts of strange surrogant relationships-- Amor Fati is my surrogate mother, and why not, when she makes me sandwiches, fixes me coffee, folds my clothes, and rebukes me for my immoral ways. I am Tits' surrogate father. When he declared that he wants to get married next year I rebuked forward:

Me: Anong ipapakain mo sa anak mo?
Tits: Baka by that time may sweldo na sa fellowship.
Me: Pano kung maospital?
Tits: Baka by that time may sweldo na sa...
Me: Pano kung magka-sepsis? Mangailangan ng meropenem?

Hurricane K is our class adviser, because it really is bleeping difficult to mobilize everyone into the bus while 24 people are happily lining up in the pastry shop oblivious that we still have 4 hours of travel to go. Dondee is everyone's father. He never attended my ballgames, nor scolded me for watching porn, but he is everyone's father just by virtue of reading his newspaper on the dining table while sipping his morning coffee. And the LQ's all around, when there didn't seem to be an L to begin with.

And yet--AND YET!!!--we all failed to... meld two hearts into one. We've all been pushing Graciepoopieloopieroop and Marth V into each others' arms for years on end, and yet--AND YET!!!--they've both shrugged away our efforts. Finally while we were all swimming inside the cave Hurricane Katrina declared: "Fatigue! Fatigued na kami, Marth V and Graciepoopieloopieroop!"

"Bugaw Fatigue!" someone astutely pointed out. And who should point this out and hit the nail on the head but... Marth V himself.

Truly we have all undergone Bugaw Fatigue. We have all decided: DNR. Ipasundo na rin sa punerarya.

Men Who Live Spartan Lives

I take pride in my pretensions that I live a spartan life, that I live in abject poverty, that I hate pleasure, that to be happy is to be arrogant, and all that crap, which is quite pointless as everyone knows how hedonistic I truly am. Still, I really do hate shopping--I abhor it, in fact--that I need emotional support before I buy anything of value, primarily to ward me away from the comic book shop and into the right store. I feel embarrassed strutting in the mall with shopping bags of clothes or eating relatively expensive food--such vile, vile activities, when there are other things to do, like suffer. Such scene is more embarrassing if you have a smile on, as if true happiness can be bought and such. For this I totally blame having been brought up in a Catholic school, where chastity and charity are the foremost virtues. Charity and chastity! We were told that if a nun of the congregation receives some gift from a student, like a pair of shoes, for instance, she would have to place it in a huge box and whoever among the nuns needs it the most would be the one who would receive it. Bummer.

Which is why I felt particularly sheepish when who should catch me walking across TCBATL carrying plastic bags of shopped goods but Aubs and Gene.
"Alam kong laman nyan," Aubs declared.
"It's... It's..." I stammered.
And before I knew it the... cats were out of the bag. Particularly, the cat-like action figure of Indigo-1 the Indigo Lantern and the sperm-headed action figure of Blue Lantern Saint Walker!!!
"Magkano yan?" Aubs asked.
"Ah... ah..."

I know, when someone out there needs an MPPT.
And since the cats were out of the bag, why not pull out the contents of the entire fucking sack and let out... the whole set of New Guardians action figures which I've finally completed after months of patient comicbookshop/toyshop/toy convention hopping!!! Early morning toy rounds does indeed pay.



To end, let me quote something from the X-Files episode, Max. In it Scully stares at the stars and mumbles something when Mulder gave her some key chain as a gift for her birthday. Scully says, "Men who live spartan lives, simple in their creature comforts, if only to allow for the complexities of their passions." This is totally not applicable in this blog entry, but I sometimes want to show off my encyclopedic X-Files knowledge.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Unfettered

On the ride back home with everyone fatigued and spent I plugged on my trusty iPod and turned up Tiny Dancer by Elton John, which I particularly liked after seeing Almost Famous 10 years ago. Although I pretend to be unencumbered by trappings and unnecessary dramatics I do have these small kaartehan's, such as listening to the perfect song in specific situations and in this particular instance, it is trying to live vicariously the what should have beens, such as being a young rock journalist like William Miller documenting the road show of a famous rock band. Too much drama and the song seemed like a bizarre choice, but as everyone in the movie hummed to it there was just the sense of community and sense of fluidity and everything seemed like things have just fallen perfectly in place, and all of a sudden the song didn't seem too strange after all. For all I know while I was humming to it someone might have been retching as we drove past the zig-zags and someone might have been laughing at the off-beat photos on everyone's digi-cams and people might have been talking on their cels and prematurely returning to work as they asked for updates on ward patients and such, but for the duration of the song there was the all too human drama--or hallucination, or delusion, or what you will, but it made me happy all the same--that I was not going to end a vacation or travelling back to work, but was instead being a writer with a piece on this rock band to write, being a young maverick, a rebel, unfettered, following only the stirrings of my heart.

Yum Yum!

One of my biggest--yes, BIGGEST!!!--dreams has been to put up a bonfire on the beach in one of our outings with everyone sitting together around the fire and looking good and slick and wet and hot and probably with someone strumming a guitar and we're all humming to some alternative 90's song. Arte, I know, but such scenes look fun in the movies, and my batchmates look hot enough to be in the movies. And of course there would have to be roasting of marshmallows for more fun. We were finally able to do all of that after years and years of attempts with rains perpetually pouring down on us, and everyone looked crazy hot against the fire light, except we didn't sit around the fire, we just sort of huddled together in one corner, because the fire was blazing. So we tried roasting marshmallows, a skill which we realized would require hours of practice, because in my first attempt the mallow turned black after two seconds. Someone suggested we roast longganisa, except with the roasting time we would be covered in soot before the damn thing could be cooked.

Who would be able to roast the perfect marshmallow, of course, but Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore herself. Prior to dancing around the fire chanting demonic incantations which totally scared the storm away, we caught her gobbling up her perfect gooey silky mallow, and we applaud her in particular for the perfect mallow thread/spittle she has formed.


YUM YUM!

Dagta

Eventually I would have to run out of things to write about and that is expected with things coming to an end very soon. This is not to say that I have not prepared for this eventuality, however, because there is always the last resort of porn. There are thousands of fetishes, interests, and paraphilias out there, and I hope that some freak out there would get their jollies from fugly people sticking their tongues out at inanimate objects for no reason whatsoever:



I know what the title of the movie would be: Dagta. And just to be clear, there really was dagta on the tree, and it just looked so yummy.

Kutyain, laiitin, pintasan ang litratong ito. Winner gets a free trip to my room to pick an action figure of your choice.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Does Whatever Spider Pig Does!

Of course it has to rain tomorrow, or the next day, of all the blasted days. Or not. I remember that back in December 2004 while I was a pedia clerk PAGASA blared that what would come that duty night would be the "MOST FUCKING AWESOME STORM EVER!!!" I rushed to the dorm, changed into a pair of run down jeans, and folded the ends up to my knees so I looked like a farmer. Truly I expected it to flood in Wards 9 and 11, which shouldn't stop anyone from monitoring. Monitoring in pedia kind of, kind of, kind of... sucks. You have to bring all sorts of cuff sizes with the BP app, because you don't want to Q-Tingin, ie, identify that a 4 year old's BP is 100/60 just by looking at her. There is also Q-To-The-Future, ie, identifying that a 4-year old's BP would be 100/60... 2 hours from now.

But this is not about the storms that always come in all--ALL!--of our outings, nor about monitoring, nor about the grind of medical clerkship, but about shameless plugging. I have procrastinated for years on end to attempt to salvage my old, rather voluminous Friendster blog entries and preserve them in blogspot, predicting of course that Friendster would just crash one of these days. So I decided to save them a couple of entries at a time, and are now posted in TCBAJFMS' brother blog: Does Whatever Spider Pig Does. Head over at http://willyliangco.blogspot.com/ to see the crap I've been pooping three years ago.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The... End.

"Whatchadoin today?" is now fast becoming one of my needy expressions, because truly nothing expresses neediness than anything that insinuates oneself into other's affairs. This does not totally mean that I'm abandoning my schizoidness, but since I have no passion (passion--a totally pretentious word) to do anything these days the best thing to do is to share this non-passion for things. Truly being alone in non-passion is not fun, and it's not even dramatic. Usual suspects Smoketh is the prisoner of HD, and I would need to carry a milk-expressing booth for Mrs. T all the time if I'm to drag her anywhere. So to Tits a few days ago: Whatchadoin today?

"I'm attending a STAG party! For a church-mate!!!" Tits proudly declared. But if Tits thought he could fool me into thinking he would allow a naked girl gyrate in front of him and send him directly to hell, he was wrong. Fucking wrong. Mrs. T has accused me of looking for all excuses to using the F word. She is totally right.

"So what will it be, female harloty characters in the Bible gyrating in front of you? The Harlot? Salome? The pig possessed by devils? One of Solomon's concubines? The dragon? Would a girl come in Revelations Dragon costume?" Sometimes I just expect my batchmates to slap me. Oh, wait, someone did. Not really slapped me, but threw me out the door in genuine rage. Tessieloopagooparoop.

This annoyance at non-passion while being alone has allowed me to let myself get dragged to the movie Eat Pray Love. Now that's one boring movie. See, I didn't even bother to beat around the bush, because it's just boring. In the movie "The Talented Mr. Ripley" Dickie Greenleaf got so annoyed at Tom that he said, "You're boring!" which of course led Tom to slice Dickie's face with a sagwan. Must watch The Talented Mr. Ripley again.

While watching Eat Pray Love I became one of those extremely annoying viewers who constantly chat and quip unfunny stuff out of pure boredom. "Bakit sya umiiyak," I asked Tessieloopagooparoop when at the beginning of the movie Julia Roberts just went down on her knees and prayed and cried for whatever reason. "Kung PGH patient sya na walang pang-ABG hindi nya maiisip ang mga ganyang ka-isyuhan sa buhay," I insisted. "Nasan na sya ngayon?" I then asked after sleeping through Italy. "Pupunta pa ba syang China, Turkey, Togo, Africa, New Zealand, etc?" "Huuuungh one and a half hours pa!!!"

To the movie's credit the two women behind me were really into the movie, gushing and laughing and delighting and gushing and giggling and snickering at the smallest provocation. To whoever intends to watch the movie, let me summarize it for you so you won't watch it: Eat Pray Love Pray Laugh Meander Meander Meander Talk Walk Talk Climb Walk Laugh Eat Spaghetti Meander Meander Meander Get a Haircut Talk Talk Talk Look Pretty Talk Meander Bore Bore Bore. Everything x5. The End.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Question.

In keeping with my recent religious experience I now have clarity of the mind and has personally experienced Passover. I've been passed over, that is--passed over in the recent nominations for the chief residency! Hurricane Katrina went around the callroom passing around questionnaires to be answered by the nominees, and there were a bunch of copies, and as I was licking my chops to get one Hurricane Katrina gave it to the person--behind me! Well! I don't want the job anyway!

So to the four or five of you who are shortlisted, you are all worthy of the job, and you will be asked some qualifying questions in a while. But here are some questions that really matter:

1. How will you deal with your residents if they turn out to be a bunch of melodramatic whiners who complain about and cry over the same old crap--like overwork, scutwork, patient has no money and I have to run to schedule the 2d-echo myself huhuhu etc? Clue: This is a trick question, because the correct answer to the admin would be that they shouldn't have accepted a bunch of melodramatic whiners in the first place! Come to think of it, the level of MW (melodramatic whining) has never been in the criteria for admission.

2. How will you deal with your residents who fail your written exams? Will you ask them to lock themselves for thirty minutes in the office and force them to read a chapter in Harrisons, or will you tell them that memorizing the FAB classification may be cool and it will serve them well in the exams but don't worry because in real life you can always look it up in your PDA? This is again a trick question, because you can never read a chapter of Harrisons in thirty minutes. It usually takes me thirty days.

3. How will you deal with the loneliness of being in your office with none of your batchmates in sight? More specifically, with none of the batchmates you have romantically yearned for for three years in sight? Was it painful, being with her for three years and not being able to tell her that you've always wanted to, er, date her, and now that you're the chief and they've moved on to fellowship, do you regret your embarrassing timidity? Are you timid, and if that's the case, can you handle being the chief? If we can't trust you to ask someone out when you've had the chance for 3 years, how can we trust you in situations that need quick and feeeeerm decision-making?

4. If the next teambuilding theme would simply be: Superheroes, and if I had my way that would have been the theme last year dagummit, would you be in: A. Wonder Woman costume complete with glowing magic lasso and high-cut starry panties (and not cheat by wearing the 60's granny shorts)? B. The Black Canary with fishnet stockings and a blonde wig? or C. the Kevin Smith version of Poison Ivy who is basically just green with nothing on her? Those three options apply regardless if you are Djana, JD-Lu, Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore, Tits, or Lowe.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Oo Na!!!

I exude evil. Other people exude natural annoyingness--ie, you just find them annoying no matter what, some exude unabated sexual energy that you have no choice but to do them (or do yourself), while i exude evil. Eeeeeevil! Maybe not a big wig such as khadafi, jim jones, or idi amin; in terms of puuuure evilness I probably register a blip in Stone's scale of eeeeeevil. As an overview, Stone's scale of evil puts into scale people's level of... of course, eeeeeeevil. For instance, those who kill in self-defense belong to category 1, while those in category 22--the EXTREME category of eeeeeevilness--are psychopaths who inflict extreme torture on their victims and then go on to murder them. I am nowhere in that category, but people can tell. That I'm eeeeeeevil.

After doing an examination on a non-cogent pastor his son shook my hand, thanked me, and said, "Thank you, doctor, accept JEEESUS in your heart." I gave a half-huh/half-smile. Patients and their family have various ways of expressing their gratitude--one patient gave me a pack of Marlboro Reds from Singapore, while another one gave me a half-empty box of evaporated milk. Mrs. Therese's patient always gives her an 8-kg fish. The half-huh made me approach Fides, who had also examined the pastor earlier, and asked if she was told to accept Jesus in her heart as well. "Hindi!" Fides said. "Hey JC, did the pastor's son tell you to accept Jesus in your heart?" I then asked JC who had also examined the pastor. "Hindi!"

And the next day, I gave the son a request for CT scan. Nothing special. And then he went, "Thank you very much doctor, and please accept Jesus in your heart!" And after a few hours when I gave him a borrower's form, dude went, all together now: THANK YOU VERY MUCH DOCTOR AND PLEASE ACCEPT JESUS IN YOUR HEART!!!!

In my head: Oo na! I will accept Jesus in my heart!

Looking back, this is probably God's explicit way of telling me to accept Jesus in my heart, and He always makes use of my patients for this purpose. Mrs. Cornucopia, one of my avid follow-uppers (as in susulpot na lang linggo-linggo kahit di pa naka-schedule) once gave me a cute little bottle with capsules inside. I opened each capsule, and in each capsule is a tiny roll of paper... with Biblical passages!

Upon receiving these rather dangerous pills (don't buy these for your semi-blind grannies) I sprang a quiz. I popped open a pill and read out loud the content in the callroom while having merienda,

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.--IS FROM WHAT BOOK IN THE BIBLE?!?!" I screamed.

"1 Thessalonians 5:16-18!!!!" Tits screamed proudly without batting an eyelash.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

For More Jumping the Shark

Talaga namang pag hi-nope mo na sana walang referral, pag-upong pag-upo pa lamang para uminom ng kape sa alas-otso ng umaga magri-ring ang phone. In real life naman--in secret--natutuwa ako pag may referral, siguro practice mind-set na rin in real life. Very impressionable kasi ako, and nung second month ko pa lang ng residency ang boss ko ay si Ma'am Lu, and nagagalit sya pag hindi pinupuntahan ng subspec or ibang services yung referral ko. Ika nya, habang dina-dial ang number nung fellow, "Ayaw ba nila ng referral?! Ano gusto nila umupo na lang the whole day sa office nila?!?". At nung fourth month of residency, si Ma'am Malen ang boss ko, at sabi nya sa ER pag rounds namin, "Dapat pag duty ka, pagod na pagod talaga!" Yun na, di ko na nakalimutan, so naging ganun na ang mind-set ko.

Pero ibang usapan na kasi pag wala kang idea kung paano mag-manage ng mga referral na wala ka naman talaga kaalam-alam in real life. Isa kasi akong hamak na rotator sa Neurology ngayon. Biruin mo, first year med school pa lang (2001)ay neurology na agad ang una namang clinical experience, and now 9 years hence, ang tanda-tanda ko na, hindi ko pa rin matandaan ang mga corticospinal chuchu. And for more--FOR MORE!!!-- kabobohan ay kung anu-ano pang kaso ang napadpad sakin. Malay ko ba naman sa anterior spinal cord syndrome. Ang stress level nya ay parang tatlong MI at tatlong mega-UGIB na sabay-sabay. And magbubuklat pa lang ako ng libro para magbasa tungkol dito ay magriring na naman ang telepono for yet another case na hindi ko alam. Kawawa naman yung senior ko sa rotation na ito, ang level of kabobohan ko habang nakatitig ako sa CT skull ay, "Alin dyan yung pons?" Ibang level ng kahihiyan na ito.

Umasa pa naman ako na makakatakas ako para makapunta sa Collecticon 2010 toy convention sa rob, and dahil di ako nakapunta kahapon kanina na lang ako pumunta. Masaya ang Collecticon, nagsimula ito nung 2008, at ewan ko ba, parang may kakaibang glow at saya lang ako pag napapalibutan ako ng napakaraming action figures. Nakita ko na naman kanina ang high school friend ko na si Warburger na nakikita ko sa bawat toy convention. Ang dami-dami na naman nyang hauls. Hauls talaga, dahil hindi ko matatawag na hauls pag bumibili ako at may bitbit lang akong isang loose Agent Orange action figure at isang Supergirl action figure.

Isa na ngayong employee ng PNOC si Warburger kaya mayaman na sya, kaya kaya na nya talagang mag-HAUL ng mga laruan. Nung kumain kami sa Wendy's inenumerate nya kung sino ang versions ng Big 7 ng Justice League ang best version nila in terms of action figures. Sabi ko ang favorite Aquaman version ko ay yung Grant Morrison Justice League 1997 era. Nakakatuwa pag naiintindihan ng kausap ko ang mga rants ko tungkol sa laruan.

Habang kumakain kami ng hamburger, sabi ni Warburger ngayon niya nare-realize na ang lahat ng bagay na tingin nya ay importante nung high school at college ay apparently hindi naman pala talaga importante ngayon. Sabi ko I agree--dahil pera at laruan lang naman talaga ang importante ngayon AHAHAHAHAHA. Like nung 2nd year high school kami pinag-awayan namin ang tickets sa WWF in Manila, super addict kasi ako sa WWF noon at darating si Yokozuna, Bret Hart, and Undertaker. Eh ngayon, wala na akong pakialam sa wrestling, at nalulungkot ako pag nakikita kong puro kulubot na si Undertaker, parang hindi na sya nakakatakot. Pero in fairness to him kaya pa rin nya magbuhat ng kalaban at gawin ang tombstone pile driver, mas mahirap nga lang siguro.

Death Right Now!

I've said a few years ago, when this blog was just a morula (or blastula or whatever thing you call those tiny things), that I wouldn't write anything about residency training, or being, barf, a doctor, and that I would try to explore other facets or crap about my, barf, life. And then apparently there are very few micro-facets of living left when you go into training, and they're not very interesting either, so even though I talk about toys or movies or the general grossness of things or stuff everything still got rooted to residency training and living in the hospital. In retrospect (parang audit), it wasn't too bad writing about those things, because somehow writing about those things made them funnier for me and less painful than they really were, and even though none of my batchmates really read this blog (your loss, batchmates) this sort of documented the past three years-- all the joys, and pains, and triumphs, and sufferings, pass me the tissue this is just so hard. I am not being unnecessarily dramatic, I only get dramatic when I feel like I am going to die, and right now, right this very moment, I feel an arrhythmia happening as I type. Fucking Extra-Large Gloria Jeans Voltage.

Portal For More Suffering

Crossed paths with NSJK while carrying a huge amount of COOP food, and NSJK remarked, "Nagpapacontest ka na lang, ahahaha."
This of course is in reference to my recent blog entry asking anyone who cares to write a caption for Lloydie, Aubrey, and Jaime's photo. A few people actually cared, and gave very interesting suggestions, and just for giving a fuck, all of you win, you can all have a date with any of the people/entity in the photo. And just in case, I'm not suggesting anything, just in case--I have free parking tickets in Sogo Hotel.

Truly this blog has not only jumped the shark, but got eaten, regurgitated, and crapped by the shark. In television TV series which have totally gone astray and resorted to stunt casting guest stars, referencing old episodes, doing all sorts of novelty episodes, and generally being bad are referred to as having jumped the shark. Just this weekend I've accosted a couple of friends and acquaintances to write for TCBAJFMS.

"I might not be up to par with your standard," Koopa Paratroopa said.
"There is NO FUCKING STANDARD!!!" I glowered.

Or maybe it's just the season, the impending end, that is causing me to glower. In a few week's time would be the fellowship exams, yet another portal for more--FOR MORE!!!--suffering and confusion. Chief has recently asked me and some others to accompany her in Rheumatology fellowship. Chief is the gold standard in everything. As I told Tits: I'd look like trash beside her in terms of looks, performance, eloquence, intellect, fashion, etc.

And I could imagine this scenario if she and I would be the only rheuma fellows next year.

Audit
HAMI: May we call on the fellow-in-charge, what was the indication for MPPT?!?!
Me: (stuttering, breaking into sweat, going into arrhythmia) ah eh, ah eh, I was the fellow-in-charge and ah, eh, ah, eh... (elbows Chief beside me and whispers) bakit daw, chief, bakit daw...

I have no bleeping idea what subspecialty to take. And as I also told Tits: kahit ano basta walang duty. This is in keeping with my original reason why I took the residency I took: kahit ano basta walang bata.

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Tooth Is Out There, Chomp! Chomp!

This is how we assess if people are meant for great things: we tell them the title of an obscure movie, just the title, and require them to tell us what the movie's all about. As I've blogged a few entries ago I've asked the brilliant Thymes what the movie Boxing Helena is about, and on her 2nd try she got the details right, down to Helena being amputated while being stuck in a box. A few days ago while lying down in the callroom watching Teeth who should come in but Djana.

Me: Hey Djana, we're watching Teeth. What's it about?
Djana: A dentist?
Me: Try harder.
Djana: That girl... (she said, staring at the scene where the lead girl was doing some motivational speaking on stage)... has... OMG, meron syang ngipin sa vagina nya?!?
*slow clap* *slow clap* *slow clap*

And like the four other people before her Djana has also accused me of downloading the film and forcing everyone to watch it, which is not true, because it was HIV who played the movie, in fact he did not download, but BOUGHT a copy of the movie. Obviously HIV has excellent taste. "It's like the reverse of Deep Throat," I pompously declared in a movie critic tone, "wherein Linda Lovelace has her clit in her pharynx." Yes, we're talking about extreme embryology here.

Truly the movie Teeth should be the theme movie of modern day Women's Lib or its equivalent or something. Dawn's vagina has teeth, and they are deadly. They can eat hands, fingers, and dicks with impure intentions, and the director makes no qualms about showing severed cocks and blood spraying from the cock stumps. In one scene when Dawn finally felt like the guy who was doing her really loved her we cheered and howled as they both successfully fornicated-- then the dude stupidly told her that he and his friend had a bet that he couldn't spear her. Bad thing to say while he is still inside, so we hear the ngasab-ngasab sound and off the dick went!

Annoyed at her evil brother who has forever been lusting after her Dawn decides to teach him a lesson by having sex with him. They finally had sex--and CRUNCH! Evil brother wails and keens and stands up and shows us he is now cock-less, Dawn stands up, and toothy vag spits out fugly cock on the floor. Down the floor the fugly cock plops, and because the "eeeeew!!!!!'s" from the audience wasn't quite enough, evil brother's dog runs to the cock and of course eats it.
"Cocks will roll!!!" HIV hissed.
"On the floor!!!!" I said as thunder, lightning, and muzak crashed the air.

I stood up and finally did rounds on my own while the rest watched another one of HIV's movies: Chloe. The next day I asked Tits what it was all about-- I had to ask, which is why I'm not a contender for chief residency.

"Julianne Moore had sex with Chloe," Tits declared.
This set off multiple gongs and bells in my head.
"This week's theme, therefore, is movies where Julianne Moore had romantic relationships with women. Next stop: The Hours!"

Wala nang nag-aaral ng Harrison's ngayon. Mag-panic na lang sa December.