Mein Coif

Legal Counsel and I were staring at the adorable pictures of Monster and we started discussing his appearance. I'll be honest, it was in a not-so-favorable but still loving manner. What do you call a roast when the subject isn't present? Ah yes, "cruel."

Anyway, we were describing his features and in my head a distorted caricature of the poor child started to develop. And to me, this caricature looked a lot like Wooly Willy. Here he is in all his metal-filing haired glory:

As you can see, he looks nothing like Monster and I was way off base.

But that's not the reason I'm writing to you, my ignoble readers. I'm writing to you because in my pursuit of the Wooly Willy visage, I misspelled his name. I erroneously did a Google Image Search for "Wooly Willie." Fortunately, that's not the name of some bear porn star but the name of the generic Willy knock-off. Here he is in all his copyright-infringement haired shame:

Now if you're anything like me (and god help you if you are), then you immediately saw what hairstyle the ad folks chose for this picture. Adolf Hitler.

The promos for Wooly Willie make him look exactly like Der Fuhrer. Why the hell would they do that?? Exactly what demographic are you marketing to that the Hitler 'Stache is the best way to go? You know what, don't answer that. And the worst part is that shaking the iron-filings away will only turn him into a skinhead, which isn't any better.

Wooly Willie, you are the king of the anti-semite toys. Other anti-semite toys include: Stretch David Duke, GI Roald Dahl*, Mr Potato Head and the entire cast of Guess Who.

BONUS: Wooly Willy Online!

*it's true, look it up.

PS - in doing my research for this post, I discovered my two new favorite names for the mullet: "Kentucky Waterfall" and "Missouri Compromise." I kinda prefer the latter, as it combines the appropriate-ness of "Business in the front, Party in the back" with the trendiness of American History.

Making Amends

I've been hitting the books pretty hard, and with my hands all bruised and bloody it gets pretty hard to type. So to make it up to you, here's the cutest picture ever taken. It's of Legal Counsel's nephew, who I affectionately refer to as "Monster."†

Isn't he adorable? As a bonus, here's a picture of him mere seconds before sinking his teeth into my jugular:


† not Monster

Reporting live from the PHX

I'm filing this secret report from my mom's house, so I have to type quietly. I'm sitting at her computer and what do my wandering eyes behold? My blog on her bookmarks bar. That's terrifying.

Don't worry, I won't be changing the content. Which is even more terrifying.

I owe you all a Thanksgiving report. It was...interesting.

Giving Thanks

2 million years ago or something, some dumb pilgrims and some unsuspecting Native Americans (who the dumb pilgrims thought were Indians) had some dinner. Then the pilgrims used technology and biological warfare to kill the Native Americans. Now, 2 million years later, we celebrate this history of abusing gracious hosts by visiting a relative's house and trashing the place after cramming our maws with a stupid bird. The end.

Transcript of Montgomery's 4th grade Thanksgiving presentation

Turkey Day is a day for taking time to appreciate what you've got. A day of "giving thanks," if you will, for the blessings† you have received in life. So here's a list of things that I'm thankful for:

• I've got a great family, even if they do criticize me for not calling enough every time I call.
  
• Lots of good friends: Scoobies, Med Folk,*and of course Larkitect.**
  
• Fellow med students who, for the most part, aren't arrogant doctor stereotype assholes. There are exceptions, of course. But most of the non-exceptions are more than willing to mock the exceptions with me.
  
• I'm still loving medical school and extremely glad to have made the decision to become a physician. This is especially true at the pediatric clinic, which is wicked fun and full of awesome people. I even enjoy studying...bizarre.
  
• My upcoming Europe trip.
  
• My future road trip with Larkitect.
  
• This blog, which is a fun creative outlet.
  
• The readers of this blog. I don't know how you guys stand to read this tripe, but thanks! Mmm...tripe...
  
• The rebirth of my childhood. Is "cheesy CGI form" a step up the reincarnation chain from 2D?
  
• Zombie movies.
  
• Disneyland.
  
• And most of all, Legal Counsel (This is the mushy part, so don't read it to Fred Savage). She's absolutely amazing in every way. She's beautiful, brilliant, funny, sweet, and great at everything she does. She makes me more happy than I've ever been. I honestly don't remember ever being this happy. Annoyingly happy. The kind of happiness you get mad at people for having. The level of happiness which causes random things to just make me glad to be alive (good movies, new music, drugs). I'm not sure I ever believed in true love (or even "to blave") until I met her. But I definitely do now. I love you, beautiful!
  
• Sandwiches.
  

That's all for now. I might add more later, since I've got so many things I'm thankful for. Happy time!

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!


†in the totally non-religious sense
*Bees is my best friend. I promised to say that in exchange for a slice of pizza.
**But my best friend is really this guy

Celebrity Cighting

Tonight at The Shanty I witnessed a game of billiards between Paul Giamatti and a miniature (or "fun-sized"†) version of Jared Fogle. For future reference, Paul Giamatti is much better at the game. Also, they might have been dating. Weird...

Montgomery quote of the evening: "If Jane Jetson is in a catfight with Betty Rubble, we're all winners."

† why do they call the tiny versions of Halloween candy "fun-sized." What's fun about getting less candy?*

*I'm sure many other people have commented on this, but I think about it every time I see those big bags of tiny candy.

Take a look, it's in a book

Sorry for the lack of updates lately. I haven't been bringing my laptop to class recently, and with finals approaching I usually study when I get home. Curse you, education! I'll learn you not to interfere with my blogging...

To make it up to you, I'll give you a preview of the first chapter of my upcoming book, "Playing Doctor: Turning Pain into Profit." Enjoy!

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

Oh, Hello! I didn't see you there. Let me start by thanking you for purchasing my book. According to the publisher, this book will cost you the reader $29.95 to wedge between your unread copy of Atlas Shrugged and your overly read copy of Letters to Penthouse (you should consider alphabetizing your books, by the way). I'll be getting probably 5% of that, so you've essentially paid me about $1.50 to read literally hours of hard work. So thank you for funding 0.001% of my priceless education. Now go recommend this atrocity to 100,000 of your friends. You'll be doing me a real favor. Plus, you won't feel so bad about wasting thirty bucks on this abomination if the enire population of Olathe, Kansas did the same thing.

Now that we've got the finances out of the way, let's get to the meat-and-potatoes* of the book: playing doctor. I'll admit that I feel a little guilty - if the title of this book made you believe it was about the children's game of sexual curiosity or the adult's game of sexual role-playing, then I've mislead you. This book is actually a tongue-in-cheek* look at the world of medicine and medical school. I'm sorry. And I'm sure no self-respecting bookstore will take this book back, so I'm double sorry.

I feel too guilty. To make it up to you, here are Montgomery's rules of Playing Doctor:

1. This game is for two players and should take place in a bedroom or other private area. Not an actual doctor's office, unless you own it.
   
2. Before beginning, designate one person as "the doctor" and one as "the patient." It is recommended that the more dominant/sadistic player be the doctor
   If more than two people are involved, the rest will be designated as "nurses." They have to do what the doctor says, while quietly realizing they have all the real power.
3. The doctor wears a white coat and nothing else. The patient strips down and wears a flimsy gown.
   
4. The patient must listen to and obey everything the doctor says...while the doctor is in the room. As soon as the doctor leaves his/her/its presence, the patient may do whatever they please.
   
5. The doctor is allowed to stick whatever he wants, wherever he wants.
   
6. Once the doctor is satisfied, the game is over.
   
7. If the doctor ever crosses the line and offends the patient or makes the patient uncomfortable, malpractice rules are in effect.
   
8. Malpractice Rules - the patient is now in control. The doctor must bend over and take it.
   
9. *optional* HMO Rules - the doctor gives the patient almost everything they need, then stops before completion

I hope that helps. Now you'll think of me every time you're probing/being probed. More so than usual.



* the subject matter of this book requires more discussion of meat than potatoes, but I'll do my best
* see chapter 8: Severe Head and Neck Pathology

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

It's a work in progress.

lac Opera

This weekend Legal Counsel and I went to our very first opera. We're like the Howells! Except we're not rich...or old...or stuck on an island with my Roy Hinkley*. I guess we're nothing like the Howells. But we did get to wear nice clothes and pretend to be classy. So classy, in fact, that I should wear this shirt.

We saw Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro," thanks to some free tickets from the Arizona Opera Company. Thanks, Arizona Opera Company! I'm not sure why they give med students free tickets, but if they're looking for free healthcare they can guess again. Take it to the Red Cross, Scarlatti. But here's a little return on the favor: your name shares an acronym with Advanced Ovarian Cancer. So, uh, you might want to change that.

It was an opera comedy, or operady. There were some funny comments and funny moments. The monologue about how husbands shouldn't trust their wives was good, especially when you find out that his wife was totally faithful. The horny teenager character was also amusing. And the music was good. All in all, I enjoyed it. Worth every penny.

Here are some random thoughts on the opera experience:

They translated the italian on a projected screen above the stage. I'm glad they had subtitles, because otherwise I would have made up my own dialogue. And I don't think Mozart intended for his opera to be interpreted in a manner which involved the CIA conspiring with alien cyborgs to spare the US & A at the expense of the rest of Earth

The theatre smelled like old people: mothballs and Werther's Originals. But they were rich old people, so there was a hint of expensive brandy and contempt.

My greatest hope for the opera was that I'd hear a song from old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Maybe next time...sniffle.

When they started playing the overture I immediately thought, "That's the song Willy Wonka played to open his musical lock!" Then I thought, "But this opera was written by Mozart, and Mike Teavee's mom said it was Rachmaninoff." Then I thought, "But that would fit with the movies theme of mocking the horrible children and their equally horrible parents." And by the time I finished that train of thought, it was already half way through the third act. And I had a hard time figuring out what I missed.

The guy with peanuts and cotton candy never showed up...


In conclusion: go see an opera if you've got the chance. You bums** are probably more into Springer than Sprechgesang, but give it a shot would ya? It might help you write that Springer musical you've always dreamed of. Oops, too late.

* a personal hero of mine
** a good-natured joke. I have no doubt you're all much classier than myself.


PS - if you understand the pun I was trying to make with the title, you're a bigger nerd than me. and I commend you

Why are we so in denial?

The more time I spend in Tucson, the more I appreciate leaving Phoenix. But one thing I really miss about Phoenix is The Edge 103.9 - the greatest radio station I've ever found. The Edge showcases all kinds of music, and does a good job of playing local bands. Which is how I discovered this little gem:

It's a guy named Mat Weddle, who sings for a group called Obadiah Parker. And he looks very much like undergraduate Montgomery. Weird.

PS - I hate the flu vaccine...

He's Creepy and He's Kooky

We've got a new professor in pathology, and I'm already amused on two levels. Here's his picture:

I think we can all agree that he's the Indian Uncle Fester:

The other reason I'm amused is his name. His first name is "Achyut." On a basic level, it's funny because it reminds me of sneezing and Robin Hood: Men in Tights. But it's even more funny with my limited exposure to Indian profanity by Areenos. Does his name mean what I think it means? Areenos, will you confirm or deny my beliefs with a comment?

Then & Now

I've been seeing lots of visitors to this blog from locations that I've never been, where I don't think I know anybody. And I know I've received comments from people I don't know. So to help y'all understand who I am, I've decided to relate two stories - one from my past and one from the present. This will let you all get a glimpse into the twisted wasteland I call my psyche. But remember: once you enter the mind of Montgomery, you may never get out.

Li'l Montgomery
This is a story my mom likes to tell, so I figure it's a good one.

I was in the 6-8 year old range, and out to dinner with my family. The disciples gathered around my table were: my mom, my aunt, my uncle and my brother who shall be referred to as Wolverine.

A quick aside about Wolverine: we're Irish Twins† and he's almost a year older than me. He's much smarter than me and everybody loves him. Literally. Everybody who meets him wants to be his friend. He is currently employed at a company which is disturbingly similar to the company/companies from Office Space. I don't remember fighting with him as a kid but I do remember random petty squabbles, which kids are always doing. Back to the story:

All the adults were talking amongst themselves, whilst Wolverine and I chatted. At some point, for whatever reason, I started pointing at him. A classic sibling-annoying-sibling move. He the complained to our mom, a classic sibling response. She turned from her conversation, snapped at me to stop pointing, snapped at him to stop whining, and went back to her conversation.

Realizing that finger pointing was now forbidden, I needed to come up with an alternative approach. So slowly and subtly, I started pointing everything on the table towards him. I twisted forks to point in his direction. I pulled straws out of cups, then placed them on the rim pointing at him. I knocked over salt and pepper shakers, then aimed the top at him. Anything which could possibly be used as a pointing implement was aligned to Wolverine, like compasses toward a magnet.

When he noticed, he flipped out. He told our mother again (rightfully so), and she was once again forced to pay attention to her kids. She saw what happened and chastised me, but nowadays she claims that all the adults had a tough time holding in the laughter.

I'm proud of young me.

Big Montgomery
If I study a subject before a lecture (commonly referred to as "pre-reading" or "getting your nerd on"), I usually can't focus during lecture. It even happens in lab. I can find pictures of pathology slides online, so when we look at slides in lab I start getting bored. This is always bad.

I usually end up taking off the latex gloves and playing with them as I observe the slides on the monitors. You see, I've got Restless Hand Syndrome. I'm always fiddling with something as I try to sit still or focus on something. I do it without even thinking.

One day I decided to inflate a glove. I took it off inside out (so specimen goo is on the inside), blew it up and tied it off. Well now what? I can't very well play Glovolleyball in the middle of class. So I passed it around the table for my posse to sign. Each finger had a different name: D-Rock, Bees, Ah Jota, Kevin, and Jimmy Legs. I signed the palm.

Well now what? I can't very well hold on to an inflated, autographed glove. That's a treasure that needs to be shared. So I decided to make it a gift to another student who seems to tolerate my antics - I'll call him Chimichanga. While he was looking away, I unzipped his bag, placed it gingerly within, then sealed it off again.

It was quite fun and we all had a good laugh. So I decided to do it again. Repeatedly. For the next few weeks, I'd randomly put inflated, signed gloves in his bag. He'd laugh and take it light-heartedly. He's usually hide them on top of the room lights when he found them. He started making it more difficult for me to do: moving the bag, keeping an eye out. It was fun.

Then when day he said, "You know I don't care? I won't even try to stop you." He then placed the bag, wide open, on the back of his seat. Your reverse psychology won't work on me, Chimichanga! That day I put about 14 gloves into every compartment of his bag. It was glorious.

He responded by putting a banana peel, wrapped and sealed in a bag, on my microscope. Good times...

I would feel like I'm a jerk or like I'm bugging him, but he usually laughs as much as us. And he has retaliated, so he's fair game. Maybe today I'll confirm that I'm not getting on his nerves, just in case.

I need to come up with a way to take it to the next level...

Analysis
I haven't changed much these last 15ish years. I care more about not upsetting people, but I still enjoy the same shenanigans. I'm okay with that. I don't want to grow up. I'm a Toys "R" Us Kid.


†for more info on Irish Twins, go to this Wikipedia page, which I'm 80% sure was created by Senator George Allen

Always a winner

Congrats to the incumbent governor of flavor!

Wait...what was I voting on?

Wirology† lesson of the day

In the lecture on papillomoviruses it states that human papillomovirus type 7 is the cause of "common warts of meat handlers." Naturally I assumed that must be what D-Rock's mom has, since I see her on Miracle Mile handling meat all the time.

But the notes go on to talk about the other types being responsible for sexually transmitted disease. So she must have some above the waist from the meat handling and some down below from all the sex. And this makes me wonder - can one woman have every genotype of HPV? Somebody should call the CDC and the World Health Organization...probably a HAZMAT team, too.

Speaking of the World Health Organization, here's a sample of my own personal notes in the smallpox section:

eradication: WHO kicked ass, took names -> last case in 1977

This blog and my notes are the only creative outputs I have to keep me from getting the "Study Crazies."



† not a typo.

Tommy, tell me you got that!

Two posts so close to one another...scandalous. But I have to share.

Dr. Rashad is currently giving a lecture on HIV. He was talking about the structure of the virus and he kept referring to a "mushroom head" on the surface. I want to make a joke but...I can't. It's just too easy. Plus, there are so many possibilities trying to fly out of my mind at once that they're all blocking the exit (The "Three Stooges Effect"). I'll just say that I already knew that HIV can spread because of the mushroom head.

On a related note, I can barely understand Dr. Rashad. It makes it very hard to focus.

These go to eleven

Recently, Rich Man Alert commented that one of the reasons she enjoys reading this blog† is that I actually enjoy medical school. I didn't realize that came across in my writing, but it's true. I really enjoy medical school. I'll do a quick rundown of why.

From our home office in Wahoo, Nebraska - the Top 11 Reasons I Enjoy Medical School:

• After spending four years in a major I hoped to never pursue (engineering), it's great to be learning about a subject I enjoy. Although I do miss my math minor classes. [NERD!!!] Alright, who said that??
• As a consequence of (1), I enjoy studying for the first time since elementary school
• As a consequence of (2), and because of the schools semi-lax attendance policy, I can miss class (without penalty) and not miss material. This means that the usual 2 day weekends can become 3-9 day weekends*
• As a consequence of (3), I don't have to be so worried about getting up early or going to class
• As a consequence of (4), I get to spend lots of time with Legal Counsel and I'm happier in general
• Every time I start doubting my career choice, I go to my preceptor clinic and become reinvigorated
• The possibility of working in pajamas, aka scrubs
• Great professors
• (some) Great fellow students
• Fun toys - stethoscopes, reflex hammers and, most of all, tuning forks

And the number 1 reason I enjoy medical schools is:

• I get to do all kinds of things that normal people** would never get away with

Doctors, and to a greater extent medical students under the guise of "learning," get to do all kinds of crazy things which people would never protest. That's part of the reason I love doing histories and physcials. It's glorious. I think it deserves a new list.

From our home office in Oneonta, New York - The Top 11 Best Things Doctors Get to do to People without Question:

• Sticking a Q-Tip in the eye (trigeminal nerve test)
• Jamming a stick in the mouth (visualization of throat)
• Forcing a person to hop on one foot (cerebellar/general motor function)
• Shining a bright light in the eyes (pupillary response)
• Blasting people with deadly energy (x-rays, CT scans, radiation oncology)
• Forcing a person to strip down and put on a flimsy gown (modesty test)
• Smack with a rubber mallet (reflexes)
• Stab with a sharp object (neuro sensory exam, IVs, vaccines)
• Punch in the back (bone pain, sensitivity)
• Ordering the shaving a various areas, especially the genitalia (surgery preparation)

And the number 1 best thing doctors get to do to people without question

• Finger up the bum (pure comedy)

It's good to be a medical student.

Seriously, most people would never get away with these things. If you tried any of this stuff you'd look like a total jerk, but if I try it I'm being a professioal. It doesn't even have to be a patient. With a quick "I'm a medical student, I need to learn", a handful of Forget-Me-Nows and a rag coated in chloroform, people will trust you and let you do anything. It's great. Who else has the opportunity to poke people in the eyes, hit them, then stick a finger in the nethers - and then charge them for it? So trusting they are...

I'm actually thinking of just making stuff up and seeing if they go along with it, believing me to be professional***. This would be easiest to do during a neurological or psychological exam. "Alright now, Mr Smith, please stick one finger up either nostril and do your best to recite the lyrics to the star-spangled banner backwards."

Yeah, life is gonna be sweet. For the most fun exams, neurology is the way to go. You get to do all the weird stuff, and most of the time they won't have the presence of mind to question any of it. But you get to do stuff in almost every field that interacts with patients. Pediatrics is especially good since your patients will often giggle the entire time. Which is good because I giggle the whole time, which I've been told is rather creepy.



† not-so-subtle pat on my own back
* kidding...mostly
** *in this situation, normal does not mean "lower than us" as many people might assume based on typical doctor attitudes. In this situation, normal means "not freaks who choose to make a living staring at death and disease whilst sticking their fingers into moist, smelly orifices."
*** suckers