It occurred to me the other day that I have rather large canines or "eye teeth." They're so long and pointed that I look like I'm going to tear into a wildebeast at any moment. So I decided to get them corrected. I researched some web sites and did my homework and then visited some cosmetic dentists. In the process I noticed my two front teeth are also too large. So large and wide I feel like a rabbit (about to tear into a wildebeast).

The dentists agreed, of course, that I could improve my smile with eight vaneers bonded to the front of my teeth to even out my "dispraportionately large front teeth and rounded canines." This way I could have a mouthful of teeth as big as my front ones. Very attractive. The process would take only two visits and cost $9,000.

Hmmmm. I thought about it for about 2 seconds and said "I'll check with my husband." That's the best thing about being married. I can act stupid and helpless when I want to. Sometimes it's not an act. You never know. . .

The husband just laughed at the thought and said I had fine teeth and if I wanted to put my money into anything, how about a boob job? Hahahaha. He tried to pass it off as a joke, but I know he wasn't kidding.

This whole process made me realize that I'm very glad my parents decided to make me wear braces for 2 1/2 loooong years and a retainer for 4 years after that. Imagine what I would look like if they hadn't! And those braces couldn't have been cheap. Especially when you have fourteen other children to feed. Maybe my parents did a pretty good job raising me after all. . .

Now, about that boob job. . .

Huuuug!!!

Priya hugs everything. And I mean everything. Not just teddy bears and stuffed bunnies (although they're subject to it too), but everything. Yesterday she had a sticker she particularly liked and gave it a big hug. When she does that she squints up her eyes, raises her chin, and declares "Huuuug!" so we all know what she's doing. Occasionally a particularl object deserves a kiss too. Lucky sticker.

I mailed out all my Christmas gifts the other day. Seven boxes of presents to Texas, Oregon and South Carolina. I took Priya with me to mail them and she demanded two pens from the UPS lady. "Huuuug!" for the pens.

I was reading E. McPan's blog this morning and feeling particularly stupid. What's it like to be in her world of law students and intelligent people? I wonder if she would like to be a part of mine. It consists of poopie diapers and spit up. And stupidity. My excuse is hormones. Seriously. Since I've had children my IQ has taken a true tumble. This morning I told a patient I was flighty and advised her to find another physician. She just laughed. I'm not sure I was kidding.

Anyway, I wish I could blog everyday with interesting anecdotes about my life. But I can't blog because I don't have time and I don't have too many interesting things happening. Unless you count Anjali eating solids exciting. Or Priya pee-peeing in the potty fun.

My life is great, though. I have absolutely no complaints.

Huuuuug!!!

You know you're tired when. . .

The baby is still waking up to eat two to three times a night. I'm getting so tired that every three or four days I do something really stupid. This morning I brushed my teeth with my facial cleanser. Seriously. Tasted horrible.

My poor patients should be really really scared

The Joy of Cigarettes

So a new patient came into the office the other day sounding like she had a pile of gravel stuck in her throat. She looked 20 years older than her age and could hardly get across the room without suckin' wind.

"I'll be honest with ya, doc." she said. "I do smoke cigarettes."

Hmmmm. Really? And do you think that just might be a mistake?

Later, I'm driving home and the person in the car in front of me is smoking and throws his cigarette out onto the street. What is it about smokers that makes them believe that the world is their ashtray? Are they that lazy that they can't use the ashtray which sits within arms reach in their car?

And one more thing. On the way to work yesterday I saw a lady combing her hair and putting on every bit of her makeup in the car. OK, I see that plenty of times. But then another lady behind me whipped out her deoderant put it on at a stoplight. Now how did she remember to put that in the car, and yet not remember to put it on in the first place?

And if anyone else watches The Amazing Race besides me and Sumeet, please tell me you saw the finale Tuesday night. Loved it. My favorite team won and all is right in the world.

Priya pee-peed in the potty twice the other day. Maybe by accident, but hey, I'm thrilled.

I wanna get drunk

So I was watching "Airline" on A&E last night and the theme for the show was "Let's get drunk, miss our flight, and blame the airlines." Every fool who did this not only got some air time on national telivision, but they got a full refund of their flight! Since when did this start? If I were to buy my tickets in advance and need to cancel due to my head falling off I wouldn't get a refund!

"Well, Ms B, that's because you bought those tickets in advance and they're nonrefundable, nontransferable, and subject to a $100 fee for changing them."

"But my head just fell off! I really don't think I can fly if my head is not attached. And I'm bleeding everywhere. Aren't you worried about getting your airplane soiled?"

"No, we're not worried. We now have fancy vinyl seats on all our flights. And if you read the fine print of your contract you will see that having your head fall off does not constitute a valid reason to refund or change your ticket."

"Okay, but I could be a security risk. See, I can't really see to get to my seat without my head, and I might bump into other passengers. Worse yet, I might even inadvertently fall into the cockpit trying to go to the bathroom. The pilot may panic and crash the plane. See?"

"No, I don't see, and obviously you don't either. And that's because your head is sitting on the floor. Now, would you like to pay the $100 change fee and catch the next flight tomorrow morning?"

"Ummm, let's see. . . how about NOOOO. I really think I'll bleed to death by then. And what contract are you talking about? I didn't sign a contract. I just bought some tickets."

"The tickets ARE your contract. WHY do people come to the airport without reading their tickets? This really makes my job difficult. Now, let me ask again. Do you want to sign over your first born child and take the next flight or stand here and bleed on my carpet?"

"My first born child? I thought you wanted $100!"

"$100, first born child, it's all the same. . . "

"Are you crazy?!? Do you think my beautiful incredible intelligent child is only worth $100? Seriously? NOW you've crossed the line. NOW I'm pissed off. NOW I want to talk to your supervisor."

"Please calm down Ms. B. And watch your language. Do you kiss your children with that mouth? I'm just trying to do my job."

"I will NOT calm down. You're about to see what ANGRY is all about. Just get me your supervisor and find the cameramen and tell them to focus that lens onME, because I'm about to cause a SCENE!"

"Ms. B, you are acting a bit erracitcally. Have you had anything to drink today?"

"DRINK? Yes, I've had something to drink! Wouldn't you if you had my stressful crazy life? My head just fell off! Of course I've had something to drink! I'm drunk off my gourd! I'm high as a kite! Do you want a sobriety test? I'll fail it for you!"

"Well, you should have said so ma'am. You are now a security risk and therefore cannot board our aircraft. I'm terribly sorry but we'll have to refund your ticket, put you up in the nearest hotel until you sober up. You can then catch the next flight out tomorrow. First class. Because we treat our drunk customers with respect. Now our headless customers have no rights. But I don't make the rules. I just enforce them. Here's your ticket, your hotel information, and a nice bag in which to place you head. Thank you for flying with Southwest Airlines."

Jack Handy

I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to write a thing. So I'll just put down some thoughts that have occurred to me in the last few days.

My parents are occasionally TOO cheerful. They know what I'm talking about.

Really strange shows come on TV in the middle of the night. HBO had "Miss Black Nude America" on last night. Or something like that. I only know this because I watch TV while I feed the baby. . .

Ellen DeGeneres is a great comedian.

My garage door is too small for my SUV. That is why I've banged it up twice in the last week trying to get it in the garage. It couldn't be because I'm a bad driver.

My sister E. McPan is way too intelligent. I just don't understand some of her blog posts. . .

Why do people call Garage Sales "Yard Sales" in the South?

My brother "hearsedrv" is smarter than he sounds. I just don't understand some of his blog posts. . .

Don't feed your toddler chocolate pudding. It will make her poop really stinky.

I watch a lot of Sesame Street. Big Bird is a real whiner. "Oh no! I can't seem to find ERRRRNIE!!! He says he's hiding behind something that rhymes with kneeeee and the only thing here is this treeeee! What will I do NOW?? "

Elmo always talks in third person, which is annoying.

When people don't think your baby is cute, they resort to saying things like "What a lot of hair!!" or "She sure has long fingers! She'll be a piano player for sure!"

Why do the nurses and doctors feel compelled to remind new mothers not to have sex for six weeks after the birth of their baby? Didn't they witness what just happenned down there? Do I really need to be REMINDED? And why six weeks? Who participated in that study?

Did the "Boat Men of Vietnam Who Kind of Knew John Kerry for Truth" come up with their name before this election campaign? Did they just tack on the "for Truth" later? Does it ligitimize their statement? Why not form the "Black Nude Women of America for Truth?" Maybe they could give testimonials too.

My lungs hurt. . .

My brother is a redneck. I don't know why. We were raised in the same house by the same parents. But someone must have put something in his fruity pebbles when he was a kid. I don't know what it was, but it has affected him. It really has.

He called me today to ask me some medical questions. Our conversation went something like this:

"I'm worried about my lungs."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I may have inhaled some chlorine when I was putting it in my new pool."
"How did you do that?"
"I was trying to be careful, you know. Because I did the same thing 20 years ago except it was much worse. I was blackin' out and everything that time. Do you remember that? You were just a kid, but my friends had to drive me to the hospital in the old El Camino. Did I ever tell you what Mom did during that whole thing? Oh, that's a good story. I should write that one in my blog. . . "
While he went on to tell me the story of how Mom read a novel while some minister spoke in tongues over his near lifeless body my toddler starteed screaming at the top of her lungs. I was having a hard time hearing him talk, so I tried to cut to the chase.
"So, what are your symptoms?"
"Wow, you're toddler sure sounds unhappy. Is she unhappy? What's wrong with her?"
"Nothing, really. She's just trying to get used to her new little sister being around."
"Oh, poor you. That sucks, man. I wouldn't want to be you right now. . . "
"So, what symptoms do you have?"
"Oh, well, I'm coughing real bad at night and I couldn't sleep last night. And my chest hurts. And my throat is sore. And my whole body aches."
"When did all this start?"
"About two hours after I put the chlorine in the pool. I was trying to be real careful, see, because I had done this before. I put it in while staying as far away from it as I could. Of course I put my face pretty much in the stuff 20 years ago. That was the difference. I was blackin' out and everything."
"But your symptoms started two hours later. . . "
"Oh, yeah. I was swimming, see and my mother-in-law was there but I made her turn around because I didn't have clothes on. And when I got out of the pool it just hit me. My whole body hurt and my throat was sore. I just went to bed and slept all day. And I called in sick the next day. I've never called in sick in SIX YEARS! And it's been four days and I still feel like crap. Of course, I haven't passed out or anything like the first time. That's a good thing."
"Um, yeah. So, have you had any fever?"
"No. I don't think so."
"Are you bringing up anything when you cough?"
"No."
"Any trouble breathing?"
"Only when I lay down. I've been working all day on this pool and can breathe fine."
"Okay, well I think you may have an inhalation injury from the chlorine. But you may also have a viral illness. I would treat you symptomatically with an inhaler and a strong cough medicine with codeine or hydrocodone."
"Oooooh, no. I think I'll pass on that. I took some of that when I broke my foot, which still hurts like hell by the way. Anyway, what was the name of that stuff? Hey (wife) where's that bottle? Man, did I get sick. I must have taken it the night before, or no, was it the morning? It must have been the morning before work. No, because you can't drive when you take it. So I took it when I got to work. And later that day I TREW UP in my cubicle. That may have been because I took it on an empty stomach. . . "
"Well, yes, that's true. It likely did contribute to it."
"So I don't want any of that, and besides, I took a Halls and got some sleep after that."
"Oh, so if the Halls worked I wouldn't take anything else. But you may need an inhaler."
"You know, we have inhalers around here. Hey (wife) where is that inhaler? I know we have one because (son) used it. I'll just use his. Or (wife's). Oh yeah, here it is. It says. . . Proventil. Will that do? It expired in November 2003, but that's okay. I can use it anyway. We have great insurance. Everything is only $6 for medications."
"Maybe I should call you in a new inhaler."
"Nahhh. This will work. But, listen, will this heal my lungs?"
"No, this will only help with your symptoms. If you develop a high fever or trouble breathing you should go see your doctor."
"Well, that's what I was wonderin'!! I just want to make sure my lungs aren't fillin' up with fluid. So I'm not gonna die?"
"No, I doubt it. But this may be a virus, which is why your body is aching."
"My body is aching because I've been bustin' my ass on this pool. Man I'm tired. Y'know, me and (wife) aren't getting any younger. We're so tired. And my foot still hurts. But that's because I kicked the dog with it the other day."
"Why did you kick the dog?"
"Oh, I don't know. He got out of the yard one too many times I guess. Dumb dog."
"Right. So why do you swim in the nude?"
"Why not? I just wanted to."
"Aren't you worried someone will see you?"
"Naw, I have a privacy fence. But I did see the neighbor naked. And that wasn't pretty. She's 60 years old and weighs 300 pounds. Close your blinds lady! And the other neighbor just had a baby so she's still fat and ugly. . . "

I don't know why he was looking in the neighbor's window, or if he also works on the pool in the nude. I really hope not. But I think he'll live. At least until the pool needs more chlorine. . .

McDonalds, Lotion, and Dog Drool

And it began today. Priya picked up a tube of lotion and wacked her little sister over the head with it. You should have heard Anjali cry. Luckily, it scared her more than anything else. So I didn't punish Priya (she really didn't understand what she did) and I took her to the store with me while the nanny watched Anjali. After the store excursion we went to McDonalds where she meticulously picked up every french fry and dipped it into the ketchup. That took a while since I had torn the fries into fourths. Ketchup dipping is a new trick for her. I just hope she doesn't associate hitting her sister with a trip to McDonalds.

Yesterday she was given the treat of getting to pet the neighbor's dog. She is obsessed with this dog. Literally. She says "dawg" 467 times a day and points to their driveway (where he sits basking int he sun) whenever she can. So I saw the neighbor in his yard and went over and asked if Priya could pet his rather large dog. He said "Sure!" and Priya proceeded to lean over to give the dog a loving kiss. His large head whipped around and in one eighth of a second he had licked the entire right side of her face. My heart stopped because I thought he was about to bite her. That would have been a big chunk out of her face. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about it. Of course, she didn't mind the slobber all over her cheek and hair at all. She just cried when we walked back home. I guess we should consider getting a dog. . .

Anjali

So Anjali was born on July 22nd. She is the spitting image of her dad and so far seems to have his temperament (which is a really really really good thing). She does what I've always heard newborns are supposed to do (eat, sleep and poop). Priya didn't follow those rules at all. We'll see how long this bliss lasts. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. . .

Meanwhile, my mother-in-law will be here for two weeks and has been babysitting, cleaning and cooking every meal. Who could ask for anything more? I'm in a minor state of panic at the thought of her leaving. Who will cook? How will I get to the grocery store? What if both girls need me at the EXACT same time? How do I decide what to do???

Obviously, I'm overreacting. It will all work out just fine. Just as soon as I hire a full time cook.

Labor Pains

I find it excessively painful to listen to other women's labor stories.  They always tell their story as if they're the only woman in the world who had 36 hours of labor followed by an episiotomy and a failed epidural.  blah blah blah.  I just nod my head and smile politely, thinking of all the things I'd rather be doing than picturing this woman in the throes of "the worst labor ever experienced in the history of womankind." 

Actually, I'm going in to the hospital tomorrow morning to have this baby (Anjali).  My husband is working at the hospital I'm going to deliver in and is planning on making rounds that morning.  I thought that was a good idea because I really don't know what he will do while I'm having contractions and such.  Give me ice chips?  Rub my back?  Paleeeze.  I'd rather go it alone.  I mean, do you really think it would help me to have an ice chip???  All I want is the epidural.  That's it.  And when I start pushing he can stand by my bed and say "Push!  One, two, three, four. . . "    That would be most helpful.  I just may forget how to count while I'm trying to squeeze this precious angel out.

Do I sound cynical?

I'm really excited for my sister, who is on her way home from Russia with her two newly adopted sons.  It's like we're having our children on the same day. . . My parents are getting three grandchildren in two days.  Now they will have 11 grandchildren with another due in October.  Lucky them!

 

 

For anyone out there that says doctors don't work hard, come meet my husband. Yesterday he left for work at 6:00 am and got home after midnight. He was exhausted and kept getting pages during the night about the same patient. This morning he left at 6:00 and won't be home until around 7:00 or 8:00 pm. He hasn't even seen Priya in two days. I hate his hours! When I have this baby he can only get two days off work. I know, I know, I shouldn't complain (especially with all those doctor haters out there), but hey, what are blogs for?

On a lighter note, I love my job. I get to work mornings only and take call from home. I don't have any hospital duties, which is a BIG bonus. There are only two other docs in our practice (both female) and the staff is wonderful. My nannies take incredible care of Priya and they will stay on even with the added work load of the new baby! You can't get any better than that!

I'm also seeing a lot of interesting medicine here that I didn't see in North Carolina. I enjoy seeing the younger patients in addition to the elderly and researching new diagnostic delimnas (of which there have been a few). My problem is admitting to patients that I need to "do a little research." I usually do it right in front of them (does that make me look stupid?). They seem to appreciate the effort, though. At least I'm not winging it. . . I do, however miss my nurse from North Carolina. I would pay her one million dollars to move here and join this practice. Will you Regina? Please?

The President on a Scooter

Did you know pregnancy causes strange dreams? I think I should win some contest for the absolute weirdest ones. And if anyone wanted to figure out what my dreams mean I'm in real trouble.

I seem to always dream about famous people. Not necessarilly people I like or admire, but just famous people. For instance, I've been shopping with J.Lo, out to lunch with Gwyneth Paltrow (pre Apple), deep sea fishing with Britney Spears, and to breakast with George W. Bush. Last night, though, was a classic. I was at a campground driving my winnie looking for some clothes (I was partially clothed - go figure) and it was real crowded. Who should happen to ride by on his red, white, and blue scooter (on the wrong wide of the road) but George W. Bush. He had that real vacant look in his eye that he had throughout the entire "Farenheit" movie (and for the last four years to be exact). The kicker of it was when along came Laura Bush looking for him. Anxious to scoop him into the car before anyone caught sight of him. Like I said. I dream about famous people, not necesarilly people I like.

The other night we watched the first episode of "The Amazing Race 5." Of all the reality shows out there The Amazing Race is by far the best. We've watched every single episode of the first four races. I always wonder what I would do in those situations. Probably loose my cool, have a meltdown in front of 5 million viewers and regret it the rest of my life. Which is why I didn't apply for the race. I'm sure they would have signed my right up if I had. . .
My mom and sister are in Russia getting my sister's two adopted sons. Yesterday they went through the court process and now the boys are legally hers. I'm so glad. I had spent most of Wednesday morning trying to get in touch with them and was told repeatedly by the clerk at their hotel that they were "in the res-ta-ront." After two hours of that I was told they had "left with some people." It was 10:45pm there! I was highly suspicious because I had my doubts that they would be cruising the downtown of that somewhat small Russian town. So I sat there thinking about all the things they could be doing until I became genuinely worried. Luckily, my sister called my dad and told him they were fine and had been in their room the whole time. Hmmmmm
Tomorrow I have my appointment with my OB. I'm hoping he'll proclaim me "ready to give birth" right then with a short easy labor. And I'll go to the hospital and get an epidural and sail through the contractions without a hint of pain. Theyn I'll push three or four times until little Anjali is born and found to be completely healthy. If only it worked that way. . .
Women always ask me if I'm going to have my baby "naturally." What exactly do they mean by that? How do you have a baby "unnaturally?" I always want to say "No, I thought I'd pop her out my ear. . . " And if I reply "yes, this will be a natural birth" (complete lie) they say "good for you!" Like I would endure that kind of pain for their approval. Geeezzz.

Okay, we've done it. This time it's final. We've finally come up with a name for our daughter. Anjali. It is pronounced Un-ja-lee. Yay! It's about time. I will likely have her in about two weeks and I didn't want her to be nameless. Or be called Quazar.
We're visiting my in-laws this weekend and having a really relaxing time. My brother-in-law ran in a 10K run this morning and is hoping they post his picture on the front page of the paper tomorrow. He was only one of 55,000 runners and certainly didn't run the race in 28 minutes, like the winner from Kenya did. But he is still optimistic. . .
And Priya keeps adding words to her vocabulary. Now she can say "shoes, Papa, Bye-Bye, Uh-Oh, and apple". Her Dada (grandfather) claims she can say "Big Bird" too but I haven't heard it yet. That's probably because her favorite book is about Big Bird and we read it to her roughly 43 times a day. She is signing up a storm and added a couple of signs this weekend. I think that brings her to 28 or so signs. Not that I'm counting and comparing her to other 15 month olds or anything. I'm not THAT competitive! Hee Hee
My brother-in-law said he is disappointed in my blog. "It's just like a newsletter or something" as if anything I had to put in my "newsletter" wasn't interesting. Which it really isn't, but that's beside the point. Anyway, I bet if I start posting pictures of him coming across the finish line with his weary hands held high in full victory from his 10K run he would like my blog. Anyone can be blackmailed.

Identity Crises

I talked to one of my sisters today and she told me that someone stole her identity. Somehow they got her name and social security number (probably wasn't too hard, come to think of it) and opened a credit card account, racked up some bills on a wireless phone and even opened an account with the local phone company for a land line phone! Which they promptly traced to an apartment! But are the police knocking on that apartment door asking questions? Certainly not. They probably don't care. Which means my sister is leaving the country for over 3 weeks and will be bringing two adorable Russian toddlers home and there's no telling what these bottom-dwellers will do to her account in the meantime. Maybe she'll get to make a commercial with a voiceover talking about all the "phone conversations with my boyfriend-in-France-on-my-Cingular-account-that-I-don't-have-to-pay-for." At least she could make some money for herself in this whole process.
And the kicker of it is she is trying to get all her paperwork done to go to Russia and pick up her boys. Do you have any idea what it takes to adopt a child from Russia? First, you must fill out about one thousand fourteen forms asking such questions as "have you had now, or ever had in the past, a condition categorized as a communicable disease?" and "In the past 55 years have you or anyone remotely related to you ever had what may be construed as a drinking problem at any time during his or her life? Have you ever been around alcohol? Do you know what marijuana is? Do you watch violent movies? Do you like them? Do you believe a low carb diet is healthy? Have you ever gained weight? Would you be willing to donate your left kidney to one of your family should the need arise? What about your right one?" Etc. etc.

Once you fill out the forms you fight with about 48 different people on the phone over issues such as whether your fingerprints can be obtained at THIS office, or if you must drive 45 minutes across town to obtain the form which allows you to obtain you fingerprints in a town three hours away. Between the hours of 3:15 and 4:30 pm central standard time. On the third Tuesday of the month. Which was yesterday. And you need this done by next Monday or you can't send in the form to verify your Visa status which has to come in by the fourth Thursday of the month. If and ONLY if you get the Visa straightened out can you book your plane tickets. For your SECOND trip to Russia. And if you don't book those tickets by the fourth FRIDAY of the month the price will mysteriously skyrocket to $8,425. Of course, they may have already skyrocketed while you were on the phone with the doctor's office trying to convince them you really do NOT have a communicable disease. And you've never smoked marijuana. And all that porn material on your credit card was NOT purchased by you. That was bought by a 17 year old geek in a spider man outfit hiding out in his apartment waiting for the next Spiderman 2 showing.

I think it's MUCH easier to be pregnant. I will never complain about feeling fat, bloated, ugly, tired, or moody again.

Upside the head by a 2x4

When I was a kid my big brother could elicit fear in me in several ways. One was by folding his middle finger down until it was held at the base of his thumb. That would give it maximum velocity when he let it go. And velocity was important when he was "thunking" me on the top of my head. For some reason he got great pleasure in thunking me. It hurt like the devil every single time and he knew it. A malicious grin would come across his face and he would chuckle as he walked away. To this day if I see him bending his thumb down I get scared. Of course I don't show it, I just find an excuse to casually leave the room. That is his way of "hitting someone upside the head with a 2x4." I've been hit many times.

He also could elicit fear by getting up the earliest on Saturday mornings and eating all the sugar cereal. The guy weighed 92 pounds dripping wet all through high school and could eat an entire box of Count Chocula in one sitting. Fast. So fast that when you heard that "ding, ding, ping" of that cereal hitting the bowl you better get your butt out of bed or you weren't going to eat anything good for breakfast.

And he didn't play fair. One day when I was six years old (and he was about 10 or 11) he held a quarter in his hand and told me that if I guessed the year it was made I could have it. The first year that popped into my head was 1976. But for someone reason I said 1977. He laughed gleefully and showed me the quarter. 1976. Damnit. I'm still mad about that. I think I stomped around and pissed and moaned for several days about that. I ALMOST said 1976. I MEANT to say 1976. I want my quarter.

But don't get the wrong idea. I'm not holding a grudge. Really. I really am feeling bad that his pool has turned into a mud pit. If I could go down there and suck the water out I would. In a hearbeat. Just as soon as I finish this cereal.

Ping Ping

Last night I was watching either Law and Order or some such crime show set in NYC. It's the one with the "Ping Ping" sound at every scene. The sound that creates real drama and suspense. Or so I'm told. I know that when I hear it I look up from whatever I'm doing and watch slack jawed (like a Pavlovian dog looking at a piece of steak) until the next commercial. I don't know why I watch the show. It's really silly. The poor victim is always already dead. No help there. And even though they ALWAYS figure out who done it the perp often gets away with the crime through some freaky loop hole. And when all else is lost and you think there's no way in Hades they'll figure this one out, they discover a hair. Always a hair. Last night it was a pubic hair wrapped up in a $80,000 watch. Hmmmm. From that they concluded the perp was gay. Oh yes, only gay people wrap their private hairs in their expensive watches. . .

I'll be watching next week when the Ping Ping sound tells me to. I just can't wait.

I'll try again

Last week I posted a story about computer geeks. Actually, I should have clarified that the very nice man at the help desk referred to himself as a "computer geek." I would have saved myself some insults. Someone anonymously posted a comment showing his or her's dislike for that term and his or her's intense desire to refer to physician's using other "four letter words." Of course, this was the second physician bashing post. The first was from by brother, which was expected. He's always told me "you docs are just a bunch of dumb@#* idiots." That doesn't offend me. But the second post did. I kind of gave up on the blog thing for a few days and decided to try again tonight. I mean, if you're that mad about it and hate doctors that much, why post it anonymously?

Anyway, I'll try again and hope I won't regret it. Please keep your comments on the pleasant side. I'm a bit hormonal and get my feelings hurt easily.