<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Drooling on the Pillow

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Getting Out of Dodge 

So in the morning we'll pack enough crap in the car for a medium sized invasion and head up north for long Adirondack weekend. I always wait too long to take my days off and by the time I go I'm much more wound up than the allotted time can cure. I almost hope it rains the whole time so I can sit in the gazebo. And. Do. Nothing.

Not really. Almost, though.

There's no cell phones, no wi-fi and no available analog jacks, though, so I truly am out of here. Come on back Monday or Tuesday, though.
|

Daddy Would Be So Proud 

Today I became a Flappy Bird.
|

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Not A Patient, But Plays One on TV 

Had the treat of riding into town with the Goddess this morning. She's usually gone long before I stir my sorry self. She was full of stories.

The job she does on the weekends is working for a certain large metropolitan teaching hospital. They bring in a crew of actors to pretend to be patients. Most of it is just teaching clinical skills. Getting these second year students to talk and examine at the same time. If your doctor is good you never notice it but it doesn't come naturally for most and never comes for some.

They also have a series of profiles of patients with various ailments which the students are supposed to, if not diagnose, at least elicit the relevant information. All the while conducting an examination.

These kids are extremely smart and extremely competitive and have probably never failed at anything. Some have a problem with the second half of the exercise where the "patients" analyze and criticize the students clinical skills and suggest improvements. Most accept the criticism with good grace as they're eager to learn, but some feel they have nothing to learn from a bunch of actors. Those are the ones, of course, who have the most to learn.

She had one kid who examined her with two large jade earrings and a tongue stud. After the examination she told him as nicely as possible that he had to lose the jewelry as his patients would have a relationship with his bling instead of him. He was unconvinced and the patients in his other two rotations didn't mention it. Just warning you what's coming down the road.

She also had a surfer dude. "ma'am, your plantar reflex is awesome!" She had some issues with his grooming as well, but he wasn't offended, merely confused. "I don't know, ma'am, I really duded up for this." A sweet kid, but I really don't want Keanu Reeves poking around down there.

They run a special program occasionally for third years where it is the job of the student to inform the patient he has AIDS. It's called the "Bad News Program".

They know it's play acting, but it never fails to mess up the minds of a good number of the students. She had one guy go all twitchy on her. He started yammering about a situation in his dorm, all the while edging towards the door. "Boy, it's hot," he said and opened it. He got half his body out the door and shouted "You've got AIDS!" and banged the door after himself. Apparently he went directly home and missed a couple days of class. All of the sessions are taped and they saved that one for the "Did Not Pass" example. More than a few break down in tears.

The news is good, overall. She says the vast majority are extremely bright, dedicated, driven, sweet, or at least pleasant. There are exceptions. One of the smartest kids she's seen go through was also the most unpleasant. Smirking, condescending, hostile and abrupt, he obviously thought the whole thing was a waste of time.

Evidently destined for surgery.
|

Brush With Greatness II 

A number of years ago I was a guest at a classmate's bachelor party. Kevin Spacey was a friend of his and also attended. There were powders, there were liquids there was vegetable matter. At one point four of us, including Mr. Spacey decided to honor the bridegroom by dropping our trousers and mooning him. It just seemed like the thing to do. Just at the moment we grabbed our ankles a flash bulb lit the room, but the evening had progressed to the point where everybody just thought it was funny and a number of pictures were taken.

Somewhere out there is a picture of me cheek to cheek with Kevin Spacey. It's not the persistent speculation as to his sexual orientation that makes this a somewhat uncomfortable memory. And I live in a town in which the mayor was elected despite the existence of naked, drunken pictures.

I don't know. It's just not how I expected to be remembered.
|

Monday, April 25, 2005

Meme Over Metuchen 

Jim, at Parkway Rest Stop, has dropped a bag o' meme in my lap, steaming and full of flavor. Mmmmm. The rules, as explained by Jimbo, are that I had to choose five from the list that appears below and complete the thought.

If I could be a writer, I'd check to see if my name were Shakespere, Faulkner or Austin. Otherwise, I'd kill myself.

If I could be an actor, I'd wonder how I looped back to a previous life and who I had to kill to make a go of it this time. Seriously.

If I could be an architect, I would build me a willow cabin at your gate.

If I could be a chef, I would sell only hamburgers, hash browns, pea soup and iced coffee. People would come for the iced coffee and come back for the hash browns.

If I could be a gardener, my flowers would be delicious and my plums would be beautiful and I'd make Jim put up signs so I wouldn't forget which were which.

These are the choices for the bozos I'm going to pass this on to:

If I could be a scientist...
If I could be a farmer...
If I could be a musician...
If I could be a doctor...
If I could be a painter...
If I could be a gardener...
If I could be a missionary...
If I could be a chef...
If I could be an architect...
If I could be a linguist...
If I could be a psychologist...
If I could be a librarian...
If I could be an athlete...
If I could be a lawyer...
If I could be an innkeeper...
If I could be a professor...
If I could be a writer...
If I could be a backup dancer...
If I could be a llama-rider...
If I could be a bonnie pirate...
If I could be a midget stripper...
If I could be a proctologist...
If I could be a TV-Chat Show host...
If I could be an actor...
If I could be a judge...
If I could be a Jedi...
If I could be a mob boss...
If I could be an acrobat...
If I could be a particle physicist...
If I could be a cop...

Of the five you select, you are to finish each phrase with what you would do as a member of that profession. Then pass it on to three other bloggers.

I choose Spear Shaker, Patrick at Jerseystyle! and Roberto at DynamoBuzz.

May God forgive me.
|

John Mills, R.I.P. 

There should be an internet quiz "Which British Acting Knight Are You?".

I know which one I'd like to be and that's Alec Guinness, but those quizzes never turn out that way. Olivier and Guilgud were extraordinary men and gifted actors, but I don't think I'd particularly like having been either of them. I saw Ralph Richardson several times on stage and he was wonderful, but I don't covet his life.

You could do worse than John Mills who died recently at age 97. Aside from longevity and the fact that he was working up to a few months ago, he was married to his second wife for 64 years and no one, aside, perhaps, from his first wife, ever had a bad word to say about him. The role most Americans would remember him for is the gimpy simpleton Michael in Ryan's Daughter.
|

Caesura 

Had Grace to myself again all weekend (soccer; 2 goals). It would have been great but I had a monster toothache both days. Tylenol 3, nothing. Bourbon therapy, very little, but at least I got to sleep a little. I think the worst is over. Not getting to the dentist til tomorrow morning and then we leave for Warrensburg on Thursday where, in the words of friends in the area, the internet, where it exists, is for lumberjack porn.

So this might be a good time to take a break. I hope you'll be back next Tuesday or so when Sluggo again makes with the snappy patter.

An Irishman, Englishman and Scottsman go into a pub and each order a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and one lands in each of the pints. The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another pint.The Scottsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow.The Irishman reaches in to the glass, pinches the fly between his fingers and shakes him while yelling, "Spit it out, ya bastard! Spit it out!"
|
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com Listed on BlogShares