Is it because I is black?

Okay, so just when I thought things were getting relatively quiet and I would have nothing to write about, this happened.

One of my classmates is (and I suppose this is the correct term?) African American, and she is one of the most overtly offensive people I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. My first encounter with her was in the student recreation area, where I was watching some of my friends play ping pong, at which point she pulled up the chair next to mine, placed her feet atop some other people's briefcases and bags, and let out a massive belch. She did not make any attempts to say, "Excuse me" or anything of that nature.

Fast forward a few weeks, and I have yet another encounter with this lovely individual. This time, a friend and I were discussing the potential benefits of organic foods, and she walks up to us, not at all involved in this conversation, and says, "You're both fucking retarded. I go to Wal Mart and the food there is just as good as that useless shit that you're all buying. You're going to get cancer just as easily as I will, you fucking dumbasses." Lovely. So I'm busy thinking to myself, "What the Mother F...." and trying to figure out where she came from, and why she is so pissed off at us. After all, we were not saying that people that buy canned stuff are retards, we were merely discussing the various places we would go to buy our foods, and the fact that a lot of stuff labeled as "organic" in the US is hardly organic. My friend then starts to disagree with her, and says that a lot of research implicates processed foods in colon cancer and other diseases, at which point she retorts, "Statistics are a bunch of shit, and you're an idiot for believing them." Umm, okay, all they ever teach us in class came from statistics and so forth, but whatever.

So now it's this week, and I see little miss sunshine once again, this time because we were forced to work within a group. Immediately, after the group activity is over, she starts going on this huge rant because she went to some thing to help students learn interviewing skills, so they could be better prepared for their interviews for acceptance into medical school. She was pissed off that there were a bunch of "fucking rich ass white motherfuckers" at this thing, and was even more pissed off that she had to teach these "honkey pieces of shit" how to interview. She then concluded this tirade by saying that she was "going to have to whoop some white ass if this kept up." Terrific. And she is saying this in front of me, and some other people, all of which were ethnic minorities of some variation. And so I interpret this as a blatant attack aimed at me, since, well, I'm white, and she is going off on white medical students. At which point, I start to tell her that there are plenty of things in place to help minorities get into school, affirmative action (racist action as they should call it...) and blah blah blah. At which point she says, "Oh, and you got a problem with that huh?" So being the confrontational person I am I said, "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. These programs completely marginalize the lower socioeconomic classes of all races, but particularly that of the whites - poor whites are SOL when it comes to anything. Oh sure, they don't have any money, and have all sorts of hurdles to deal with, but hey, they're white therefore they must have it easy. Meanwhile, the rich Mexicans and African Americans have none of these hurdles, the only real racism they're exposed to is watching those old civil rights videos in social studies, and roll into school in their black Hummer H2 with Dubz wheels (there were multiple people in my undergraduate institution who owned similar vehicles, all of which were minorities)." This obviously starts her off on another tirade, in which the terms "honkey, cracker, cracka', bitch, motherfucka, whitey" are thrown around left and right. Eventually one of the other people in the group tried to change the subject, which was somewhat successful.

Assuming that the worst was over, I tried to change the subject again by asking if anyone was going to go to the Planned Parenthood seminar later in the day. This set her off yet again. She immediately exclaimed, "Why would I want to go to that shit when these people are a bunch of fucking assholes? I don't believe in a goddammed thing that they do." Being somewhat shocked by this, I immediately responded, "You don't believe that women should be made aware of the contraceptive options available to them and be informed about safe sex practices?" This was met with the eloquent argument of, "Those dirty bitches should keep their damn legs closed. I don't have to worry about none of dat shit because I don't fuck around like a fucked up rabbit bitch." I barely know what that means, but I do know that it hurt my head to listen to such idiotic drivel.


How in the hell is someone like this admitted into medical school? Are adcoms so obsessed with "diversity" that they are willing to admit flagrant narrow-minded racists into school? Just replace her usage of all derogatory words towards whites with derogatory words towards blacks (in France, we just say black and white, and no one cares - minority groups don't get offended by it, so I assume it's okay), and then pretend that she was white. From what I gather, she would be branded as a terrible, subhuman racist, who should be condemned to the darkest inner circle of hell, and ideally die after rabid porcupines are forcibly inserted into her rectum. But because she is African American and racist towards whites, it's not only perfectly okay for her to say these things, but also she should be encouraged to do so? What a load of horse crap. She doesn't even understand basic etiquette and views whites as inherently evil - what is she going to do if she ever gets a white patient? "Yo, honkey motherfuck, you have cervical cancer, which is good, because you shouldn't have fucked all dem frat boys when you was young, you fucking whore." Terrific. Just terrific.

Maybe one day I'll find some sane classmates, but that day is not today.


In other news, they lectured us today on why Dr. House is a very poor doctor. To them I say, "You're all poor doctors for not recognizing Dr. Gregory House's unbridled genius, and sublime analyses of human interactions, defunct social norms, and organization."

Put down the Fork!

Okay so this is a little mini-post relative to my others, but felt like I should impart some knowledge on you people (the 3 people that read this thing other than myself).

So it's been almost 3 weeks of med school now, and I have come to the following conclusions

1. There's MORE studying involved than what everyone says.
2. Anyone who says that you can raise a normal family and still be in med school is full of it, and is an asshole for trying to convince you otherwise. They probably derive sick pleasure at the thought of the unsuspecting people that will actually try to raise a family in med school, and then laugh as it all goes the way of Jack Nicholson's family in The Shining.
   
3. You don't feel like you know nothing. I don't get these people who claim that they are in med school and don't know anything. I already feel like I have learned an incredible amount of material and techniques, and it's been less than 3 weeks, which brings me to my most important point...
4. Stop eating. No seriously, don't you dare put that fucking bacon double cheeseburger anywhere near your mouth.

While in gross anatomy today, I had the pleasant opportunity to watch the pathology department mischievously pull the tarp off of a table containing "aortas from hell" (those words come from the pathologist, not me). Apparently the pathology department gets the opportunity to find all sorts of disgusting crap when they open up the recently deceased, and they decided to try and show us their chef-d'oeuvre of FUBAR arteries and veins. There were plenty of atherosclerotic aortas, but those were just the opening acts. Atherosclerotic vessels are characterized by a disgusting amount of white crud littered throughout, with a little bit of pox marks with the color of melted butter - cholesterol deposits.

After whetting our appetites for disgusting vascular disease, they presented the main course - aortas with massive anneurisms and clots. I shit you not, there was an aorta there that had a thrombus the size of a baseball (probably bigger than that, but whatever...) and in the two common iliac arteries that branched off of that were thrombi the size of lemons.

It sorta looked like this, but was 10x worse.

So anyway, just think twice before grabbing that extra cupcake or asking for bacon on your cheeseburger... your aorta could look like that, and then med students would poke and prod at it while giggling nervously. Oh yeah, get your labs done as per your doctor's advice - you can be skinny and still have high cholesterol too.

Anyway, back to studying....

Medical School!

Okay, so medical school started last week, and I've made it through the first week at Miskatonic U. Throughout this time, I have met many of my classmates, and am realizing that it is true what they say about med students - they're all freaks. This most likely has to do with the fact that all of them were pre-med at some point.

At any rate, a lot of our curriculum consists of sitting in small groups and working together. So I suppose if everyone in the group were very serious and motivated, this would work out very well and I really wouldn't have anything to write about. Since this post exists, this is obviously not the case. A lot of the people in the group, are, for lack of a better word, retarded.

Case in point, in the first group I was in met to discuss a book which we were required to read. During the discussion, most people were silent, except for this one girl, who I will be calling D-Cups for the rest of time. I am giving her this name, because she was wearing clothes that were solely designed to place her breasts on display. I intended to place a picture here to show exactly what she was wearing, but apparently it's such a huge slutty/fashion faux-pas that it just wasn't accessible in a GIS, because it would constantly pull up porn. She was wearing an A&F sweater with a zipper in the middle, which she had zipped down to just underneath her breasts, and a very tight white shirt resembling a man's undershirt, which allowed her boobs to essentially rest on top of the sweater's opening. Which, as we all know, is exactly what female professionals should all do if they want to be taken seriously. So long story short, she pretty much vehemently disagreed with everything I had said about the book. And when I brought up various scenes of the book that completely falsified her points, she would just get louder and more irritated. For whatever reason, she was hell-bent on disagreeing with me, and saying anything and everything she assumed that our faculty facilitator would agree with. Apparently she was at least halfway competent, as she (the faculty facilitator) was always siding with D-Cups, despite the fact that what D-Cups was saying was wrong! I don't really understand what the deal with that was. Later on, D-Cups admitted that she never read the book. Shocking.

So the next group I was involved in was a group that was designed to research cases. What I mean by this is we are given a case wherein a patient presents to the ER with some odd symptoms, and we have to come up with the diagnosis as a group. As time goes on, we are given patient history, physical exam findings, and basic lab results. Then the group comes up with various issues pertinent to the case that they would all like to know more about, and then they are divided up amongst the group members, we research them, present them to the group, and then relate them to the patient. So I had to do my issue, which was rather simple (they were all rather simple: what are normal lab values, vital signs, what's a heart murmur? etc), and in the process of doing it, I began to think about what was going on with this theoretical patient. In the end, after considering all of the information presented to us: history, examination, symptoms, labs, I ended up coming to a diagnosis after carefully eliminating 3 differential diagnoses. After spending around 45 minutes thinking about it, I just wrote it up into my presentation and explained my logic.


So when the time came to present my topic to the class, I was feeling pretty happy with myself. I explained the physiology of the system effected, the phenomenon being observed, and the pathophysiology behind it. At that point, I made my diagnosis, described some differentials, and then presented my treatment plan. At the end of my presentation, the doctor who was our faculty facilitator (different one from the aforementioned female physician) was blown away by my presentation. He thought that it was incredible that I was able to pull in all aspects of the case to arrive at my diagnosis, and found my presentation of the affected physiological systems to be superb. He then told me that I clearly wanted to be an Internist, and would make an excellent one some day (if he only knew that I was dead-set on plastic surgery, I wonder what he would have said...). At any rate, it was very flattering to have such praise heaped on you after one week in medical school, and I felt very accomplished at this point, and a lot of the worries about the difficulties of medical school more-or-less evaporated after he was done speaking.

An unintended consequence of my work had occurred, however: the group was pissed off. They were angry that I had done such an elaborate presentation, and had further assumed that I must have spent at least 8 hours preparing it (if they only knew that it had taken me around 1 hour to complete, I don't know what they would have done). They then said that we need to lay down future ground rules to prevent someone (read: me) from coming to such an elaborate conclusion without the group's consent. They were also angry that in the process of coming to my diagnosis, I had stepped into some of the issues that they were presenting on. I didn't see much problem in this - after all, to diagnose solely on my own issue would be to ignore the big picture and would assuredly lead to an incorrect diagnosis. And while the patient wasn't real or actually dying, I feel an obligation to use every resource necessary to ensure the correct diagnosis, due to some personal experiences where I witnessed the damages that an incorrect diagnosis could inflict on loved ones.

Anyways, the girl following my presentation wasn't very happy that she had to follow my act. The group already commented that they should have saved mine for last, so no one would have to present after me. She was doing a powerpoint presentation, and the images in her presentation were not working. I think she probably had linked to images that were on her computer in place of actually pasting them into the powerpoint. At any rate, the pictures were crucial to what she wanted to impress upon the class, and since they were not working, her presentation was more or less useless. The doctor had told her not to worry about it, technological issues happen, and he understood what she wanted to do since I had previously used the same kinds of images she wanted to use, and her explanations were good. Nonetheless, she clearly was upset. She was also one of the angriest members of the group after my presentation, and was clearly upset that she hadn't been able to do what I had done, and therefore didn't want to ever see anyone synthesize information in that fashion unless she did it.

At one point, during someone else's presentation, she abruptly got up and left the room. She returned around 15 minutes later, towards the end of class. When the doctor told everyone that they had done a great job, and that he was very pleased with us all, this girl just burst into tears and started blubbering like a little kid who had just injured themselves. At this point, everyone fortunate enough to be located away from her made a bolt for the exit, and avoided the awkwardness that followed. She was seated between myself and the doctor, and the doctor's response was to state, "Well, medical school can be stressful..." I was thinking to myself, "You're going to be dealing with patients in the future. Grow the hell up, when something doesn't go your way, don't just cry about it. Learn from it and do something about it." I mean really, your powerpoint runs into technical difficulties and you made the wrong diagnosis. Just make sure the powerpoint works in the future, and be happy you didn't misdiagnose a real patient, and then try to think of where you went wrong in your thought process to ensure that next time, you'll do better. Everyone makes mistakes (myself included, hard as it may be to believe). How someone responds to their mistakes is a true testament to their integrity, maturity, and character.

I don't know what to say about how she acted. Such immaturity at this age is simply inexcusable. No one said anything that was even remotely critical of her and her work. Just makes me wonder how crazy my classmates really are.

Hostel Part 2 Review

So it seems like most of my successful posts around here come from my attacking movies for their shortcomings, or critiquing Collin Ferrel's sexual prowess, so I've decided to review Hostel Part 2 since Collin Ferrel hasn't been having any widely publicized sex lately.

So let's start by discussing what Hostel was. Hostel was a rather amusing movie from 2005 that essentially taught American audiences a few things about Eastern Europe, since the average American doesn't know where Eastern Europe is, much less, what it is like. So here is a sampling of the rules that the initial Hostel taught us:

• Eastern European girls are all hot.
• Eastern European girls will seduce you and then sell you to the mob for money.
• The power drill is a very versatile tool that can be used for other things than drilling into wood. For example, it can drill into human knees.
  
• Do not attempt to stand up and walk when your Achilles' tendons have been cut halfway - you'll just fully tear them and then look really pathetic trying to crawl your way to safety.
• When your fingers are cut off, you start projectile vomiting.
• Don't run with a chainsaw when there's blood on the floor - you may slip and sever your leg.
• When you sever someone's optic nerve, copious amounts of a yellow fluid with the consistency of tapioca pudding will start spewing forth from the severed nerve ending.
• Don't fuck with a gang of little kids - they'll bash your brains in.
• When you cut off someone's finger with a scalpel. they lose more blood from that than when you slit their throat.

So great, with this kind of track record, we clearly need a sequel. And what better way to create a sequel than to set it up such that every possible victim is female! Misogynistic torture is clearly what America craves now that Rosie O'Donnell is done attacking that skinny blonde chick every day.
The film starts with a bunch of girls in Rome or some other part of Italy drawing naked people for art class. And the film gets itself off to a great start by showing some guy's schlong almost immediately. The characters, who are essentially Girl 1, 2, and 3, are introduced and immediately type-casted into some sort of role. For example, Girl 1 (Beth) is more or less normal, but they make sure that you understand she is insanely wealthy and practically spoiled, Girl 2 (Lorna) is a super nerd whose nerdiness is really beyond ridiculous and knows no bounds, and Girl 3 is the token slut, played by Bijou Phillips, who does a terribly unconvincing job of being the slut by not ever getting naked in the film.

So on the train ride to Prague to do some partying over in the Czech Republic (because apparently Italian night clubs aren't cool enough, though they did correctly portray Italian men as greasy sleezebags...) they try to score some drugs from some Italian guys while nerdy girl guards her stuff, and the guys make it clear that they want to rape the girls so they book it back to their train room, and then the nerdy girl is crying because her Ipod is stolen. Some chick comes in and long boring story short, convinces them to go to Slovakia or some other former Soviet Block country - I wasn't paying attention, I was too busy hoping that the terrible dialogue would come to end. No such luck.

They arrive in Slovakia or whatever and check into some Hostel where the sleazy proprietor tells them about a party that "will be sexy good time" outside the Hostel, and the girls run off to do something, while he hands them the keys to their room. For whatever reason they just run off without their passports, which sleazy hostel guy is currently in possession of. Yeah, when I'm in some shady foreign country, I just run around without my passport too... Anyway, we watch as he runs off to some sectioned off part of the hostel and scans the passports and emails them to someone. At this point, we get one of the more amusing parts of the film - a bunch of rich guys bidding on the girls via their Treos, palms, and laptops. Finally some overly crass rich guy wins the bid, and starts shouting in exhilaration at his Asian golfing mates, who are thoroughly confused.

Now we are introduced to two characters, Douche Bag Business Guy #1 and Relucant Subordinant to DBBG#1 (Stuart). DBBG starts giving over-the-top speeches about the badasses they will undoubtedly become because they will kill some defenseless girl, while Stuart sits there nervously. Apparently he agreed to this because he hates his wife for constantly emasculating him. Boohoo.

I love you, Faticus.

To spare you some annoying details, Lora is whisked away by some fat guy that she has fallen for at the party, and he takes her on a boat ride straight to the mob, who put a bag over her head and take her to the torture center, where they strip her naked, chain up her feet and suspend her upside down. Oh yeah, they also gag her - finally, something happens that I can approve of. So they suspend her upside down over something that looks like a bathtub, and then light a bunch of candles and leave her - upside down, naked, and whimpering.

Then this crazy bitch enters:

Rawr! I will do bad things because I wear a cloak!

The she proceeds to get nekkid, and lie down underneath the also nekkid nerdy girl. She then pulls out a large scythe, and starts running it up and down the nerdy chick's naked back and buttocks, then proceeds to start hacking the shit out of her back, causing a rather inexplicable amount of blood to start pouring onto her. She's clearly getting off on all the blood and screaming that nerdy chick is doing (crazy bitch cut her gag prior to slashing her), but it's not quite enough. She then pulls out a smaller scythe, and proceeds to slice her throat open, resulting in a geyser of arterial spray.

Oh God, all this blood is so hot! (Nipples Censored to Protect the Stupid)

So we get one dead virgin nerdy girl and one crazy woman who needs blood in order to enjoy a masturbation session. She should never have fallen for that fat guy - ladies, let this be a lesson to you. Don't try hooking up with fat dudes. If you are hot, even if you are a little nerdy, hook up with slim French guys - we won't send you off to some crazy bitch. Plus, fat guys usually have diabetes, and one of my Biochem professors seemed to indicate that that was a bad thing.

So we need to get the other girls to bite it now. The slut gets captured somehow, I forget how it happened, because, to be honest, I was busy bidding on this red-headed chick on my Blackber- err, I mean, reading my emails during that part, and then the normal chick gets captured too, but they do her in an elaborate fashion. First she evades capture at the spa, and then is chased by the mob, who she evades, but trips and is accosted by a gang of random 10 year old kids, but is rescued by the train-station girl and some old guy. The old guy proceeds to have the kids perform fellatio on his gun (no, not *THAT* gun you pervs) then sticks a silencer on it, and proceeds to shoot who he falsely perceived to be the leader. Meanwhile, train-station girl takes her to her mansion, and sticks her in bed and says she'll call the cops. But, when the girl looks out the window, she sees a black hummer pull up and a ton of mob guys step out. She's been set up, oh no! But first she runs into a room filled with severed heads, including the survivor of the first movie. I was pissed because he was cool, or at least much more likable than these new characters. Anyway, she gets whisked off to the torture center, and the business guys get paged that their "clients" are ready, which causes business douche #1 to violently throw the prostitute off of him, who was in the middle of fellating him. Obviously she sucked at it (HA!).

Slovakia sucks. At least the Italian guys would buy us dinner first!

So the business guys enter, get dressed up like the torture douches that they need to be, and then start fiddling around with the knives and so forth that are in the dressing room, and the main business douche starts talking about how pyscho he's going to get and blah blah blah. Meanwhile Stuart just sits and nods his head like the timid little loser that he is. God I hate Stuart. Though I do hate the obnoxious business guy more because he acts just like someone who was in a frat. Come to think of it, I really don't like anyone in this movie.

So the whackos are escorted to their intended victims. Douche Business Guy decides to run at his screaming, and bound girl with your standard circ saw, sticking it in her face and laughing maniacally and her panicked face and muffled screams. When he lunges at her to slice her up, the cord slips out of the socket, and the saw is rendered impotent. Meanwhile Stuart is having a conversation with the bound and gagged Beth, saying he doesn't know what he's doing and why he's here, and that he's all freaked out. Should have thought about that before booking a flight to Eastern Europe for the express purpose of killing a brunette, you dumbass.

Ca-Ca-Can I... touch the boobies? Please? I'll be gentle.

Anyway, it soon becomes clear that our favorite douchebag has found an extension cord, so Bijou is pretty much screwed. Or is she? He lunges at her with the saw, and accidently cuts her forehead, causing the blade to get lodged in her skull. This clearly freaks him out, because when he sees the blood and her frantic crying/hyperventilation, he turns pale and bolts out of the room. Not such a badass now that you've seen blood, eh? The mob yells at him that he must kill her as per the contract, so he tells them to go fuck themselves. That was probably a stupid idea. The mob unleashes the hounds, so to speak, and douchebag #1 becomes Purina puppy chow for some ravenous German shepards.

Meanwhile, the mob is confused as to what to do with the half-dead girl that's sitting in a pool of her own blood (and presumably urine) in room #4, so they take some pictures of her, and try to resell her at a discount to some of the torture-aficionados currently in the facilities. Surprisingly, Dick Cheney and Alberto Gonzales were not present. But Ruggero Deodata was, though he was too busy carving up some guy's leg for dinner. Get it! The guy directed Cannibal Holocaust, and he's busy eating people! GENIUS! Anyway, Stuart is getting pissed as Beth reminds him of his wife, plus he just saw his dead friend's bloody corpse being wheeled off, so he agrees to buy the girl, and apparently dispatches her off-camera. He comes back with Bijou's ear and ties it around Beth's neck as a keepsake from her departed friend. This obviously freaks Beth out.

When I get out of this chair, you will SIT DOWN when you pee, bitch! Do you understand me?

Beth, being the empowered female that she apparently has recently become, decides to use Stuart's obvious inferiority complex against him, and starts talking dirty to him and tells him how turned on she is by his macho-manliness. He, being the emasculated he-baby that he is, unties her, and pins her to the floor, somehow expecting some action despite the 30 pounds of clothing, including leather apron, that he is wearing. Maybe there's a slot to stick the penis through? Who knows. Anyway, he pins her to the ground and starts talking how nasty they're going to get. Beth obviously has other ideas, as she goes to grab a metal pole, and starts beating the crap out of Stuart with it. Poor Stuart.

So now Stuart is strapped to the torture chair, and Beth is poking a screwdriver into his ear to try to get him to tell her the code to open the door. So he gives in fairly quickly, Beth smashes the security camera in the room (the Russian mob isn't paying attention to the camera anyway since they are busy reading a magazine), and she enters the code. Unfortunately for her, only the mob can unlock the door. However, Beth is not only spoiled and rich, but also somewhat crafty, and decides to open Stuart's fly and place his nuts in-between a pair of hedge trimmers, while she waits for the guards to come.

When the guards come, they are greeted by the site of their paying client, Stuart's, nuts placed squarely between the pair of garden shears that Beth is wielding. They draw their guns and call their boss while Stuart yells at them to shoot her - apparently having his nuts in a vice by a woman that looks like his wife, who we are clearly notified throughout the film had his nuts in a vice, figuratively speaking, isn't too appealing to him. Anyway, the boss comes, and says that she's to die, but she says she'll pay them to allow her to kill Stuart and become a member of the torture-killer club. Being the money-grubbing bastards that they are, they talk, and she makes it clear that she is rich beyond their wildest dreams, and to prove her point, she snaps the shears shut, slicing off Stuart's johnson and balls in one graphic close-up, where they clearly built a very fake looking prosthetic male genitalia, which is followed by a gush of blood, as the guards look on in disbelief, and the boss smirks with amusement. She quips, "Let him bleed to death" and walks out of the room, while Stuart is shrieking like... well, like someone who has just been castrated.

Now Beth gets tatooed as all members of the Torture-Killer club do, and waltzes out knowing that none of her future boyfriends will ever forget to put the toilet-seat down, seeing as she just castrated some guy. But first, she has to give that train-station girl a piece of her mind. She gets those annoying little brats from the gang to steal train-station girl's purse, and then trip her. Beth is waiting patiently... with a huge battle-axe, which she uses to decapitate poor little train-station girl's head with. The kids then begin to play soccer with train-station girl's head. The end. The girl who is essentially Paris Hilton lived while everyone else died.

Does this axe go well with my Gucci?

So what did we learn from this film?

• Italian men are gross, sleazy, and will steal your Ipod even as you are guarding it.
• Anyone that claims that there are great things to do in Eastern Europe is trying to kill you.
• Don't let some weirdo keep your passport.
  
• Never fall for fat guys, much less trust them. Especially if they have a goatee.
• Some women require the blood of other women to properly get off.
  
• Weird American business guys want to kill young girls, instead of have sex with them.
  
• If you are going to kill someone with a circ-saw, makes sure you have an extension cord.
• Do whatever the Russian mob tells you to do.
• Don't attempt to have sex with someone who you were in the process of killing.
• Never keep any shears of any kind around if there is even a slim chance that an angry woman is nearby - you may lose your naughty bits.

So yes, Hostel 2 truly was a movie of epic suckitude. Maybe director Eli Roth should have included more naked women who weren't covered in blood or being tortured to balance out all the man-chicken in this film? Or, I dunno, actually try to build tension or make it scary, or throw out some attempts at dark humor, ie, make the movie not be a tremendous waste of time and $10.

My Not So Triumphant Return

So I realize that it's been an incredibly long time since I did an update. I basically got totally confused once the blogger moved over to google and couldn't figure out how to log-in, so instead of doing what any normal person would have done, and just spend the extra 10 minutes reading about what had happened, and then successfully log in, I decided to get really annoyed and just give up. After reading a friend's blog, I remembered I had an account and decided to figure things out and log back on.

There are quite a few experiences that probably would have amused some of you people out there that occurred since my last post and this one, but I don't think I'm going to bother recounting those stories. The biggest change right now is that I have been accepted to an Allopathic Medical School, which we shall just call Miskatonic University (kudos to anyone that recognizes this), as I will undoubtedly be making some jokes at its expense sometime in the near future, and it's probably best that certain people don't know about it, because I have a feeling they will not find it amusing. More to come...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WHY?!?!?!

Applications and LOR: Bite Me

Dear God this whole med-school application thing is ridiculous. You would think that you were signing up to enter some institution that would require hundreds of hours of your time, and mold you from an otherwise normal human being into some sort of know-it-all professional who others entrust with their lives or something. All joking aside, the application is a rather monumental task. Now that I'm finished entering all the information in the world about myself, and every class that I ever took, the name, the units, and the grade received, I now have to come up with the greatest personal statement ever; something that will make the readers wet themselves with joy or something, and make them say, "My God, this guy absolutely MUST be allowed to digitally probe my rectum some day!!! For my health, of course..."

And in the background of all this are the coveted Letters of Recommendation; where my professors and mentors are supposed to get all teary eyed and talk about how they would love to have me as their doctor. But before they can do that, I have to contact them. And it's the most awkward thing ever.

Dear Dr. Guy,

Remember all those times I came to your office hours to come talk to you? Yeah, I kept you company back then, and now it's time for you to own up to your end of the unwritten bargain; I need you to write me a totally badass letter that will undoubtedly get me into the greatest med-schools ever. I want your letter to have AdComms dueling to the death over me.

Kthnxbye,

Angry Frenchy

So yeah, that's basically how the LOR go. So far, I've lined up multiple people that I will send off similar emails to, and hopefully they'll respond positively to me (I haven't really stepped on anyone's toes, so I don't see why they wouldn't), and write me some awesome letters. And the awesome letters, in return, will get me into some awesome schools.

So that brings us back to the Personal Statement. Basically, in this essay, I've got to exploit the crap out of my younger brother's illness, and make it appear as if it almost killed him, and then talk about how I became a better, and wiser person as a result of it. And, as a result of it, decided I can only be a doctor now. Since I really have no "real" hardships of my own (though I'm sure they'd love to hear about my current situation with "Sandy" and Dickus Minimus), I have to exploit the hardship of someone else. Because you can't be a doctor unless you exploit someone else's suffering for personal gain. That's the rule. Me talking about what I learned in life and through college would be boring to AdComms, who'd probably use my PS as toilet paper. But when someone is suffering in it, and I'm making it sound totally interesting, they'll love me.

Such is the world, and such is life. I guess.

MCAT Scores

So my MCAT scores are coming in today. I'm really a nervous wreck at this point. First, this thing with the girl that we will just call Sandy for now, then her crazy ex boyfriend, then my personal statement, then my job apps, then my Med school apps, and now this, the piece de resistance, which will either be the icing on my cake that is my med school application, or it could be the dent in my Lamborghini.

Yes, that's right. I just compared my professional career, no, my life up to this point, to both a cake and a Lamborghini. Craziness.

I'll be updating this post when I get my scores back as to what I'm feeling.

EDIT: Holy crap, I got my MCAT scores back!!! I kicked the damn thing's ass!!! I feel like a freak now for being so overjoyed!!! Haha, it'll be Dr. Angry Frenchy soon enough!!! WOOOOOOOOOO-FUCKING-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!