drunken posting

I'ts really hard to type afte r4 sangritas, did you know htat? Also, tapas goes really well with drinking. My fingers keep wanting to go to the backspace ar, and I'm trying not to let them, becase that's cheating. Although this is probably not too muc worse than pre-bckspace non-drunk me, but still. It's cheating.

So several of my second year friends took me out ot drink and eat tonight at a tapas restarautn, and it was lovely. except we ended up talking about seoond year tests, USMLE step 1, etc, and one of the 4 girls was offended. sorry, sweetie! i really am. screw the shift key, who kneeds caps? I'm also watching "What Not to wear" and it's hard to concentrate on one or the other.

fuck neuro. screw it. who needs it? (excpet you, barbiegirl, you sicko, who likes neuro--you can be my neurologist when i turn retarded from studyin gneuro!) i'll study the 15 or so pages in baords and wards and BE DONE with it for the step 2.

i still can't feel my lips. and i'm having a hard time avoid ing the backspace bar, even aftr 4 sangritas (yes, i'm fully aware that i have no tolerance. so what!) time to cuddle with my adorable husband!!!!!! except rolling my head back makes me really dizzy--is it bpv, or am i just drunk??? DRUNK! ha, fuck you, neuro test!

Neuro's Over...

...and the test kicked my ass. Hard. All these patients with headaches and trouble walking and facial droops and lower motor neuron problems and localize this lesion narcolepsy somatization conversion stroke neurofibromatosis WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME OH GOD MAKE IT STOP I'LL BE A GOOD GIRL I SWEAR!!!!!

There will be drinking tonight. Oh yes, there will be drinking.

Where's Mine?

Man, I'm going to Burger King tonight!

I'm Such a Tweaker

I found myself sneezing violently earlier (something in the air?) and my lightning-speed reflexive action was to immediately shut my nose down. Or, my nasal turbinates instantly swelled shut and I could no longer breathe out of my nose. Damn. Sniffling, blowing my nose, and speaking in my oh-so-sexy stuffy nose voice, I decided it was time to take some medicine. But gasp! We were out of pseudoephedrine. Loratadine alone would simply not do; I needed some real power to unblock these nares. I took myself to the local CVS and priced out the goods.

Here's where I get in trouble. Pseudoephedrine is not only an amazing vasoconstrictor and nasal decontgestant, but it is also an ingredient in home-made crystal meth. My great state has decided that the way to stop meth heads from buying this dangerous chemical is to limit its sales to a certain amount (6 grams or two boxes), put the stuff behind the pharmacy counter, and make law-abiding citizens show ID and sign for the drug. I'm torn about this legislation: meth is a nasty, nasty drug, with absolutely zero beneficial properties; but I hate feeling like a druggie when I go buy my allergy medicine. I'm also uncertain about how effective this legislation will be in cutting down on crystal meth (although the senator who pushed this law had very high hopes). This article on PBS.com makes it sound as though a large portion of our crystal meth comes across the border (although I'm sure the home-brewed variety is common as well.)

I'm a nervous talker and a nervous giggler. Therefore, when I go to get my CVS brand pseudoephedrine, I can't just be cool and say "yeah, I need that one, please." No, I have to start sneezing and sniffling like crazy, saying stuff like "man, I can't breathe out of my nose." Out of curiosity, I almost asked the checker how much I was allowed to buy, but I decided against it. In my Gap sweater over button-down shirt and corduroys, I'm sure I looked like your standard meth head, but I still got so damned nervous! This happens every single time, too. I start commenting on how lame it is to sign for the stuff, and how bad my allergies are. One of these days a paranoid clerk is going to call the cops on me and I'm going to have to sniffle on him to prove I don't use meth.

Hangover: An Interpretive Blog

My eyeballs crack open this morning. The throbbing above my left eyeball makes me shut them again, and hide behind a pillow. Oh geez. How many drinks did I have last night? I had two beers. TWO. Thinking about beer makes me queasy, but I can't help but rail against my fate. TWO FUCKING BEERS. I even had a large bottle of water in between beers, and way too much pizza. Damn, that was good pizza. Ugh, pizza, I might throw up. Shit, my head really hurts. I roll onto my left side and discover the throbbing to be less. I get out of bed and stagger into the living room, gripping my forehead, to ask my husband to bring me some orange juice and to tell him that I need a big freaking hamburger and fries NOW. After gulping the orange juice, I lie back down, groaning every time the dog jumps on me or I mistakenly roll onto my right side. Oh, no. I'd always heard that orange juice was good for a hangover, but I forgot about my sensitive stomach. Now actively wishing for death, I crawl to the bathroom and lie on the cold tiles until, finally, the orange juice exits my body spectacularly. Instant relief. After crawling back to bed, still moaning every time I even THOUGHT about moving, my beloved hubby came through. He had already brought me orange juice, then walked the dog for me even though I'd said I would do it (I lied). He then drove across town to bring me Beck's Prime, handing me a glorious container of french fries right when I thought I would die right then and there. One fry went down easily, so I reached a pale shaking hand out for a second. Damn, that salt was so good. After a few sips of life-restoring iced tea, I inhaled my 1/2 lb burger and the rest of the large fries, gulped down the 2 3/4 lb tea (that's honestly how they label them), took my ibuprofen, and rejoined the human race.

I may still be wearing my pajamas, but at least I'm alive. Pediatrics is now OVER and at least I had fun last night before I died this morning and was resurrected by an enormous hamburger.