Saturday, January 29, 2011

Birth of a Hero

Most birthdays are a time to celebrate the day when an individual's human incubation period has ended and is subsequently expelled into the world of the living. However, like many classic heroes, I was born not of man, but rather was pulled from the chest of Poseidon* and raised by orcas.

*Note, some historians claim I was born of Zeus. This is false, as Zeus was busy at the time of my birth trying to pick up ladies in the form of a bull.

Pictured above: Zeus's famous party trick of appearing as a shower of sparks.

Once I had established myself as King of the Killer Whales, I rode the largest of them to the vast ocean shores of Kansas, where I entered the realm of the land-dwelling mortals. So, on that day every year, I eat cake with my friends.

Pictured above: My brother celebrates my birth by mocking my love of bowed ties.

My mother, who knows me so well, sent me a package of my most favorite things: material goods and perishable foods!

Pictured above: The tongs even match my apartment's green color scheme. Greatest mom ever.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Speed Dating 2: Beastiary

Loyal readers may remember my previous failed attempt at speed-dating a few months ago, where even my best lies could not convince law students to go on a date with me. But now, armed with a whole new quiver of lies, I drew my bow towards another speed-dating adventure last night.

Pictured above: I was dater number 35, which is the most sensual multiple of seven.

Rather than retell all of my misadventures, I instead will provide for those unfamiliar with the speed-dating habitat an abridged beastiary of the kind of males present.

Ponytail Guy

Usually wearing an over-sized trenchcoat, Ponytail Guy has taken precious hours away from his Dungeons and Dragons league to appease his parents' wishes for him to "meet a nice girl." He usually knows better than to mention LARPing on the first date.

Leather-jacket Guy

He doesn't take off his leather jacket while in the bar; Leather-jacket Guy knows he's too cool for that.

Clearly-too-old Guy

Armed with a crew-neck sweater and glass of wine, Clearly-too-old Guy hopes that his obvious maturity will compensate for the fact he is hitting on 22-year-old girls.

Homeschooled Guy

Introducing himself with a firm handshake and a "nice to meet you," Homeschooled guy was raised with an appreciation for proper etiquette by his mother. You can ask her yourself, when he takes you to meet her on your second date.

Ed-Hardy Guy

Wearing a tight t-shirt, Ed-Hardy guy isn't afraid to show off the unsettling amount of muscles in his forearms.

Also, here is a collection of out-of-context quotes from the ladies of speed-dating last night:

"Sometimes I just want to be unhappy!"

"I've been a parole officer for 15 years."

"I hate doctors."

"I was just fired 4 hours ago."

"That's not your name. Show me your driver's licence."

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Spin the bottle, then intubate

Many of you are already aware of my aversion to any social encounters with my academic fellows. Meeting medical students outside of medical school is a transition my brain cannot handle. I cannot help but maintain my urge to out-compete my comrades even in a party setting. I still want to be in the top 98th percentile in cookies brought to the potluck and be at least two standard deviations above the average friendly conversation.

But regardless, I attended a party thrown by the MSTP's last night. I had only two rules:

1. I would wear a bow tie.
2. I would not participate in any drinking/sporting event combinations (i.e. beer pong, wine tennis, scotch jai alai, etc.).

Pictured above: Rule one is satisfied. I don't know if you can tell, but this is my party tie.

The hosts also requested that the attendees bring some foodstuffs to increase the spirit of togetherness. I was going to make a cake with the phrase "I will tolerate you all" spelled out in frosting, but I ran out of sugar.

Pictured above: White cheddar and brie biscuits. The key to good biscuits is to acidify the batter and serve them while exclaiming "Y'all want some biscuits!?"

The event itself was quite entertaining. We played all sorts of fun party games. For example, we had a lot of great rounds of medical spin-the-bottle, where instead of kissing the one that the bottle lands on, you have to intubate their trachea. Throw in some alcohol, and you've got yourself an old-fashioned medical school hootenanny.

Pictured above: A "hootenanny" in progress. Things didn't get going until people started whipping out the blood pressure cuffs.

I also had the chance to employ the tried and true Jesse Thorn method of making new friends. I would introduce myself to them and then make some sort of joke about their profession/hometown/appearance. If they laughed at my joke, then they would be my friend. If they didn't, I would hate them forever. I kept track on my party clipboard, which I later transfered to my party Excel spreadsheet.

Pictured above: Love and hate, respectively.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

A Satirical Canadian Invitation

By now, I realize that I have become an internet super-sensation. I have had one humor piece published in an obscure internet literary publication and my blog has literally dozens of readers. Naturally, this means I get approached by many powerful organizations. Literature publishers promise me the full "Hodgman-treatment," and certain public radio groups guarantee a "Sedaris-explosion."

Normally I turn these down, (I'm too busy saving lives in medical school), but I received an invitation recently that piqued my interest.

Pictured above: A satirical Canadian invitation.

Although I am well known for my "Canadian" style of humor (I cannot go a week without mentioning hilarious poutine anecdotes or Prime Minister Harper's political antics), I had to turn this opportunity down. According to the blood-pact I made last summer with the Northwestern MSTP, I am not allowed to receive any sort of outside payment while in the MD/PHD program (including, I assume, whatever a "cheque" is. I believe it is some kind of communist money used in Canada).

But you, my internet followers, get the special treat of some of my classic, satirical Canadian News headlines. Enjoy.

Socialized rationing of the phrase 'eh?' sparks polite protest

Canadian Reserve to return to the "beaver-pelt" standard

Thousands of blackbirds do not fall from the sky over Montreal

Canadian man abroad accused of pretending to be Canadian

Thousands in Vancouver emerge from hibernation prematurely, forced to eat visiting film crews until the spring thaw