Ball Sandwich and an Entire Sleeve of Crescent Rolls

It's the weekend before the first exam of the second year of medical school, so you can imagine that I am making the appropriate preparations. Just this Friday, I participated in the medical school Society Olympics, which is my favorite event blending arbitrary tribalism and complementary sandwiches.

The best event was one of the relay races called the "Ball Sandwich." Now, that may SOUND vaguely homo-erotic, but let me put you at ease. It was just two sweaty, muscular men linking arms and holding hands back-to-back, skipping together with a kickball wedged between them. And if that still makes you uncomfortable, you can also call it a "Man Sandwich."

Pictured above: A blurry ball sandwich. Please don't Google "blurry ball sandwich".

Well, time to get back to studying. And what powerful carbohydrate have I chosen to fuel my brain engine? Why, not an entire sleeve of cinnamon rolls, but rather an entire sleeve of crescent rolls!

Pictured above: This is not a sleeve of crescent rolls. This is half a sleeve. Multiply this by two, and you will understand both my study style and the reason I live alone.

The Wonders of Online Dating

In the olden days, men with crippling loneliness (like me) were forced to either write long stories with no point or be not-so-secretly gay. But now, with the invention of both intra and inter-nets, loneliness is just a click away! Here are some tricks to make your online dating experience a success! (I would call them tips, but let's be honest; just like real dating, all that we men have is deception.)

[Note: These are all actual messages I received from an actual online dating site]

Trick #1: Proportional Response

Worried about being overly excited or too reserved? Just keep it proportional. If it works for a military campaign, it works for a romantic invasion as well.

Pictured above: About as effective as "Shock and Awe."

Trick #2: Honesty

You are ugly. I am ugly. Let's just accept it.

Pictured above: For some reason, she didn't message me back...

Trick #3: Nerdity

Just nerd it up man, that's how you get awesome nerdy messages.

Pictured above: Is there really any better pick-up line?

Dude, It Was Just Hamlet With Lions

People are always asking me, "How do you stay so skinny after you eat so much?" After I explain my high parasite load and internal rumen system, I just show them a picture of my typical breakfast.

Pictured above: Lemon-meringue pie, apple fritter, and half a sticky bun. Well, sorry, I needed a snack if I was going to take the time to get a photograph.

Despite my love of refined and other sugars, I often sample the non-desserts other cultures have to offer. For example, just this weekend I explored Chicago's Greektown.

Pictured above: Moussaka from the Athena Restaurant. Not only was it delicious, it was also a perfect topographical replica of the cliff where Moussaka was dropped to his death by Jeremy Irons.

To help me better appreciate the Greek atmosphere, I brought along a companion familiar with the intricacies of the culture and language, as she had once lived in a "sorority." Though every time I inquired as to which one she belonged, she refused to tell me.

Pictured above: "Look, I don't want to ask your friend 'Delt.' Why can't you just answer me?"

Tips on Surviving Chicago (You Won't)

In the spirit of generosity, and to fulfill my court-ordered community service, I have decide to bestow upon you, the humble reader, some of what I've learned during my year of living in Chicago.

1. Weather

Invest in a sturdy umbrella. Some locals joke that a "Chicago umbrella" is one turned inside out by the wind, but this is inaccurate. A "Chicago umbrella" is one turned inside out by the wind and then is rigged to be counted as several votes in a local election.

2. Subways

You will miss your train. It will speed off while you are desperately trying to run between the closing doors. To prevent yourself from looking foolish, I recommend ghost riding the train. Just start dancing along it as it leaves, though you must be familiar with proper "stuntin'" decorum.

3. Crime

Like I have mentioned before in previous episodes, I am a intern for the local Yakuza gang. Though this just means getting coffee for the more senior guys and getting a large tattoo of a dragon fighting a tiger across my chest, it has also allowed me to really get involved in the "crime scene" in Chicago. It's a lot like the music scene, but with fewer moustaches.

4. Making friends

One word: overrated. You know what really makes life exciting? Making enemies. The next time you meet someone who shares your interests, just punch them in the solar plexus and whisper, "Remember this day forever. Also, you should follow my blog."

5. Clothing

Clothes are expensive, and between pretending to be a doctor and punching strangers, you are bound to wear them out. But when they get old, just turn your clothes into different clothes!


Pictured above: A torn shirt, now a brand new handkerchief/pocket square! I know, right? And you said my life couldn't get any lonelier.

That's Dr. Liar to You

Today in my medical ethics class, we all agreed that it can be appropriate to lie to our patients. Oddly enough, I seemed to be the only one passionate about using this deception in the future. Here is an out-of-context quote that will probably haunt me later in my career:

"I'm so excited to use medical jargon to confuse my patients!"

Seems fine to me. If you are going to tread an ethically gray line, you might as well try out some moral breakdancing along the way.

An Entire Sleeve of Cinnamon Rolls

My first week of medical school is now under my belt, and my soul still has yet to be crushed. I was looking forward to becoming a soulless husk of a man, but so far my schooling has been entirely too uplifting and supportive. I did, however, appreciate watching a full episode of House during class. But I must admit that I am more of a Wilson man, myself.

Pictured above: Oh, Hugh. I can't stay mad at you.

Currently, I am relaxing at my apartment, enjoying some of my patented raspberry-flavored coffee. It is the metaphorical equivalent of making my coffee wear an ascot.

Pictured above: If I ever become a rapper, I want to put the line "Sippin' coffee from a dollar-store mug" into one of my songs.

Although I spent my morning buying butternut squash, an eggplant, two yellow zucchinis, and five banana peppers (for $3.75 total), I indulged in one of my more embarrassing habits: I ate an entire sleeve of Jewel-brand cinnamon rolls.

Pictured above: Multiply this by two, and now you understand my shame.

Last night, I was able to mingle with the other members of Castillo College, the Hufflepuff of Feinberg. The group of us were entertained by our physician mentor Dr. Castillo at his home, where we proceeded to shamelessly consume food and drink. I deceived up to ten of my fellow students into being my "friends." As I was draining their bank accounts this morning, I wondered if we had different definitions of "friend."

Pictured above: Dr. Castillo also gave us some sweet luggage tags. Next up, secret Castillo College handshake.

That's enough for now. I'm off to go thrift store shopping for some bow ties. A true gentleman should never be without two things: a bow tie and an assortment of fine jams.

Pictured above: What? You don't have an assortment of fine jams?

Clearlance Sale

My biological mother arrived in town last weekend to "visit me," giving me an excuse to explore Chicago's more Japanese offerings. What I discovered was very delicious, slightly hilarious, and mildly racist.

But before Asian-ing around, we got brunch at a local cafe. Brunch, for those who are unfamiliar with it, is a meal served between breakfast and lunch during what is known as the "gay hour." At this establishment, that meant $1 mimosas and $1 bloody mary's.

Pictured above: Really? The coffee is still $2.50?

We then traveled to the Japanese market up in Arlington Heights. Luckily for us, they were having a clearlance sale.

Pictured above: You may laugh, but their transparent weaponry was very reasonably priced.

We also ate some delicious eel at the food court. Eel joins other food items (such as sea cucumber and seaweed) as the slimy, gross looking things that live in the ocean that Japanese people like to eat.

Pictured above: You can really taste the slime.

My mother also patronized a local, Japanese used-bookstore. This was of little entertainment to me. I am unfamiliar with Japanese writing, despite being fluent in Japanese shame.

Pictured above: Some Japanese stuff labeling other Japanese stuff.

Exhausted from a day of eating Japanese food, we checked into a nearby hotel. When I awoke the next day, I was appalled at what my mother had chosen for breakfast.

Pictured above: Country gravy over rice. She should have to forfeit her Japanese citizenship for this.

Atrocities aside, it was a memorable trip. I even got some ice-cream, or as the Japanese call it: "ice-cream".

Pictured above: The world's greatest ice cream flavor: green tea. All other flavors are just temporary fads (I'm looking at you, mint-chocolate chip).

Poppin'

While shopping at H&M, I saw three mannequins dressed like this: two polo shirts, with both collars popped.

Rather than be upset by this, I've decided to embrace this inevitable evolution of fashion. Already, I am predicting next season's big hit: a shirt made up entirely of popped collars.

Science Initiation

You are about to hear about a ritual never before documented by modern investigation: the savage initiation into scientific research.

When men and women of "normal" professions, such as firemen or nurses, go through their daily lives, they are able to enjoy a reasonable amount of comfort. They know that there is vocational transparency in how they shoot water from a hose or stab children in the arm with needles. The public appreciates their service, often showing their gratitude in the form of popular song.

But what of that shady cabal of professionals known as "scientists"? They are universally feared for their excess of evil and unkempt hair, and thus remain a mystery. I penetrated their cult to shed some light on this dark, modern-day magick.

I entered the nefarious laboratory camera-in-hand, ready to capture evidence of hideous mutant, hybrid man-beasts or bubbling cauldrons of corrosive acids for alchemy (now outlawed all US States, with the exception of Massachusetts, where it is mandatory). But I instead found this:


Document A: The laboratory. This was the show-floor, available for public viewing, appeasing the expectations of a gullible populace. The real research was being conducted thirty stories below the earth, in the famous Northwestern science bunker/fallout shelter/fallout generator.

Upon my entrance, I was blindfolded and forced to recite the names of Nobel laureates. When I got to Linus Pauling, I was forced to drink a gallon of orange juice.

After a number of subsequent trials, including one where I had to identify each element of the periodic table by smell alone, I had become one of them. I had truly joined their ranks and become a scientist.


Document B: The trophy. I was presented this coffee mug as a testament to my initiation. Also, the phrase "Neurobiology & Physiology" was branded onto my back with a cattle iron.

My colleagues assured me that the cup will come in handy when I attend lengthy lab meetings or blood oaths. In either, it is important to stay hydrated.

A Glimpse Into My Life

I just drank milk directly from the jug. I wonder if this is a sign of future bachelor clichés to come.