Oot

Sorry, I have been oot for a couple days, needed a brief recovery period from the whole non-stop interweb phenomena which dominates our lives these days. By that I mean, of course, I was sick of typing and so avoided saying anything. Now I have swung back into the controlling medium of the computer and will roll happily through excessive and for the most part entirely irrelevant rantings. I have tried to indicate to my students the ways in which free-writing resembles blogging, which I would have thought would make some connection with them as a pre-writing strategy, being as they are the internet generation and all, but apparently none of them have any sort of a blog. Frightening to think that I am more in touch with their age then they are.

Not much else is up at the moment, so I have very little serious content of note at all. On that note, lets begin with the giraffe. I was never a tremendous fan of the giraffe, largely because it was so popular with everyone else. Check yourself, however, because its not like I wasn't down with the big long-yellow necked motherfucker, I just wasn't giraffe crazy like so many little kids. I think the reason the giraffe was so cool was because no matter how aware you are of what a giraffe is and no matter how many times you have seen one in the past, nothing prepares you for the actual experience of seeing one again in person, every time its like "wo" (in the same way as, for instance, Mya's ass is). I don't know if there are any children whom have ever uttered the phrase "Giraffe, what is up with your neck" but someone should have, because it is fuckign long, like really fucking long. Every time you approach the giraffe pen you are thinking, now, I know that the giraffe is tall and has a long neck, and then you turn the corner and the giraffe's head is like 20 feet from its body and what the hell.

John Stevens got lucky last night and managed not only to stay in the competition, but to stay entirely out of the bottom 3. I knew, at some level, that he wasn't gonna go yet, because not only are there only 3 dudes left in the competition, but only one of them has any legitimate chance at all to win the competition. Mad props to Amy Adams, who got eliminated entirely illegitimately, since I would assume it was because she wasn't quite as skinny as Camile, who sings like someone shoved an overripe canteloupe in her fucking windpipe. Seriously, she has garbled her way through at least twice and what the hell are people thinking. There are plenty of better looking women to vote for in this deal, so that can't really be it. My only guess is that the entire state of Hawaii is voting for her, and since they are a time zone all to themselves, they get alot more votes for Camile then anyone else. My guess is that there were enough people who felt bad for John Stevens that they chose him, maybe in the end its better off to be absolutely horrible in the early weeks of the final competition. On the bright side of the elimination, Amy Adams will have no problems finding a gig in the music industry. If she is smart she has already rented an apartment in Nashville and called up some country music label, because when Paula Abdul tells you on national TV that the song you just did would be number one on the coutntry charts, you should sign that girl. 20 million people whose taste in music is often still extremely pliable watched that program, cash in baby.

So I went to this doctor dude today, regarding my back, at least potentially regarding my back. So I walked into this place and first of all, not such a professional looking place. I mean, it wasn't trashy, it wasn't dirty, but it certainly wasn't professional in the sense I would expect, it would be very much out of place in the Southern-Burbian area. The carpet was a little older or shabbier, the walls were a sort of off-white shade, not the crisp definitive shit that I normally see. The examination room was pretty small and stuff, and the doctor, surprisingly enough, was a big dude. I mean, he was bigger than me, and not like Brock Lesnar style, like, he and I could sit down together at an all you can eat pork buffet and look very normal together. If you had put a cowboy hat on this dude, set a pie in front of him and I would bet you money that his nickname was "Hoss." Basically, and this is what I didn't get, I had gone in there because my back is hurting and they dealt far more with general medical shit. Sure, I get the fact that I hadn't been in there before, you want to establish my medical history, whatever. I admittedly made some stuff up, because I just didn't know anything about it, which some might say is a poor choice when dealing with your doctor, but I am not real concerned, my fucking back just hurts. Anyway, after all this nonsense Dr. Hoss gave me a prescription for some muscle relaxants and physical therapy. Last time I did it that was very helpful, so I am glad to have it, The really fucked up component of all this is that at the end, the doctor is like, maybe we should get some x-rays. Let me remind everyone that I am not a medical doctor. That said, I thought this one was pretty fuckikng obvious, even if I had received my MD from Butthole State I could have told you that someone with back problems and no recent x-rays needs to get fucking x-rays. This gave me some increase in belief for the competency of this gentleman. So, he got up and shook my hand and left the room. So I sort of wait around and the nurse comes and brings me some stuff and I go out to the window and they give me some prescriptions. I am confused at this point until this woman hands me prescription slip number three, which is a prescription to get x-rays. This is something I had not seen before. Basically, this doctor's office doesn't have an x-ray machine.

I know very little about the economics of the medical profession, ammend that to nothing at all about the economics of the medical profession. I think, however, that if you want to go into business as a doctor, you need to understand that there are certain "start-up costs." You gotta be able to buy some swabs, some paper to cover up your bed-table thing, and, while admittedly a slightly bigger expense, you HAVE TO BUY A FUCKING X-RAY MACHINE!! You are a doctor and, seeing as you are a non-mutant, human doctor, you cannot see things going on inside the human fucking body. However, the essential function of your job is to know what is going on inside the human body, which means your office gets a 0 out of 100 rating. Maybe I have been spoiled by living somewhere with adequate facilities for patient diagnosis my entire life, but I like the whole idea of going to a doctor, having that doctor perform the tests required to determine something, and then telling me what that something is. For some reason this strikes me as a better alternative then the "Oh, you have something wrong with you, well, good thing you came in here. Why don't I just send you over to some other place and they can take a look. Thanks for dropping by. I'll be in the back of the office with a McRib."

As a final note, the elimination of Troy was not the highlight of the apprentice tonight, even though it was a legit decision. The highlight was the "NWOAAN" ("Next Week on an All New") which began by saying that they would give you a clue as to the big surprise of next week, then said this, literally:

"Two words:

Oma...

Rosa..."

I love this strategy for naming things, apparently the phrase "two words" no longer has to mean "two words." In fact, it can now just mean two different parts of one word. "Guess what I am going to have for dinner. Two words: pizz, a." "Dude, I lost something, have you seen it. Here is a hint, two words, wall, et." Maybe no one else understands how cool this is, but give it a try at some point in the next couple days. Whenever someone asks you a question hit them back with "two words: tu, ba." Also try to do it in the really deep scary voice the NBC announcer uses when he does those bits. It roxors.

Peace,

MB-K