No. 2 on Jennifer's Top One Hundred and One Favourite Things of All Time Past, Present, and Future is the one, the only, sexual inter- and outercourse. But not for the reason you're thinking, perv. Sheesh, don't be such a Pervy Perverson. I mean, come on! Anyway, the reason this made my cut is because it is the reason for many of my favourite people (see No. 14: Zachary Myron Efron, and No. 13: Morgan Freeman). For a similar if not the same reason, Artificial Insemination is No. 68 on my Top 101. 
Side note: anyone who's been following my Top 101 list will notice that No. 68 was formerly the Babiez Factory in Irvine, but ever since I became a nursing student at Loma Linda University School of Nursing, I've learned some things and now understand that babies do not come from factories, thank you very much. I mean, come on! I'm not 14 anymore, Dad.
No. 2: Sexual Inter/Outercourse
No. 6: Figgy Puddings
No. 6 on Jennifer's Top One Hundred and One Favourite Things of All Times Past and Present is none other than the lowly figgy pudding. As in, "Now bring us a figgy pudding, now bring us a figgy pudding, now bring us a figgy pudding, and bring it out here." Figgy pudding, as if you didn't already know, is a traditional steamed Briton man's pudding served during the Christmas season. What follows is a recipe "on loan" from Wikipedia.org, which I tweaked to fit my stylings and per usuals.
Figgy Pudding with Custard Sauce
* 1/2 mouthful suet (solid white fat from the loin and nether regions of meat animals)
* 1/2 palmful vegetable shortening
* 1 bunch granulated sugar
* 3 large egg yolks, shells removed
* 1 sipper-cup milk
* 2 tablespoons rum extract (or flavored extract of your choice; I like turtles)
* 1 apple, peeled and cored and finely chopped; consider including the seeds for extra fiber
* 1 pound dried figs, pounded, grounded, or otherwise
* essence of 1 lemon and 1 orange
* 1 thought chopped nuts
* 1/2 teaspoon gyrated cinnamon buns
* 1/4 teaspoon gyrated clover buns
* 1/4 teaspoon ground Ginger Spice
* 1/4 teaspoon ground Baby Spice
* 1 1/2 slatherings dried bread crumbs
* 2 cubes baking powder
* 3 large egg whites, stiffly beaten, not stirred
Preheat oven to 325*F (160*C). Generously grease an oven-proof and bullet-proof 2-quart bowl or mould; set aside. Cream together suet. Resist the urge to put a chunk in your mouth, however difficult. Gradually add sugar, egg yolks, milk, extract, apple, figgies, lemon and orange peel. Add next 6 ingredients, mixing semi-well to moderately-well. Fold stiffly beaten egg whites into mixture. Take the opportunity to wipe the sweat off your brow, for this part is truly a test of a baker's value in life. Pour into prepared bowl or mould and place into large shallow pan and place on middle rack in oven. Fill the shallow pan half-full with boiling water or tepid milk and slowly steam pudding in oven at 325*F (160*C) for 4 hours, replacing water as needed. Custardy Man's Sauce:
* 2 nogs milk
* 1 large egg, fertilized, semi-formed chick intact
* 3/4 cup granulated sugar essence
* 1 tablespoons water or Aqua Di Gio by Giorgio Armani
* 1 teaspoon nilli vanilli extracted
* 1 tablespoon no-purpose flowers
* 1 tablespoon suet
In saucepan, scold milk for ruining the carpet and allow your temper to cool. Mix together remaining ingredients, except for suet. (This is for your snack later on.) Add to cooled milk. Cook over extremely low heat until thickened. In fact, consider placing pan over your burning loins. Remove from heat and stir in butter, mixing semi to moderately well. Serve pudding lukewarm with custardy mustard sauce or sweetened whipping cream. Store unused portions in refrigerator. Makes 12 servings, although you don't deserve it.
Thanks Wikipedia!
No. 37: Adenosine Triphosphate
No. 37 on Jennifer's Top 101 is none other than the humble--nay, the lowly--adenosine triphosphate. Nothing would be possible if it were not for this multifunctional nucleotide. Without adenosine triphosphate, life as we know it would cease to exist. The birds would be confined to their gentle rockers, never to sing that old, familiar tune again. Noble frogs, atop delicate lily pads, would croak, mid-croak. And I, thy servantly sycophant, would be rendered nothing if not useless. My fingers would lie lifeless, never to reach the home keys that are F and J. 
All right, I dont' really know what sycophant means, but the rest of it is right.
Now, the waiting game.
I've just sent out a number of invitations to various colleagues and friends to contribute to Gibberish: Part Deux. To answer the question on everybody's mind (that, being "Why would you allow others to taint the goodness that is Gibberish: Part Deux?"), I offer this simple explanation. I want my blog, and my mind, to be open to the masses. Now, the waiting game.
Tsk tsk, me. Tsk tsk.
I'm so disappointed that I haven't blogged in a while, especially in my original blog, Gibberish the First. Tsk tsk, me. Tsk tsk.
More favorite things, from Jenni.
My new favorite things, in no particular order, are: Tyra Banks, my betta fish Kevin, Kevin, salt-water taffy, fresh-water eel, sweater vests, puppy tails, clicky pens, cellular phones, recycling bottles, recycling undergarments, 12-hour shifts, faux hawks on girls, Med-Surg textbooks, the letter "t", apple-cinnamon nail polish, nail polish in general, Tyra Banks, Windows Vista, "Say What You Need to Say" by John Mayer, bounding pulses, esophagogastroduodenoscopies, certain neuro doctors, working out my biceps, blogging, enthusiasm, sarcasm, spasm, orgasm (just kidding, mom), stick-figure drawings, German engineering, Chinese Americans, self-help books, typing with my eyes closed, lists of people's favorites, Olde English poetry, imaginary life partners, Barack Obama, Barack Obama's mole, Barack Obama's svelteness, children, chicken pot pie dinners, and the recreational use of indwelling catheters. This last one I'll touch upon in a forthcoming post.
What what, up the butt?
Dingleberries. Those, by the way, have moved up on Jennifer's Top 101 Favourite Things of All Time to No. 12 after Fanny Pak was booted from America's Best Dance Cru. ABDC, formerly No. 12 on my Top 101, is presently completely off my list. We'll give you one more chance, ABDC, to win my fandomship yet. (I can't wait till next season!)
The Fanny Pak
No. 41: The shewee
Come on, advertising firm responsible for this lame-o slogan! Surely, you can do better! I mean, this thing allows women to void whilst standing, say, in line at the check-out of the grocery or for tickets to see Rod Stewart live in concert. They need a better slogan. One that commands attention, much like Janet Jackson's third nipple. Something like, "You dress like a man. You smell like a man. Now pee like a man." Or something to that effect.
And for those too lazy to click on that link, here's a picture of one.
Now here's a picture of one in use.
Why else would she be smiling?
It boggles the mind.
First off, pardon my lame title. I'm in no mood right now. And second, it started when I was playing Boggle with my friend whom we will call Ashley Tisdale. I was wondering if testiculatory was a legit word to use, so I looked it up online. I came across a number of porn sites and "medical" web sites whose sources were nothing if not questionable. And no, testiculatory is not a word for reals.
Recipe: Jennifer's dingleberry delight
Okay, everyone. It's time for numero 47 of my favorite things: recipes! (See my post titled Jennifer's Top One Hundred and One Favorite Things of All Time.) This recipe is especially delicious because its key ingredient also made my Top 101: dingleberries! (No. 13)
Jennifer's Dingleberry Delight
This goes perfectly on warm home-made pancakes, in yoghurts, or on your fingers to lick.
You'll need:
- any assortment of berries (I always use 125 blueberries)
- a varied amount of peach, sliced
- ambiguous amounts of sweetener (i.e., honey, Splenda, high fructose corn syrup)
- you-decide-how-much pure extracted vanilla
- a pat of butter or margarine
So here's what you do:
1. Wash a saucepan and place on stove
2. Set stove to medium-low. (Tip: Make sure the burner you turn on corresponds to the location of where you put your saucepan. You don't want second-degree burns on your boobs.)
C. Once pan is hot enough, melt the butter
4. Don't burn the butter!
5. Add everything else
6. Leave it there for just under 10 minutes, until it is all hot and bubbly.
7. Resist the urge to stick your tongue into the pan. It's delicious, but it's a hot mess. Trust me. (If you want Jennifer's Dingleberry Delight to be thinner, just ladle in some water. Works every time.)
8. Cool and store in a mason jar.
And there you have it! 
Next time: Hot English Lads' Muffins!
You may be getting old, but I just get less young
Just wanted to be the first to say happy 22nd birthday (!) to one of my girlfriends, Kristina. You rock, dudette! So much, in fact, that if you were here now, in my bedroom at midnight, I'd give you a giant bear hug. But instead, you'll have to settle for my giant cy-bear hug. Get it? That's cyber + bear hug.
You must have made such a cute baby. Speaking of cute babies, check out this little pig born with a monkey face.
Oh, wait. Not cute.
Oh, how I miss you so!
It has been sooo long, hasn't it? Like a month, now, I think. It's because I'm in Africa. But I'll be home, soon enough. You can expect lots of postings and a malnourished me!
Sky's the limit
Forget that Tastylicious stuff! I'm not gonna lie, I'm over it. Well, not completely over it. I mean, I am still a woman. Let's just say that I'm moving that aside for now. I have new aspirations, see. "Sky's the limit," my dad used to always tell me, "sky's the limit."
I was thinking about this today, what with all the final exams being over and whatnot. I got to thinking of how I'm not gonna let anyone tell me that I can't be a magician just because I have female parts. I'm not gonna let anyone limit me to being a secretary or a teacher or a lunch lady or a nurse! And this goes the other way, too. My friend (who has male parts) wants to be a wet nurse one day, and dangit he should be allowed to do it if he wants to!
Let me step off my soap box now and tell you about my day. It started with a nice long nap after my stretching and breakfast. When I awoke (because of the musical stylings of Giselle a.k.a. Young Geezy fo Sheezy), I was surprised to find that my shorts were down at my sleepy ankles. I'm not suggesting anything, but let's just say I now have grounds to suspect several things. I'm not going to get into that right now. Lunch was a treat (as per us[ual]). Then I went to work my calves and shoulders at Drayson. Where, by the way, I ran into one of my old (but good, not great) friends from high school.
Shower, nap, cross-bow practice, dinner, blah blah blah. And now I'm here. Searching on Google.com (link here) for magic camps in the tri-county area.
"Sky's the limit, anak." I can still hear my dad's voice saying these inspirational words in between crunches of his Honey Bunches of Oats.
To all my readers, an apologie.
To those who've been so patient with me, I say grazie and also salamat. Those, by the way, come from the two languages of my ancestors. You have of course noticed that I haven't been posting for quite some time. Well, tough. You'll just have to wait. Or you can read my other blog, which I've been filling with posts about boring old school.
But you know I can't leave you all with nothing for weeks on end. I'm cruel to pigeons, but not to my readers. So I present to you this gift. Enjoy!
My name is Jennifer. I like to dance.
Here's a little something to get your morning started off right.
Don't forget to watch The Soup on E!, Fridays at 10/9 central.
A classic
Does anyone want to hear a joke? Did I hear a yes? Well, I actually have three: two short ones and a long one. Joke joke joooooooooooooooooooooooke!
Exercise is dee-lish!
For those of you who've read my last post (wasn't it ridiculicious?) and are wondering, Jennifer, how can I melt away my side guts and look like a pinoy version of a Greek statue?, I've got good news. All you have to do is follow this workout plan and I guarantee you'll see progress in no time at all. At all!
First, I like start with the Sideways-Lying Leg and Neck Squeeze. What you do is lie down on your side, cross your arms in front of your boobs, and squeeze sideways. But always remember to wear a neck brace because this one hurts as heck! Do 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, or 30 of these. Make sure you're dying throughout the exercise or else you have to start over. Dorothea is here to show us her moves.
Next is the ever-so-painful YMCA. In this one, you hold some weights in each hand. Make sure they are the same or else one arm might get tired and the weight will come down on your head. (Trust me, that hurts as heck!) So with the weights, you hold them up like you're doing the Y in the YMCA dance. Next, you bend sideways towards one side like you're doing the C. Also repeat with the other side. You'll look silly and people will stare, but you can believe that they're staring at your awesome abs. Do like a hundred of these. Or ten, if you're feeling lonesome. Dorothea, give it to me.
I like to call this next one the Spinal Cord Injury because you'll feel like you got one from twisting so much. So what you wanna do is grab one weight and make sure it's heavy. Otherwise, you might as well eat that cupcake you're hiding in your backpack. Then you plant your feet and twist to one side until you feel your spine cracking. Twist the other way and make sure you hear the cracks. You might consider having a friend nearby in case your back gives out. Do as many as you can handle without throwing up, rest, then do more until you actually throw up. That's some nice abs, Dorothea. Now show us how it's done.
This next one is called the Psycho because I picture myself holding an axe and chopping someone up whenever I do this one. It's great fun. So first, you take a weight or an axe or whatever and hold it up by your ear. Then you chop down and across. Make sure you feel it in your abs because no one wants to see that pooch and they'll tell you about it, too. But then that's when the axe comes in handy. I'm joking. Safety first, right Dorothea?
You'll just die over this next one. I call it Churning Butter. The reason why I call it that is because this is how I imagine people churn butter. I'm not actually sure what the process involves, but in my mind, this is how it goes. Anyways, you first get on your knees. You get one of those really heavy balls and you twist one way to hide it behind you. Leave it there for now. Then you twist the other way and grab that ball. Then you twist again. See? Churning butter! Another name I call this is Torsion because of all the balls and twisting involved. Do this ten times because ten is the magic number for this exercise. Here's Jim Bob to show us how it's done.
Last is the I'm Not Cheating side crunch. What you do is lie on one side and hold your shoulders up with your elbow. Don't worry. That's not considered cheating. Then you lift your legs up to the side. It's that easy. Do as many as you can or until you feel nauseated, whichever comes first. Also, get some water because you sure will be dehydrated by this time. You know, from all the vomiting and stuff. Jim Bob once more.
That's it! And when you feel like giving up, don't. Just remember the old saying: I think I can...
Mmm hmmm!
It's been a while, friends, since we've last online-met, hasn't it? My week has been quite busy and I've been quite dodgy to you all, haven't I? To that I offer my most humblest and sincerest apologies. But Jennifer, it's not that easy! That simply won't do, you say? Fortunately, I came prepared. In an attempt to quell all your collective maliciosities towards myself, I present to you this gift.
I stumbled across this jewel today at the computer lab at school. And let me just tell you, it sure brought a smile to my visage.
This entry would not have been possible without my friends at TheSuperficial.com and Thesaurus.com. Thanks guys!
Nursing Dx: Blogging Hiatus r/t Hiatal Hernia
Hey, errbody! I feel like it's been, like, ten days since I've blogged or something. Wow. But seriously, I'm not gonna lie. I needed that little hiatus. And it's all thanks to my hiatal hernia. (See figure.)
Maybe the post title should read "Nursing Dx: Blogging Hiatus t/t Hiatal Hernia" with the t/t meaning "thanks to" instead of "related to." (That's how nurses make diagnoses. See, I'm a nursing student at Loma Linda University School of Nursing.)
But, seriously, hooooooo. That's me exhaling because the past week has been quite the doozy, if I ever did see one. I went through so many ups and downs, emotions-wise, that I think I'll take a week off from emoting. In my opinion, emotions are overrated, anyway. But refer back to a couple of sentences ago and note how I also mentioned "ups." No, not the United Parcel Service, the world's premier package-delivering company. See, we tend to only remember the downs when the going gets rough, but when the rough gets going, it's really helpful to focus on the ups, the positives.
Take, for example, my example. I think it was either Thursday or Friday morning when I was feeling particularly down. In fact, I was pretty much down in the dumps. I decided to take a dump since my bowels and rectum were feeling pretty full that morning. So I sat there and let it all go. I just let it all out, all that emotion, into that unsuspecting toilet. After doing the deed, I peered into the bowl through my legs because that's what nurses do. (Refer back to sentence enclosed in parentheses at end of first paragraph.) That's when I was filled with that "Oh, great!" feeling. There was just so much down there that I was sure the toilet did not have the potency to do away with my mess!
Usually when this happens, I send up a quick prayer and ask God to bless the toilet and to make fruitful of its efforts, hold down the lever, and hope for the best. But this time I was at such a low and was not in the right frame of mind that I jumped the gun and grabbed my bucket. I was gonna manually flush the thing myself. As I stood next to the tub, filling my bucket with water to capacity, I decided to just try the lever. I fully expected the attempt to fail. But, surprise surprise, the poop went down the hole! Yeah, all of it!
Standing there with my bucket of water, I thought to myself, You fool. You didn't have faith that God would do this little task for you. You usually trust Him with even the smallest things. But you let the events of your life interfere with your trust. It dawned on me that God was with me, standing with me in that bathroom. He showed me that all I had to do was trust and He would take care of the rest. I realized that, by skipping my usual prayer and filling my bucket, I was trying to do something I had no control over. But He showed me that He would take care of me. On the toilet and with everything I was dealing with in my life.
I hope my story was not too graphic and that it helps someone out there in internet land.
I'm not gonna lie...
I'm not gonna lie, I'm just an all-around renaissance woman. I mean, come on. I've got the looks, the brains, and the vocals/dance skills to shame even Christina Aguilera. (And with a track record like hers, I'd say that's pretty much the accomplishment of the year. Both because she's just an amazing singer/songstress and because it's just about impossible to out-shame the shameless.)
Anyway, I just want to thank all my fans out there who supported me in my debut performance, my maiden voyage, if you will, as Tastylicious. I also want to thank La Sierra University for inviting me to participate in their talent show even though I am so not a student over there anymore because I'm a nursing student at Loma Linda University School of Nursing. I would not like to thank the judges for giving me an "honorable mention." To that, I say "Whatev." You're all gonna weep when I take Best Breakout Artist of the Year and Best Album of the Year.
Which reminds me: my debut album Attempt to Capsulize a Feeling will hit the shelves just as soon as they finish with it in editing!
Excellent Asians
Coffee doesn't do it for me. Coffee isn't the one that puts that extra kick in my step or the jocularity in the bounce of my curls. For me, it's the smell of turkey bacon. In the perfect world, I'd wake up and turkey bacon would already be sizzling on my George Foreman. Having it there, next to my bed (a la Michael Scott), would be ideal.
But that's just wishful thinking. Truth is, I have to milk that spunk you see from a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. And that kick in my step and the bounce in my curls, you ask? Well, that's because I stretch my hamstrings every morning and use Pantene Pro-V at night. Try it, you'll see.
But anyway, as mornings go, this one turned up a jewel. In my perusal of blogs of note, I stumbled across one entry that caught my eye (or did my eye catch the entry?) under the heading JC Penney Thinks Padma Lakshmi and Hung Huyhn Are Excellent Asians. And the article:
Padma and Hung are nominated in the Favorite Television Personality and Favorite Reality Star categories, respectively, at this year's Asian Excellence Awards. The awards will be handed out tomorrow at UCLA's Royce Hall, but you will have to wait until May 1, when the awards show is broadcast on E!, to see whether viewers deemed Padma a more excellent Asian than Tila Tequila.
We cannot help but wonder, though, where is Dale Talde? Is he not excellent enough?
Your thoughts?
Oh my word, y'all
Tonight's episode of Top Chef: Chicago just might have been the most intense episode yet. Wedding Wars is a twist to the Top Chef tradition of Restaurant Wars, but with weddings. The remaining eight cheftestants split into two groups: the Bride team (Richard, Stephanie, Andrew, and Antonia) and the Groom team (Lisa, Dale, Nikki, and Spike). The two teams catered the same party but based their menus on what the bride or groom wanted.
So what made it so intense? One word: Dale Talde. Yep, that darned Pinoy strikes again. Dale, why do you gotta go and make us Asians look so bad, huh? Spike summed it up right nice when he said "You're such a little b****, bro." Also intensifying things was that relay quick fire challenge.
Also, I must give my props (or kudos, whichever the reader prefers) to the two ladies who got stuck with the wedding cakes. If you can call Lisa a lady. snortle
Judge's Table was just plain shocktastic. I would recommend watching the actual episode cuz I'm downright horrendous at synopses, but to cut the cheese, Nikki Cascone was cut tonight. Sorry, Nikki fans. All four of you. And now for the obligatory loser pic:
Oops. Wrong one. Here she is.
Ah, well. Such is life. What're you gonna do?
Open Casting Call
My friend Kristina is starting a new all-girl group inspired by the recent success of my all-time fave girl group, Girlicious. She hasn't come up with a name for the group yet, but we're all excited.
If you're interested, please come to Kristina's house for an audition. I know I said it was an open call, but we want to limit the amount of weirdos so I'm not gonna put up her address. I guess what I'm saying is if you're already one of our friends and you want in (and you know where Kristina lives), please join our group cuz so far no one seems to be interested and I really want to be in an all-girl group. My stage name will be Tastylicious.
This could be us!
Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!
Oi! Oi! Oi! Okay, so he's from New Zealand, not Austria. Mark Simmons, that is. He was booted last night from Bravo's Top Chef Chicago, my all-time fave show. His curry was too sweet, they said. To that I say pish posh.
Padma, don't read this next part. Also, I love you.
I seriously think Padma is mad at me so she's kicking off all my fave chefs from most fave to least. First Nimma, then Valerie, then Erik, then Manuel, then Zoi, then Ryan, then Jen, and now Mark?! I mean, come on!
At this rate, my least fave chef will take first place. Fortunately, I haven't figured out who my least fave chef is just yet.
I guess you'll just have to keep reading my blog. Also, my first blog. The link is to the right under "Yo Yo Yo, Check it Out, Yo."
Chimichanga
Recently, I had a deep conversation with a couple of my closest friends. We talked about everything: makeup, stickers, ponies, and Myspace.com. As per usual, I had a lot to say and they had a lot to listen to. Also as per usual, our conversation gradually turned towards bodily functions. Because I'm a nursing student at Loma Linda University School of Nursing, I don't get grossed out by that sort of stuff anymore.
We were discussing flatulence and the accompanying stinkiness when one of us came up with the idea of a machine that could make farts smell nicer. We all agreed that that would be quite awesome. We all had a good laugh and the conversation gradually turned to religion and politics.
Later that night, though, I couldn't help but fantasize about such machines that could make my farts more palatable. Think about it: no longer would we have to endure the discomfort of holding it in while waiting for the elevator to reach the lobby and for the cute doctor to get out already. Now that would be a world I want to be a part of.
My mind was racing. Now, I tend to have quite the imagination, so bear with me. I visualized a small machine, approximately the size of a standard deck of playing cards. Maybe it could have velcro straps to secure it on my glutei. It would also be custom fitted to follow the contours of my body. The machine would have a vacuum on one side (the user side) and a small vent on the other. As the molecules of gas are sucked into the device, a tiny beam of laser would irritate said molecules, causing them to change in their olfactionatory properties. The result is the fragrance of a fresh spring meadow, peppermint, or whatever the user sets the dial to. I think I would want my dial set permanently to Chimichanga.
Sweet.
Brownies
I promised Kristina and Khaing that I would blog about this, so here it is: So last night, Kristina and I went to visit Khaing at her cute new pad in West Covina. I had already seen it earlier that day, but Kris wanted me to go with her to see it again later that night. So I went.
Totally against my will, I ended up staying later than originally anticipated. It started because one of us had this bright idea to watch Juno online. But, as luck would have it, the stupid video wouldn't load fast enough. So we tried 27 Dresses but we were too impatient for that one, too. We ended up watching Miss Tyra and her wannabe models because we knew who to count on for drama. (And boy, was the drama enough for anybody's mama.)
Side note: Tyra is just like weed in two ways. First, you can never have enough. Second, you get the munchies. And so we decided to make brownies. They turned out too cakey, though, because Kristina told me to put four eggs instead of the recommended two.
Someone must have laced our brownies with I don't know what because it was soon two in the morning and too late for me to drive home. I ended up staying at Khaing's house, totally against my free will (as I've already mentioned).
But I did learn an important lesson that night: Tyra Banks and brownies don't mix.
In case you're wondering...
In case you've been wondering about my strange URL, let me tell you a little anecdote to put all of your collective minds at ease.
It started out just as every other clinical day. Shower, breakfast, you know the deal. I arrived on to the unit just in time. Everything was going well. My patient was alert and oriented and very much capable of his ADLs. This was going to be cake.
But what goes better with cake than a nice, tall glass of lemonade? (The answer, by the way, is milk.) I was really craving lemonade, so I moseyed on over to the unit refrigerator to see what I could dig up. I mean, those nurses are just asking for it when they leave their sack lunches unattended.
The chilly air that hit my face was a welcomed change. I couldn't take any more of my patient's coffee breath. But where, oh where, was the lemonade? I was about to give up and return to my patient's room when, alas!, I found some. Sitting there, on the counter, in a strange cup with a screw-top lid. It wasn't cold anymore, though. Quite warm, actually. Disappointed, but ever so thirsty, I decided to go for it.
And that's how I learned what a urine specimen container looks like.
On a separate but related note, urine from a patient with acute intermittent porphyria turns purple after sitting out in the sun. I learned that from that one time when I had a jonesing for grape juice.
Did you know?
The panda (Ailuropoda melanoleuca), while taxonomically classified as a carnivore, became confused or decided to lose some weight and took up a diet not unlike that of an herbivore.
Which begs the question: Why are pandas so fat?
If they are, indeed, carnivores, they would not possess the ability or the enzymes to digest the cellulose found in bamboo.
Pandas are not the brightest, I guess. But they're sooo cute!
Sushi is Bomb
I went to Ocean Blue with my roommate Giselle, my best friend Kristina, and one of Kristina's friends from nursing school on Thursday night. We went for Market Fresh Night which takes place every Thursday night in Redlands. We decided to get sushi first, walk around and maybe buy some fresh produce, then head over to the Krikorian to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
Anyways, I decided to try out a new roll at Ocean Blue. It was called the Baked Salmon Roll and it was bomb! It had California roll on the inside and baked salmon on top. Oh, and it was bomb! Giselle got a Green Dragon roll and Kristina got a Crunch Tofu roll and Spicy Tuna roll. I tried some and they were awesome, but mine was bomb!
Then we went to get coffee from a cute little red coffee house. It was also bomblicious.
So long, my lesbian friend.
Jennifer Biesty was kicked off of my all-time fave show on Bravo: Top Chef Chicago. This season, there were a couple of lesbians (a lesbian couple) who both made it on to the show. Jennifer was the second of the two to be given the boot (or the axe).
"Personally, I would have liked to see her go further," I said to myself. I didn't agree with Padma this week. Padma, if you're reading this, I still love you, though.
Now I don't know who I'll be rooting for. Spike, the hairy Greek guy who's always good for a laugh? Or Dale, the Pinoy bad boy who's put on a few since high school? Maybe. Or maybe I'll tune in every Wednesday night at 10 pm to Bravo to see Antonia, the Italian stallion with a cold, cold heart.
That's all for now, I guess. I have to get up tomorrow.
Girl + Delicious = Girlicious
Tonight was the season finale of my all-time fave show on the CW: Girlicious. It was so sad to see Charlye go, but Robin Antin had a few tricks up her sleeve to make anyone forget about her. (I was like "Charlye who?")
Robin was all like "Three girls are good, but four are great!" Chrystina and Natalie were both in!
So, I'm proud to present to you Nichole, Tiffanie, Natalie, and Chrystina as Girlicious! Congratulations, girls! You're delicious!
My New Scary Blog, Y'all
