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.
Chimichanga
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
