Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Done, done, DONE!

Passed Immunology yesterday, passed written lab exam today, slept a fab total of 7h these past two days BUT: Virology (Part I) + Immunology (Part II)+ Lab (Part III) = Microbiology, which is interesting to learn abt but an absolute bitch to memorise, BUT:




Please stay tuned while we study for seven more exams over the next fortnight.

[This is to blame for my recently acquired orange-y hair. Mirrors hurt.]

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Everyone shut the bloody hell up!

Portugal just beat the Netherlands, 1:0. Not only was I made to jump out of my skin on a regular basis throughout the game, what with the fans sitting outside watching the game in a cafe that seemed to be located right in front of my window, but I am now forced to listen to the honking and yelling on the streets, I NEED TO STUDY, IT'S ONLY STUPID FOOTBALL, EVERYONE CALM DOWN.

They are exhausted. Exhausted.



Saturday, June 24, 2006

Still cruelly busy boning up but converse w my Id in the meantime

Go here (found here).

PS- Just found out, passed Monday's exam, PASSED VIROLOGY! And with a bloody good grade as well, one of the best ones, 16 out of 20.


[Now, isn't it funny how I can go from Thank God, a 10, done! to What, only 16?]e

Monday, June 19, 2006

Oh, and a Will and Grace rerun can always be counted on too!

Did my exam, am sure I passed. Wrote loads on distemper, who knew I knew? Next comes Immunology and the lab exam and THAT, along with Bacteriology which I already got rid of, ends the disgraceful trinity we call Microbiology *oh furball*.

The problem is, now more than ever, I seem to have non-stop exams. I went to lunch with Ana just now and she said that simply hearing abt it made her nervous bcs how can people live like that. The obvious answer is they cannot, not very well, or at least not w any discernible quality of life. I have great hopes that next year will be better bcs I will have got rid of the subjects from previous years that were making my life hell, and bcs the subjects are generally more interesting. But we will still have long exam periods (including the studying which starts in earnest a month or a month and a half bfr the actual exams) and exams in btwn bcs they've shortened the evaluation period in such an effective manner that now all exams do not fit in and some have to be done bfr that. And I need to find ways to deal with the stress that do not involve regression and peaprincessing bcs it is not bery grown up is it and besides the only foot I shoot is mine, and overall my pride is hurt.

As for the other things I have to fix:

- Switched cat food and J.I.P. loves the Ecstasy in it but she is adamant that she loves me far, far more, and that she must follow me everywhere and lick my eyelids to wake me up at 5 am and obstinately be in my face when I am studying, rubbing her jaw on every available centimetre and thus effectively blinding me and making me eat hair when I'm trying to study. It is so bad that I try to never make eye contact when she's quiet bcs then she remembers she must love me, deeply, visibly, at all times.
Hum-Hum, the three-legged one, is now positioned behind my hair trying to bite off and swallow as much of it as possible bcs her furballs, of which there have been legion, especially at night, on the bed, are not impressive enough. She's aiming for a cross-species breed. When that fails, she licks my jumper, lick lick lick, non-stop, I move it and she folows, three legs and all, and when that too fails she licks available CDs and I have an inkling why and let me tell you this cat food will never be bought again, in fact, we might just have to buy some and mix both bcs this is beginning to look too much like diet-induced dementedness.
- My hair, I'm surprised Ana didn't faint. I need to have it cut, I need to have it highlighted, WHERE TO GO? I was even forced to hold it back from my face with two barrets and THAT is not a look I've ever sported, I look rather - un-me-eish plus hair is too thick and they keep being pulled outwards, like hairy head wings. Still, she liked my Lioness shirt. I bought a Lioness shirt, I now own a Lioness shirt, did you know? I am far too pale for it just now and it makes my boobs mysteriously smaller but - Lioness shirt! Here:

Lioness t-shirt

And now it's time to lie on the sofa with Good Omens [How obscene is it to have bought it almost a week ago and not have gone past p.25 or something. And it's brilliant, too! Will fix now.], and there's a medical program on with real surgery and cases, yey, and tonight we'll go for dinner at my friend Manel's and then maybe we'll watch Inside Man if we don't come back too late and I'll pretend I don't have to start studying something vile again tomorrow.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Thunder. Fuck.

I know thunder storms are natural phenomena but I am, understably, less than filled with admiration, yesterday I was up till 8 am, 8 afuckingam, bovinely I waited for sleep without even the strength to do anything abt it, insomnia's little pursed gift, you don't half lose your mind, I've been meaning to take a Stilnox for a good while now but the thunder is scaring me to death, as it always does, and it's coming closer, and I feel I must keep watch, the whole house just shook and the dog flew from the sofa and I know just how she feels bcs I feel my eyelids straining from the pressure of having my eyes too widely open, I know I should be grateful for the rain, maybe our forests won't be as ravaged this year, our farmers as ruined, our people as homeless, our animals and wildlife as burnt to death, but I cannot ever be grateful for rain in a storm, I know some love to sit in their gardens and enjoy the show, the bleeding idiots, I see the blue lightning out of the corner of my eye and keep expecting us all to just burst into flames and oh don't tell me I'm quite safe, I've always feared storms and people tell me how lovely they are, just like fireworks and idiots, I am afraid of those as well, [I swear the glass will break, I swear it will, but now I have to be strong for the dog, who looks at me in a panic to see what my reaction is every time the foundations and the bloody glass panes shake] and they explain to me in detail how perfectly silly I am, just as they used to explain to me, after I'd explained to them what it was, that my tsunami phobia was perfectly silly and now they're strangely silent on the subject, and speaking of Uzi, he has been on my mind a lot these days, on a level higher than he one I usually allow him, and maybe I am not sleeping bcs not only does it mean I relinquish control over things I cannot much control anyway but it further separates me from him, and maybe it's very fortunate that I have an excuse not to sleep after all, and isn't it funny how no matter what fears, no matter what pains, they all coalesce to form the darkest, most vibrant core of us, and the core is one, and sometimes I wish I'd been born disconnected but that would feel too much like sleeping, it occurs to me, and it subsequently occurs to me, therefore, that I might not want it all that much after all

Monday, June 05, 2006

Eat his, Bette Jane

You think you're so smart, don't you. You have this humungous congress and know exactly how much they knacker you and so you arrange to spend the weekend at your best friend's place so you can thwart your insomniac tendencies by actually managing to get a good few hours of sleep.

First day ends, you're knackered. You go to your friend's place and, bcs you were daft enough to become your friend's personal shopper, she actually develops a fashion sense, starts knowing what becomes her and decides to model her entire wardrobe bfr you so she can prepare for the summer in all their combined glories. You finally manage to shut her up, force her to cover herself at last for fuck's sake and both leave to go to your friend Shrimpy's for dinner. Once there you choose spaghetti bolognese, strong in the knowledge that your iron-clad stomach thinks nothing of pasta at 22.30. Both your friends are enzymatically exuberant and think nothing of downing several alcoholic beverages and a few cups of coffee. Tweedle then decides that, bcs she had coffee, she should drink some more so she can fall asleep. Shrimpy doesn't sleep anyway (people think your insomnia is vicious, it's a duckling in comparison) so what the bloody hell, care for some more Port?

At abt midnight you head back and go to bed. Tweedle is tossing and turning, alcohol didn't do its trick after all, the woman is wide awake and STILL TALKING, so you offer her one of your beloved Stilnoxes. She asks Are you sure, you only have a few left and you say Go ahead, it's all right, and she says I'm pretty sure I won't be able to fall asleep anyway even with it and promptly starts snoring. You were already finding it hard to get comfortable, a strange bed is always the pits, but this? And she hasn't been taught to roll over on command either. After a while you get tired of getting up to rearrange her on the bed, twat snores in every position it would seem, so you get up and shlep pillow and duvet into living-room, where you spend some fun 10 minutes trying to increase sleeping surface by strategically positioning stools and chairs right next to the very minute sofa. After another good while you find yourself remotely comfortable even if it involves one leg half on the table, and are beginning to believe you will fall asleep after all when you start feeling a bizarre vibration. Oh wait, not a stampede after all, got it. There is a tiny communicating space up on the wall btwn bedroom and living-room and you've never felt more grateful. Disbelievingly, you waddle into the bedroom and there she is, on her back, snoring like a lumberjack. You can hear it everywhere. Well, fucks very much.

You finally realise that, at 2.30, there's noting left to do but pack your bags and return to Lisbon. Which you do. Twat hasn't budged the whole time, AMAZING HOW THAT STILNOX DIDN'T WORK AND SEE IF I CARE THE NEXT TIME YOU CANNOT FALL ASLEEP, BEYOTCH.

You are beginning to think everyone else on the planet can metabolise alcohol. You get home and it's almost 3.00, and your pasta is also very much awake. See, one of the good consequences of your miscarriage was that a) your progesterone went through the roof and now your iron-clad stomach is no more and you have reflux, and/or b) lovely Helycobater pilorii has taken advantadge of your immuno-suppressed status, God knows your plicae have never seen such fun bfr, and now your iron-clad stomach is no more and you have reflux. Did you just bend over? NEVER BEND OVER, your rectum will fall out! At around 5 am you start getting sleepy even though the aggravation of knowing you will in no way be able to get up at 8 am and will therefore miss the entire morning of Saturday slightly gets in the way. Most of the windows in the buildings are out. Sleeping, seriously, isn't everyone?

On Saturday afternoon Tweedle rings you, very much unaware of the fact that her life is in danger, silly cow thought nothing of the chaos in the living-room, or the fact that her keys were on the table, or the fact that your things are gone. She becomes very embarrassed and apologetic but you don't care, you're still not speaking to her. And you'll certainly never share your drugs again with the unworthy, you've learnt your lesson. On Saturday evening you decide you hate Anthony Kiedis bcs he is preventing you from sleeping. Again. You actually like the Red Hot Chilli Peppers but not when it feels as though they're screaming right outside your window even if they're half way across the city. Bloody live concerts.

You have also decided you will name your daughter Cândida [you do have such a name in Portugal], should you ever have one, and you hope she marries a Dutchman so she'll end up calling herself, say, Candida Kooter, and her sultry remake of Yeasterday will hit the charts at number one all across Europe bcs, seriously, the amount of damage one single, semi-detached, Northern-exposed embryo can do even after it's gone is beginning to be utterly ridiculous and now there's fungal war in your nether regions as well. You suppose it still wants your undivided attention. [Undivided = non viable, get it?][Yes, one of your best ones, you know.] The Dr. took a look today [ute and ovaries are perfectly fine] and said Yes, definitely a Candida. See? Your daughter-to-be's fate has a medical stamp of approval.

You have also properly bonded with the Dr. At the end, as you were already standing, she asks you Any final questions? You say Well, I just want to be sure you'll never blow on my cooter. She says I beg your pardon? You say Your colleague did once, she was a bit demented, I fear. She hurt me by mistake and blew on my cooter to make it all better. It still haunts me. She opens and closes her mouth a few times and says I think I can promise you I won't. You say I think we'll get along famously then.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Dinner is served

Had an exam last Friday. Had an exam last Monday. Will have Virology as well, soon.

Had bad insomnia today, fell asleep around 6 am maybe. Read 2 books in one day, maybe I overstimulated my brain. Has been known to happen but after 2 exams I needed a reading frenzy. Twice. So make that 2 books in one day on TWO consecutive days. Serves me right. Am now studying Virology and Immunology and have very definite opinions on what icosaedric symmetry and cytokines can go do with themselves. Have major congress this weekend, will stay over at Tweedle's house (it's outside Lisbon) and return Sunday.

Have been cut off from world bcs my telly sprouted more cable channels and the universe was displeased so it took away both the telly watching and the interneting. Took a good while to sort out, I kept finding the digital boxes on their backs, little rigid legs up in the air, very dead. Then a neighbour decided he could maybe swap his cable for ours and presto, he'd have free internet and cable, we'd have nothing, seems fair. I've just found out, technician was here. He fixed it (swapped cables). Then fixed it some more (added one more slot so Dishonest Git could have his daily fix). Then left. Then I called him back from the window bcs remote had just died in my hands. Only it hadn't, digital box simply needs to be rebooted every so often. Techno S&M. Love this armpit of a country.

Speaking of which, technician had vile ones. Don't understand why cablemen are prevented from showering. Well, they are prevented from coming round to the client's house earlier (12 o'clock) instead of at the set time (17.00 onwards) even if they happen to be free and we happen to be desperate. They can actually be fined 500 Euros. so mum's the word. Which makes sense, bcs a customer that has faster service will be absolutely livid at being allowed to leave the house earlier, how dare they. So it isn't so far-fetched to think they may also be prevented from partaking from ablutions. The living-room now smells of rancid sweat and even had to lock J.I.P. in the bedroom bcs she was so fascinated she kept sniffing the man (he was on his knees) and at one point attempted to climb onto his knee so she could get a better scent leverage point. Kept telling her [in Hebrew, thank God][was learning it when she adopted me and now it not only feels silly to use any other language but she actually understands and mostly obeys] [except for when fascinating pong occupies the room] to stop it but she was entranced. Dog was sniffing him very intently as well but she is easier to manage.

Said J.I.P. jumped onto my chest yesterday and as she started to position herself for a sound nap blobs of diarrhoea fell out of her bum onto my thankfully solidly-covered boobs. Upon quick sniffing bcs it didn't quite look like poop, however liquidy, more like pale chocolatey milk with small chunks of thick cream in it, Dx was found: anal glands inflammation. Now you know. A small but elaborate dance followed where I jumped off the sofa and tore the shirt off me bfr it soaked through, then chased cat around so I could properly express the glands and get rid of obstruction should there be one. Cat was very displeased and kept screaming and contorting and trying to spray tiny bits of gunk around the bathroom but vet students perform restraint miracles with a towel so she couldn't. For the most part.

Went to the dentist yesterday, to finally [let's not discuss insurance companies now, see armpit above] fix the mess created by that other dentist which culminated in a truncular anaesthesia site hurting fro 10 days straight and THEN an otitis with eardrum perforation. The filling had broken and the damage was vast so she had to destroy even more of the remaining healthy tooth (by remaining picture a crater bcs that's what was left, only the sides) and I am now sore. The receptionist cum assistant yaps away nonstop in the most annoying manner and (this for Portie understanding only) uses the "D.ª", despite knowing I have a degree and my mother having berated her on both our counts. But no, she's as dense as the brain matter she lacks. She also has medium yellow hair with short dark brown roots, in a funky hairstyle that surely causes her to get up at least 1h earlier so she can beautify herself that way, a sort of Cornrow For The Honkey. Also, the Dr. was late and didn't apologise. I learnt, bcs I coulnd't help it, she went away to the country for the weekend and was very unnerved bcs there were loads of flying little spiders with webs attached and an entourage. Unnerved. Living things, in the country, crikey! Eh.

Received anatomo-pathology report, it seems I had a miscarriage. Shocker. They found tissue compatible with 1st trimester pregnancy but no embrionic tissue whatsoever. Which either means that a) that unbelievable amount of clots I passed had the embryo in it, wich turns said embryo into some sort of an elevated escapee bcs it was able to rupture the sac and slither out unecumbered, yeepee let's see them try and find me now; or b) the mothership needed it back so they beamed it up. Bcs I DID see an embryo on that US. Twice. Or maybe c), I am a hybrid species and do reabsorption well.

Anonymous and Oblivious from last post left another comment. It said: What about gay penguins and dolphins? To which I can only say, I hope they're happy little buggers.