A Thanksgiving short/blurb

It's Black Friday, and I'd almost forgotten the fight I would have to put up just to find a dinky little parking spot. (I just want to go to Coffee Bean, people--promise!) Though I love shopping, I have never understood the insanity of Black Friday bargain hunting. During Thanksgiving dinner last night, my aunt boasted about how she was going to be up at 4 AM to do some Walmart shopping. Walmart is crazy enough during the off-season (see Creatures at Walmart); I couldn't imagine what goes on in there during Black Friday.

Luckily, I found parking and made it to Coffee Bean safely. I'm sipping on a Japanese Cherry green tea latte--pure heaven! I haven't been to this Coffee Bean in ages, namely because my stalker frequents this location. Glad to know he's not here today... or so he's making me think...? :(

It's easy to forget the "meaning of Thanksgiving." Growing up, I remember something about the pilgrims making friends with Squanto, an American Indian, despite the fact that the pilgrims brought disease (amongst other things) to the Americas and wiped out several tribes. Ok, so I didn't learn it that way--but we all know it's true.

So we put together a cornucopia filled with the season's harvests and place it next to a turkey. I'm not even sure that the pilgrims really had turkey. Did you know that the pilgrims probably ate eel during their momentous feast? (See Give Thanks for... Eel? - NYTimes.) Imagine that on your dining table, in between the potatoes and the corn.

That's the beauty of Thanksgiving, though--the act of giving thanks is purely subjective. No, my ancestors didn't come to America on the Mayflower--they came by airplane. Any by ancestors, I mean parents. Our Thanksgiving dinner is celebrated with pancit and kikiam, a Filipino-Chinese variation of meatloaf, which, by the way, is nothing like the meatloaf that Bobby Flay makes. All of this variation on giving thanks makes reason for celebration even more valid.

***

I remember sitting in class, an awkward little fourth grader amongst other dorky kids, when my teacher asks us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Everybody seemed to mention a particular job or career, though it never occurred to me that we never expected answers like "I want to be a gracious and balanced friend/daughter/son/parent." I think these are aspirations that are often overlooked and rarely emphasized during adolescence. But thank goodness I was able to find a loving group of people to keep me in check because I know I can't thank them enough for putting up with my absolutely obnoxious attitude. Thank you, ever so much, for being amazing and positive influences in my life. I wouldn't, couldn't be here without you!

Grateful and full of thanks-giving,
Shopgirl.

Another chicken vs. egg analogy

lemontea: How long does rubber cement take to dry?

Shopgirl: A few hours, tops.

lemontea: So, do you think leaving the glue to dry overnight is long enough to keep the penis in place?

Shopgirl: Oh, yeah, totally. I used to use that crap all the time.

Before you go on--no, this isn't some bizarre anatomy project or piece of abstract art here. In fact, I almost wish I were speaking about a bizarre anatomy project or "piece of art." Moreover, I wish the subject was just as or more innocent than either the former or the latter.

Unfortunately, we are referring to the vibrator that lemontea's ex-boyfriend had so lovingly molded out of his own genitalia. (I'm absolutely serious.) Of course, he saw this doohickey as a treasure befitting that of a birthday present to lemontea last year.

Shortly after he had bestowed his "gift" upon her, he broke up with her for his "lesbian" co-worker.

Shopgirl: Told you, you should've glued that thing on top of his car. Reminds me of that Teletubby.

Exhibit 1: Green Teletubby.

Shopgirl: Why do you even still have that thing?

Shoes...??? :(

lemontea: Haha, yeah. I don't know, really. I keep it tucked away in a shoe box. You know, random--but Bert called me the other day and left me voicemail about how his boyfriend Ernie had wanted to see what my ex's junk looked like.

Shopgirl: That's so weird. Did you actually bring it?

lemontea: Yeah. It's a good thing he caught me before I left.

***

lemontea's ex, whom we shall henceforth know as Ken, seemed like an unassuming, well-educated, and cerebrally-gifted intellectual. Actually, I'm understating that. He's a total geek, which was endearing about him and seemed like a trait that lemontea truly prized. Though everyone's got their secret tendencies, who would have known that Ken had that much freaky-deaky to him?

I promise this has a point. Did you ever create a list of qualities that you find ideal in a mate? Don't lie. And making even just one list still counts. It's ok, I did, too. (See Gettin' ready to check you off.)

The really funny thing is that we create these lists, thinking that once we find someone who fits all of the criteria, they are serendipitously perfect.

The problem though, is that when you meet someone who satisfies "all of the requirements," what's to guarantee that the requirements are enough to sustain the attraction?

To satisfy our curiosity, we conducted a research study at Maggiano's, subject count = 1.

Shopgirl: Do you think that people learn fondness for each other and build attraction from there on, or do you think that attraction lends itself to build fondness?

Server: I don't think you can predict whether or not you'll fall in love with someone.

Survey has it, folks--you cannot fall in love instantaneously. Some of you may agree, while some of you believe that love at first sight is possible. I liken this debate to that of the chicken or the egg. What comes first--attraction or fondness?

Or maybe you've got it all figured out. But what happens when your Barbie or Ken turns out to be one of those creepy Troll dolls with the bejeweled belly buttons?

Will probably avoid looking through any of lemontea's shoe boxes, for future reference,
Shopgirl.

Saving the world, one PDF and exam at a time.

Just over three months ago, I sat propped up in bed, laptop rested against my knees, a TV remote control in the left hand, and a glass of shiraz in the other. Surely I was living la vida loca. It was my first summer vacation, and I was going to milk it in all my laziness glory. After two years of teaching inner city high school, I was spent, and I needed recovery time before med school began later that summer.

Now here I am, still propped up in bed with my laptop rested against the knees, except no TV remote control in the left, and no wine either. In fact, I don't even own a TV--not because I am trying to prove an elitist point--more so because I am too cheap to buy a TV or subscribe to cable. (Thank you, Netflix!) And on enjoying some alcohol on a weeknight? Fah-get about it! There comes a point when my body boasts, "Oh, you fancy, huh? You want that drink? Ok, drink it." At this point, I decide that I am the master of my body and retort, "It's my body, I do what I want!" and drink the crap out of my drink with much gusto and fervor. Of course, this mismatch in preferences normally ends in tragedy for my mind and body as I stumble for Advil in my medicine cabinet the morning after celebrating, post-exam.

Med school has got my entire class on iPads in an initiative to go paperless and more high-tech. Many of us have adapted to take notes on PDFs using apps like iAnnotate, Evernote, Smartnote, and Noterize. Though I prefer writing with my stylus on the iPad over taking notes on my laptop, I miss the crisp turn of a page. But if I must to save trees, then it shall be done! Well, that, and I don't have to carry an extra ten pounds of notes with me when I study.

We're currently in a testing block, where we've had about seven tests for seven Mondays in a row. Cardiovascular physiology on Tuesday, and we wrap up, just in time for Thanksgiving. It couldn't come any sooner!

As for life out of med school--well, it's pretty much non-existent. You know the time you hate when you're sitting around bored? Yeah, I miss that. In fact, I want that. I'd happily accept moments of boredom if that means that I get time to breathe. I could use it to blog, which would have been nice, since my blogging time is currently infiltrating my precious sleep time. :(

I just have to remember that break is near. I don't know if it makes me want to work harder or get lazier because it's so close. I guess we'll find out on Tuesday!

Sad that I didn't go to sleep earlier since tomorrow is going to be another exhausting day,

Shopgirl.