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For those who have not seen a fake orgasm, go watch “When Harry Met Sally”. It’s classic.

What’s a fake bitchfit? A person (namely, me) ranting about little things that don’t matter and isn’t really that cheesed off.

My list:

1. Therapy cycle has begun. It’s not really that bad, it just means that I have to eliminate sleep, laundry, and a couple of daily meals to pass the class.
2. The Making-Out Couple that’s also having Therapy now. I’m guessing I’d be less annoyed if the dude of the couple was a dim wart, instead of the teacher’s pet that he is. Ugh. It’s unfair that he has time to study AND get laid.
3. The shorts that I bought for bedtime. They’re a little more….snug that I’d hoped they would be. On the bright side, if there’s anyone I’d like to murder, I’ll just have to stand in front of them in my “Daisy Dukes”.
4. Student body elections. Dodgy and boring.
5. The absence of my parcel. The primary reason I bought shorts that can masquerade as underwear.

I stand corrected. If this is a fake bitchfit, Meg Ryan was way funnier.

As February draws to a close (there’s only a week left, you know), it’s high time I note how eventful the month has been and will continue to be.

February marks the beginning of my second semester, and it began with Obstetrics. For many years, I’ve dabbled with the idea of specializing in this field. Now that I’ve been through five weeks of class (this includes my first sem), I’ve decided that Obstetrics is probably not my thing. A good indication would be me passing out during a Cesarean section. In my defense, the surgeon was pulling the baby out with a forceps while his assistant was prying the woman’s uterine walls apart with her hands. Poor baby. The huge bugger (4kgs) was practically oozing stress. I also understand why many female obstetricians opt out of motherhood. Gosh, the number of things that can go wrong….no wonder it’s called “the miracle of birth”.

February 14th was the double whammy of Chinese New Year and St.Valentine’s Day. Theoretically,neither celebration has anything to do with me, but I’m Malaysian (any public holiday is my public holiday) and opinionated. As such, I’m obliged to say a few words.

Chinese New Year is awesome because there’s food involved, and this time around it’s the year of the Tiger. Grrr. Although I’m an Ox and am bound to be bitten in the ass by the Tiger, I’m looking into experiences in the previous year of the Tiger to predict my upcoming year. Let’s see: short, fat, braces, class full of bullies, awful clothes, The Moffatts, Mix FM…Um, maybe not so awesome after all.

Valentine’s Day was as uneventful as ever, which didn’t quite matter because I don’t care much for it anyway. I mean, just because some priest was romantic at heart and went around marrying off people who weren’t supposed to be married, and then got killed for it does not make it perfectly okay to force guys of, oh I don’t know, 17 CENTURIES later to buy overpriced flowers, trinkets and gourmet dinners on the 14th of February. It just doesn’t feel right to MAKE a person be all lovey dovey on one specific day. Shouldn’t “Valentine’s Day” be on any day a person feels like it? I know some girls are thinking, ‘well, the guys aren’t the only ones making an effort. We do our fair share.” Let’s be honest. Most guys don’t give a toss. And a fraction of the guys who do are either recipients of positive reinforcement for remembering (i.e got lucky) or they’ve been conditioned by the trauma of forgetting whilst with previous girlfriends.

February has also ushered in good ol’ Lent. It’s amazing how not eating red meat and poultry is an effortless task during any day except the ones between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. However, I’ve been good for the past two Lenten periods and I intend to continue this streak for this year as well. I’ve got a strategy; sell myself short. Whenever I tell myself that I probably can’t make it, and that I should take each day as it comes, it works out fine. Hopefully, now that I’ve made it public, I’ve not jinxed the whole thing.

As this is being written, Defender of the Fatherland Day a.k.a Mens’ Day has not arrived, but the 4-day weekend that accompanies it already has. This holiday promises plans of a Chinese New Year semi-open house, futsal league (My Dn’C jersey is washed, the boys had better do it proud by winning their match), a Chinese restaurant lunch and studying for a replacement class.

Perhaps it’s because February is so short that it feels like it is bursting with life, but I refuse to question anything that gives me a reason to blog. 🙂

Merry Christmas everyone!

I’ve been tossing around the idea of writing a post about girls being crazy (because they are), but so far nothing good comes to mind in the example department, so that has to be kept on a shelf for a while.

This Christmas probably would have been better if the Grinch had come and stolen it. Sure, the decor was there and the presents made their appearance, but that’s where it all ended. A few notable highlights would be getting my credit for a cycle I enjoyed (hoorah for Facultative Surgery and Golosnitskii!) and a quiet dinner at T.G.I (save the birthday holler from the staff that we’re still trying to decipher).

This past few weeks have been cementing something that I’ve been….I wouldn’t say ‘fearing’ but perhaps not looking forward to. I guess I could liken it to having a cavity and trying to fool yourself that it’s just the cold weather causing the toothache, headache and fever, when deep inside you know you will eventually have to go to the dentist to be told it’s a damned bad tooth.

Damn, this is un-entertaining. I should have kept quiet till the crazy-girl post came to full bloom.

Either everyone lied to me, or everyone is smarter than me in Urology. I prefer to believe the former.

” Oh, it’s like MI (Med Informatics) except that it’s Uro,”

“You just have to sit there and pretend to listen”

“You just go for attendance”

“One guy slept off and the teacher didn’t even care”

COCK.

The only other cycle I ever put this much effort into was Facultative Therapy, which made sense. I had a patient to deal with.

My Urology cycle began with the head of the department saying that we will be given patients so that we can write and submit our patient history. What what WHAT?!!! I thought there was only a report on any topic we fancied? Was I in the right hospital? Was this one of those strangely realistic nightmares? 1st City Hospital? Check. Self-pinch Test? Goddamnit, I’m awake (and that pinch hurt like a bitch).

Nothing got better. I was asked to sit in front of the class. The teacher was more than happy to question foreign and Russian students alike. Sitting in front did not help one bit. After an hour of numb extremities, cold sweat and battered intercostal muscles, he gave us a 20 minute break.

Half an hour later, a different teacher came in. He, fortunately enough for my well-being, couldn’t care less about us foreigners. However, he too went on about patient history and how it should be written. He then proceeded to tell us that to get our credit for this cycle, we have to answer some questions based on what we will learn thoughout the week, submit a patient history and interpret an X-ray. Cue to start sweating blood.

At the end of class, the teacher assigned the RUSSIAN students their patients and informed the remaining groups that our teacher is someone else and we have to find out what he has in store for us. A wave of relief washed over us, and we gaily skipped along.

Day 2: A teacher comes in, passes X-rays around and tells us to name the method of investigation, the organ being examined and our diagnosis. Oi! What’s this?! Weren’t we in a completely different league? You know, the one that has minimal radiology knowledge use, and where I get to sleep off? At this point, my heart doesn’t even bother to pump blood anymore. The teacher says that each person has to come up one by one and explain their answers to the class. This cannot go well.

Then the first teacher from the first day of class comes along to herd us out of the room. Saviour, he is not. As soon as we reach our designated class i.e the corridor of the consultation department, he bombards us with questions. To be perfectly honest, it’s not that bad. In fact, class has been good enough to keep me attentive for 3 hours, and I remember stuff without constantly jotting things down in a notebook. My teacher does have a sense of humour, although he doesn’t really encourage it.

Day 3 was the same and I suspect Days 4 and 5 will be, too. Sigh.

But my beef here is the fact that this is NOT what I expected at all! How is it possible that every other person who has had Urology says that it’s an easy cycle when I could swear I had more sleep during my Operative Surgery classes? I’ve been dreaming about ureters and kidneys and urethrae, and not in that juvenile Blink-182 way either.

Facultative Surgery had better live up to its reputation.