Friday, July 24, 2009
RetiredJK: "When was the last time you were sexually active?"
Jailed Patient: "About 8 months ago."
RJK: "Did you use protection?"
RJK: "Do you have sex with women?"
RJK: "The occasional dude?"
RJK: "You're sure? You are.... in jail after all."
RJK: "When did you first notice symptoms?
JP: "About a week ago."
RJK: "What kind of symptoms are you having?"
JP: "It's like a rash. On the side of my penis."
RJK: "Any painful discharge? Burning when you pee?"
JP: "No sir."
RJK: "Well let's have a look-see!"
(Examination reveals a slightly ulcerated, excoriated lesion on the right side of his penis; otherwise normal exam."
RJK: "Sir do you ever masturbate?"
JP (clearly embarrassed): "Uhh.... yeah."
RJK: "And you're right-handed."
JP: "Yeah (?)"
RJK: "Sir, I do not think you have an STD. Why don't you take it easy for awhile? Utilize your left hand when you return to masturbation. Or switch sides each time. This should resolve in few days."
Chicken Fried Steak and Mashed Potato-Corn-Bacon-New England Clam Chowder
1. Obtain Chicken Fried Steak (CFS heretofore)
2. Cover in mashed potatoes. Sprinkle corn atop.
3. Take bacon from a local salad bar and mix with New England Clam Chowder. Douse the CFS with this mixture.
(Optionally, you can substiture macaroni and cheese for the potato layer.)
Very Berry Fruity Pebbles A La Mode Numero Uno
1. Pour Fruity Pebbles in a medium-sized bowl.
2. Cover in rasberry/blueberry mixture.
3. Single scoop vanilla ice cream, or berry-flavored vanilla-based ice cream.
4. Top with favorite ice cream toppings.
5. Enjoy! Can be shared with a friend.
1. Nuke Chinese food reftovers (I use broccori beef but anything is fine-- try mu shu pork also!) and place in flour tortirra.
2. Nuke mexican food leftovers (can substitute canned beans and rice and veggies) and place atop Chinese food in tortilla.
3. Nuke entire mixture with lots of shredded cheese and cajun seasoning (I suggest Tony Chachere's).
Peanut Butter and Bacon, Egg, Cheese and Jelly Sandwich
1. Make bacon and egg over medium while toasting bread (white or wheat). Top bacon and egg with slice of American or cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese.
2. Slather bread with peanut butter and jelly.
3. Add banana if you're feeling crazy.
4. Make a sandwich or it and enjoy!
Sushi Leftovers and Eggs
Most people don't take their leftover sushi home, but this recipe can be a real winner with sushi up to 36 hours old.
1. Place sushi in pan with sesame oil. Cook until warm and douse in soy sauce and wasabi.
2. Crack two eggs on top of the sushi and cook quickly. Chinese leftovers can be added if available.
Also, some people marvel at my ability to make an ordinary dish better. Here are some simple tips for improving average food.
1. Add bacon
2. Add more bacon.
3. Add mayonnaise.
4. Add cheese.
If these tips don't work you should probably not eat it.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Sometimes people approach me on the street and say, "Hey, retired blog guy, isn't it awesome riding an Escalade limousine everywhere and getting free Dom P on every corner? Can I have your autograph on my chest?" That's nice, but I feel kind of awkward when guys ask that. I usually say no. I'm very polite about it. No, really, blogging isn't all about what you see on MTV and the E! Channel. It's really about sitting down in front of an old Dell laptop and pouring my heart on the World Wide Web (bless Al Gore's heart for inventing this wonderful technology).
One time a small Canadian child with chicken pox walked up to me and said, "RetiredJK, I want to be just like you when I grow up!" Well you can't. You can't just wake up one day and decide to be a blogger. You have to retire first, and then you have to find a computer. So you already have two strikes against you, kid. Plus, you're Canadian.
Some people tell me not to front, that if I was big time I would have platinum grillz, a cross, and rings with my first and last names in diamonds. But I care not for the usual trappings of blog superstardom; my real interest lies in technology. Take, for instance, my diamond-studded optical mouse:
Or, for example, this platinum-plated keyboard that I utilize when I'm on the road:
This is what ballin' is about; my treasure is on the computer, bro.
Anyway, enough about me; let talk about my new job. First of all, it was quite difficult to obtain. I went to the local saloon/dinner theatre/art gallery/restaurant/package store (to buy some art, of course) and talked with the only other person there, who happened to be the owner/manager/artist/bartender at the time. We struck up a conversation and she commented that her usual bartendress had quit while the owner was on vacation. I asked her if she had filled the position yet, as I have always wanted to be a bartender for the experience of it. The conversation that follows is the harrowing story that followed.
Owner: "Do you have any experience?"
RetiredJK: "I've been in several bars. I once watched a bartender work for an hour. I dated a waitress for a couple weeks."
Owner: "Then what kind of qualifications do you have for the job?"
RetiredJK: "Ummm, I can add things in my head really quickly. And I have a doctorate, so I should be able to learn how to bartend."
Owner: "Well, you're pretty much just serving up people's medications in a bar. "
I had never thought of it that way. She asked for my "information" and walked away. I wondered, does she want high school GPA? References? Green Card? I looked at the chef, who was standing next to me, and asked he thought. "I think she means your name, phone number, and address." Relieved, I crossed out my MCAT score and list of scientific publications and simplified things down to the bare essentials. I had crushed the competition. The job was mine.
Sneak Preview of Next Week: YouTube video of JK wrestling a live pig. (This is totally serious.)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
The picture above is me playing bingo. As we both fail to win the $50 jackpot for the first round, we realize that the fifty is split four ways, really making the jackpot almost completely worthless after tax. I dip my marker in nacho cheese for good luck, making my marks green with an orange halo around them.
During the next two games, we realize the odds are against us. Several people have a half-dozen packs in front of them, and I learn that the interstellar communication devices are actually e-bingo, which means that the players just pay for their e-packs and the machine keeps track of all their bingo cards for the them. I assume there are three groups of people that pay for these: 1) the grizzled gamblers that are just in this for the money, not for the markers; 2) the grizzled smokers who simply can't sit inside for an entire game and instead sit outside smoking and watching their e-bingo; and 3) the feeble-minded who simply can't wrap their minds around what "B 3" means, or who lack the coordination to match the called number with the sheet in front of them. Most likely, there is a complex combination of these three conditions.
We leave a couple hours later penniless but with our dignity intact, despite having been taken for all our cash (actually, all my cash, as my playing partner operates on a debit-/credit-only basis) by a group of elderly women and high school band members. I take comfort in knowing that a young tuba player may march because of my contribution. Besides, I have a nacho-flavored green bingo marker to remember that wonderful night.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Maybe it's not so bad, I thought, and my canine-like sense of smell simply exaggerated the natural odors of people around me. But I realized the threat of chemical warfare was real when a mountain of a person in a Snuggie plopped down in the two (yes, both) seats in front of me and overwhelmed my defenses. This was the first time in my life I actually desired Axe brand spray deodorant, and not for myself, and not for stinky French people either.
The psychiatric patient continued toward me, slowing as he reached my row; I tried to look mean and show off my tattoos, but then I realized that a temporary cupid tattoo was more likely to attract a recently released, potentially loving inmate than ward off a scented bus rider. My mean look also didn't work very well, as I have the face of an angel.
He stopped and asked if the seat next to me was occupied, and I imagined pulling a Forrest Gump ("seat's taken!") for a second but realized the trauma Forrest went through. I decided to do a cursory inspection before assenting. I wafted some scent toward my nostrils and gave him a preliminary thumbs-up; as he turned around to place his backpack (it looked expensive, big bonus!) in the compartment, I saw that his hair had been cut recently. This was a double-edged sword; either he was a clean-cut dude, and my suspicions were unfounded; or he was recently released from prison, which would explain the oversized clothes and, moreover, the reason he was on the bus out of town in the first place.
I kept my ears clear and on the listen for any humorous material on the bus. It was plentiful, and could be an entire entry unto itself. Some of the highlights follow. They range from the culpable: "I know, I shouldn't have been outside the window in the first place" to the annoyed: "For the third time, I told you, I got laid off!" to the downright honest: "I hitchhiked here from San Antonio last night" to the embarassing: "The song I really like to sing karaoke to is Tiny Dancer by Elton John" (I may or may not have been the speaker on that one) to the insightful: "Next time, I'm won't transport any packages I didn't pack myself!"
Lessons learned: when I take the Greyhound to Denver tomorrow, I pledge to:
A: Not shower beforehand. For three days.
2: Sit in the middle of the seat and puff out my cheeks to make myself look bigger.
C) Put the temporary tattoo on my face, a la Mike Tyson.
D: Bring a whoopee cushion and load up on beans in the days prior to my journey.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
#1-- in the original post I stated that there were tapes from LeeAnn Womack, Tanya Tucker, and Faith Hill. The truth is, the tapes are by LeeAnnWomack, Tammy Wynette, and Faith Hill. Even the best of us mix the two up sometimes.
#2-- In the rodeo post, I stated that no one rode the bull for the requisite seven seconds. It was pointed out that the buzzer actually sounds after eight seconds. The reason for this mistake was that I mistook the name of a Luke Perry movie (8 Seconds) for the length of the star's career (seven seconds).
Also, I added an earlier, edited post, and it only shows up between the Day 3 post and rodeo post. Please check it out, as I am considering adding a funny patient encounters list.
And, if you haven't seen it yet, check out David After Dentist on YouTube, it is one of the funniest videos I have seen not on America's Funniest Videos.
Please see the top of the page, I can't figure out how to move the moose picture.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
We ate biscuits and gravy, egg bake, fruit and lemon cake. I threw $3 in the hat because that's all I had. But mostly, we discussed how many times during the night we each get up to go to the bathroom. I won with an average of one, zero if I haven't been drinking. The high was six; I suggested nightly bladder catheterization to save time, hassle, and toilet water.
Again at this breakfast I realized my wardrobe is sorely lacking in Wrangler brand jeans and cowboy boots; I may have to invest in these next time I stop at Wal-Mart in Laramie.
After some serious crossword puzzling and Suduko solving, it was time for lunch; I skipped it so I could get better bang for my buck at Beerfest. I considered giving blood as well, but declined due to the altitude (kids, don't try these money-saving tips at home). My chaffeurs pulled up to the camper and whisked me away in their sporty Ford Taurus. I arrived at the park fashionably late and played catch-up for awhile, avoiding all beers lighter than dark brown and thinner than honey consistency. I circled the twenty that I wanted to sample most and set about a three-hour session of calisthenics for my liver.
The day wound on, and eventually I was able to make some conversation. I also made the decision that I will become a writer, a decision I think most unemployed people share after their third or fourth drink. I texted a bunch of friends and listened to the band. They requested impromptu lyrics for a well-known Southern folk song, but I couldn't think of anything family-friendly enough to submit. I convinced an EMT that medical school and residency are not nearly as sexy as they seem on TV. Then it hit me: my calling is to talk people out of going to medical school based on what they see on TV. I'll be an unmotivational speaker. It couldn't possibly pay worse than residency.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Lovely. Another favorite:Those are some guilty-looking animals. I almost got a picture with the guy wearing this, but I thought better of it lest he think I was ridiculing him.
This was perhaps the most exciting part of the night, especially when a small child got bucked into the tire of a promotional Dodge Ram.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Interesting Patient Interviews, Volume 1: A 53 year-old schizophrenic male present to the emergency department...
MD: "How long have you been hearing these voices?"
Him: "Since I stopped taking my medications."
Me: "Why did you stop taking your medications?"
Him: "The voices told me to."
Me: "Sir, do you use drugs?"
Him: "Do you know Michael Landon?"
Me: "You mean.... the guy from Touched by an Angel?"
Short Indian Female Doctor: "Sir, why are your lips burned so badly?"
Him: "You must be really bad at basketball."
SIFMD: "... I am."
Him: "I'll bet he's really good."
Me: "You think you could take me?"
SIFMD: "Sir do you use crack?"
Him: "Crack... is whack."
Me: "My pager just went off, I have to call someone back... and it could be a really long call."
Him: "I want to talk to my Michael Landon."
As stated in my prior blog, I moved to Wyoming three days ago from San Francisco with a short hiatus in Denver visiting old friends and making new ones. I am, as the title suggests, a retired physician. I am happy to say I have returned to some of the activities which formerly gave me satisfaction. Namely, I am eating at regular intervals, talking to members of the opposite sex, sleeping ten hours a day, being nice to people, making my own meals, exercising, and reading alot. Residency precludes alot of these things, and doesn't pay well enough for others. The advent of a foosball table did add a small amount of happiness to the end of residency.
As for my future plans, I have very few right now. I plan on taking my licensing exam to make a little money as a moonlighting physician. I am also applying to public health school, as I always thought I might be interested in caring for larger populations. But really, there are a few other options: male model, inventor, voice work, techno DJ, beekeeper, advice columnist, Buddhist monk, professional basketball player, and chef. Some of these are just horrendous ideas, but others sound pretty good. I have not entirely ruled out organized crime, as many people think I am Italian.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Allow me to show you my humble abode. Please use your imagination as digital photography and the uploading thereof the the World Wide Web is another pending skill. My parents live in this beautiful 600 square foot cabin on a heavily wooded, riverfront lot. We have a pond stocked with fish and some type of algae film on the top. In the springtime, moose and bears are plentiful in our front yard.
I currently reside in this beautiful Companion brand camper in our back yard. My parents borrowed it from a neighbor for me to stay in, as they evidently believe I'm too old to be living with them again. My camper is nice; it has a bed, a living room/dining room/kitchen, and a nonfunctional bathroom. The ceilings were clearly built for me; at 6'6'', they are exactly my height. The camper is outfitted with a Japanese-made tape player replete with misspelled words. It was made before they figured out how to change sides automatically, forcing me to stand up, bend my head over so as not to hit the ceiling, and remove and replace the tape.
When I moved in to the camper, I hit the jackpot. Not expecting any decent, functional tapes to be around the camper, I was surprised to find not only LeeAnn Womack and Faith Hill, but also an old Tanya Tucker cassette. Wait a second... behind the tape player I also found a single of Coolio's timeless classic Gangsta's Paradise. This brought back some memories: Michelle Pfeiffer, "what the heck is karate?" and music before high school football games my freshman year. I popped in the tape, remembered that I had to rewind it, and gave it three listens in a row, listening to the B Side (Gangsta's Paradise: The Instrumental Version) between each take. Unfortunately, I am so out of shape, and the altitude is so high, I had to stop my enthusiastic singing before the chorus each time and place my head between my knees to keep from blacking out. I hope this will improve with time.