It's been a wild past few months at the G&G household. I hope to start getting normal posts back up and running in a while, but in the mean time here's a general rundown:
1. LittleGuy was born early August. Healthy mom, healthy baby, and a total rearrangement of priorities (in a good way).
2. I left my job as a phlebo due to changes in the school schedule for the fall. I'll adjust the banner later.
3. I started school (full time) on January 2nd. A lot of driving to get there/back, 8 hour days in class, and I can't wait to see what comes next in the curriculum.
4. Gal is still in the ER. LittleGuy and I can't wait for her to get home at night.
In between studying, I'll try to update this as my mind runs. More than likely it will be school related, but who knows.
-Guy
Showing posts with label Guy stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guy stuff. Show all posts
November 7, 2010
A joyous moment from D201
This story will need a bit of background. Apartment D201 was the on-campus home of three other college bachelors and myself for two and a half years. We were all part of the Scholars or Honors program, so naturally we studied hard and used what few breaks we had to bring mayhem upon each other. The characters are as follows:
R: Engineering major. Unofficial female psychology/biology minor. Cause of the majority of our apartment's notoriety.
Z: English major. Wants to become a preacher, making him the focus of our collective attempts at corruption.
D: Bio major. Introverted, unassuming, martial arts fanatic.
J: Former D201 roommate. Engineering major. Brawn for most of the apartment antics.
Guy: Bio major with a fixation on music and organic chemistry. Your humble scribe.
Z started off a decent guy when we first moved in together. Reserved, bookish, musician tendencies, hung out and vegged with us regularly; he fit right in. Then he started dating girls on campus, and we got to meet his Mr. Hyde. We roommates were no longer buddies, pals, or anything remotely familiar. We were now possible embarrassments to the image Z wanted to portray to his woman. He wanted to be the pure guy, the prototypical aspiring preacher: quiet, gentlemanly, choir-boy image with no scuffs to his pure facade. Not to say us roomies were bad people (we weren't), but we were fun-loving guys who liked nothing more than to embarrass the snot out of each other via practical jokes, dark humor, and other college bachelor things. Needless to say, when we got clued in to Z's new behavior, we were thrilled at the opportunity he had presented us. The smallest attempt to mess with him resulted in quiet looks of rage from Z. The culmination of these attempts is as follows.
J came over regularly to hang out and study (he lived in the apartment above us), and one night as R, J, and I were studying, he introduced us to his newest practical joke. D was sequestered in his room at the end of the hall, studying biology, chemistry, or something (who knows). J walks up to D's closed door, drops his pants, and knocks loudly. An irritated D yanks the door open, growls something about busy and studying, then he begins to wonder why J is just standing there grinning happily (never a good thing). D's eyes finally make their way south, he notices J's boxers, his mouth flops open, and then he sighs and acknowledges being pranked. Understand, these were some of those boxer which left nothing to the imagination. Low-grade homoerotic image at best.
After the laughter subsides, we decide that Z is in need of similar treatment. He and his girlfriend* had, per Z's protocol, entered the apartment, acknowledged our presence, and then slipped into his room to close the door. They had been this way for a while before, during, and after J's prank on D. J made his way up to the door, repeated the above noted performance, and got a benign smile from Z in response. That smile was not a joyful one; it was intended to convey a quiet threat. Keep in mind, Z's girlfriend is behind him studying on the bed and had a front row seat to the show. Also note that Z attempted to emulate D in the martial arts respect. He was quick (I had sparred with him a few times), but he wasn't innovative or particularly competent when it came to roughhousing. His next move sealed the deal on this story.
Z tried to reach out and side/roundhouse/something-kick J, partly out of humor and partly because he was truly embarrassed to open the door to his room to find J with his pants around his ankles. And he meant for that kick to connect. J saw it coming, caught Z's leg, dropped him to the ground, and physically balled him up into an ass-up fetal position in Z's doorway. D took this opportunity to run around the corner and add insult to injury by slapping Z's perfectly presented posterior. In about 2 seconds Z had gone from embarrassed to just plain pissed.
Z: You do know I can punch you in the balls from here.
J: You do know that I can destroy you as a human being from here.
Eventually both agreed to not emasculate/kill each other and the rest of us stopped laughing long enough to avoid hypoxia. J let Z up, pulled up his pants, and waited until Z closed his door back. Then we all dissolved once more into gales of laughter.
"You folded him up, neutralized him, and threatened to kill him, all with you pants down in front of his girlfriend!"
There are times I deeply miss that apartment.
-Guy
*Understand, his girlfriend was actually a cool person. She got along well with all of us and found these events to be fairly humorous. Don't ask me why she dated him.
R: Engineering major. Unofficial female psychology/biology minor. Cause of the majority of our apartment's notoriety.
Z: English major. Wants to become a preacher, making him the focus of our collective attempts at corruption.
D: Bio major. Introverted, unassuming, martial arts fanatic.
J: Former D201 roommate. Engineering major. Brawn for most of the apartment antics.
Guy: Bio major with a fixation on music and organic chemistry. Your humble scribe.
Z started off a decent guy when we first moved in together. Reserved, bookish, musician tendencies, hung out and vegged with us regularly; he fit right in. Then he started dating girls on campus, and we got to meet his Mr. Hyde. We roommates were no longer buddies, pals, or anything remotely familiar. We were now possible embarrassments to the image Z wanted to portray to his woman. He wanted to be the pure guy, the prototypical aspiring preacher: quiet, gentlemanly, choir-boy image with no scuffs to his pure facade. Not to say us roomies were bad people (we weren't), but we were fun-loving guys who liked nothing more than to embarrass the snot out of each other via practical jokes, dark humor, and other college bachelor things. Needless to say, when we got clued in to Z's new behavior, we were thrilled at the opportunity he had presented us. The smallest attempt to mess with him resulted in quiet looks of rage from Z. The culmination of these attempts is as follows.
J came over regularly to hang out and study (he lived in the apartment above us), and one night as R, J, and I were studying, he introduced us to his newest practical joke. D was sequestered in his room at the end of the hall, studying biology, chemistry, or something (who knows). J walks up to D's closed door, drops his pants, and knocks loudly. An irritated D yanks the door open, growls something about busy and studying, then he begins to wonder why J is just standing there grinning happily (never a good thing). D's eyes finally make their way south, he notices J's boxers, his mouth flops open, and then he sighs and acknowledges being pranked. Understand, these were some of those boxer which left nothing to the imagination. Low-grade homoerotic image at best.
After the laughter subsides, we decide that Z is in need of similar treatment. He and his girlfriend* had, per Z's protocol, entered the apartment, acknowledged our presence, and then slipped into his room to close the door. They had been this way for a while before, during, and after J's prank on D. J made his way up to the door, repeated the above noted performance, and got a benign smile from Z in response. That smile was not a joyful one; it was intended to convey a quiet threat. Keep in mind, Z's girlfriend is behind him studying on the bed and had a front row seat to the show. Also note that Z attempted to emulate D in the martial arts respect. He was quick (I had sparred with him a few times), but he wasn't innovative or particularly competent when it came to roughhousing. His next move sealed the deal on this story.
Z tried to reach out and side/roundhouse/something-kick J, partly out of humor and partly because he was truly embarrassed to open the door to his room to find J with his pants around his ankles. And he meant for that kick to connect. J saw it coming, caught Z's leg, dropped him to the ground, and physically balled him up into an ass-up fetal position in Z's doorway. D took this opportunity to run around the corner and add insult to injury by slapping Z's perfectly presented posterior. In about 2 seconds Z had gone from embarrassed to just plain pissed.
Z: You do know I can punch you in the balls from here.
J: You do know that I can destroy you as a human being from here.
Eventually both agreed to not emasculate/kill each other and the rest of us stopped laughing long enough to avoid hypoxia. J let Z up, pulled up his pants, and waited until Z closed his door back. Then we all dissolved once more into gales of laughter.
"You folded him up, neutralized him, and threatened to kill him, all with you pants down in front of his girlfriend!"
There are times I deeply miss that apartment.
-Guy
*Understand, his girlfriend was actually a cool person. She got along well with all of us and found these events to be fairly humorous. Don't ask me why she dated him.
October 31, 2010
...aaaaand we're back.
Poor, poor, neglected blog. Fear not, we have returned
We've been busy the past few weeks. We took a trip to Nashville for vacation/school open house earlier this month. There is a nurse practitioner program I was interested in at Vandy, so we spent a day over there taking notes and making decisions. I've settled on getting a one-year accelerated RN from another school, getting the required two years of experience, then reapplying for Vandy's Emergency NP. The NP program is 95% online, so wherever we are at in three years I can continue the program. The rest of the time we perused the shops and interesting areas of Nashville and did our usmost to not think of anything related to school or work.
We just got back from spending about a week at Gal's parents near St. Louis. By some random alignment of the planets, my fall break, Gal's work schedule, and my father-in-law's work schedule all lined up so that this little trip would have a lot of good family time. Except for a trip to the St. Charles community northwest of St. L, we mostly vegged around the house and got caught up with the family.
Now we're back into the swing of things. The office I work for at the university is putting together what amounts to a telemarketing campaign to announce to former Ag students that we are putting an Ag Business undergraduate degree online. 4,000 emails went out; 1,600 bounced. Guess who gets to call those 1,600 people and share the good news with them. Me and another graduate assistant. We're thrilled.
Gal is getting ready to move from ER to OB. From crying, whining adults to crying, whining babies. Babies are right up Gal's alley; matter of fact, she was extremely close to going to OB when she first started working here a year and a half ago. She's going to do great and have a good time.
Gotta go. The lab printer just spat something out.
-Guy
We've been busy the past few weeks. We took a trip to Nashville for vacation/school open house earlier this month. There is a nurse practitioner program I was interested in at Vandy, so we spent a day over there taking notes and making decisions. I've settled on getting a one-year accelerated RN from another school, getting the required two years of experience, then reapplying for Vandy's Emergency NP. The NP program is 95% online, so wherever we are at in three years I can continue the program. The rest of the time we perused the shops and interesting areas of Nashville and did our usmost to not think of anything related to school or work.
We just got back from spending about a week at Gal's parents near St. Louis. By some random alignment of the planets, my fall break, Gal's work schedule, and my father-in-law's work schedule all lined up so that this little trip would have a lot of good family time. Except for a trip to the St. Charles community northwest of St. L, we mostly vegged around the house and got caught up with the family.
Now we're back into the swing of things. The office I work for at the university is putting together what amounts to a telemarketing campaign to announce to former Ag students that we are putting an Ag Business undergraduate degree online. 4,000 emails went out; 1,600 bounced. Guess who gets to call those 1,600 people and share the good news with them. Me and another graduate assistant. We're thrilled.
Gal is getting ready to move from ER to OB. From crying, whining adults to crying, whining babies. Babies are right up Gal's alley; matter of fact, she was extremely close to going to OB when she first started working here a year and a half ago. She's going to do great and have a good time.
Gotta go. The lab printer just spat something out.
-Guy
October 13, 2010
GRE Day
Took the GRE this morning from 9-12 so I could get on with applying for Nurse Practitioner school*. Sometimes I think Beelzebub uses his days off to write mathematics problems for standardized computer testing. Some of what I was asked to deduce was so out in left field that it bore no resemblance to what I plan on doing after I graduate from NP school.
If, before I provide aid to them, a patient requires me to figure the area of a small square, situated inside a circle, situated inside of a larger circle based on two lines between the midpoint of the small square and said square's midpoint and adjacent corner...that patient is either off their meds or SOL. So Sorry™.
BTW, preliminary scoring shows that I scored high enough to continue applying for NP school, with room to spare. Woot!
On a side note, I'm in a great mood. When I'm one of these moods I get blues songs stuck in my head. Here's the current playlist:
1. Jerrod Niemann: Lover Lover (don't judge me; it was playing on the radio in Subway when I got a post-GRE footlong)
2. John Mellencamp: Right Behind Me
3. White Stripes/Son House: Seven Nation Army/ Death Letter Blues
*It's all a bit of hogwash seeing as I'll have a Masters in another two months (thereby waiving the need for taking/paying for the GRE in the first place), but apparently that doesn't count at some institutions.
If, before I provide aid to them, a patient requires me to figure the area of a small square, situated inside a circle, situated inside of a larger circle based on two lines between the midpoint of the small square and said square's midpoint and adjacent corner...that patient is either off their meds or SOL. So Sorry™.
BTW, preliminary scoring shows that I scored high enough to continue applying for NP school, with room to spare. Woot!
On a side note, I'm in a great mood. When I'm one of these moods I get blues songs stuck in my head. Here's the current playlist:
1. Jerrod Niemann: Lover Lover (don't judge me; it was playing on the radio in Subway when I got a post-GRE footlong)
2. John Mellencamp: Right Behind Me
3. White Stripes/Son House: Seven Nation Army/ Death Letter Blues
The switch between songs is the highlight of the video
What can I say, I'm quirky. Blues on a good day.
-Guy
*It's all a bit of hogwash seeing as I'll have a Masters in another two months (thereby waiving the need for taking/paying for the GRE in the first place), but apparently that doesn't count at some institutions.
September 30, 2010
What's at the end of the fuse...
I like to say that it doesn't matter how long a person's fuse is, there's a powder keg at the end of all of them. It's taken a few years, but one issue in particular has just about worked it's way to my little bundle of dynamite.
It's no secret that Gal and I are dyed-in-the-wool medical nerds. I applied to medical school for the past two years, came close to getting in both times, but was denied in the end. I have since changed my tact a bit, aiming toward a nurse practitioner program which I plan on entering next fall. Living in a small town, it's a fact of life that I'll see someone I know every day and occasionally they will ask me what my plans are in the next year. Over the past few years, my answer has always elicited the same comment in a variety of forms:
"There's a lot of money to be made in that field" *benign smile*
And I have just about had it. If feels like a slow boil that will one day overflow and result in the production of a high-explosive, armor-piercing snarky comment.
Granted, most people associate money-making with some professions: medical doctor, lawyer, attorney, accountant, hedge-fund investor, moon-shiner. But when it comes to medicine, that should not be the motivating factor! I find it insulting when folks (even if they mean well), feel it's their place to inform me of the financial benefits of my chosen field. What do these individuals say when other people mention a future profession that does not pay well?
Student: "I'm going to be kindergarten teacher."
Acquaintance: "That's fantastic; you're going to have to deal with being underpaid for a thankless job in a struggling public school system!"
Adding to the powerderkeg, the people who say things like this are not just mild acquaintances, some of them are in my immediate family. One in particular hasberated encouraged me to try the application process for medical school again this year (don't misunderstand, I treasure their support). When I told them that I would be applying to nurse practitioner school instead, they shifted smoothly into the whole doing-the-same-work-for-less-money schpeal. This went on for about 10 minutes. By the time this little lecture was over, one singular phrase was rattling around in my head like a ping-pong ball in a blender: I don't give a flying f*** about the money. You could light that f*** on fire while it was still alive, loft it screaming off the edge of a deep gorge, and my only concern would be that it didn't land on anyone that I truly liked (short list, mind you). In short: I was livid*.
I'm going into my chosen field because of one simple fact: I like helping people with the medical knowledge that rolls around in my head. My goal when I'm at work is to do my job to the best of my abilities, many times requiring me to go above and beyond what is listed in my job description. Money comes in handy, I can readily attest to that (back pay sucks). But if a person lets that desire for money color their decision, it will produce deep flaws somewhere in their profession.
Deep breath, rant is over, back to work...
* Disclaimer: I don't have anger management issues. Normally I'm so laid back that I appear comatose, but this has been years in the making. Also, I tend to use expressive language that would be deemed inappropriate in church (or even in a locker room). It's our site, so if this might offend you perhaps you should adjust your world-view or find a more G-rated blog. Sorry.
-Guy
It's no secret that Gal and I are dyed-in-the-wool medical nerds. I applied to medical school for the past two years, came close to getting in both times, but was denied in the end. I have since changed my tact a bit, aiming toward a nurse practitioner program which I plan on entering next fall. Living in a small town, it's a fact of life that I'll see someone I know every day and occasionally they will ask me what my plans are in the next year. Over the past few years, my answer has always elicited the same comment in a variety of forms:
"There's a lot of money to be made in that field" *benign smile*
And I have just about had it. If feels like a slow boil that will one day overflow and result in the production of a high-explosive, armor-piercing snarky comment.
Granted, most people associate money-making with some professions: medical doctor, lawyer, attorney, accountant, hedge-fund investor, moon-shiner. But when it comes to medicine, that should not be the motivating factor! I find it insulting when folks (even if they mean well), feel it's their place to inform me of the financial benefits of my chosen field. What do these individuals say when other people mention a future profession that does not pay well?
Student: "I'm going to be kindergarten teacher."
Acquaintance: "That's fantastic; you're going to have to deal with being underpaid for a thankless job in a struggling public school system!"
Adding to the powerderkeg, the people who say things like this are not just mild acquaintances, some of them are in my immediate family. One in particular has
I'm going into my chosen field because of one simple fact: I like helping people with the medical knowledge that rolls around in my head. My goal when I'm at work is to do my job to the best of my abilities, many times requiring me to go above and beyond what is listed in my job description. Money comes in handy, I can readily attest to that (back pay sucks). But if a person lets that desire for money color their decision, it will produce deep flaws somewhere in their profession.
Deep breath, rant is over, back to work...
* Disclaimer: I don't have anger management issues. Normally I'm so laid back that I appear comatose, but this has been years in the making. Also, I tend to use expressive language that would be deemed inappropriate in church (or even in a locker room). It's our site, so if this might offend you perhaps you should adjust your world-view or find a more G-rated blog. Sorry.
-Guy
September 9, 2010
A Brief History of Guy
Gal beat me to the introductory post, mostly because I was on the verge of unconciousness while she was rearing to go at ~1am (the darned body clock is still set for2nd shift schedule).
Anywho, I'm the male half of A Guy and a Gal blog. I was born near and have lived in the same small Tennessee town all my life. I attended a state college near where I grew up for my undergraduate degree (Biology) and have continued at the same school for my graduate degree (MBA).
I grew up out in the sticks. It took us about 15 minutes either way to reach the nearest town, and our nearest neighbors were ~150 yards away separated by two tree lines and a street. It was here that I learned to enjoy hard work, exercising my mind and body, and how to interact with nature (ie, track, hunt, and kill nature during the appropriate seasons). Whenever Gal and I fully settle down, I like to think we would pick some place similar to my parent's home.
I currently work at the hospital drawing blood for the lab (phlebotomist, phlebo, blood-sucker) and doing mind-numbing work at the college as a graduate assistant (Excell, Word, class rosters, *doze*). The hospital job is my favorite as it provides a never-ending series of opportunities for excitement and learning. Like Gal, I tend to describe aspects of work with a heavy dose of sarcasm, but in reality it's a great job and a good place to work. BTW, we work at the same hospital, which sometimes causes mutual patients to stare questioningly at the two people they thought were coworkers who have suddenly morphed into bickering spouses (playful bickering).
Speaking of, Gal and I were high-school sweethearts who got married two years ago. I knew I had fallen for her when she caused the Spanish teacher to have a fit and call her into the hall on her first day of class (a long story, Gal was really one of the good, smart, quiet kids in high school). Seeing as she could put up with me, quirks and all, she agreed to marry me and the rest is history.
This is getting to be a long post. I'll wrap up with some random tid-bits. I have a deep infatuation with music, especially guitar music (from Robert Johnson to Metallica) and have been known to cause some auditory pain with my own acoustic guitar. I like playing with things that go 'boom', especially in larger calibers. I used to practice and compete in Olympic-style rifle sports until school demands pulled me away (some days I miss that old range under the visitor's side of the college stadium). I try to exercise on a regular basis, mostly so that I can continue ingesting massive amounts of food. And lastly, we have three four-legged children: Gizmo (cat, three years old, demon-possessed), Ruger (dog, beagldor mix, 1.5 year old, mama's-boy, alarm system), and Abby (cat, 5 months old, polar opposite of Gizmo).
-Guy
Anywho, I'm the male half of A Guy and a Gal blog. I was born near and have lived in the same small Tennessee town all my life. I attended a state college near where I grew up for my undergraduate degree (Biology) and have continued at the same school for my graduate degree (MBA).
I grew up out in the sticks. It took us about 15 minutes either way to reach the nearest town, and our nearest neighbors were ~150 yards away separated by two tree lines and a street. It was here that I learned to enjoy hard work, exercising my mind and body, and how to interact with nature (ie, track, hunt, and kill nature during the appropriate seasons). Whenever Gal and I fully settle down, I like to think we would pick some place similar to my parent's home.
I currently work at the hospital drawing blood for the lab (phlebotomist, phlebo, blood-sucker) and doing mind-numbing work at the college as a graduate assistant (Excell, Word, class rosters, *doze*). The hospital job is my favorite as it provides a never-ending series of opportunities for excitement and learning. Like Gal, I tend to describe aspects of work with a heavy dose of sarcasm, but in reality it's a great job and a good place to work. BTW, we work at the same hospital, which sometimes causes mutual patients to stare questioningly at the two people they thought were coworkers who have suddenly morphed into bickering spouses (playful bickering).
Speaking of, Gal and I were high-school sweethearts who got married two years ago. I knew I had fallen for her when she caused the Spanish teacher to have a fit and call her into the hall on her first day of class (a long story, Gal was really one of the good, smart, quiet kids in high school). Seeing as she could put up with me, quirks and all, she agreed to marry me and the rest is history.
This is getting to be a long post. I'll wrap up with some random tid-bits. I have a deep infatuation with music, especially guitar music (from Robert Johnson to Metallica) and have been known to cause some auditory pain with my own acoustic guitar. I like playing with things that go 'boom', especially in larger calibers. I used to practice and compete in Olympic-style rifle sports until school demands pulled me away (some days I miss that old range under the visitor's side of the college stadium). I try to exercise on a regular basis, mostly so that I can continue ingesting massive amounts of food. And lastly, we have three four-legged children: Gizmo (cat, three years old, demon-possessed), Ruger (dog, beagldor mix, 1.5 year old, mama's-boy, alarm system), and Abby (cat, 5 months old, polar opposite of Gizmo).
-Guy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)