If only we knew. The cliche, the thing they always say is that you should always wear clean underwear, in case you get knocked down. Actually, if you do get knockeddown, no matter how clean your undercrackers were this morning, they're sure as hell soiled now.
I discovered a varient of this aphorism. When graffiti'ing your clothes, just cast a little eye to the future.
Because when, after 6 pints of snakebite, you faceplant into a concrete floor, and bruise your brain into a coma, it won't make it any easier for your parents to bear when they find your nice white shirt has "I love bum sex" scrawled in massive letters on it.
Showing posts with label In Drink. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In Drink. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Redemption Song
Out this weekend with La Belle Fille and her friends. I have kept my head down in her locale for a while, after failing to win her friends over with my drunken ranting. This weekend shaped up as dinner with her folks, who I do seem to have won over. All well as usual, with good food and wine, and the odd "Top Five" discussion.
The opportunity for redemption arose after dinner, when her friends texted to summon us for a pint. One pint became two, and ended up as karaoke in a Chinese restaurant. Brilliant, although slightly intimidating, as LBF has the voice of an angel, and her friends all sing above the average, whereas I can't hold a tune for shit.
Anyway, the point is that I was able to go out and have a few drinks without offending anyone, and act just like a normal person.
Almost...
LBF's singing partner's flatmate is very protective of LBF, and less than enamoured with me; she took great offense to me appearing to 'coach' LBF at her singing (which I wasn't), and then there followed the great 'lighter' misunderstanding.
I did try; but I guess you can't please all the people all the time.....
The opportunity for redemption arose after dinner, when her friends texted to summon us for a pint. One pint became two, and ended up as karaoke in a Chinese restaurant. Brilliant, although slightly intimidating, as LBF has the voice of an angel, and her friends all sing above the average, whereas I can't hold a tune for shit.
Anyway, the point is that I was able to go out and have a few drinks without offending anyone, and act just like a normal person.
Almost...
LBF's singing partner's flatmate is very protective of LBF, and less than enamoured with me; she took great offense to me appearing to 'coach' LBF at her singing (which I wasn't), and then there followed the great 'lighter' misunderstanding.
I did try; but I guess you can't please all the people all the time.....
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Singing The Body Electric
Hacked off.
Lethargic, a bit febrile, and with, as ever too much to do, and too little motivation.
Spent the weekend with La Belle Fille, but was so intent on trying to make her proud of me in front of her friends, rather became a show off, and then something of a penis. Just once, it would be nice if I could cut loose without being an arse; mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
Have found sleep hard to come by the last few days, so increasingly ratty at work. I always resent being tired ad grumpy at work; it makes me short with people who don't deserve it, or at times when more could be achieved with less acid on the tongue. Particularly frustrating to me today were the efforts of some of my surgical colleagues to avoid admitting an old boy with a dental abscess.
I fully recognise that I am, at times, less than the most conscientious doc, but I always try to do my job. I do not turn away from what is difficult, because it is so.
So, when confronted with a patient labouring under the ravages of a dental abscess, it would be nice if this was greeted with pleasure; not at the illness, but at the opportunity to make someone better.
Not with excuses, and lame promises to treat the patient "as an outpatient", while at the same time suggesting admission under an alternative team. To say that, as a doctor, you do not know how to treat someone who is confused, should really be too embarrassing to contemplate. Instead it seems to be a valid reason for not treating the patient.
I find this increasingly among the surgical specialities, who seem set on returning to the days when they were not Doctors, but tradesmen. One of my orthopaedic colleagues, when referred a patient who had, with a sharp knife, opened her wrist into the joint itself, declined to take on the patient because she had also taken an overdose, That the OD was non-lethal, and over 12 hours old meant nothing to him. He was genuinely afraid that the patient might become unwell in a way that was beyond his ability; and was quite prepared to neglect treatment of her semi-severed wrist to avoid such a possibility.
I sometimes wonder if we all really did go to medical school...
Lethargic, a bit febrile, and with, as ever too much to do, and too little motivation.
Spent the weekend with La Belle Fille, but was so intent on trying to make her proud of me in front of her friends, rather became a show off, and then something of a penis. Just once, it would be nice if I could cut loose without being an arse; mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
Have found sleep hard to come by the last few days, so increasingly ratty at work. I always resent being tired ad grumpy at work; it makes me short with people who don't deserve it, or at times when more could be achieved with less acid on the tongue. Particularly frustrating to me today were the efforts of some of my surgical colleagues to avoid admitting an old boy with a dental abscess.
I fully recognise that I am, at times, less than the most conscientious doc, but I always try to do my job. I do not turn away from what is difficult, because it is so.
So, when confronted with a patient labouring under the ravages of a dental abscess, it would be nice if this was greeted with pleasure; not at the illness, but at the opportunity to make someone better.
Not with excuses, and lame promises to treat the patient "as an outpatient", while at the same time suggesting admission under an alternative team. To say that, as a doctor, you do not know how to treat someone who is confused, should really be too embarrassing to contemplate. Instead it seems to be a valid reason for not treating the patient.
I find this increasingly among the surgical specialities, who seem set on returning to the days when they were not Doctors, but tradesmen. One of my orthopaedic colleagues, when referred a patient who had, with a sharp knife, opened her wrist into the joint itself, declined to take on the patient because she had also taken an overdose, That the OD was non-lethal, and over 12 hours old meant nothing to him. He was genuinely afraid that the patient might become unwell in a way that was beyond his ability; and was quite prepared to neglect treatment of her semi-severed wrist to avoid such a possibility.
I sometimes wonder if we all really did go to medical school...
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Prier Pour Le Pitie Du Morse Et De Singe
Can't do accents.
A quiet week after the weekend. We practice resuscitative thoracotomies on sheep; a trauma surgeon takes a dislike to me because I'm using a PDA to take notes on her lecture. I think she thinks I'm ignoring her in favour of internet porn, or some such. She also tells us that JFK, Sr died at scene. I want to take issue with this, but am already in her bad books, so let it slide.
Thursday/Friday are quiet; our trial period goes on, so more docs, more nurses, more space. Brilliant. Also, new Bosses. I'm already liking one, who seems both progressive, and dynamic and not so tied up in protocols that he will discourage lateral thinking. Haven't worked with the other yet, but I'm sure she will prove as good to work with.
Friday night... the ED May Ball - Masquerade Style. There is a minor frisson of excitement among the Nurses, as they seem keen to see what happens to me when I'm drunk (much the same, jus' a bit louder...), and a few are curious to meet my new Beau. I think they wonder what sort of woman would put up with me. Sometimes, so do I.
Not any docs attend; I think this is a shame, but the shift system makes it difficult. One of my SHOs wins best mask (which frankly I feel I deserve...), for a creation assembled from bits of resus equipment; another arrives so completely transformed, I don't recognise her. Amazing how different some people look out of scrubs, hair down, glasses off and poured into a little black dress and 3 inch heels...
Anyway, it goes off well; I drink probably a bit too much, but celebrate life in general with Le Morse, and dance badly. I think my new squeeze has a good time. I'm never quite sure - girls interact with each other in ways that I don't quite get sometimes, but we get on very well, which is the main thing - the thing and the whole of the thing. Further details are restricted under the current embargo. But I have good feelings about la fille... If I can find a suitable photo of the mask she bought me, I'll post.
A good way to finish the week, to exorcise the dark spirit of work that sometimes encroaches.
A quiet week after the weekend. We practice resuscitative thoracotomies on sheep; a trauma surgeon takes a dislike to me because I'm using a PDA to take notes on her lecture. I think she thinks I'm ignoring her in favour of internet porn, or some such. She also tells us that JFK, Sr died at scene. I want to take issue with this, but am already in her bad books, so let it slide.
Thursday/Friday are quiet; our trial period goes on, so more docs, more nurses, more space. Brilliant. Also, new Bosses. I'm already liking one, who seems both progressive, and dynamic and not so tied up in protocols that he will discourage lateral thinking. Haven't worked with the other yet, but I'm sure she will prove as good to work with.
Friday night... the ED May Ball - Masquerade Style. There is a minor frisson of excitement among the Nurses, as they seem keen to see what happens to me when I'm drunk (much the same, jus' a bit louder...), and a few are curious to meet my new Beau. I think they wonder what sort of woman would put up with me. Sometimes, so do I.
Not any docs attend; I think this is a shame, but the shift system makes it difficult. One of my SHOs wins best mask (which frankly I feel I deserve...), for a creation assembled from bits of resus equipment; another arrives so completely transformed, I don't recognise her. Amazing how different some people look out of scrubs, hair down, glasses off and poured into a little black dress and 3 inch heels...
Anyway, it goes off well; I drink probably a bit too much, but celebrate life in general with Le Morse, and dance badly. I think my new squeeze has a good time. I'm never quite sure - girls interact with each other in ways that I don't quite get sometimes, but we get on very well, which is the main thing - the thing and the whole of the thing. Further details are restricted under the current embargo. But I have good feelings about la fille... If I can find a suitable photo of the mask she bought me, I'll post.
A good way to finish the week, to exorcise the dark spirit of work that sometimes encroaches.
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