Evidently this is acceptable behavior.

Excellent news, readers. Until last night I wasn't exactly sure how I would pass this medicine shelf today. But thanks to the illustrious example of a potential vice-presidential nominee, now when I happen upon a question I can't answer I will just tell my course director I'll try to find specific examples and bring them to him later.

Brilliant.

Black Friday: Midwestern Style

I can't even begin to fathom what goes through the minds of people who decide bombarding stores at 4am to battle like-minded crazies for electronics and toys at low low prices is a good idea. I understand even less the people who PITCH A TENT outside their local Best Buy at 8pm on Thanksgiving night. I mean, c'mon. Ride the turkey coma folks. Let it wrap you in thankful, thankful bliss as you watch all the bitchin' family movies on prime time TV (e.g. The Princess Diaries marathon). No need to ruin the postprandial nirvana that only comes once a year.

I awoke this morning to the newscaster carrying on about "Black Friday," which I swear is a term made up just this past week, and couldn't believe that before I de-snuggled myself from my bed there were already people who were done with all their holiday shopping. Freaks. Misers. Lucky Jerks.

I arrived at the breakfast table to find my family perusing the sale circulars that came with the morning paper. The BLACK! FRIDAY! sales circulars.

True, I really couldn't believe some of the deals that were visually assaulting me: JCPenney's ladies leather jackets formerly $299.99, now a paltry $49.99! Kohl's hawking 4.0 ct diamante tennis bracelets, buy one get six FREE! Wal-Mart passing out bottled tears of the baby Jesus to the first 100 customers!

But I think the most unbelievable items were from the local retailers... my oh my, we're certainly not in Manhattan anymore:

Forget the slutty Bratz doll, this Christmas little Sally is pining for her very own kicky pink John Deere boots.



Perhaps you would like to celebrate the season of good will towards men with a shiny new shotgun? (Does it concern anyone else that this rifle is sold all wrapped in plastic? Kind of like a new CD player or an ink cartridge?)



(While we're on the topic of concerning... do you really want to buy your cross bow from a company advertising themselves proficient in Monkey Business? Pretty sure I don't want anyone going bananas when it comes to a PIECE OF WEAPONRY.)



But back to the hot deals for gift giving this season. For that sports fan in your life, how about a nice marinade?



Now, I did grow up here. I know what that thing is actually for. But doesn't it just seem like... I don't know, a Sportsman's Marinade Kit is all about making sure your racquet is nice and juicy or tenderizing that basketball?

So we've got the sporty spices in your life covered, but how about baby? Well, look no further. I'm sure every parent would LOVE for their child to be decked out in this little number:



I mean, who WOULDN'T want their child to be as unobtrusive as possible when out and about in the forest. Especially if you're, I don't know, hunting. Better make sure baby is incognito so as not to spook the deer. We wouldn't want to LOSE THE INFANT or anything. I'm sure unexplained movement in the underbrush always turns out well.

One item did manage to legitimately catch my eye...



I don't know what an ice cream ball is, but I bet it'd make for a very Merry Christmas.

Taking Up More Than My Fair Share

"So I talked to Overly Fond of Sleepovers Best Friend today. She said she heard I was moving out of our apartment."

"What? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No no, I just thought it was funny because... where'd she hear that? What is it with the rumors running rampant lately."

"True. You should've told her I kicked you out because you got too fat."

Second Floor, Going Up

Everybody in medical school is very busy and important. The pace at which people walk and the number of exasperated sighs released in a day are but two of the many ways outsiders are clued in.

Medical students' time is the most valuable, the things they do in a day the most taxing, and pretty much they're just the most put-upon entity in society. Or excuse me, the world.

No where is this made more apparent than when one is waiting for the elevator in an apartment building that houses med students.

It doesn't matter if one is standing in front of the elevator bank, having just pushed the up button and clearly waiting for the car to come down to the lobby. Once a medical student enters they must BLOW by one and hit the up button six, eight, nay, twenty times. Not just because it makes the elevator come faster, but because they need one to know THEY'RE IN A HURRY. Clearly not as big of a hurry as one. One is a layman. One is ostensibly lacking a white coat and therefore does not matter hurry.

As one patiently stands, perhaps with one's arms full of groceries, the medical student paces, mentally berating the goddamn elevator that is just bringing their entire schedule down. This is beyond unacceptable. Doesn't that car KNOW who they ARE? They have an exam this week. This extra forty-five second interval was NOT budgeted into their study schedule.

They tap their foot. They cross and uncross their arms. They push the up button a few more times for good measure. They anxiously stare at the numbers coming down, letting out an affronted grunt as each successive number lights up... 8... then 7... it is just not fast enough to meet their unparalleled need to BE ON THAT ELEVATOR NOW, AND THEY MEAN NOW.

One quietly shifts one's armload of groceries to the floor, patient. Unmoving. Comfortable in the knowledge that yes, the elevator will get there eventually. The medical student seems less assured.

One sees them eye the security desk and one can observe the mental acrobatics playing across their face as they decide whether or not to report that the elevator is broken, because... how could it not be!? IT SHOULDN'T TAKE THIS LONG. THEY ARE VERY BUSY AND IMPORTANT. HOW DOES THE ELEVATOR NOT UNDERSTAND THIS.

They start penning a letter to the deans in their heads, enumerating the many different levels at which this insult is unsatisfactory for not only their day, but their medical education as a whole.

The elevator arrives.

The medical student springs through the threshold and has an overzealous trigger finger assaulting the "Door Close" button before one has even mobilized one's groceries.

One slips by the closing door, causing it to re-open for a whole extra twenty seconds, at which point the veins in the medical student's forehead leap across the elevator and attempt to strangle one. How could one ruin their life so. Doesn't one KNOW who they ARE?

They punch the button for the fourteenth floor.

There are few things in life that would be as satisfying as reaching for the fifteenth floor button and dragging one's hand down the length of the button columns to the second floor -- where one will promptly get off.