Posts tagged ‘Funny’

Going to Bali tomorrow!

There is, however, a reality check:

Ah, crap.


November 19, 2011 at 08:59 2 comments

Holy mucal crustacean!

I hate to belabour the point, but my lunchtime Facebook checks have just acquired a punitive element.

Why pay for the cream when you can cut out the middleman?

November 18, 2011 at 13:45 Leave a comment

The following material is incompatible with mealtimes

Here’s what my lunchtime Facebook trawl dredged up today:


Mr. Manx will testify that I’m the sort of idiot who, when confronted with a bottle of baby powder, can be counted on to say something like, “What, made from real babies?”

In the same spirit, I clicked on the snail cream link to find:

Mmm... snail cream... ecstasy...

Oh yeah, made from real snail slime.  Urgh.

This is an indication for cognitive reframing – I am someone who enjoys eating chicken feet, fish eyeballs and liver sashimi, and who’s had nice cooling drinks made from grated antelope horn and bird saliva, and who believes in daily topical applications of fermented rice filtrate. Slathering snail mucus on one’s face is not so bad.

… Not working. Urgh.

November 16, 2011 at 13:30 2 comments

The Blue Frog and the Dodohead

Memories of Paris are interrupted by my adventure in getting Blue Frog inspected. Now, getting your car through its regular inspection is normally a very serious affair. I succeeded in turning it into a comedy of errors.

So there was me nervously getting Blue Frog to the STA inspection centre at Sin Ming, which was a feat all by itself because I have a world-class faculty for taking the wrong turn every time. I finally made it through the correct gates and made a turn to find myself looking at the butt ends of three taxis and eight giant lorries in four queues.

Boo-boo #1: Joined the wrong queue. How was I to know that cars and taxis were supposed to be in different queues? Answer: from the sign that instructed taxis to go to Line 3 and cars to Line 4, that I had managed to drive by without seeing. Fortunately for me, there was a nice uniformed uncle who correctly identified me as a dodohead and kindly parted the Red Sea of vehicles before supervising my twenty-point (thereabouts) turn into the correct lane.

Boo-boo #2: Reinforced my status as a dodohead via dumb-ass responses to simple instructions. Nice Uncle, who had clearly decided to take responsibility for my welfare, informed me that the next step was to make payment for the inspection. I started rummaging through my bag on the passenger seat for my wallet.

“No, no,” he said, pointing, “You pay at the counter over there.” 

I blinked. “But my car is over here.”

“Yes, you leave your car here.”

“What? Just like that? Oh… very well…”

So I turned off the engine, got out and started to lock the door.

“No, no, you leave your key in the engine.”

“What?! Really?!”

Then I realized that that was exactly what everyone else in the queues was doing, so I shut up, left the key in the ignition and went meekly off to pay.

Boo-boo #3: I then proceeded to turn the whole event into a fiasco. The girl at the payment counter asked for my licence plate number. I gave it. She keyed it into her computer. Then she said, “You got your car inspected last year?”

“Yup,” I replied.

“Well, Miss, your car only needs two-yearly inspections. You don’t need to get one now. Come back next year.”



I walked back to Nice Uncle. True to form, he started to tell me where to go next. I interrupted him with, “I’m sorry, Uncle. It appears I should have done this next year.”

Clearly having had experience with dodoheads, he merely laughed and, once again, parted the Red Sea so that I could do another twenty-point (thereabouts) turn out of the queue and outta the place.

The next time I’m tempted to think myself so clever, I should remember this day and laugh.

December 15, 2010 at 21:46 2 comments

Pen to paper

I think I stopped writing because of my exams, really. Before The Draught happened, I was mugging so hard over my damn thesis that I think I simply got tired of writing words. Said thesis was an involuntary work comprising a research project spanning about two years, and, horror of horrors, it HAD to contain a minimum of 10,000 words. Who wants to read 10-freaking-000 words on a half-baked project?! A well-baked project, so to speak, exhausts its consumer by the time it hits about 5,000 words. My half-baked project, therefore, tasted at least twice as bad as it had to. I still feel sorry for whichever examiner ended up with my stuff. Personally, I would have used it as a doorstop.

That wasn’t all there was to the exams. After the thesis came an interview comprising a journal critique and two vignettes. The preparation for these things took months. And when you’ve reached the point for which you’ve been slogging for months, sometimes you get a little silly. I had a superb attack of the sillies during my second vignette, which went something like this:

Examiner: You are the ward consultant and one of your patients has just been found hanging in the toilet. What do you do?

Me: Hanging as in hung himself? Not, like, hanging clothes?

E: Hanging. As in hung himself.

Me: Right. Is he, uh, dead?

E: Yes. He is dead.

Me: OK. I would inform my consultant…

E: You ARE the consultant.

Me: Oh, right. I forgot. Well, in that case, I would… [insert unimportant exam babble here for about three minutes]

E: OK. What, though, might you do in the immediate setting? 

Me: (blinks) The immediate setting?

E: The immediate setting.

Me: (perplexed) Uh, make sure he was really dead? (firmly banishing visions of holy water and a wooden stake)

E: He is really dead. What next?

Me: (hopefully) Get rid of the corpse?

The other three examiners were sniggering openly at this point and I thought I was dead (hur hur) duck. It was only later, when I was swapping war stories with my friends, did I find out that half had also attempted to describe body disposal and one or two others had wanted to perform CPR on a dead man.

Ah well. We all passed, by the way. Good citizens, your psychiatric needs will henceforth be ministered to by a bunch of clowns.

But the real point of this post is to record the fact that I signed my contract with the Buffalo Farm today. My deal with the Fruit Farm will come to its natural end by the beginning of next month. I will still return to the Fruit Farm twice a week for a while, but the remainder of my time will be spent in the more breathable environment of the Buffalo Farm. That is a remarkably refreshing thought. I take it as a divine blessing that I was able to scrounge up the requisite certificates to present at the signing (if you don’t know me so well, let me tell you now that while I have a passably organized mind, I am extraordinarily untidy about my belongings, and possess unsurpassed ability to lose trifles like my birth certificate; I probably have no proof of my own existence), and I think it was meant to be.

October 1, 2010 at 18:22 4 comments

Why the Fruit Farm is bad for my mental health

It has been a day of weird conversations. The first one took place at about 9 a.m. with, not a patient, but the spouse of a patient who made me wonder just whose name truly deserved a place on my ward list. The gist of it went something like this:

Spouse: (launches into diatribe of patient’s evil deeds over the past three decades)

Twenty minutes later…

Me: (interrupts torrent) Thank you, but I can see where the previous two doctors wrote five pages of notes each about the same history which you are now sharing. For the third time.

Spouse: Yes, you must help me. Because… (diatribe resumes)

Me: (interrupts torrent) What we have done is…

Spouse: (interrupts me) The admitting doctor said you will help me. Listen… (diatribe resumes)

Me: (interrupts torrent) So far, we have…

Spouse: (ignores me) (continues diatribe)

Me: Excuse me. I am trying to tell you how we have tried to help.

Spouse: You must help me! You must help me! They said you would help me! You must help me!

Me: I am trying to. Fine. You tell me. How do you want me to help you?

Spouse: I don’t know.

Me: (blinks) You don’t know?

Spouse: You’re not helping me. They said you would help me. Why are you not helping me? You’ll never help me. Why won’t you help me?

Me: (decides that the patient’s diagnosis is Crazy Spouse)

This went on for half an hour more.

The next two conversations, both via telephone, were much shorter. One took place between me and an on-call medical officer.

Me: Do you want me to get you dinner, since you are busy with your on-call duties?

MO: Oh, no, thank you, Dr. Katie, I can get my own.

Me: No need to be so formal, OK? Calling me Katie will do.

MO: Haha, OK, sure, thank you, dear, bye. (hangs up)

Me: (blinks) (pokes ear)

Finally, conversation between me and an unknown member of the hospital staff.

Phone rings.

Me: Hello?

Mystery Staff: Yes?

Me: (thinks: why is SHE saying “yes”?) Yes?

MS: Yes? Yes?

Me: (thinks: I can do this better than you) Yes yes yes?

MS: Who’s this?

Me: You called me. Who are you?

MS: I didn’t call you.

Me: My phone rang! I didn’t call you! YOU called ME!

MS: Oops, sorry. (hangs up)

Ten seconds later. Phone rings.

Me: Hello?

Same MS: Yes?

Me: (screams) (hangs up)

April 30, 2010 at 22:59 7 comments

Common sense

Excerpt from a teaching round with a medical student today:

Me: What is the difference between a hallucination and a delusion?

Student: Er…

Me: OK. Define a hallucination.

Student: A… sensory perception not based in reality…?

Me: O… K… So how many senses can one have hallucinations in?

Student: Er…

Me: (helpfully) There’s auditory, visual… (nods at student to go on)

Student: Er…

Me: (sighs) How many senses do human beings have?

Student: (thinks) Six.

Ward team sniggers.

Me: Oh yeah? Name them.

Student: Hearing, sight, touch, taste… smell… and, er…

Me: (cannot help self) Sixth sense?

Doesn’t matter how many medical schools we have, does it?

February 8, 2010 at 20:27 4 comments

Older Posts

Welcome to my blog!

My blog-name is Katie but I will not respond if you call me that in real life because it's not my real name. Yes, I do practise virtual-world paranoia. No, I do not enjoy stalkers. But I do enjoy writing and having folks reading said writing, so welcome to my world. It's nice to meet you.

Playing in my head over and over again argh

I'll Have To Say I Love You In A Song (Jim Croce)

Book(s) of the moment

Hogfather (Terry Pratchett)

Books read in 2010 and 2011

Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (JK Rowling) - 'cos the movie's coming out!
Frankenstein: Lost Souls (Dean Koontz) - ah, bugger, it's part of a series! Now I hafta find all the books...
Dismantled (Jennifer McMahon) - oh, good one
Tigerlily's Orchids (Ruth Rendell)
Shutter Island (Dennis LeHane) - reminds me too much of work
Holy Fools (Joanne Harris) - it's official: I prefer her scary books
A Series of Unfortunate Events; The Unauthorized Autobiography; The Beatrice Letters (Lemony Snicket)
The Little Friend (Donna Tartt)
The main books - 11 so far - of the Southern Vampire series; the Aurora Teagarden series except for A Fool & His Honey - that makes it 7; Sweet & Deadly (Charlaine Harris)
The Woman in Black (Susan Hill)
Full Dark, No Stars (Stephen King)
Room: A Novel (Emma Donaghue)
Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children (Ransom Riggs)
The Bachman Books (Stephen King)
Men At Arms (Terry Pratchett)
Carpe Jugulum (Terry Pratchett)
The Fifth Elephant (Terry Pratchett)
Beauty (Robin McKinley)
The Sandman, Vol 1 (Neil Gaiman)
The Burden (Agatha Christie) - her crime novels are waaay better
Snuff (Terry Pratchett)

Visit my photoblog!

I started my first photoblog on 3 May, 2009. Each post features one picture, with a little story of how it came about. Do take a look by clicking on: Manx Pictures
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Don’t say I didn’t say this…

Disclaimers: 1) I cannot help but bitch about work sometimes, but everything here comes under the realm of personal remarks, and nothing here is said in my professional capacity. Nor does anything here reflect the opinion of the institutions that employ me. This is just me shooting off. 2) Most identities have been anonymized, particularly those of folks I know on a personal basis. Same goes for my workplaces. However, commercial and public places and figures remain named. Otherwise some things just wouldn't make sense. 3) Links and sources have been provided where appropriate and possible. They are not meant to challenge anyone's ownership. If this causes any discomfort or offence, please let me know.


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