sag awards canadian fashion review

ellen page: tres cancon. you're at the sag awards, not the junos. don't let your movie title fool you.
sandra oh: oh no.
ryan gosling: I want to steal your suit and that sweet formal-brokeback-plaid shirt.

I would boycott them if they weren't so delicious

dear whoppers, the candy, not the burger:
I cannot believe that you have replaced the pastel-coloured robin's eggs with the plain, standard-issue chocolate whopper. do not think for one second that you can sweep this under the carpet with a little bit of easter-themed packaging. if I were not so thoroughly immobilized from having eaten half a bag of your malted confectionery delights, I would be writing some harshly worded emails, that is for sure.

number one reason I would consider general surgery

all the general surgery residents get these smart white coats with cinched in waists. I think they would look quite flattering on me, if I say so myself. sign me up!

and she forgot the syrup

this weekend, per mila's request, I whipped up a hollandaise and made her some eggs benedict. then, since I am working night shifts this week, I prepared her a week's worth of meals, all neatly packaged and labeled. wanting to make sure that she was seen as pulling her weight, mila reminded me that she had, after all, made me waffles this weekend. I reminded her that she had put two eggos in the toaster and called it a day.

least emergent emergency of the day

the paper towel dispensers in this hospital all feature an "emergency feed knob," in case the dispenser fails to automatically dispense a paper towel and you really need one, I suppose.

the only emergency here is the lack of freshly folded white terry hand towels in a basket beside the sink, not to mention the conspicuous absence of designer hand lotion. HEALTH CARE FUNDING CRISIS SOLUTION BRAINWAVE: l'occitane-sponsored washrooms.

p.s. white linen is also acceptable.

go pistachio

I love those pistachios in the bottom of the bag that have fallen out of their shells so that I can munch them without having to do any work.

by way of corollary, I cannot stand those pistachios that have just a tiny little slit in the shell. they always hurt my fingers and they simply are not within my acceptable range of work to food ratio (cf. pomegranate. I wish I were one of those roman guys who lounged about all day on a chaise longue and had individual pomegranate seeds fed to me).

overheard in the ER

"...and so he's all like 'venti half foam double shot no fat extra hot two vanilla decaf capuccino' and I'm just like 'can I get a medium regular?'"

what is this, dave barry circa 2003?

anyway, and needless to say, riotous nurse laughing ensued.

the last thing I heard before changing the channel, a series of four

"first, take some light cream cheese spread"
"why make when you can buy!?"
"replace the cream with some chicken stock - it's a great way to cut calories!"
"I'm rachael ray"

how can I learn in this environment?

to the doctor who is wearing what appears to be either jeans (casual!) or navy pants with a black shirt and shoes (clashtacular!) in her online teaching video:

your use of big words like "postulated" and "extravasation" does not mitigate the fact that you are wearing either jeans or navy pants with a black shirt and shoes in your online teaching video.

also, your overzealous hand movements are distracting me from properly learning about the appendix. too bad they are not distracting me from your jeans or navy pants with a black shirt and shoes. and brown belt. honestly.

p.s. your patently fake writing during the 'office encounter' with your 'patient' would look somewhat more realistic if you did not spend the entire interview writing over the same 2 lines in the chart.

p.p.s. your nervously fumbled sexual history-taking is probably the funniest thing I have seen in an online teaching module this year. I particularly like it when you suddenly interrupt your inappropriate joke about the patient's number of sexual partners with a fortissimo "HURTS A LITTLE, DOESN'T IT." I assume you are referring to her abdominal pain, but perhaps you are trying to double bill for some psychotherapy and are in fact delving into the woman's shattered love life. interesting technique.

p.p.p.s. I really feel your patient appreciated that you took the time to explain the rosving sign to her as she writhed in pain while you pressed on her abdomen.

christmas contraband

I am pretty sure you are not supposed to have real christmas trees in the building, but having smuggled one in back in december, we are now left with the dilemma of disposing of it. the garbage chute is a possibility, but then what if it gets stuck half-way, leaving a stump of a christmas tree sticking out of the chute and a trail of pine needles leading back to our apartment? we could perhaps carry it over to the park behind our building and consider it a donation to the local ecosystem, but the incriminating evidence may linger too long in these sub-zero temperatures. it seems the only remaining solution is to install the tree in the foyer and hope the super assumes she put it up in a nog-fueled christmas daze, and disposes of it accordingly. I suppose we should also leave a pile of needles outside our neighbour's door just in case the super decides to investigate matters. a charge of contraband christmas decorations would sure teach that condo dweller to blast her avril at inconsiderate volumes.

p.s. ebert and roeper called amy adams' breakout film, junebug, "perfectly executed," while the LA times called it "deeply resonant". mila called it the worst film she saw in both 2007 and 2008.

book review

water for elephants, the most recent work from canadian author sara gruen, features some of the most spectacular ligatures this reader has seen in some time: the tail on the capital 'Q' trails on not just under the subsequent 'u' but well into the next letter as well. spectacular! luxuriant! 5 stars!

sartorial jesus, the crucifixion

o how the king of kings hath fallen; o how the lord of lords hath stooped low. what false messiah is this? what judas is he, as he betrayeth those who did once praise him? he of impeccable tailoring and sumptuous fabrics, I shall forgive him not his sartorial sins. it is but lucifer himself who could be possessed of such sloth, such a deadly sloth as to come before us in a polarfleece pullover.

peer review

dear visiting elective student,
it is a good thing you are not getting a peer evaluation from me, because in my book, asking if my shirt and cufflinks came as a set is grounds for failure.

any holiday celebrating food fried in oil is okay by me

his belly pleasantly full with sweet potato latkes, simon poured himself a cup of coffee and began his search for the hanukkah chocolate, which mila had evidently hidden:

"mila, it's okay if I eat some of the chocolate, right?"

mila never replied, so it seemed she had no objection to simon helping himself to a square or two of ghirardelli in celebration of the festival of lights. simon continued his search for the chocolate, hoping that he might also stumble upon some sufganiyot, or at the very least a krispy kreme.

p.s. mila please be quiet when you get home from the hospital as I will probably be in a deep, oil-induced slumber, and will not want to be disturbed.

the miracle of hanukkah

mila reports that she did indeed water the tree, and with the appropriate dose of stagrow, no less. no details yet whether or not the orchid was gently misted

back from the hospital

mila, I hope you remembered to water the christmas tree while I was gone. and lightly mist your orchid's roots. and you better have used some of that stagrow in the tree water.

p.s. there was no restrainedly decorated tree in the call room.

rating scales

if weekends were judged in foie gras ravioli and cashmere earmuffs, then it would have been a very good weekend indeed.

holiday-induced injury

I think I pulled a muscle last night while pounding out christmas carols on the piano. two take home messages from this incident:

1) I will probably need some time off work. I think a good week of bed rest and daytime tv would get me back into top form.

2) I am fully in the christmas spirit. bring on the nog.

dispatches from a small town: X

today was my last day in clinic here in wingham. it went pretty well, really. saw some patients, wore my stethoscope around, talked to some old people, drank some coffee, pretended to listen to a few hearts, ate some cake. if it weren't for the pap smears, I could get used to this.

dispatches from a small town: IX

who died and gave stacy london a talk show? is it not enough that daytime television is thoroughly polluted with rachael ray's self-indulgent dreck? must her mildly less impaired, though equally obnoxious, sister also grace our screens for an hour each day? if one of the what not to wear hosts was to get a talk show, who on earth chose nails-on-chalkboard stacy over amusingly effete clinton?