My Horriblest Post Ever

I hate it break it you people this way, but I don't have the energy to write more than a couple of words.

My dad passed away last week.

Pyar, Pregnancy Aur Ghar. Are you listening, Bollywood?

We had our last batch social last week. The whole class gets together, and everyone who wants to can perform on stage. For a bunch of medicos who only need an excuse to enjoy themselves, this was heaven. My class is fucking awesome. Every single one of us is good at at least one thing, and most have multiple talents. (I, for one, specialise in bad puns.) The details of the feasty fest will have to wait for some other time, when my brain is not threatening to implode.

Now, since I am all busy with exams and stuff (ha!), it’s still pictures for you. There, there, don’t cry. No horrible pictures this time. Smile!

Our first batch social, which, sadly, went by the corny name of Redemption*, was loads of fun. Even I danced. Stop looking so horrified, I wasn't that bad**. But being backstage getting into costume was a pain, since I missed a lot of the fun, such as the movie spoof, shown above. So, this time, I swore I wouldn't miss a minute of the show, and refused to participate in the events. The whole thing was so mind blowingly fantastic that I felt like an idiot, sitting there in an uncomfortable chair, sweating it out in a sari underneath a fan that refused to work. (Yes, I promise to write about Redemption 2.) We are fucking fantastic. And I shall sing for our convocation. Oh, yes, I shall.

Fleas, ticks, mites, lice, mosquitoes, tapeworms, flies. The SPM department owns all of these, and their eggs, larvae, pupae, nymphs, and more. We, of course, are expected to know each of them (being certified entomologists) and identify them for our exams. This looks a lot like the mosquito I killed yesterday night. Maybe they were cousins.


Class trip, again. This one is from when we went to Hyderabad, last year. A friend of mine owed me a biryani for some reason he said was too trivial for a biryani, but I stood firm. He had his revenge- instead of buying me one when all of us went out to eat, he brought it to my room a few hours later, when everyone was starving. The battle was mercifully short, and the biryani stood no chance against seasoned veterans like us. I got two mouthfuls, I think. :D

Can you read it? No? All right, I'll tell you. From left to right, it reads "RAMBHA Ne Hrithik se Pyar kiya" (Rambha loved Hrithik), "DCH GHAR" (DCH Home), and "HCG Found in MAMATA's Pregnancy." My apologies if it sounds like the plot of Yash Raj's new "family entertainer", but it isn't. Those, lovely reader, are mnemonics in (what else?) SPM. Don't ask. I have no idea.

Isn't it pretty? Say it's pretty.

What with people throwing up and being scared off my blog forever, I am now putting up nice pictures. (I could have used a tapeworm instead of my room mate, but I didn't. See how nice I am?) This shows a culture plate in which Proteus is flourishing, and that, beloved reader, is called swarming growth.

Pretty Proteus sat on a wall
Pretty Proteus saw a urinary tract
And immediately caused an infection.
The guy couldn't pee for a week.

Ah, poetry. *wipes eyes*

Small wonder, then, that this is called Proteus vulgaris.

The water supply to the entire district has got cut off (some brilliant bureaucrat probably broke open a major pipe when he dug for a telephone wire), and we have no classes until further notice. I can hope that it won't get fixed tomorrow, but I mistrust Mondays. Anything can happen.

I am enjoying ENT, although every single doctor there seems to be as crazy as they are brilliant. I won't be bored, and I'll learn some ENT in the meantime.

*It should have been called ATRO-pine, like I suggested. Nobody listens to me. Except you guys, of course. I love you all. (Atro is a word we medicos use a lot. Like, say, "The food at the hostel was atro today. Nothing new.")
**I am lying. I was terrible.