Reasons Why I Should be President: Universal Mommy Health Care Plan

So today was an impromptu test in my medical education. I was unexpectedly forced to fill the role of both patient and healthcare provider this morning after being inflicted with a very serious stubbed toe.

Stop laughing. I am totally not kidding. Stubbed toes are not to be underestimated. I am very seriously disabled as a result.

I managed to hack off a good chunk of my pinky toe on the frame of my bed. And this is where the Grey's worthy drama began. My toe was gushing for a solid 20 minutes straight, with no end in sight.

Now I haven't finished my Anatomy and Physiology class yet, but one of the major themes I've managed to glean so far is that blood is important to staying alive. And its most effective when its inside your body.

I'm usually not a very dramatic person (aah hum), but I started to evaluate my situation. I'm home alone and I am unable to stop the bleeding from my toe. Naturally I began to wonder how long I had until I would pass out. (which is the natural result of bleeding from the pinky toe...) I was betting that in the case that the bleeding should continue I would pass out before 5pm, which was the earliest I could possibly hope to be found by my roommate. It was clear I was going to have to take action.

So like all well educated and well trained aspiring health care professionals, I called my mother. Who, in her infinite wisdom, told me that, no I did not need stitches. (apparently pinky toes could under no circumstance warrant stitches.) All I had to do was put pressure on my pinky toe.

Now- I'd argue that I had been doing that for the 20 previous minutes of blood gushing. But since my mother told me to do it, putting pressure on my toe finally took affect. Within a few minutes, gushing had subsided (as foreseen by my infinitely wise mother).

Now, this got me thinking about being 3 years old. When you got a boo boo at age 3, you ran to Mom and Mom kissed the boo boo and magically the boo boo was all better, pending an appropriately placed Barbie/Ninja Turtle/Care Bear band-aid.

It was the best health coverage I ever had. And clearly the Mom health-care plan is life long, as it still works on my 22 year old self. And it has extended coverage since I was treated in Chapel Hill, NC while my mother was in Wilmington, NC.

So folks, here it is, the fool proof health-care solution we've all been waiting for. Mommy Health Care. And its super affordable, assuming you can throw down some bones for a decent cell phone plan. Because there is one catch to the Mommy health care plan. It doesn't kick in until you can inform your Mom of your claim. (just having a Mom is not enough to get Mommy health care coverage, you have to actually complain to your Mom for it to work, crying generally results in priority treatment...)

So Obama, you're welcome. Glad I can help yall out up there in DC. Seems like you've got your hands full keeping your culturally appropriate greetings straight anyway... so focus on that, I've got this under control.

Caribou hoo...

So I'm at caribou studying which means I've had the supreme privledge to ease drop on a lot of conversations. And its been a productive venture, as I think I've made quite the observation which has brought clarity to me about my former (journalism/english major) and future (biology/chemistry) lives. I think I finally understand the difference between the sciences and the humanities... Science majors talk about things that most people don't understand and humanity majors talk about things about which most people don't care.

But before either, both, or neither side tries to sue me for slander let me say that I think they both have their merits. For one, I am the new master of the intricacies of transcription, yay! Also, I was able to correctly construct a sentence about humanities majors and the relative importance of their conversation topics. (Notice the placement of "about" is not at the end of the sentence... ps- I failed the spelling and grammar test 11 times before I passed, damn near close to breaking the record of 13, which I would have if I had had the time)

As enlightening as an afternoon spent in Caribou can be, I think the big picture conclusion I've drawn from these observations is that regardless of your major, interests, or level of intelligence you always sound like a pompous blow hole when you spout off about anything in a public place for an extended period of time.

I'm talking to you poli sci graduate student; nationalism is not a disease of ignorance, you are.

And the sophomores psychoanalyzing their friend's boyfriend's most recent faux pas... to your argument of "Whatever", my rebuttal is "Whatever, lock it up".

And you, feminist "I want equal pay for equal work"; yeah me too, but real feminist don't wear low cut tops and twirl their hair at a boy while they yak at him. If you want equal pay for equal work, may I suggest you look into jobs with minimum wage because no one should ever pay you to think.

So in the future Caribou patrons, public rants are best served in print, so get a blog, its why we invented the internet.

Latte Count: 6

So I heard somewhere that you should never apologize for a prolonged blogging absence, so i'll skip right to the point. I was once again inspired to write. Or really I thought that an email I wrote to my good friend Porter was a relevant update on my life for the general masses, so enjoy!

"Porter....I started drinking coffee... I believe this is tantamount to when you first started drinking beer. I believe this due to my experience with a Diet Coke habit you may have noticed over the past few years. I enjoy a well carbonated cancer promoting artificially sweetened can of heaven on earth. But as wonderful as all those attributes of DIet Coke are; and each certainly contributes its own special something to the Diet Coke addict's insatiable love for the stuff; the real hook to that fantastic elixir is the caffeine.

And so we have come to the crux of my dilemma. If caffeine is the true love behind my Diet Coke affair, just imagine what a coffee habit could do to me. I can only expect it to be a constant, slightly detrimental but ever present fixture in my life for the rest of my days. But i draw comfort in knowing that I am in good company of those that commit a piece of themselves, a piece of their souls to a love of a liquid. Hemingway was a genius b/c of liquior, Porter b/c of beer, and thus I am destined to be better thanks to the piece of myself I willingly have given over to the care of coffee."

Latte Count: 4