Got all hot and sweaty

Because I hit the gym and managed to grab one of the ellipticals. What did you guys think I was gonna say?

So now I stink. Mmmm. But am I going to wash before I blog? No way. I keep it real.

A unified update, because as a complete dork, I focus on even the insignificant grades. In Histo, they threw out two questions, bringing me to B status (hooray), and in my former arch-nemesis biochem, it turns out I got an A in biochem and an "F" in arithmetic, and added up my score wrong, so wahoo, with an embarrassed chagrin at having the mathematical ability of a five year old. Thank you, childhood dependence on calculators. I think I was the only one in the MCAT counting on my fingers.

I've also found major inspiration for not only getting into major shape but losing as much weight as humanly possible without lapsing into anorexia -- a way to cheat in anatomy. I bruised my ribs during the unified because on the question about the intercostal level of the apex of the heart, I was jabbing myself to try and get some inkling of an idea. When we came to the question about the blood supply to the mammary gland, well... let's just say it got a bit interesting, and I'm not the only one. Let's hope we can all use some etiquette when it comes to the exam on the pelvic viscera, though the Living Anatomy segment (where we palpate each other) should CERTAINLY be fun.

Today, I learned that to get many forms of mail, you need a courier, which made me feel like either a spoiled princess or like I was in Mosquito Coast. Paying 35 bucks for a package was fun too, combined courier fee and import tax. Yeesh.

So I found something to complain about with that.

I'm not great about attending biochem lectures because I usually don't know what's going on, and have trouble staying awake, thus, when the guy at the bookstore told me that to retrieve my package, I HAD to be there at 4:30, which is smack dab in the middle of lecture, I was annoyed, but not too distraught. Finally, a *good* reason to ditch lecture rather than my normal one of "Aw, screw it."

So then our biochem professor had to get himself a girlfriend or a Zoloft prescription and morph into someone awesome. Our normal misanthrope was genuinely smiling, telling jokes that were actually funny, and best yet, relating a lecture on pyruvate dehydrogenase, which I *understood*, to real life events, going on to errors in metabolism caused by poisoning, which he related to new evidence on Napoleon Bonaparte's death.

Oh... my little history tabloid heart went pitter pat. I hope *that* guy's back on Friday. And I had to ditch out at the break to get my package! Dammit!

What struck me as particularly hilarious is during said discussion involving arsenic, he mentioned a medical show he had seen where a guy had come in and the doctor (not House) had seen white lines on his nails and figured out that he had arsenic poisoning, because, as it later turned out, his wife was trying to kill him for the insurance money (true story!).

At this point, there was a rustle as THE WHOLE CLASS checked their fingernails. I cackled at this (while checking my nails) because even with the vomitous sicky magic that is Valentine's Day, you still can't *entirely* trust your significant other enough not to secretly think they might be trying to kill you. And to you all reading this, I'm willing to BET you just checked your nails.

Speaking of VD (valentine's day, not the more pleasant venereal disease), blech and bah humbug to all you couples out there that celebrate this Halmark generated holiday. What's especially fun is that apparently the greeting card companies have picked up on the fact that there are a fat lot of jaded cynics out there like me that HATE Valentines Day and have started marketing... that's right, anti Valentine's Day cards. Capitalizing off a protest of a beast you created. Well played, Halmark. Well played, indeed.

On a completely unrelated note, here's some more diving pictures:


The Veronica L! In her chopped off, Ishie was too stupid to bring her wide angle lens on this WRECK dive glory!


Appetizer.


The side of the wreck of the Veronica L and my failed attempt to take an artsy shot.


Biggie fish at a cleaning station.