My minimi-preceptorship

As most of you (people who read my blog) know, last week was mini-preceptorship week here at our school, so I went. My day to go was last wednesday, so I went. I put on my nice pants, yes it was nice, and my nice shirt, yes it was nice, and my nice tie, which was not so much. I also put on my white coat, because I had to. I still feel like I don't deserve to put on that coat as of yet, maybe when I earn it, but I don't feel I earned it yet, so as you can imagine I felt uncomfortable going to the hospital wearing my white coat. I get there and only then do I realize that they sent me to a pediatric urology office. You guessed it, it was all about weiner kids and their weiner problems, you know wetting the bed and stuff like that. So it was intersting. I was supposed to follow around a certified nurse, but she was kind enough to let me followe around some residents and doctors. Well, do I have a funny story for you. During one session with a mother and her two month old baby son, the doctor was explaining to the mother what was wrong with the baby boys little doodle, because it didn't develop properly and had to have surgery to fix it. Anyway, once he was showing the mother the problem, the kid decided it was time to use the facilities. Well the kid didn't realize that the facilities, in other words the diaper, was off. So the stream of urine went right at the doctor. Next thing you know, the baby was wet, the doctor was wet, and we were all laughing. "Well, it happens" said the doctor. I am sure it happens alot, I thought. That is why I will never be a pediatric urologist. End of story.

All Hail the King!

That’s right bitches, the king is in the house and you better bow down to the floor. I am making this entry because there seems to be a misunderstanding about who’s side I am on. For those of you who seem to ignore the fact that my name is included in the contributors list you are going to be in a world of hurt. A world of hurt. You see my allegiance is with my Armenian and Persian brothers in arms, not with the so called backrow ballers who can’t realize that they are not funny, while we are. Go on, keep making weak comments about each other, but you aint got skill, not like us, and you aint got as much money as us. The only funny thing about your blog are the comments that WE make on them. So stop acting tough. And relax, like my homie Show Dog has said, there is a cease fire, that means no more haters, you heard me? The King has spoken, now shut the hell up.

Asking questions is over-rated:

Over the last fall, I, like most of the people in the backrow, have come to realize that asking questions is over-rated. And not just asking questions from the backrow is over-rated, but for the backrow, other people in class asking questions during the lecture is also over-rated. First of all for us in the back row, it’s futile to raise our hand to ask a question about the lecture. The professors, they never notice us in the back, its as if to them, we don’t exist, its like we are an outer province that doesn’t get paid attention to and is left to develop on its on. If we even ever ask a question, we don’t raise our hands any more, that has long been abandoned. Now we just yell it out, as my friend Tahir does so well “Hey Dr. Yeasting, the decidua does what now?” Well, he doesn’t exactly ask like that, but you get the idea. Then the rest of the class thinks the backrow is rude and uncultured, but this is what the class has reduced us to, how else are we to strive in the back without resulting to less then proper manners. What the rest of the class forgets at times is that we are medical school students too. Just because we sit in the back doesn’t mean we are less medical student then the rest of the class. All medical students were created equal. Its in the honor code (I think). So don’t assume we are beneath you all, in fact, we are actually above you all, physically speaking that is. So we deserve the same amount of time as that silly first row in the far left, that averages one question per person per lecture. That’s just silly. I am sure that the rest of the class (not just the backrow) will agree with me when I say, 4 out of 5 times, the far left first row ask questions that have nothing to do with what we need to know for the exam. They ask the question, and you start looking through your notes, only to realize “oh wait that’s an extra-lectural question”. It gets to the point that whenever the far left first row asks a question, at least for me, that mean break time. I lay back in my chair, and relax and let the professor explain to the them why its this way and not this way and why sometimes it can be this way and then one time it is so this way that the other way doesn’t matter and so on. And when other people in class ask a question, a question that might be important, nobody in the backrow, can even hear it. Sometimes the professor just answers “yes that’s correct” and you’re like, “what? What is correct, what was the question?” But you don’t know what the freaking questions was because the professor doesn’t repeat the question, and you’re left confused, feeling sorry for your self. So the point, questions are over-rated. At least I think so. What do you think?

First blog entry yo!

First of all I wanna everyone to know that the creation of this blog was in retaliation to the blog war that was began by those phonies so called back row ballers, and for the rest of you, thanks for reading this blog, it aint much, but its a start, and you backrowballers better shut the hell up. Talk too much, got a big mouth.

Next, I wanna give a shout out to my homies in the back row, starting with the most dangerous Persian badass gangsta ive ever met, the not so much "sleeping guy" any more since Block 2 began, the one and only Shlee Dog, much love to you my persian brother. Now I want give a shout out to my dog from Albania, Elvis aka"The King", bow down to this bad ass, or he'll take over your seat and then claim it was his all along. Next a holla to my homie Bryan "The Jew" he will bomb you twice, and thats before he starts cursing. Much love to my Pakistani friend Tahir. And a special shout out goes out to the true backrow gangstas who sit behind me in class, you know who you are, recognize.

Now, to all the phonies, to all the haters, to all the posers, to all the losers, to all the tricksters, to all the wannabees, guess what this blog is in the house and its the bomb and you aint got it. Then there are those going around calling themselves foreign, when they were born in the USA, you born here, recognize. I am the true foreigner coming to ya as a refugee, you better recognize. And to the rest of you so called "back row ballers" you aint got what it takes to win this war, we will crush you. is no good for you! Word to ya mama. Out.