And so this is Christmas

I managed to spend Christmas Night getting drunk with my brothers in Bar Buddha. One (of the two) bar staff was a woman dressed in a short, red, furry (and decidely festive) dress - with white trimming.

Upon talking to her and sympathising with her plight (working on Christmas Day), she replies with a line, which I feel perfectly sums up the modern magic of Christmas:

It's not that bad, I took a couple of pills before I started.

It could almost be It's A Wonderful Life.

Subway Tunnel Terror

Oops, it appears I have been somewhat careless with this blog of late; suffice to having moved out and having yet to buy a laptop, I am somewhat limited when it comes to internet access.

Anywho, I had to laugh so much when I saw the headline 'Subway Tunnel Terror' on the Evening Times' news stands in town. I had images of some catastrophe such as a crash or Al-Qaeda terror plot...

But no. As you can read here, it was in fact a broken down train and people having t0 walk through the tunnels. I have only a slight problem with the headline: Subway (yes, it was on the subway) Tunnel (yes, people did walk through a tunnel) Terror (ahem). The best part about it is upon closer reading, it wasn't so much terror as 'not very pleasant' and 'a wee bit panicky'.

Although the pièce de résistance was that the story's main source is the actor playing Buttons in the Pavillion Panto. I love this city.

Cleveden School Musical

Having watched High School Musical 2 (FYI it was ACE), this has inspired me to write Cleveden School Musical. My thoughts are I need: social groups to form the chrous, main charaters, a list of songs and a brief synopsis.

The chorus

I have decided that there will be  social groups, each with identifying features:

• The neds - marked by their interesting choice in clothing and loud annoying voices, these members of the chorus will be the most obvious and get the most attention.
• The gangstas - not like Bugsy Malone, sadly.
• The mini moshers - never taller that 5 foot 6, and resplendent in various hoodies for shite bands (will be replaced by emos/emus in the sequel)
• The odd people - the ones who seem to hate everyone
• The non-shit people - a sizeable group who seem non-plussed at the chaos that ensues around them.

Main Characters

There also has to be some main characters:

• Rab - "The heart throb" - Finding a Zac Efron style character (ie bad hair and orange skin) will not be difficult from the neds. Enjoys PE.
• Kelly-Louise - "The love interest" - Ideally she will have platinum hair and equally orange skin.
• Chantelle - "The jealous love interest" - Will be experienced in fist fighting and shrieking like a hag.
• Coach McPherson - The PE teacher with no knee caps
• Mr Green - A teacher with ned sympathies
• Mr V - A character that is never seen, but only heard over a tannoy

Synopsis + Song List

Opening Scene (On the pitch)

 A PE lesson with Coach McPherson and the chrous. After some poor softball performances by the non-shit people, she launches into the song Give It Your All (I Gave My Knee Caps). After this rousing tune, Rab steps up to the plate and hits a home run (after one of the non-shit people makes no effort to catch/throw the ball). Kelly-Louise and Chantelle are both seen in the background.

Scene 2 (Changing Room)

Whilst the rest of the chorus changes without incident, the neds seem to take forever because they spend so much time spraying Lynx around the place. From the midst of the cloud of choking 'deodourant', Rab emerges (stars in your eye's style) to perform the touching ballad Ah Pure Fancy You. By the end of song, everyone has emerged from the changing room and is face to face with Kelly-Louise (who seems somewhat disinterested).

Scene 3 (a classroom)

 The chorus is sitting in a class room, when the tannoy sounds. Mr V then performs a solo of The Lost Property Medley. By the end of the song the neds are running around wild, and the neds (including Rab, Kelly-Louise and Chantelle)  referred on a pink form and Rab responds with the angry tirade of a song Pink Is The Colour Of Love.

Scene 4 (a teachers office)

It is revealed in the course of a conversation between Mr Green and the neds that a School Disco is on the next night, and that they will not be allowed to go (due to their pink referrals). This changes when Mr Green sings the song Cut You A Deal, in which the neds will be allowed to go in return for 'good behaviour' (this includes not starting fights/fires, managing an hour without doing something mind numbingly stupid).

Scene 5 (a school corridor)

The camera starts with Rab who sings This Is My Chance, a delightful song expressing his hopes to 'nip' Kelly-Louise. It then pans Kelly-Louise who sings about her hopes that Rab wears a shirt and yellow timberland shoes to the disco. It ends with Chantelle, the tempo become faster and she sings about her plans to split the modern day Romeo and Juliet by sabotaging Rab's good behaviour. 

Scene 6 (the playground)

Chantelle starts to sing Rab Called You Gay to random boys in the chorus, the non-shit people seem unbothered (or think 'Suspiciously accurate gaydar') and its only when she sings it to the neds that a fight ensues involving Rab. Mr Green arrives and reluctantly sings My First Disco Banning.

Scene 7 (somewhere outside)

Rab is sitting drinking Buckfast singing If I Can't Get Fucked I'm Going To Get Pished, when Chantelle appears... The scene fades to black.

Scene 8 (The school disco)

Kelly-Louise is standing alone in the dance floor looking wistfully into the distance and singing He's The Only One For Me (But If He Takes Any Longer I'm Nipping Anyone Withing Ten Feet). Our hero Rab stumbles in (having entered via one of the heavily guarded fire doors) and looks distraught and sings I Gave Chantelle My Heart (And All She Gave Me Was The Clap). Chantelle appears and there is a tense silence. Rab and Kelly-Louise run towards each other and conclude the performance by singing a duet STDs Are Fine By Me.

Epilogue (Cleveden - 2 years later)

The non-shit people perform They're Gone! summing up the events of the past two years (ie the herpes, the pregnancies).

caliFORNICATION

My yesterday was spent mainly at Hampden, being on duty with St Andrew's First Aid at the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I decided, for some unknown reason, to walk to Hampden. It took me an hour and a half and I managed to burst into the pre event briefing wringing in sweat and bright red in the face... it was, after all, moderately warm yesterday.

The concert was a bit rubbish:

Biffy Clyro =  Pish

Red Hot Chili Peppers = Let down

Crowd = Not full capacity, bit of a rubbish atmosphere

I then, for some still unfathomable reason, thought that walking home from Hampden at quarter to midnight would be a good idea. Although I didn't get home until 1:30am, there were two good things about the walk: I didn't get stabbed and I had an amusing encounter in a woman in Anderston, who was dressed rather racily and in leather boots:

Woman - 'Zzzzyo waaaaan a good tim'?'

Andrew - 'Excuse me?'

Woman - 'Are zyoooou loooookin' for some bizzzzzznes?'

Andrew - [Stopping to speak to her] 'Come again?'

Woman - [With marked pellucidity, due to a contrived posh Glasgow accent ]'Are you looking for a good time? Are you wanting some business?'

Andrew - 'Em... not tonight'

And with that I left the elderly prostitute, feeling ever so insulted that I had been propositioned as I'm not a sleazy old man driving slowly past in a car. Although I did like the fact she put on a fake posh Glasgow accent, she obviously detected I was a cut above.

best. dream. ever.

As the title suggests, I had a very good dream last night.

I was having a celebrity style war (à la Paris Hilton) with Nicole Ritchie. In the end we made up, and were best of pals again.

Sadly I woke up before we could film a TV series together.

The nurse

Don't get me wrong, nurses are great.

However, one of the most amusing websites I've come across is The Center for Nursing Advocacy. It would appear that these people are taking on the world of misrepresentation of nurses, particularly:

• television - you can join their House, ER and Grey's Anatomy letter writing campaigns. Wait... House isn't an like a real hospital? Good lord.
• films - there's a review of the the most BORING FILM EVER. John Q.
• songs - I didn't quite realise it was possible to give a song a 'nursing rating' as to how well it represents nurses... Apparently so. FYI, blink 182's 'Enema of the State' gets a meagre half a star.
• how superior nurses are to doctors in every single way, without exception.

MAN, I wish they'd just stop their complaining and get back to emptying the bedpans.

I'm kidding.

How appropriate, you fight like a cow.

I think I have discovered one of the greatest things on the internet. Ever.

The Viper, The Brazilian and the Madonna style dancing

Last night was really quite amusing. A pretty amazing time was had at the Viper, previously I had thought this was a contradiction in terms.

Having spent a good few hours drinking in the garden, eating blackjacks and listening to some banging tunes (http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=EwTZ2xpQwpA), we made our way to Viper. 

We made it past the bouncers (who thought my name was Ashley) and were ready for a night of questionable music and cheap drink. We did not bank on a Brazilian being tossed into the mix. Mhairi had gone to the bar to get drinks, and came back with Benardo, a Brazilian who had just been in Belfast and arrived in Glasgow for 3 hours. Bernado stayed with us all night.

Claire and I managed to dance like Madonna (see below) to pretty much every song, much to the bafflement of Bernado... but he soon got into the spirit, although he may have been humouring us.

The night ended with: Irn-Bru, raisins and a sense of general well being.

Neglection

It appears that my blogging has been somewhat lacklustre (a bit like this).

My reason is that my life has taken on a distressing cycle of sleeping and working, whilst trying in vain to fit some kind of normal eating pattern in between. The way I've written this sounds like I am working a 60 hour week, and not my meagre 16 hours.

16 long, hard hours.

Andrew and work, like horse and carriage

My, oh my. So many days since my last blog.

I blame this on two factors:

• T in the Park - Despite the nine and a half hours I spent in traffic getting there (when it should have taken one and a half hours), I had a superfun time. When not on the radios dealing with fracture ankle, after fractured ankle and fractured FUCKING ankle; I speny my weekend in the sun taking in some pretty awesome bands. Oh, and there was some guy running about the site on the Sunday night with a knife... nice.
  
• Work - I have started my first ever permenant job: there is no light at the end of the tunnel in the form of the end of a temporary contract. I have to wear 'business clothes', I have a photo id badge and my job involves cheques and money. This is a recipe for disaster.

Presumably my next post will be when I am fired/arrested for some major ENRON style fraud, that I have inadvertantly caused.

Three in the Park

This year's T in the Park marks my third in attendance with St Andrew's Ambulance, and I am so very happy that I will not be camping this year. I shall be staying in a bed and breakfast... this means:

• NO tents
• LOTS of showers
• cooked breakfast, as opposed to cereal bars... don't get me wrong, I do love a good cereal bar, but I have my limits.

Sadly we won't be working the 15 hour shifts this year (which were surprisingly good fun), instead we shall only be working 10 hours (boo!).

I will also be mainly doing radio communications this weekend, so my contact with unconciously drunk people will be minimal sadly. Although I do plan to try and wander into the VIP backstage area by 'accident'.

Plane silly

Yesterday, I watched Snakes on a Plane (FYI pretty awesome) as well as the 'terrorist attack' at Glasgow Airport on tv. All in all, not making for a good day for flying.

Yet now all I want to do with my summer is somehow create a situation in which I can use the phrase 'I've had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane'.

Btw, if you haven't seen Snakes on a Plane, it's pretty much like this: Goats on a Boat.

End of

Exams have been passed.

This ridiculous godawful joke of year is over.

I'm happy.

Ex-ZOO-berence

Today was spent at Edinburgh Zoo, which turned out to be FILLED with Glaswegian school children (not in the cages). 

This reminded me of the traumatic childhood experience when we went on Primary 4 school trip there: Of the short amount of time we actually spent in the zoo, about 2 hours were taken up by a lecture (this word is not an exaggeration) about animal bones and their legs. Quite frankly even now I wouldn't be able to stand a two hour lecture about animal legs, let alone as a 8 year old.

Due to the ridiculously small amount of time we actually got looking at the animals in 1996, it came as a surprise just how huge the zoo is. We were walking up endless hills, looking into infinite cages of [insert animal I've never heard of here] where there was little sign of any life. And when we did see the animals, they looked so distressingly miserable. Just like the people of Edinburgh. How ironic.

First day of my life

I feel I am making the best use of my time off:

• I got up at 12pm
• The main decision of my day was what fruit I was going to eat (FYI I had grapes, strawberries, an apple and a peach)
• I watched Scooby-Doo, the movie, on ITV

And yet I still feel tired. Weird.

People are Strange

The call of duty of a St Andrew's First Aid volunteer took me to the Carling Academy tonight to see Riders on the Storm, which turned out to be this bizarre hybrid of The Doors and a Doors tribute band.

The band consisted of two former members of The Doors (the keyboardist and the guitarist) and a bassist and singer:

• The keyboardist was a kindly old man, who was battling against the fact that keyboards are invariably uncool - his pièce de la résistance was to knock over his stool (the rebel) and play with one of his feet. I was gravely concerned a hip replacement was on the cards.
  
• The guitarist looked oddly like Art Garfunkel. Except ginger.
• The bassist was from Jamaica.
• The singer was probably the youngest of them all, but had the unenviable position of trying to emulate Jim Morrison. I couldn't help but feel that it would be soul destroying to spend your life being a glorified karaoke singer in a band of old men, living off past glories. But that's just what I think. Whatever.

I noted the demographic of the fans was also quite strange as there was:

1. a high proportion of people sporting the demin jacket/jeans combo
2. lots of men with really bad hair, but there was a large number of very similar bad hair (long, frizzy and in need of a wash)
3. there was lots of awful dancing: think of a combo of the enthusiasm of Jake Shears' (from the Scissor Sisters) and the co-ordination of a small elephant
4. there was a woman who was actually the shape of a square

Thankfully the bad hair, bad clothes, bad dancing and bizarrely shaped people did not result in any massive first aid emergency.

Medical Sickness

As part of our OSCE exam, we are tested on communication skills: these are simulated by actors who play patients, most of whom usually have some kind of dark hidden secret.

One of the exam stations was a practice nurse who was concerned about a GP whom she suspected of having an alcohol problem. I gibbered on for a while, occasionally using words such as 'confidientiality' and 'report him to the GMC'. My absolute highlight was when I suggested there were organisations, such as Medical Sickness, who were able to help doctors with alcohol and drug problems.

The only problem with this is, Medical Sickness is an insurance company. Good for health insurance, not so hot on drug and alcohol problems.

I heart exams

My three exams are over. Paper 1, Paper 2 and OCSE (practical) are OVER. Examples of how my week has gone:

What texture is the liver? [blank expression]

Why must you check intracranial pressure before performing a lumbar puncture? [blank, slightly confused expression]

A patient has come with rectal bleeding. Perform a rectal examination. [blank, slightly confused expression and well lubricated finger]

But I can now reclaim my life from the clutches of the evil empire of Medicine, and now I can begin the rapid process of emptying my mind of anything remotely to do with the human body.

Oh. And get ridiculously drunk.

Slowly grinding me down

Woe is me! Midway through exam week and I have caught tuberculosis! Or maybe its a cold. I don't know, I ain't no doctor.

Inside out = my mind

I managed to walk the entire way to uni (30 minutes) and sit through 45 minutes of a lab (in which we shown what alcohol does to your liver) before I noticed my t-shirt was inside out.

Sigh.

You lift me up

Another Sunday, another funday in the library.

I had set up my folders, pens and paper (aka my studying base camp/battleground) on the 8th floor, in front of the window for a delightfully distracting view over Glasgow. I realised that I had to go downstairs to pick up a book and, being a lazy son of a gun, I felt that a trip in the lift was in order. As I approoached the lift, someone was already in and the doors were about to close: however being an impatient FOOL, I decided to make a dash for it and save invaluable seconds.

Unfortunately the doors began to close just as I reached them, resulting in them crashing into my shoulder before stopping, and opening. Quite what was more painful: my shoulder or the horrendously embarrassing conversation that followed, is not entirely clear.

And that's what makes it so vexing

Below is a list of people who will have finished their exams and, therefore, will be on their summer holidays from Glasgow Uni as of Tuesday:

• Law students
• Accountancy students
• Biology students
• English literature students
• English language students
• Dental students
• Computing science students
• Maths students
• Divinity students
• Politic students
• Economic students
• Georgraphy students
• Nursing students
• Language students
• Geology students
• Archaeology students
• Psychology students
• Chemistry students
• Physics students
• Astronomy students
• Engineering students
• First Year medical students
• Third Year medical students
• Fifth Year medical students

Below is a list of people who still have exams:

• Second Year medical students

If I was the paranoid type, I would be developing a persecution complex.

A serious problem

There always seems to be something that keeps me sane during a long library session, and tonight was no different. When going to get a book, I walked past a computer (which no one was at) and it had blank screen with the phrase:

I'm can't believe I'm 20 and I shat myself

Classic.

Junkie in attempted theft shocker

The library was super boring today, and things were not made much better by the fact that I was doing 'Iron metabolism'... Wait, I hear you cry, I thought you did Medicine not Metullurgy! Apparently iron is frightfully important for a whole variety of reasons, which I should be able to tell you. But can't. Shit.

I was rudely distracted from my enthralling biochembo book when someone sat next to me and said 'Do you know where my friend is? He is sitting here. He is my friend. Do you know where he is?' To which I stared blankly at him and was like 'Em... no?'.

He then started to go through his 'friend's' bag, still repeating 'He's my friend', before standing up and walking off. It was then I noticed that he had the deathly, scrawny look of a (probable) junkie. He proceeded to sit in someone elses seat and claim he was waiting for his friend, whilst going through his bag.

In the end, there was a brave medical student that intervened:

Medical student: Em, you can't do that
Junkie: I'm waiting for my friend
Medical student: But you can't go through someones bag
Junkie: But I'm waiting for my friend

And then came the CLASSIC line

Medical student: You can't pick up that cake.

At this point, he decided to leave and I believe that the trusty medical school security guards (FINALLY, they spring into security action) dealt with him.

Excitement over, I had to return to my iron... And try to repress all thought exam related.

Descent into mental illness

I get the feeling I have been studying far too much lately: I had a nightmare about tyrosine kinase receptors. I can't remember if they were chasing me, but I was DAMN scared.

Toilet humour

Oddly, one of the few benefits of the supercrazy studying exam time, is the fact I go the Main Library a lot more. Oddly again, it is not the wealth of books nor the silence nor the multitude of desks that is most appealing, but the toilets.The cubicles are covered in some of the most amusing graffiti, the best ones take the form of an original graffito (in red) and a response from a different person (in blue):

FUCK JEWS
They're great in bed!

How's the revision going?
Like the storylines of Neighbours

I work
You work
We work
They profit
Wow, you could write songs for Hard Fi

And, my favourite of all time:

Why do we need security guards in the library?
To fight the war on terror

One feels I should spend more time studying in the library, instead of in the toilets. Oh well.

Drink is the new blog

I have discovered (courtesy of many varieties of wine) that extreme drunkness is not big, and its not clever. I learned it can result in:

• drinking red wine from the bottle
• the dance 'Strip the Willow' becomes 'run up and down the dance floor for about 5 minutes getting in everyones way'
• stumbling round drinking water out of a jug (this would be sensible, if you ignore the stumbling and the jug)
• when you are exhausted from dancing, you drop to your knees... while everyone continues to dance
• you like to pick people up and spin them round

Sigh. I also discovered that red wine and coffee turns me into nuclear powered supersteamboater. Good times.

Curly hair curse broken... Just need to work on the ginger.

I've caved.

I finally gave in, and bought myself hair straighteners. Another step on the 'gay stereotype' ladder... next step: leather clothing. This does mean (when I can be arsed) the end of the ridiculous curly hair - to be replaced by ridiculous straight hair.

Mild interjection

I noticed today (in my continued aviodance of any kind of studying - this time by repeated text messaging) that there really should be some kind of intermediate punctuation mark between a full stop and an exclamation mark. I would call this a 'mild interjection sign'.

I would be useful for many situations where you wish to convey some sort of mild enthusiasm/outrage/amusement, such as 'See you tomorrow' (at the end of a text). I have yet to think of what this mild interjection sign will look like.

That's tomorrow's task.

Dirty Money

After a hard night of group studying (FYI this involved very little studying and lots of Pizza Hut goodness), I was walking back home up Hyndland Street. Just as I got to Delizique, I noticed something lying on the ground that resembled a wallet: but as it was dark and raining, I just kept on walking.

However, being the ever inquisitive (nosey) person, I couldn't stop myself from going back to see it again. It turns out that it was indeed a wallet, and it was stuffed full of money. I stood over it for about a minute looking around, partly to see if there was anyone was frantically looking for a insanely full wallet and partly in case there was some kind of prank afoot... Thankfully there wasn't, I stuffed the wallet into my bag and made off into the night.

The wallet contained:

• a provisional driving licence
• a driving theory certificate
• two lottery tickets
• two bank cards
• £295

Being the kind natured citizen I am, I took it to the police today and (for my honesty) I get a reward of 10%... I agreed to this before I realised that it gets taken out of the money that I found, although I did console myself with the fact that this man is getting back £265.50 instead of the £0, had I been an arsehole.

Possibly the strangest thing about it was the man whose wallet I found had the same birthday as me, only he was 20 years older. This means he was exactly double my age when I turned 20.

How odd.

Voyeuerism

My late night library session was not as insanely depressing as it should have been (as I am currently working on an essay on gastric cancer - terrific fun) due to an amusing ned-fight incident taking place on University Avenue. I was in the medical school across the street (the picture on the left) and thanks to the fantastic glass façade and open windows, we were able to hear every single word of the encounter and see it all unfold.

The incident concerns Danielle (the jilted partner), Davie (the two timing cad) and Cheryl (the mutual friend). I first noticed something was a-going down when I heard a god awful screech coming from outside. I thought nothing of it.

The screaming and shouting continued for a good few minutes before curiosity got the better of me and I had to go stare out the window. It turns out that Danielle and Davie had been going out, and Davie had slept with someone else. Davie did not seem that bothered about it, and did not want to continue seeing Danielle. Danielle was very unhappy about Davie's infidelity, but was quite adament that they were still 'an item'. Cheryl was there to shout at Davie.

This continued for a good 45 minutes, and during this Cheryl left and it ended up with just Davie and Danielle shouting at each other. At one point there was shouts of death threats, and threatened bottlings, until the a police car came. The most amusing thing about it was the fact that the police were there for about half an hour, and all they seemed to do was search Davie (which took about a minute) and then held his hand for the next 29 minutes. AND they even brought an extra police car in so that they could search Danielle.

It all ended with a truely romantic scene as the police let both Davie and Danielle go away. They walked off hand in hand. True love.

The best thing about this was the fact that we were so easily distracted: for about an hour we stood at the windows and pointed and laughed. It was only on the walk home I noticed how obvious we would have been to the everyone: not only because there were 8 of us standing at the glass façade, but also because all the windows were open and we were really loud.

Medicine: the caring, compassionate subject whose students watch possible assaults and laugh

Another one of life's mysteries solved

I've found that the correct answer to 'Why doesn't the pancreas digest itself?' is 'Who honestly cares?'.

It's time

I am finding it increasingly alarming that the prospect of the election on May 3rd is actually getting me quite excited. Perhaps this is because I have been (used/forced/brainwashed) into being a Liberal Democrat activist since the age of 5. By activist, I mean I deliver leaflets to Colchester Drive and Manchester Drive.

I remember from some point in the early 1990s, being visciously attacked by a dog whilst delivering one of the aforementioned leaflets (when I say attacked, I don't mean in the literal biting off my hand way, more a verbal attack... you know, barking). I remember this not only for the deep emotional trauma it caused, but because the owner of the dog gave me a Kit Kat because of said traumatic experience. A kind, considerate dog owner: a contradiction in terms, I previously thought.

So my election thoughts are this:

Good: Liberal Democrats, Greens
Alright: Scottish National Party, Solidarity
Bad: Labour, Tories
Annoying, homophobic Christians: Christian Peoples Alliance, Scottish Christian Party
Fascist Cunts: BNP

Carry on Doctor

Another day, another ridiculous moment.

This time, I was at a GP practice doing 'Gastrointestinal and Renal Clinical Practice' - essentially this is where we get to meet real patients and question and poke them to our hearts content. The first patient was a 71 year old lady, who had one of her kidneys out.

So far, so good.

I was the first to examine the patient, and started with: gentle palpation (gentle poking) and deep palpation ('try to hurt them' poking). These passed off without incident. The notable part was 'balloting the kidney', which is essentially where you put one hand on the patient's back and one on the front and try to squeeze the patients side so that you can feel the kidney. This has the be done with the patient lying flat on the bed (on top of your hand) but our patient was leaning over to the side - naturally I thought I would say 'Could I get you to lie on top of my hand, please?'. Instead I came up with: 'Could I get you to lie on top of me, please?'

There are some days I question whether getting up in the morning was the right move.

Foetor Hepaticus

I've now discovered my new favourite symptom: foetor hepaticus. It was described as 'the breath smelling of a freshly opened corpse' and is associated with liver disease.

Yet I have no desire to stop drinking. Weird.

Medical super geek

Today was spent in the library, and I discovered the definition of 'medical super geek': (n) 1. someone who arrives at the library before it has opened 2. Andrew

Having waited outside for 15 minutes, I made it to a prime spot on the 11th floor. Essentially the only notable things that happened were:

• In the lift, someone said 'You know, if I didn't have this exam tomorrow I'd be sailing... like a bird'. One can only hope that its not a zoology exam.
• I had the most exotic sandwich I have purchased from a vending machine that was 'Tofu with Thai spices and Chinese lettuce'... which tasted, bizarrely, of nothing.
• I noticed (after lunch, and having been in the library for over 4 hours) that my hoodie had a large, very noticeable jam stain on the front.

There are days when I confound even myself.

Words of wisdom

"Do you want to know how to kill Batman? Shoot him in the face"

Rectals (for dummies)

Days at uni are always far more interesting when we get shown how to do all number of exiciting clinical examinations (blood pressure is simply fascinating, and words cannot describe the joy of musculoskeletal examinations), however the prospect of a rectal examination was pretty amusing.

We actually practice on a mannequin that is basically the pelvis (minus the buttocks). FYI the process of rectals are:

• introduce yourself, and explain procedure to a mannequin (you get extra points for coming up with the most ridiculous euphemism to explain a 'insert my finger into your rectum')
• put on gloves (this is a pretty vital step)
• position patient lying on left side and knees bent (quite easy to do when all you have is a pelvis in front of you)
• spread the buttocks (that is actually the phrase that is used)
• inspect the anal region (and comment on it!)
• lube up your index finger and tell the mannequin to 'strain'... quite hard for a plastic pelvis to do.
• insert said finger and feel the left lateral, right lateral and posterior wall of the rectum
• feel for the prostate (whilst saying 'You may feel you want to pass urine... don't worry, you won't')
• remove finger and comment on any stool, mucus or blood on the glove.
• wipe the perianal area
• put gloves into a clinical waste bin
• Thank the patient...
• WASH YOUR HANDS

You'd think that watching people speaking to a plastic pelvis and then examining a fake rectum would not be as funny the 9th time... apparently not.

Sigh. I really wonder at what I've got myself into with this whole medicine milarky.

Milk emergency

Today was supposed to be the *official* start of the hardcore, no fun, insane, crazy hours, soul destroying studying that will last approximately until the 14th June. Sadly this was scrapped on account of the library being too cold.

The only highlight of my day happened in the library at about 9am: the library alarm to prevent people from pilfering the books (as it is a reference library only... or a 'Study Landscape' if you will) kept on going off - it's a recording of the security guard's voice saying 'Please return your books to the desk, please... Please return your books to the desk, please'. Disarmingly polite. Only this time the actual real life security guard actually came running over because someone had brought a book that they had stolen the day before. This amused me as why would you need to steal a book from a library that is open 24 hours a day? And why, and this is what gets me most, would you bring it back... during the day... when the security guard is actually there?

I had to cope with the cringeworthly, awful conversation between said stupid student and security guard:

Security guard: 'Can I see in your bag? That's a book from the
library'

Ridiculous student: 'It's not mine'

Security guard: 'It's in your bag'

Ridiculous student: 'It's not mine'

Security guard: 'But its in your bag'

Ridiculous student: [awkward silence]

It was awfully, stupidly amusing. THEN I noticed that there was a van on the road outside that said 'Graham's Milk' on the side, and it had a yellow, flashing light on top. I had visions of it speeding down the road, sirens blaring, answering the call to some kind of milk emergency.

As you can see, my descent into mental illness is becoming ever more rapid.

Mmm bop

Saturday was such a ridiculously sunny and warm day (and I fear probably the best day of the year) that we decided to take full advantage of the summery weather. We achieved this thus:

• Sat in Kelvingrove Park, had a picnic (from Subway and Greggs) and ate ice-cream. I managed to get insanely sun burnt down one arm and the opposite leg... not quite sure how that happened. We decided to leave when the fannies with the 'Throw it and it makes a lot of noise' decided to start throwing it over us and everyone else sitting on the hill. I was hoping for some kind of horrific injury/dog attack to befall them. Sadly not.
• We then had a barbeque at chez moi, where the menu consisted of homemade burgers and BBQ chicken (cooked in the George Foreman... you know, to avoid death by raw barbequed chicken). Sadly, my father had taken it upon himself that day to varnish everything in the garden, so we were running the risk of varnish on our clothes/being engulfed in a ball of fire.
• Carrie and I then partied it on down at Driftwood and the Garage. It was surprisingly good: surprising because it was a. town b. a Saturday night and c. rubbish people from the year above us at Cleveden were there. We remedied this by drinking a. Corona b. Fosters and c. Sambuca.

Today has been a mix of good and bad. Bad: I started to study, and then looked at my timetable and despaired at the amount of work I still have to do (although I have a fantastic week to look forwards to that consists of: large bowel dissection, diarrhoeal disease lab and obesity). Good: I went to see Hanson at the Carling Academy as they rocked out their classics such as, em, Penny and Me? I have already seen Hanson once previously and missed Mmm Bop on account of an epileptic, I was GUTTED. Thankfully, there were no seizures/fits/falls/fractures/projectile vomiting during it this time and I can now cross another of the 1000 things to do before I die off the list.

Stomach churning

Whilst the predicted vomit (see below) did not occur, I still managed to get so very little done today in terms of work.

My day didn't start well: having woken up a good 20 minutes late, I had to run half of the way to uni. Normally lateness (or tardiness as I think I shall start calling it) does not bother me, however on a Thursday morning we have a tutor who is: a. German and efficient (much like an Audi) b. Feels lateness is inefficient and rude and c. Hits people for said inefficiency and rudeness. I actually made it 5 minutes early...

Bizzarely (having fretted about the digestion of expired milk) my lab today consisted of digesting milk in a test tube à la your stomach into something that resembles beer and Baileys.

Oh, and we also cut someones stomach open. Good times.

Oh dear.

I've just discovered I've been drinking out-of-date milk.

One feels this does not bode well for my 'Getting lots of work done' day tomorrow.

Em... not so much

The first week back at uni has been met with my usual lack of enthusiasm. Without fail, the first days back are the WORST of the term... I think it is a combo of:

• early morning starts
• 3 hour labs that involve microscopes
• lectures that involve repeated use of the euphemism 'tailpipe' when talking about enemas
• the library is insanely busy with highly productive/people who sigh in an amusingly loud way
• being old

Also I am being distracted by both The Apprentice and Desperate Housewives.

I have established a plan to counter this: I have bought The Anatomy Coloring Book and The Physiology Coloring Book, so as I might still fail... but MAN ALIVE I will have some kick ass diagrams.

The dream is over

10th April 2007:

• the day the music died
• the end of an era
• the demise of my teenage years

I'm now 20. I also went back to uni today, for a extra depressing double whamey. Also (along the theme of 'Time passing at an alarming rate') it has been 4 years since we went to the Carling Academy to see The White Stripes on my 16th birthday. SIGH.

On the plus side, I now know how to make a 'Corona Slush Puppy':

• put a Corona into the freezer for about 2 hours until it is really cold
• add some lime juice

3 days to go

My day was ridiculously uneventfully boring. The exciting parts were:

• somehow burning the side of my mouth with a toastie
• going to Morrisons and walking around aimlessly looking for an assortment of vegetables, cheeses and flour
• cleaning my house like there is no tomorrow

SIGH.

Changing Rooms

In a blatant attempt to avoid studying, I rearranged my room today:

When I say rearrange, what I really mean is moving every large piece of furniture I have from one side of my room to the opposite. In the process I think I have done permenant damage to my arms/spine, whilst my room (although in a different order) is still one helluva mess. SIGH.

Twenty and counting and Ayr shenanigans

On Tuesday evening, there was some muscles on the side of my head that were painful and throbbing because I had been laughing so much. It was done to the fact that I had been at Sheona's 20th birthday (no laughing matter I hear you cry).

We went to Nude for some cocktail action, FYI Bloody Mary's are pretty darn good... like spicy tomato soup, only cold, and with vodka. I managed to look a little stupid ordering it:

Bartender: 'How spicy would you like your Bloody Mary?'
Andrew: Pause 'Em, quite spicy?'
Bartender: Unimpressed look

The reason that the night was a night of comedy gold was largely thanks to someone (who shall remain nameless, suffice to say his name rhymes with Filal).

*In Nude he conducted conversations such as 'How's uni?' by shouting across groups of people
*He worked his 'magical hands' which seemed very adept at poking people to the point where they'd actually shout at him
*Claire used the phrase 'full scale molestation'
*In Campus he danced with a girl... whose boyfriend was standing right next to her.
*Two girls were actually hitting him to get him away
*Note the poor quality video of him above 'Jumping for love' and then attacking me

I never thought that a night in Campus could be such an insane amount of fun but: Sheona's birthday + Campus + incrediably drunken people + vodka clush puppies = ACE fun

Needless to say, I suffered for this the next day when I was travelling down to Ayr... on the 10:30 train. Little did I suspect that said train was CRAMMED full of screaming children and families: half of whom were travelling to Ayr to go the beach and the other half to Prestwick to go on to Shagaluf or wherever.

I coped with this, and made it to Ayr safely which was awesome as my day consisted of ice cream and the beach.

On the train home there was a large crowd of unattractive, fat emo kids who were playing volleyball. On the train. All the way back to Glasgow.

Good times.

God hates Sweden

God Hates Sweden/fags/you

Fact.

The only people God seems to like tend to be horrendously unattractive.

Fact.

Saturday night: Fat Boab's style

I still maintain that nothing beats a night in Fat Boab's. The following, I feel, proves this:

• Old people doing really godawfully bad karaoke (as I write this I realised - is there such a thing as good karaoke?)
• A drunken old man (Tam, FYI) who spent all night talking to us. He passed on the really helpful advice that I should 'stick with Carrie' and 'Throw Mhairi to the kerb'.
• An old woman who tried to get, first, Mhairi and then me to dance. She ended up dancing on the table instead.
• A man who appeared to be washing his hair in the toilets
• The adjacent fast food shop that charged £1.20 for cheese and sold vegetable pakora that possibly caused some kind of food poisoning.
• The fact the phrase 'I have John's sperm on my shoes' was used

End Game

As April approaches with ever increasing speed, I can't help but notice my teenage years are disappearing with the same alarming velocity. Hence why the updates are somewhat few and far between: my life is being plunged into the depressing vortex of 'being in my 20s'. So I try and summerise the past two and a bit weeks:

Favourite falling incident: Claire, on the Firewater stairs where BOTH her shoes came off.
Best illegal moment: Coming into possession of a 'Twenty's plenty' sign.
Top creative project: Guess Who? Kelvindale Edition with all your favourite characters such as Lewis, Mrs Ronald and Carrie.
Greatest expense: Getting a kilt
Most beer filled evening: Mhairi's 20th birthday
Optimal irony of the month: A birthday party that was fundraising for the British Liver Trust... with a free bar.
Questionable drunken choice: Limbo dancing.
Most expensive smoothie: From Zest
Most overplayed song: That one from the end of the Skins finale... I just can't stop myself.

LLY LN and general business

I have had an excessively busy few days:

Thursday
Said goodbye to our dead body. She's been good to us.

Went to Lily Allen at the Carling Academy. Getting there, I went by underground - this turned out to be a foolish move, as I had forgotten that stupid Rangers were playing a stupid Spanish team at stupid Ibrox. Therefore the train became ridiculously busy with fans of the aforementioned stupid teams... I did find the Spanish fans sporting giant red wigs particularly amusing.

The concert itself was pretty awesome... at one point Lily Allen (or Lils as I like to call her) was standing next to us, and she was so wee. Yay high. This didn't stop the concert from being ace.

• Highlight = cover of Heart of Glass
• Lowlight = stupid drunken man who insisted on talking to me

I then went to the HIV. And went home after about half an hour. I'm cool that way.

Friday

From this day forward, I had to weigh all the food and drink I consumed. Sometimes I confound even myself with the stupid things I involve myself with.

Went to an art school partay and drank:

• 525ml of Strongbow Cider
• 470ml of White Wine

Saturday

After the excesses of the previous night (see exact quantities above) I did not get to bed to 3am... This would be fine, if I wasn't getting a bus to Edinburgh at 10am. The combo of slight hangover and excessive tiredness was NOT pleasant.

The reason for the Edinburgh visit was twofold:

• To watch the rugby in a bar beside Murrayfield (apparently I have no idea what happens in a rugby match)
• To visit Sheona, in her delightful flat in Marchmont

All went well, Scotland lost (apparently) and I found Sheona's flat without a problem (and I didn't resort to getting one of the bicycle rickshaws... which was really tempting, I had an amusing image of turning up at Sheona's door with the sound of the stupid bell on the rickshaw... it would have been good).

On the way back to town, on the Royal Mile I almost fell onto my face after slipping on a condom. This would have been embarrassing, much like if (for example) I was sick... in Fat Boab's... on the floor... after 4 drinks.

THEN when I got back into Glasgow, I was rushing to catch the Kelvindale train and thought that I would save time by using the self service ticket machines... just use the card and it will take 2 seconds, none of this fannying around with a real person. Unfortunately, my card didn't work, so I had to use the cash one - having only a £20 note, I put this in without thinking... Just as it disappeared into the machine, the thought 'I wonder if it gives change in notes'.

It did not. I stood there for about 15 seconds as £18.30 dropped agonisingly slowly. People around must have thought I was a super retard.

I ended the night at Claire's, where there was much hilarity and drinking. By this point I was feeling decidedly ill and tired, and thought that a night at the Garage was probably not the best remedy.

Sunday

Today was spent at the stupid Old Firm game.

It was cold. I was tired. I felt ill. The game was shite. The fans were (the usual) scum of the earth.

That is all.

Nine Inch Nails live up to expectations

As ever I went to the Carling Academy with an open mind - Nine Inch Nails might not be as bad as I expect.

Wrong. They were pure pish.

The lead singer apparently wants enough smoke from the smoke machines so that he 'can't see his microphone'. This indeed happened and for the first 15 minutes, we could not see the band at all (which, as it turns out, was a good thing as they turned out to be: middle aged, boring and unattractrive). Now I don't like to generalise (actually, come to think of it, its one of my favourite things to do) but I noticed several things about Nine Inch Nail fans:

• they smell
• they have bad hair
• they are awfully stupid

I base the last one on a woman who came up to me when we were standing upstairs (in blue boiler suits and a fluorescent yellow jackets emblazened with 'FIRST AID') who asked 'Could we make the smoke machines stop'. Now I'm never one to denigrate the importance of first aiders, but when was the last time you thought 'Hmmm, I don't like the lighting in this venue... I know, I'll tell the first aiders, they'll be able to use one of their triangular bandages...'. I can only assume that NIN fans somehow mistake the words 'St Andrew's First Aid' for 'Stage Manager' or 'Smoke Machine operator'.

The only song I recognised was 'Hurt'... and it made me appreciate how much better Johnny Cash's version was.

I bet his fans smelled better too.

Does fat stain?

I currently have four stains on my jeans, which are from human fat (not mine).

My life can be so disgustingly difficult sometimes.

Bones, blood and bodies

Doth mine eye deceiveth me? Two blog post in the space of a week? Surely 'The World's Worst Bogger' is letting his title slip?

I have spent the last five days doing non-stop anatomy of the arm: this has meant I have been told far more about brachial plexuses and ridiculous names of muscles (take the flexor digitorum superficialis). It has also meant spending 8 hours this week of cutting up a dead body, and sawing arms off. Good times.

I managed to get, as the French say, pure pished last night at the SKIP celeidh and the HIV. I put this down to a number of facts:

• a free bar
• drinking deisel
• a 'pint of fun' which turns out to be a triple vodka and bottle of reef

Needless to say, I have almost no memory of events post-pint of fun, aside from the fact we were atop the podium in the HIV. Then I was sure I had lost my keys when I returned to my house so I had to phone my brother to get him to answer the door. It turns out they were in my back pocket.

Despite a drunken night I still got up (this was due to the fucking builders banging on my roof) and made it in to carry on mutilating our arm. You would think lots of practice at dissection would make us better, apparently not.

A whirlwind of excitment

I am the world's worst blogger, but my life of late has been one exciting, non-stop work filled extravaganza... I've slept (on average) 5 hours a night and still managed to not get everything done.

I am eternally hopeful that the next 5 weeks will be delightfully non-busy and alcohol fuelled (as my last two nights have been). Things I have discovered:

• vodka, triple sec, lemonade and lime tastes oddly like hairbo sweets
• double vodkas and red bull are fucking rank
• 'Put your hands up for Detroit' was on for the ENTIRE night in one of the rooms in Bamboo
• amusing scandal occurs when mixing some easy first years and walls

That is all.

Blogging... under DURESS.

I admit it. My updates have been quite sparse of late, and I now feel (have been bullied into) writing another... I shall summerise the last two weeks (in not particular order):

1. Went to Mother India's café and spilled boiling masala tea on my leg.
2. Went to my first cheeeeeeesy pop of 2007
3. Designed an Irn-Bru Glasgow Medics hybrid... with my, you know, excellent design skills
4. Discovered the most amusing video on You Tube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pc9y5ayeeb4)... He'll save children, but not the British children...
5. Drank my body weight in coffee
6. Ate naught but low GI food for 5 days (whilst meticulously weighing everything)... lots of 160g of pitta bread...
7. Had an unusual amount of fun in a lab... on a Friday afternoon... about urine testing...
8. Went to a party where the neighbours banged on the floor... good times.
9. Reacquainted myself with the joy the is cider and apple and blackcurrent.

Aim and objective 3

Done.

J-Dawg and the Q-Crew

I survived the first week back at uni, despite the nasty surprise of having the head of year 2 as our facilitator.

Jocelyn Dow is not the baby eating monster that I have been led to believe she was, (so far) she seems quite amusing and was even heard to 'chuckle' (FYI she has a heart rate of 54). As this is the case, I plan to slowly introduce the nickname J-Dawg for her; I imagine it to happen thus:

Andrew: 'Sup J-Dawg
J-Dawg: 'Sup Drew
Andrew: J-Dawg, me and the Q-crew are going to ditch this sesh and lay down some beats. You in?
J-Dawg: You betcha

This, I believe, is perfectly likely.

Things I hate

In no particular order:

• Driving
• Driving Lessons
• Driving Tests
• Drivers
• Reversing
• Postmen who can't open doors

That is all.

Good/Bad

Good things today:

• I got the Kelvindale train
• I got a double breasted coat
• I washed the spice rack in the dishwasher
• Spent the evening in the company of Ruth and Sarah and Beanscene hot chocolate (two of whom returned from their respective homes)
• The hot chocolate from Beanscene did not make me feel physically sick

Bad things today:

• I bought shirts and ties (which reminds me of the impending return to uni)
• My legs still hurt from running (nigh on 3 days ago). This is perhaps my body suggesting that running is an entirely stupid pointless venture. I don't want to be fit.
• I left my scarf in Beanscene
• I had to walk home in the rain

A trivial pursuit

I have no intention of writing everyday, but already I am alarmed by the fact that this may expose my life to be quite dull. Therefore, I plan to embellish it every so often with lurid tales of sex, drugs and/or rock 'n' roll.

Tonight was spent playing Trivial Pursuit with Carrie and Amy (as you can no doubt see, lurid embellishment is not required in this case) and I learned the following interesting facts:

• Bono (of shite Irish U2 fame) full stage name is Bono Vox (after a hearing aid shop in Dublin)
• A Gay Yeti invented toilet paper (I may have misheard this one)
• Mick Hucknall wore no trousers for an album photo shoot, and had jeans airbrushed in afterwards. This wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't ginger.

Like Judy Garland (without the amphetamines and Liza Minnelli)

Apparently, 2007 is the Chinese year of the Pig... however it is also the Andrew year of the blog, and this is, indeed, it. This will chronicle the excruciating minutiae and comedy incidents of 2007.

So... 2007 was begun for me in Ashton Lane rubbing shoulders with BBC-types and middle aged Westenders, we were the youngest people there by a good two decades... It was really quite upsetting to be IDed before going into the Loft, quite why anyone under 18 would think Ashton Lane is the best bet for underaged drinking on Hogmanay, I don't know. The remainder of the night was spent at Claire's, who managed successfully to handle a 'Window blowing into the house' incident. All in all the ridiculous amount of time I spent sewing on 20,000 red sequins to my shoes was worth it... there was only minor sequin lossage throughout the night. Sadly tapping them together and saying 'There's no place like home' did not magically transport us through the gales and rain from Ashton Lane to the 'Dale.

FYI, Carrie and my song of 2007 is: The Monkees - Daydream Believer

Aims and objectives 2007

1. Start a blog = Done
2. Go to Brighton/Ukraine
3. Pass my driving test
4. Get a car (this is really quite dependent on objective 3)
5. Get a piercing (probably my belly button)
6. Get a tattoo (a good one, this is currently my main problem as most tattoos appear to be pure awful)
7. Enter a road race
8. Learn to juggle
9. Become a YouTube overnight sensation
10. Go to see the Flaming Lips (really this is dependent on the Flaming Lips coming to Glasgow/Scotland)
11. Go to all 12 hours of 12 hour Cheeeesy Pop

And that, I feel, is enough to be getting on with for the moment.