OK, I’m just too entertained by the geek zeitgeist.
First, there’s a hascheezburger picture from today… A lovely blending of geek pop culture.
Then there’s the delightful discovery that if you go to an online Dutch-English translator and type in “lol”, you learn the word means “fun” or “amusement” or “a feeling of delight at being entertained”. Which makes me wonder – was this already a Dutch word, or has the Dutch language absorbed the internet acronym?
Have made only small accomplishments today – registered for next semester at school, bought some plane tix to go see my parents on their 45th anniversary (Shhhhh, don’t tell them, it’s a surprise!), then spent several hours sitting around playing with photos in preparation for making a scrapbook of Koshka pictures for K. I heart photoshop in a big way, but I tend to get carried away. I start off doing a couple fixes for obvious dust spots on a photo. But by the time I’m done with the pic, the floor looks vacuumed, the cat has no more redeye, and K no longer has a zit on his chin; we’re all happy and clean and airbrushed within an inch of our lives.
I demo’d Photoshop’s capabilities to my Mom by fixing up a picture where interesting shadow angles had given her no chin and my brother two chins. So she now calls it “that chin-transfer program”.
Which wasn’t very productive on the professional front but I was irritable and tired after being on call all weekend. The classic call comes in at 1 AM; the patient says “Oh, I’m so glad you called!” (acting like I’d just picked up the phone to call for a chat, not like she’d just paged me on the line I’m not allowed to ignore). Then proceeds to tell me that she’s had a symptom – not a life-threatening one – for the last three days. When I point out that the most effective way to work up the symptom would be to SEE HER, IN CLINIC, DURING ORDINARY BUSINESS HOURS, she acts put out because, well, the symptom is interfering with her sleep tonight so “what should I do?” And seems terribly dissatisfied with my answer “Well, curl up with a good book and a cup of something soothing and decaf, and set an alarm for start of business hours just in case you do end up falling asleep”. Grumph.
Worst call ever, though, was a few years ago. The woman, who called at three in the morning, had been having abdominal pain for four years. She wasn’t actually having the pain that evening but she called me in a panic because it had just occurred to her that the pain might be pregnancy. See, she’d had a hysterectomy, so there was no place for the baby to come out so the pain might be a four-year-old kid struggling to tear its way out of her body. She was genuinely terrified until eventually I was able to convince her that it was extremely unlikely that she’d gotten pregnant at age 56.
Begins to make you understand why people (e.g. Michael Crighton, Robin Cook) leave careers in medicine and go on to write highly fanciful novels…