Anyone up for a canoe ride?

A friend of mine sent me a message after reading my first couple of blogs....that she wished she was talented enough to write about all the 'douche canoes' that she encountered on a daily basis. Douche canoe? That's fantastic. Why haven't I heard this before?

I thought about the implications of this phrase all day.

So I looked into it a little further.

This douche is UNDER a canoe. And his friend is watching him carry that thing alone. Hahaha. What a douche under a canoe. No wait. That's not it.

Let's try that again.

This douche is falling OUT of a canoe. His friends are helping him out. You're such a douche - get out of that canoe. You don't deserve the protection from the water that this canoe provides you.

I thought about it a little more - mostly of the guys I dated in college at the University of Florida. Yeah those guys who thought they were super cool because they dressed the same as all of the other fraternity guys on campus - even though they clearly looked "less douchy" than "that other house".

Oh yeah. Now we are getting somewhere. This picture totally sums up most of the guys walking around UF's campus. Let's see how many beer bongs we can do in our size too small Tommy Hilfiger polo shirts and docker shorts. Don't forget your Reefs or deck shoes, douche. And definitely keep wearing your sunglasses inside.

The moral of this story is that you can actually be more of a douche than a bag can hold. You need an entire canoe. How does that make you feel?

Just say no to douche canoes.

I am 6'7" with an anger problem

So my friend Anna and I went to get pedicures today, which happens to be strategically placed next to Buffalo Wild Wings. So we decided to go there afterwards for dinner - obviously, since it was 0.60 boneless wing night. Anyway, we were greeted at our table by this awesome "gay as a rainbow", as he put it, waiter named Cody. He sat down next to Anna as I was telling a very animated story and then, when I was finished, began telling one of his own - almost trying to "one up me" on his level of enthusiasm. He clearly doesn't know me, so I knew this wasn't going to end well. His stories were good, don't get me wrong - but it wasn't until he frantically came and sat in our booth, visibly distraught over the bleach blonde plastic surgery disaster in an all white dress, belt, and cow print boots that just sat down at one of his tables, that I knew we had to be best friends. That quickly turned into a story about him quitting college because he is "6'7 with an anger problem". It was then, that I decided, he was getting a $10 tip. At least.

The three of us decided that we should be snapchat buddies and quickly started 'snapchatting'. For those of you who don't know what that is, you should find out - now. It will change your life. I miss Cody.

PS my toenails are orange and blue. I guess I haven't mentioned that I have an (un)healthy obsession with the Florida Gators. Its like most of the relationships I've had in my life - I am physically obsessed and, to them, I am just another girl in the crowd in her sports bra realizing that painting oneself orange only makes you look jaundiced.....

Words to live by.....

So I tried to do this whole "blogging" thing about 5 years ago....and I found that I was actually pretty funny and decided to write a book. As with most things, however, I got really into book writing for awhile and then haven't picked it up since. I started with my first thoughts as a human (negotiating for a brother instead of a sister with my father as we left my mother's ultrasound appointment where I had received, at the time, very devastating news) and left off somewhere along the way in my training with a patient assessment and plan of "needs more benzos/try less meth". Someday I hope to finish it, but until then I have been inspired by other bloggers to give this a go again.

A little background - I am currently in my last year of anesthesia residency. That's right folks, I went to high school, college, medical school, and then residency. I am 31 years old and I have never had a real job. And by real I mean real MONEY. I have certainly worked REAL 80-100 hour work weeks and had REAL unappreciative bosses, patients, and coworkers. But, despite all of that, I survived. But I have noticed that, for some reason, my existence draws the most bizarre experiences. One day I saw this awesome picture:

It accurately represented all of the ridiculous thoughts and facial expressions I have given to situations over the years. It was perfect - and it became my new motto.

I'm excited to tell my crazy stories with anyone who cares to read them. Perhaps I will get a laugh or two out of you as well.

Sarah