Thursday, July 23, 2015
Chicago Med
Having spent a fair amount of time helping my mother navigate the medical system this past year, I have to say it's maybe not my favorite thing in the world. (I do still like it more than intestinal parasites and Kim Kardashian, however. But I repeat myself.) Today, for instance, I took my mom for an endoscopy. This is a seven minute procedure. We were there for four hours. Now, of course, some of that was waiting for the anesthesia to take effect and wear off, but a lot of that was also just dicking around. After they got her checked in and prepped we literally sat there for an hour without anyone so much as checking in on us. There wasn't even a TV so we could catch up on our Y&R or something while waiting. Just anecdotes about my mom's students from twenty years ago. Pretty compelling stuff.
On the plus side, the actual waiting area where I sat during the procedure was pretty amazing. Lots of comfy chairs and couches, ample outlets for charging of devices, and even a piano in case Chopin dropped by for a tummy tuck. Oh, and they gave us a little electronic buzzer so we would know when it was our turn, just like at Bennigans. Plus the views were surprisingly great. Which is what you really want when a loved one's life is on the line (or in this case, their acid reflux).
Big thumbs down to the cafeteria cheeseburger, however. Limp lettuce and one tiny tomato? You can tell it's not McDonald's, because I ain't Lovin' It.
Having spent a fair amount of time helping my mother navigate the medical system this past year, I have to say it's maybe not my favorite thing in the world. (I do still like it more than intestinal parasites and Kim Kardashian, however. But I repeat myself.) Today, for instance, I took my mom for an endoscopy. This is a seven minute procedure. We were there for four hours. Now, of course, some of that was waiting for the anesthesia to take effect and wear off, but a lot of that was also just dicking around. After they got her checked in and prepped we literally sat there for an hour without anyone so much as checking in on us. There wasn't even a TV so we could catch up on our Y&R or something while waiting. Just anecdotes about my mom's students from twenty years ago. Pretty compelling stuff.
On the plus side, the actual waiting area where I sat during the procedure was pretty amazing. Lots of comfy chairs and couches, ample outlets for charging of devices, and even a piano in case Chopin dropped by for a tummy tuck. Oh, and they gave us a little electronic buzzer so we would know when it was our turn, just like at Bennigans. Plus the views were surprisingly great. Which is what you really want when a loved one's life is on the line (or in this case, their acid reflux).
Big thumbs down to the cafeteria cheeseburger, however. Limp lettuce and one tiny tomato? You can tell it's not McDonald's, because I ain't Lovin' It.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Love, American Style
I've been watching a bit of American Ninja Warrior lately. Now, it's important to me that you know I'm not like fanatical about it or anything; I haven't developed a rooting interest in any of the contestants and I'm unlikely to fly to Kansas City to try to attend a taping any time soon. But it is quality, low impact entertainment to have on in the background while you are, say, bathing a dog for the third time in as many days because she won't stop rolling in trash or writing an analysis of the constitutionality of an obscenity statute. (Basically the same activity.) I enjoy it for a number of reasons:
-- People are ridiculously earnest and say things like "this is for all the kids with troubled childhoods out there."
-- People frequently fall face first into the water shortly after delivering statements like the above.
-- The commentators get way too excited about everything and act as though these are celebrity athletes on, like, a LeBron James level, when in fact it's sub Oksana Baiul.
-- The inspirational backstories they put together make it seem like there is no one in the world who hasn't lost a parent in a tractor accident, had lupus, or started an after school martial arts program for disadvantaged youths.
-- They're on like their third interchangeable blond lady as their contestant interviewer, and they still haven't found one who doesn't look like she fears for her life when she talks to these people.
Anyway, it's happening. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.
I've been watching a bit of American Ninja Warrior lately. Now, it's important to me that you know I'm not like fanatical about it or anything; I haven't developed a rooting interest in any of the contestants and I'm unlikely to fly to Kansas City to try to attend a taping any time soon. But it is quality, low impact entertainment to have on in the background while you are, say, bathing a dog for the third time in as many days because she won't stop rolling in trash or writing an analysis of the constitutionality of an obscenity statute. (Basically the same activity.) I enjoy it for a number of reasons:
-- People are ridiculously earnest and say things like "this is for all the kids with troubled childhoods out there."
-- People frequently fall face first into the water shortly after delivering statements like the above.
-- The commentators get way too excited about everything and act as though these are celebrity athletes on, like, a LeBron James level, when in fact it's sub Oksana Baiul.
-- The inspirational backstories they put together make it seem like there is no one in the world who hasn't lost a parent in a tractor accident, had lupus, or started an after school martial arts program for disadvantaged youths.
-- They're on like their third interchangeable blond lady as their contestant interviewer, and they still haven't found one who doesn't look like she fears for her life when she talks to these people.
Anyway, it's happening. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Dispatches From A Month Ago
So we finally watched A Deadly Adoption this weekend. You know, the Will Ferrell/Kristen Wiig Lifetime movie that was filmed in direct implementation of my dream journal? It was a topic of discussion about a month ago? Yeah, I've been busy. Mainly with alcohol, but still.
Anyway, I enjoyed it. Anyone who was looking for a straight up parody must have been pretty disappointed, but I loved the fact that it was basically just a regular Lifetime movie with bad acting that was slightly more purposeful. Will Ferrell's beard deserved an award of some kind, and I'm glad they finally shined some light on the seedy world of financial planning book tours. Kristen Wiig was basically dead on, with an important message about dock safety to boot. Plus there was a sassy gay friend in classic Lifetime tradition. And diabetes.
Oh, and there must be a special shout out for the impromptu kitchen dance party at the end. All Lifetime movies basically end with non sequiturs. I'm pretty sure this one was choreographed by Twyla Tharp.
So we finally watched A Deadly Adoption this weekend. You know, the Will Ferrell/Kristen Wiig Lifetime movie that was filmed in direct implementation of my dream journal? It was a topic of discussion about a month ago? Yeah, I've been busy. Mainly with alcohol, but still.
Anyway, I enjoyed it. Anyone who was looking for a straight up parody must have been pretty disappointed, but I loved the fact that it was basically just a regular Lifetime movie with bad acting that was slightly more purposeful. Will Ferrell's beard deserved an award of some kind, and I'm glad they finally shined some light on the seedy world of financial planning book tours. Kristen Wiig was basically dead on, with an important message about dock safety to boot. Plus there was a sassy gay friend in classic Lifetime tradition. And diabetes.
Oh, and there must be a special shout out for the impromptu kitchen dance party at the end. All Lifetime movies basically end with non sequiturs. I'm pretty sure this one was choreographed by Twyla Tharp.
Thursday, July 09, 2015
In Which I Am Helpful
Recently I was down in kind of the tourist area of Michigan Avenue (I wasn't hustling up the Hancock or anything; pretty much every physician I've ever had is right near there) and I kept getting stopped by random strangers with questions.
A woman with two kids and an old person in tow asked me if this was where you board the trolley to Navy Pier. Of course I did not. But this did not seem to satisfy her, as she persevered to re-ask the question in several different forms. Eventually I kind of made up a halfhearted answer that probably had the effect of getting her entire family murdered. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Navy Pier was within easy walking distance. Or that it's terrible and no one should go there.
Another guy asked me if the place he was looking for was at the top of the steps we were standing near. It was. But when I told him that, he complained that he couldn't climb the steps because he had knee problems. That seemed a bit beyond my jurisdiction (was I supposed to carry him?) so I just kind of made a frowny face.
It was kind of weird, because I don't usually get stopped multiple times in the same day, much less the same trip. But later I realized that it was probably because I was wearing a suit that day. I think people feel much less worried about people in suits murdering them. Because of course everyone knows people in suits are much more likely to sell us worthless investments and spend the profits on dolphin racing or something.
Recently I was down in kind of the tourist area of Michigan Avenue (I wasn't hustling up the Hancock or anything; pretty much every physician I've ever had is right near there) and I kept getting stopped by random strangers with questions.
A woman with two kids and an old person in tow asked me if this was where you board the trolley to Navy Pier. Of course I did not. But this did not seem to satisfy her, as she persevered to re-ask the question in several different forms. Eventually I kind of made up a halfhearted answer that probably had the effect of getting her entire family murdered. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Navy Pier was within easy walking distance. Or that it's terrible and no one should go there.
Another guy asked me if the place he was looking for was at the top of the steps we were standing near. It was. But when I told him that, he complained that he couldn't climb the steps because he had knee problems. That seemed a bit beyond my jurisdiction (was I supposed to carry him?) so I just kind of made a frowny face.
It was kind of weird, because I don't usually get stopped multiple times in the same day, much less the same trip. But later I realized that it was probably because I was wearing a suit that day. I think people feel much less worried about people in suits murdering them. Because of course everyone knows people in suits are much more likely to sell us worthless investments and spend the profits on dolphin racing or something.
Monday, July 06, 2015
July, Forth
Had a truly fine holiday weekend this year. Friday we dropped Aubrey off for her tryout at doggie day care and went to see a movie. She passed, but only because standing in the corner and looking disdainfully at all the other dogs for four hours isn't technically a disciplinary infraction. And when we picked her up she looked at us as though they'd been beating her and forcing her to watch The Facts of Life Goes to Australia the entire time.
The movie was Jurassic World, which was pretty good. I saw literally every plot element coming a mile away and the characters had about as much dimension as the Real Housewives, but it was enjoyable. Dinosaurs are fun. And Chris Pratt is funny, although you wouldn't really know it much from this particular sample. It was of a giving velociraptors meaningful looks kind of role.
Saturday we went to my friend's roof party in West Town, where we had a stunning view of fireworks both official and un, as well as easy access to vodka-based jello shots. And cute pugs. Of course, every dog in America was collectively shitting the bed over all of the fireworks noise, but I guess that's the price we pay for freedom.
And last night we had a lovely dinner outdoors with some friends. There was homemade paella involved. And rose. I can't say it with one hundred percent certainty because I don't really know her that well, but my feeling is that Lady Liberty would have approved.
Had a truly fine holiday weekend this year. Friday we dropped Aubrey off for her tryout at doggie day care and went to see a movie. She passed, but only because standing in the corner and looking disdainfully at all the other dogs for four hours isn't technically a disciplinary infraction. And when we picked her up she looked at us as though they'd been beating her and forcing her to watch The Facts of Life Goes to Australia the entire time.
The movie was Jurassic World, which was pretty good. I saw literally every plot element coming a mile away and the characters had about as much dimension as the Real Housewives, but it was enjoyable. Dinosaurs are fun. And Chris Pratt is funny, although you wouldn't really know it much from this particular sample. It was of a giving velociraptors meaningful looks kind of role.
Saturday we went to my friend's roof party in West Town, where we had a stunning view of fireworks both official and un, as well as easy access to vodka-based jello shots. And cute pugs. Of course, every dog in America was collectively shitting the bed over all of the fireworks noise, but I guess that's the price we pay for freedom.
And last night we had a lovely dinner outdoors with some friends. There was homemade paella involved. And rose. I can't say it with one hundred percent certainty because I don't really know her that well, but my feeling is that Lady Liberty would have approved.
