Lisa Gerardy's Blog, page 25

Middleoffrickennowhere, Ohio

I almost shanked Robotica, my GPS, last week. My husband and I named her this because she sounds like a robot. Clever, huh? Actually, we have named every GPS we have ever had Robotica. This one is the one that came with the VW Jetta (we named her “Judy”) I got last summer. So, maybe we should call her Judy Robotica. Decisions, decisions.

I’m the type of person who would rather pee on the side of the road than drive on a congested highway with lots of bathroom options. Plus, there was a thunderstorm brewing, and I wanted to stay south of the storm. So, I wanted to take the more rural of the two available routes from my home to a conference I had to attend at Miami University (unfortunately, the one in Oxford, Ohio not Florida) for my day job as English professor. Note to my neighbors: I work for an online university. No, I don’t sell Amway or Mary Kay, and I would NEVER sell AVON. Yes, I’m really in charge of educating others while I wear Oscar the Grouch jammies. I know; it scares me, too.

Robotica is clearly trying to kill me. Not only does she give me exactly two seconds notice before telling me to turn or exit a highway, but she always wants me to take the crazy busy highway route to everything since it will get me there about two minutes faster. She doesn’t understand that I am an English geek, and I want to take the road less traveled like Robert Frost. So, for this trip, I relied on a map and printed directions until Robotica stopped telling me to make a u-turn and just recalculated like a good girl.

I’m not going to lie; Robotica was right. The rural way was a little scary for someone who grew up in the Fort Lauderdale area. First of all, cop cars were sixty-nined in medians on I-71 so they could easily start chasing someone in either direction. The cops were probably having lunch and talking about March Madness, but I still hit the brakes every time I saw them. The people behind me loved this as I was driving like a frightened hermit to begin with. I don’t get out much.

Only half of the trip was on I-71. The other half was through Deliverance. No offense to any readers who live in rural areas, but when you grow up in the city, the country can be scary. I’m used to my little cookie-cutter suburb (think Weeds without the pot-selling widow). On this trip, I drove through areas with churches, farms, cute houses, a state prison, crosses on the side of the road, and a TON of retirement communities. And what is up with the big red stars on houses? Is this a secret signal to Santa or something?

There were also a lot of buildings that could only be meth labs. I could tell by the boarded up windows and toothless folks standing outside. I wanted to take pictures, but I also wanted to live. I didn’t think the meth heads would kill me, but I knew I would end up driving through a lab, church, or elderly community while trying to focus my camera. Hey husband, you are driving me to my next conference in the middle of nowhere, even if you insist on calling me Miss Daisy.

The HIGHLIGHT of my trip was seeing a tattoo place that looked like it was built of Lincoln Logs. As I drove by, I wondered if they did a lot of tattoos of Honest Abe. I remembered that it was located in Trenton, Ohio so I could Google-stalk the place and get a picture. It turns out that it’s actually called Prodigy Tattoo Studio, and not the Lincoln Museum and Ink Place. The very talented and kind Jeff Davis owns the place. If you know me or read this blog, you know that it is my goal to be that last untattooed person in the world so that my corpse will be preserved and put on display in museums. Anyway, even though I am untattooed, I know art when I see it. Go to the Prodigy site and check out Jeff’s work. He was nice enough to send me a picture of his “Lincoln Log” location since I have not learned to take pictures while driving yet, but I have learned to find people on Facebook. Thanks, Jeff!

I’m home now. It ended up being a great trip because I got to see some co-workers. When you work online, you don’t really see the people you work with very often. When it was time to drive home, I decided to just follow Robotica’s directions and take the more urban route. Of course, the bitch took me the back roads way. I give up.

©2014 http://prodigytattoo.com/

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: GPS, Miami University, Ohio, Travel, Volkswagen

Finter, Winter, Sprinter, and Summer, oh my!

Boo Boo knows how to keep warm.

I can remember sitting on the patio of a restaurant in Cape Coral, Florida, saying goodbye to local friends and colleagues before my husband, son, and I moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana. I felt pretty good about the move. South Florida had gotten gritty, crowded, and nothing like it was when I was growing up there. I knew it would be cold up north, but I also knew there would not be tourists or as much traffic. I knew prices would be lower. After all, we were buying a house that was twice as big as our Florida home for LESS money.

One of my Florida friends, a bridesmaid in my wedding and fellow teacher, warned me about the cold. She was originally from New York and told me that my nose would constantly run and bleed all winter. She also told me I would never feel warm, no matter how many layers I put on. I rolled my eyes. I worked from home. I would just crank up the heat. No big deal. HA! You were right, M.

As I mentioned in Bite Me Polar Vortex, winter was cute when we first moved to Fort Wayne. There were deer in our backyard since our house was near the woods. The snow was like glitter. It was almost like Santa himself would appear on our lawn, which was buried under glitter, at any moment.

My new neighbors told me how wonderful it was to have four seasons, and how they could not imagine living in Florida. I looked forward to these four seasons I had always learned about in school: winter, spring, summer, and fall. I soon learned, that the seasons have different names when you are a Floridian.

Summer

This is truly my favorite time of the year because it is very Florida-like. A couple of years ago, temperatures in the Midwest got up to 100. I LOVED IT. Even though I hate reptiles, I must be one. There is nothing better than hot rock weather. So, from about mid May until the beginning of September, I am OK with going outside.

Finter

Most people call this season “fall” or “autumn.” Really, for a southern person, it’s just winter light, or finter. It’s cold, windy and dreary. It even tends to snow in late October. UCK! The leaves are pretty, but finter still sucks.

Winter

This is by far my least favorite time of the year. I now understand why Pagans started having winter festivals and celebrations hundreds of years ago. It was to keep people from committing suicide. Winter is dark and cold and just all around miserable.

Sprinter

People like to think that spring begins at the end of March. It does not. Up here in Yankee land, the leaves do not grow back and flowers do not bloom until at least May. Early spring is still winter-like. It’s the time of year when you can get pinged in head with freezing rain, hail, or sleet.  I still don’t know the difference. I just know that it’s hard and cold and miserable.

So, what are the seasons like where you live? Are you lucky enough to live in Florida, Southern California or Hawaii? Feel free to tell me all about how warm it is. I promise not to hate you. : )

Sophie is the only one who is dumb enough to like winter.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Floridians, Polar Vortex, Spring, Winter

The “I Can’t Eat There; I Used to Work There” Diet

My son used to LOVE to go to Noodles and Company and get the Barbecue Pork Mac.  He loved it so much, that my husband started making it at home.  Then, my son got a job at Noodles and Company, and lost his appetite for their food and all things “N-word” as he now refers to the place.

My son spent one of the worst weeks of his life in the kitchen at Noodles and Company.  While the pay was decent, over a dollar above minimum, the hours were horrible.  He is 17 and still in high school, but that didn’t stop them from working him 6 to 7 ½ hours at a time, on school nights, with NO BREAK.  Not even a bathroom break.  Sure, he could have free soda, but NO BREAK.  The people he worked with told him this was normal for that location.  He came home from work literally shaking from the caffeine and lack of food. Umm, I’m pretty sure that is illegal.  In fact, I know it is.  In addition to the hours, they had him cooking with little training and no Ove Gloves, or any hand protection.  He burned himself twice.  So, at the end of the week, my husband and I told him to just stop working there and find a company that doesn’t get their corporate training from a Charles Dickens novel.

So, of course, you can understand why my son has no interest in eating noodles of any kind.  This seems to happen to a lot of people who work in food service, not the Oliver Twist working conditions, but the distaste for workplace food.  Way back in the day, before iPhones and DVR’s, my husband worked at Hot Dogs and More (no longer in business) in the mall near his house.  While he did get breaks and his shifts were never longer than 4 hours, he still does not like hot dogs.  Later, in college, my husband worked at Dunkin’ Donuts.  While the rest of America may run on Dunkin’, I can assure you that my husband runs FROM Dunkin’.

I never worked in food service, so I can eat anything.  This is probably not shocking as evidenced by my tree trunk legs and masculine waistline.  After my son’s experience, I won’t be setting foot in a Noodles and Company anymore, but I will still drive through Dunkin’ Donuts when I need a gluten fix.

What about you?  Is there any food you refuse to eat because of a job? Leave a comment and let me know.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Charles Dickens, Child Labor, Dunkin Donuts, Noodles and Company

Fusian – Not a Bait Shack

I have spent most of my adult life HATING sushi.  Any time I tried it, I was reminded of the Dania fishing pier near my hometown in South Florida.  The place was an old wooden pier that reeked of cheap beer, bait, and fish.  My friends and I would swim at the beach near the pier, and I would never fail to get smacked in the mouth with seaweed filled waves.  My eyes would burn from the salt water, and of course some of the wave would manage to get in my mouth. The taste was like rancid spinach and saline solution.  For many years, sushi was a combination of face-smacking waves and bait to me.

And yes, sushi lovers, I tried sushi EVERYWHERE: the mid-west, where I live now, California, Hawaii, and Florida.  And yes, I tried the California roll EVERYWHERE.  I hated that, too.  The worst thing I ever tried is called “toast and jam.”  It’s raw fish on rice.  I had to spit that out.

So, you can imagine how thrilled I was when my son wanted to go to a fast food sushi place for his birthday.  Couldn’t the kid pick a fancy steak house or Italian place like a normal teen?  Well, it’s a good thing he chose Fusian because last Saturday, my opinion of sushi changed forever.

Here’s the thing about Fusian.  You can create your own roll.  It’s like Chipotle for sushi. Plus, they have two kinds of wraps, traditional seaweed (barf!) or soy.  Hello, sushi without the ocean after taste.  They also have a variety of meat and veggie fillings.  No more bait scented fish only options.  I had a soy wrap, STEAK, veggies and sweet chili sauce.  And it was SO GOOD.  Just for fun, we also tried a peanut butter and jelly roll on soy.  That was awesome, too.

So, I don’t know if they have Fusian where you live, but if they do, go try it.  Even if the thought of sushi gives you the urge to vomit or go fishing, I promise you will like sushi at this place.  And no, they are not paying me to write this.  Like all chubby girls, I just get super excited about food.

2014@mrsergmeister
That’s the PBJ on the bottom.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Dania, Florida, food, Fusian, Fusian.com, sushi

Thoughts on Jesus from Your Friendly Neighborhood Buddhist Thinking Atheist

Disclaimer:  Though I was forced to memorize Bible verses in the Lutheran school I attended in Kindergarten and first grade, and though I sat through many Bible lessons in Baptist summer camp, I am in no way familiar with the Bible.  I tried to read it as an adult, but became angry at the misogyny.  I am not looking to learn about the Bible, and if you knock on my door with a pamphlet, or just to chat about Jehovah, I will sick my poop-eating dog on you.  She kisses.

The whole Cosmosgate (Thanks to Megan S for this groovy term!) thing has me super irritated.  Did you know that there are people out there who are offended by Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson’s new version of Cosmos? A station in Oklahoma even went so far as to “accidentally” cut the evolution part out of the premiere episode.

This irritates me to no end.  I have friends who are Christians, and they have no issue with learning about science, too. Who are these people who are terrified of Cosmos?  It seems like there are always people speaking for Jesus, and making up crazy things that he cares about.  Even with my limited knowledge of all things Jesus, I’m pretty sure that he would probably be more concerned about famine, war, and the way we treat each other in general than the endless list of things people seem to care about on his behalf.

For example, Jesus probably does not care if you:

Eat meat on Fridays.   He’s got bigger fish to fry.  Pun intended.


watch Cosmos.   If God really did create the universe, Jesus is totally cool with you learning about it.


use the term “Mother Nature.”  I witnessed someone criticize someone else on Facebook for asking Mother Nature to make the weather better.  This person was angry because OBVIOUSLY “God makes the weather.”  Don’t get me started.


if you are gay.  I think he does care if you are mean to gay people.  He also cares if you sexually abuse children, which is a mostly heterosexual crime.


 drink alcohol.  HE MADE WINE.  He DOES care if you drive drunk.  This could hurt someone, and that is a no no.


 kneel to pray.  He just doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would require this.


 get married if you are a priest.  If he’s all about love, everyone should have the opportunity to find lasting love.


 what you do on Sundays.  With all of the calendar changes throughout time, how do we even know if Sunday is Sunday? And so what if you are working to support yourself or a family.  That’s a good thing.


 wear a cross around your neck.  Think about it.  He DIED on the cross.  Crucifixion was the go to execution method back then.  This is kind of like wearing an electric chair around your neck.


 say his name in vain.  Personally, I would be thrilled if someone hollered out my name whenever they hurt themselves or had an emotional moment.  Feel free to do this if you want.  You can drop the R to make things easier.

My step-dad, who was raised Catholic and became an atheist, used to say, “Jesus was a hippie.”  I think he’s right.  From what I gather from my religious friends, Jesus was all about helping people and maybe having a glass of wine or two.  He did after all make the stuff.

The nectar of the gods

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Atheism, Cosmos, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Religion

Confessions From the Cat’s Desk

I’ve seen my mother staring at her lighted square and scribbling away, telling you all about our personal lives.  She wrote this letter to that big stupid dog a while ago, and told you all about how much I hate her.  I DO hate her, but I have a good reason.  The creature is frightening, and out of control.

Just look at how crazy she is.

I enjoy SOME quiet time with Sophie, at a safe distance.

I had mother make videos of the trauma that is my life, but you can hear the old witch laughing.  It’s terrible that my own mother finds this funny.  The dysfunction never ends around here.  Please click on the links to see the videos.  Some people think they are funny, but they clearly show how horrible my life is.

No matter how many times I try to tell her we are fighting, Sophie thinks we are playing.  I’m trying to keep order in my own house, and it’s seen as a game by this stupid creature.  She scares my brother and sister cats.  Morris and Boo Boo run away from this moose-like monster.  That is why I must be brave and fight her.

Not only do I fight her, I try to find ways to kill her “accidentally.”  I don’t have thumbs, so I can’t just grab a knife and stab her.  I have to use my brain instead of my manly brawn.

I try to block Sophie’s access to food.

I attempt to interest her in the trash, and maybe eating it. There has to be something toxic in there.

I eat her cookies. They’re actually not bad.

I guard her chew toys so she will eat the kitchen chair legs and die of splinter overdose.

Really, the beast scares me. So, I hide. She will never find me here.

I still watch her, even when I am hiding like a coward. I really should bleach my Hitler mustache.

Sophie is not the only stupid dog I must put up with.  There is a small white one, Lola, who has been with this family longer than me. Most people and animals don’t understand seniority anymore.  If someone has been in a place longer, they should get more respect. That’s why I put up with this abuse.  You can hear mother laughing in the background on this video, too. Really.  Click the link and watch the video.

Aside from Sophie and anyone who works in the veterinarian’s office, where they try to stab me with needles and put thermometers in my fluffy behind, I love everyone. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, or some such cliched nonsense, I offer you proof. Though  I do have a Hitler mustache and a dislike for healthcare and large dogs, I am quite a lover.

Like most REAL men, I love my mother. I get my looks from her.

My father and I share a love of naps.

I headbutt my human brother. We’re both dashing young men.

Here I am playing with the boy. The girl took a picture of us.

I enjoy snuggle time with the boy’s girlfriend.

Christmas tree time with my feline siblings

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: blogging cat, cats, dogs, humor, pets

The Working Out Chubby

Like a lot of people, I get all of my news, especially anything political or religious, from Facebook.  My friends on Facebook are always posting good, factual information for me in the form of memes.  In case you are 127 years old, or you live on the moon, a meme is a picture with some sort of message on it, usually written in sarcasm, which happens to be my native language.

Over the years, I have seen a lot of memes about the working poor.  The working poor are, well, people who work but are still poor.  My mom was one of them when I was a kid.  So, I totally understand the concept, and I feel for all of the people out there who work hard and still can’t pay their bills.  There is another, similar group of hard working people that I also feel for, mainly because I am one of them.  Friends, I am talking about the working out chubby.

You all probably know someone like this.  He could be that guy you work with who is on a soccer team.  You have been to the guy’s games, and you have seen him run his behind all over the field.  You know he plays a few nights a week.  You sit there and try to imagine how many calories he burns, and you know it is not enough.  Work friend soccer playing dude is still fat.

I knew someone like this at a gym I used to go to a few years ago.  Yes, I actually used to go to a gym.  This woman was, and hopefully still is, a Zumba instructor.  She taught 2 or 3 classes a day, with gusto.  She had the moves down.  I had a hard time keeping up with her, partially because she was great and partially because I loathe Zumba music.  Anyway, there’s no nice way to say this, Zumba lady was still in the morbidly obese range.

I’m not morbidly obese, but I am definitely overweight.  I’ve always been an exerciser.  Sometimes I hit the elliptical, and sometimes I do a Gilad episode.  No, I haven’t cut carbs out of my life or started vomiting after I eat, but I don’t exactly eat like a lumberjack either.  My IBS won’t allow it.  I am still overweight.

So, I think we need some kind of meme to raise awareness about this.  Maybe something like, “Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I’m lazy.”  Anybody willing to design this?  We need to raise funds for liposuction or something.  My active chubby brothers and sisters need your help.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: chubby, exercising, fat but fit, fitness, overweight

The REAL Bachelor

From the hash tag storm of social media discontent, I could tell that a lot of people out there were unhappy with this season of The Bachelor, including it’s ending, a non-engagement.  Even ever present Bachelor cheerleader Chris Harrison appeared disappointed that Juan Pablo had not told Nikki Ferrell that he loves her yet.  Um, Chris, that is because he doesn’t, and to quote Juan Pablo, “It’s OK.”

It is actually more realistic to not become engaged to somebody, or be truly in love with someone, you’ve been dating for 8 weeks, especially when you begin your special “relationship” by dating 25 people at the same time.  Cinderella fairy tales like that exist in theme parks not in “reality” TV or actual reality.

The Bachelor has a proven relationship failure rate.  Only 2 Bachelors, Jason Mesnick and Sean Lowe, out of 18 seasons have married contestants from the show.  Sean is the only one to marry the woman he gave his final rose to.  Jason ended up with his runner up after “the most dramatic After The Rose show ever.” I’m an English major, so I’m not even going to try to figure out the percentage for that failure rate, but I know it’s low.

In doing my research for this blog (Yes, I actually do research for blogs), I found a few interesting things. Elizabeth Kwiatkowski (what a humdinger of a last name there, Liz) of Realty TV World reports that Juan Pablo did The Bachelor to gain money and fame and become a “full blown brand.” Well, this is certainly shocking.  You mean to tell me that people who go on TV to air their dirty laundry do not do so to save baby seals? Next, you’ll tell me that televangelists are in it for the money.   You mean Juan Pablo had ulterior motives?

Yes, Juan Pablo was not really romantic, and in fact he was arrogant and rude throughout the season. Plus, the way he says “MMMM” or “It’s OK” to everything gives me a case of the chilly squirmies. Is it really a surprise that he has the emotional depth of a Mr. Turtle pool? He agreed to date 25 women, and as much as he talked about not wanting to embarrass his daughter with inappropriate behavior, he made out with nearly every one of them.  And lord knows what happened in the ocean. I bet Juan Pablo wanted publicity and to have a good time, like lots of other people in previous seasons of the Bachelor and Bachelorette, and he needed to use 2 names to do it.  Wasn’t that a clue right there?  The man could not just be Juan? Why is everyone so up in arms over this? He showed his true colors right from the beginning. This was the most realistic season of The Bachelor ever, but it needs to be more realistic. There are lots of people out there who would make good bachelors or bachelorettes.

How about an African American bachelor or bachelorette? Are there only white people looking for “love.” Kudos for having a Hispanic man this season, but I think we need more diversity here.

Show what really goes on in those shared bathrooms and kitchen. There are people who are COMPETING with each other for “love” and fame living TOGETHER in the Bachelor mansion.  You just KNOW that someone has scrubbed the toilet with someone’s toothbrush, or put a frog in someone’s bed.  I can just imagine someone has put Miralax in a competitor’s fancy flavored water and hid all of the toilet paper.  Show how crazy it really gets.

Where are the chubby single people?  Is everyone who is in search of love a stick figure or Barbie model? Are there no single people out there who don’t consume all of their calories in alcohol and hair spray?

Take them on real dates.  No one jets off to Vegas for dinner in real life unless that person is a Sheik or a politician.  Have the “couple” go to Outback and eat a Bloomin’ Onion for their “romantic” date.  That is what real people do.

What about a retired bachelor or bachelorette?  Sometimes people are ready for love at a later age.  A silver fox or a golden girl would make for a popular bachelor or bachelorette as people are living longer now.

In short, ABC, instead of trying to make this a “real” show about finding love in front of millions of people, why not make it a real show with real people?

It’s OK. We can all date.
ABC.com

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Bachelor, Juan Pablo, Nikki Ferrell

Hermit Church

An old friend and I always used to joke about starting our own religion because it would be so easy to do.  I mean there are lots of followers out there, and this friend and I are leaders – demented leaders, but leaders.   Well, earlier this week, another good friend of mine told me that I should start my own religion.  Due to an excess of caffeine and a lack of sleep, my mind quickly started developing this religion.  So, here are my plans for the High Church of the Painful Truth, a name I am plagiarizing from my Brother-In-Law, Mike:

Commandments:

Don’t be ignorant.  If you just can’t help yourself, please take a vow of silence.
Cleanliness is next to, um, well it’s important.  So, clean up after yourself.  There is no reason to be sloppy.  It just means that you are lazy.
Don’t be lazy.  Be grateful that you CAN walk and get up off of your behind and do something.
Be nice to people just because that is what you are supposed to do.  This goes double for animals, small children, and senile senior citizens.  They love and trust you; be kind.
No poor me allowed.  You are not a victim.  You have made a lifetime of crappy decisions that led you to exactly where you are.  You will not improve your life until you start taking responsibility for it.
Review your first grade language arts book. People cannot read your messed up unpunctuated shorthand.
Keep all Sabbath days holy, no matter what religion they are from.  This should take care of the entire week, or at least the weekend.  So, put down your CrackBerry and enjoy your family.
Do not push any religion on to others.  No one KNOWS or UNDERSTANDS the mysteries of the universe.

Meeting Place:  Skype.  Seriously, why meet in person in one building.  I hate people and travel. So, if you want to be a member of my church, get a web cam.

Attire:  Business casual – no jeans.  People wear jeans to everything now.  As my step-dad used to say, “Dungarees are for farmers!”   This applies to all things other than farming, exercising or sleeping.

Meeting Frequency: [Shrugs shoulders].  I don’t know.  When we need to. This will save us all the misery of forced meetings.

Offerings:  PayPal.  Again, why should I leave my couch to collect money?  Just put it right into my account.  What?  Why do I need money if there is no actual building?  UMMMM, well, being a spiritual leader requires lots of chocolate.  I’m not talking about that cheap grocery store crap.  I need the good stuff, from Europe, preferably dark.  I will also need liquor, from Europe.

Well, that about covers it for now.  The caffeine is wearing off and that 5:30 wake-up call is catching up with me.  If anyone can draw out there, see if you can come up with a symbol for this new religion of mine.  Extra points if it includes kittens. We will sell t-shirts and jewelry with said symbol.  All proceeds will go to me.  At least I’m honest.

Note: This blog was previously published on my old Salon.com blog. 

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: hermit life, Hermits, humor, Religion

Paging Dr. Doogie!

In my never-ending quest to be geriatric at 42, um I mean 28, I have gone and scheduled myself 2 medical appointments in the same week.  Plus, I have to take my son to the orthodontist.  So, I will spend 3 out of 5 days in medical buildings.  Well, not the whole day, but still. I hate when I do that. I feel like one of those elderly people who go to the doctor every week.  What makes me feel even older is the fact that my doctors are all younger than me.  I feel like I have stepped into an episode of Doogie Howser.

I saw the dentist yesterday because I broke my crown, and no I’m not Jack from Jack and Jill.  I’m always at the dentist because I’m one of those lucky people who INHERITED bad teeth.  Seriously! That’s a thing.  I brush and floss at least 3 times a day, and I have 13 fillings and 2 crowns in my mouth.  For REAL! So, he was able to fix my crown, even though I swear the guy is 12.  I want to ask him when he is having his Bar Mitzvah.  I’m not sure if he is even Jewish, but it seems like an appropriate question given his youth.

I’m seeing a cardiologist on Thursday because I have had heart palpitations for years. People usually just tell me it’s nerves, but I want to be sure because I don’t want to keel over.  If I died no one around here would be able to find their keys or sweep cat litter off the floor. I haven’t met the cardiologist online, but I Google stalked her.  If I am doing the degree math right, and I may not be since I am an English major, she is about 5.  She looks anywhere from 5 to 8 in the picture on her web site.  I feel like the crypt keeper. If she makes me do a stress test, I’m making her sit in the corner.

And they are not the only medical professionals I see who could blend in at a K-12 school.  My primary doctor is 10, and has even mentioned that some issues I am having are “age related.” WHAT???  I still love her, but WHAT???

What about you all out there?  Are your doctors younger than you, yet?

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: doctors, Doogie Howser, middle age