Sometimes I Feel like I have Dissociative Identity Disorder Which Makes This Story Slightly Random. And Long Overdue. And Not Very Good. I Apologize.

I hope you have not forgotten about me. I keep meaning to write, but then I remember that nothing has really happened, and I am actually sort of boring.  Which is lame to think about, let alone write about and subject you to read about.


Me writing this now doesn't actually mean something of ridiculous significance has happened, but out of fear of pissing of people who *claim* they check for a new update everyday (to which I call balderdash) I am going to write about the little insignificant things. And pray they mesh together to form something worthy of your approval. But then again, I'm not what you would call 'a-people-pleaser' so technically I don't actually give two-little-pebble-sized-deer-poops. I'm going to write. You're going to read. It will bond us.


So this one starts at the beginning of last semester... a new pack of fresh meat. "The Firsties". Brought forthwith a boy.  A boy I named Norman.  Norman is the 'all-american-boy'.  A southern boy. Accent included.  Sweet predisposition included.  QB of the football team.  All nicely packaged up into a tanned, toned, 6-pack ab body. With the muscular V thing. You know what I'm talking about?  The one that make Smart girls Stoopid.


Have you ever seen girls swoon over a boy?  I have. Thanks be to American-Honey-Norman.  It was as if over night ever girl on campus knew him. loved him. wanted him. were all over him.  And in my head he knows it.  So of course I find it all very obnoxious.  Partly why I named him Norman.  My brain, no matter how overcome with IslandFever, will not fall for someone named Norman.


Being in first semester meant that Jen and Rene knew him already.  I guess you could say they were 'good acquaintances'.  Which meant that on at least 2 occasions I was introduced to him.  I like to think I make remarkable first impressions, but I have come to find this is far from the realm of reality (which I have also learned is almost enough to meet a criterion for 'bizarre delusion', which would meet a requirement for schizophrenia. all of which is deeply upsetting. but I digress).


The semester flies by, and once again it comes time for the party-of-the-semester: Splash Bash.  Which was after the "big game", ie football final game between 1st/2nd semesters (american-honey-QB) and 3rd/4ths.  Upper semesters dominated.  It was *highly* entertaining.  In that it really wasn't.  However, I can't deny the slight entertainment value in seeing how upset boys get over losing a football game that literally means nothing (but act like its the Stanley Bowl Super Cup).


I got together with the girls.  Wine was had. Complete with our own dance party in Jen's apartment.

We headed over to the Pre-Pool-Party.  I need to remind you all that I live in the schedule of an 85 year old - in that I prefer to be tucked in bed by 9, sleeping by 10pm, and up much before the sun. So when it is passed my bedtime and I've had a few glasses of wine, my brain is floating in a happy sea of over-tired-delirium. 
 [NOTE: I started this post what feels like a life-time ago.  Have been way too busy. And in the spirity spirit of just getting this stupid thing over with, the rest of this story is going to be quick and messy. forgive me.]                                                                                                                                one point I'm near Norman, so we start talking.  I comment on the game. blahblahblah. I felt like he was looking at me with a 'you're not cool enough to be talking to me' look. So I'm all "do you even know who I am?" He's all "yea. Jen's friend"
"Yes. that is correct. but what is my name hotshot?"
"Ummm... I'm sorry I don't know."
"Well that's a shocker.  That's alright though. I just call you Norman. Cause you look like a Norman to me. You're cool with that right?"
"Umm no. no not really."
"oooo. well thaaaaats too bad. Cause it's caught on."


Then I turned and walked away.  Leaving poor Norman so unaware of what just happened.  


So of course, since that happened, I run into this kid EVERYWHERE. The first time post-splash-bash was a curtesy 'hey! how's it going?'  Both of us with a big 'yes-that-really-happened' acknowledgement smile.  
 


There's a bit more to this story. But I have a lot of shit to catch up on (and I mean that in the sense that we are in GI module again, and all week have had lectures on diarrhea. oh so much talk about poop. oh poop, you've bested me once again). 
I have catching up to do because we had our first block exam on Monday. Tuesday I was at hospital rotation all day (which I'll write about later). Wednesday turned into 15 hour lecture/work day. Thursday was writing my hospital paper, ICM, SIM. Yesterday was all day lectures and still trying to catch up on Wednesday's shits.  Then make the brilliant decision to go to a White-Out-Highligher-'Gathering' last night. And now I delirium tremors. 


xoxo