An Open Letter to Mercer University School of Medicine

Dear Mercer University School of Medicine,

What's up? Thought I drop you a line because it's been a while since I've heard from you. I hope all is well and that the new campus is coming along. Growing pains are tough, aren't they? Anyway, I know you'll get through it and be successful. If anyone can do it, it's you.

So, hey, I was wondering if you'd had some trouble getting in touch with me. I was out of town a few weekends ago but, mostly, have been around. I left - once more - my mobile number on your machine. I figured that maybe you'd written it down wrong or something and might've left a message for me in someone else's voicemail. When you can, give me a shout, I'd love to hear from you. Maybe we can get together for dinner sometime soon? If you can't do that - I know you're busy - I know some great lunch places around here. Heck, I'll even settle for a quick coffee just to look at you and hold your hand for a few minutes. You get the point, just please give me a shout.

Forgive me for bringing this up but it's been bugging me little. I was telling my buddy that I'd not heard from you and he brought it up that maybe you're not interested in me anymore. Crazy, right? I told him exactly where he could stick that kind of talk. Yep, right in the old poop shoot. I mean, come on, if you were over me, you'd at least let me know, right? Right?

Seriously, you aren't trying to break up with me, are you? I mean, when we were together, we had such an awesome time, didn't we? I know that I did. You did too, didn't you? We smiled at each other, flirted a little; you made me feel alive. You laughed at my jokes and seemed to think I was witty. Hell, even your friends seemed to like me.

Anywho, I was thinking that maybe it was something I said or did? You aren't still mad at me for New Year's, are you? I am sooo sorry for drunk-dialing you like that. Really, it'll never happen again. (I hope.) I was just thinking of you and wanted to hear your voice. At 3 o'clock in the morning. While I was in Waffle House. With a ton of strippers. What can I say? I think 8 messages on your machine should be enough to convince you that my apology was sincere.

I bet it's someone else, isn't it? Is it one of those douchebag little guys you met right after me? That adolescent prick from the elite private school with the Mercedes? That little shit has never worked a day in his life. Really, what could you see in him? How funny would it be for you to dump me for that clown? Pretty hilarious, huh? I know, I know: you're better than that!

If it is something that I said, you should know that I was completely honest with you and never meant to hurt your feelings or anything. Look, I stand by everything I said. I thought we clicked. Maybe I was wrong about you...about us. I thought we had a future together. I guess I was wrong. I hope I'm not but, with this deafening silence from you, my mind is really starting to make me think that you're not interested in me, that you've moved on. If so, then I wish you the best. I'll be sad but, hey, don't worry about me, I'll be just fine on my own.

OK, enough of the crazies from me. I hope that we'll have a good laugh at my paranoia over beers sometime soon. Call soon, will you? I really, really want to hear your voice.

All the best,

The Scholar

P.S. - If it is that little prick with the Mercedes, you can go to hell.

Baseball Is Back!

Although the Sox played last week in Japan, I don't really consider that "Opening Day."

"Lumos!"

Tonight, the Bravos are at the Nationals in the new stadium in DC. Also, love him or hate him -- and I heard a ton of booing from the crowd -- W looks like he knows what he's doing on the mound. Unlike the 1st pitch he threw out shortly after 9/11, tonight's throw was a ball.

Hypothetically Speaking

Let's say that you're out walking your dog around noon on a sunny, spring Friday. Now, let's say that during your walk, you bump into a good friend who's an incredible athlete. After the two of you walk your dogs for a bit, your friend invites you to grab your bike and join her for a ride out to Stone Mountain and back.

"Only 38 miles?," you mutter, considering the invitation. "Sure. Why not? I was planning on sitting on my fat ass and watching basketball all afternoon. I should probably get some exercise."

And let's say that accept the invitation and hurry home to grab your bike and get your gear together. Then, on riding all the way out to the mountain, you make the decision that the two of you would actually bike the grueling hills inside Stone Mountain Park. On the way home, you might find that your neck and shoulders start to hurt, along with your hands. After all, you probably do more mountain biking than road cycling.

So, if you biked nearly forty miles in about 2 hours and 45 minutes (including a couple of breaks), hypothetically, your ass might be killing you the next day. I'm just saying.

On Second Thought ...

... maybe having Geraldine Ferraro write a recommendation letter for me wasn't such a good idea.**

**Props to Dr.J3K for suggesting that she might've been my downfall on this one.

Champagne Taste

My favorite anecdote from the wedding we attended over the weekend...

After the reception, we retired to Mulligans, the bar in the Columbus (Mississippi) Country Club. The bride's mother and aunts were having a jolly old time. They'd had a few to celebrate and were now in the bar, putting condoms on a champagne bottle, and shaking the it to inflate the condom. On occasion, a champagne-filled rubber would suddenly pop off the bottle and zip around the room, spraying everyone and causing a little chaos. The ladies would laugh and laugh; they were having a blast.

Joey and I were standing at the bar with our drinks chatting when the bride's sister-in-law came over to us and started chatting. After a few sentences, we noticed that she was downing a glass of champagne.

Joe said to her: "I hope that didn't come out of the condom."

To which she replied, in all seriousness: "I don't think it did; it doesn't taste like spermicide."

On hearing that, I choked on my beer but tried my best to suppress any laughter or smile. We politely replied something like "Umm, OK."

"That stuff tastes really bitter. And, it makes my mouth really numb," she continued without any provocation from us.

Although I was momentarily stunned, my silence quickly moved from a smile to a giggle to uncontrollable laughter. I laughed until I cried.

"Did I say something funny?," she asked me.

"This whole situation is pretty damned funny," I lied. "Your mother-in-law is putting rubbers on a champagne bottle and everyone seems to be drinking it. It's crazy." I wanted to add that it was hilarious that she'd confided to two total strangers her personal knowledge of the oral effects of a condom's lubricant. Sometimes, I really want to ask people if they realized that they're talking aloud. I want to yell at them "Stop talking! Please just stop talking!"

Tornado!!!

So, we were out of town at a wedding in Mississippi when the tornado happened. Some out-of-town friends were travelling through town and were crashing at our place for the night. While they were out in the village having dinner, the tornado came through and they had to take cover under a table at the restaurant. Freaky.

It seems that we dodged a bullet. According to a map of the tornado's path (and cross-checked with the visible trail of damage), the damned thing missed us by a block or two. Seriously, the damned thing sort of cut diagonally across the neighborhood and barely missed us. Houses at the end of out street had trees on them. Houses on the street behind us had houses on them. Luckily, we had a yard full of asphalt shingles (not ours), roofing paper, and branches. Close one!

It also nearly got my wife's office. They had glass out and sustained roof damage but still had a standing building. Again, the path shows that it was within the a block or so. Crazy stuff.


View Larger Map

Below are my photos from the neighborhood taken on Sunday afternoon and Monday morning. (For brief captions on the photos and larger images, click on the slide show.)