They fly. They ALL fly.

It's probably not news that I work at a veterinary hospital. It's probably also not news that at said veterinary hospital we see some very sick pets. Pets that are sick because of internal issues and pets that are sick because of external issues. The external issues are what concern me the most. A primary reason for me not going into human medicine is because I can catch everything people have that is contagious! Oh and people are gross. But it didn't really occur to me that I could catch several things from animals too! I mean, sure, they have intestinal parasites that we can get but I was always under the impression we'd have to actually ingest them before they'd set up shop in our GI tract. This was until I learned they fly. They ALL fly. Yes, you heard right. Roundworms, hookworms, ear mites and sarcoptes, especially sarcoptes, fly. They leap from host to host infecting as they go! This is common knowledge, or should be, and yet both doctors at my hospital insist on making slides brimming with sarcoptic mange and ear mites and tapeworms and hookworms! They then have the audacity to leave the slides casually strewn about the hospital with no regard for my health and well-being! Because of this, I'm most certain I have a case of sarcoptic mange, ear mites and each of the aforementioned intestinal parasites. And the blame rests solely on the shoulders of a one Dr. Powell and one Dr. Canida. (I'm thinking of word that rhymes with witches...)

I do, however, have a way to prove my hypothesis. If we were to tag the infected pets and parasites with some sort of radioactive isotope, turn off the lights and put on special parasite viewing goggles I know we'd see a sea of colors flying through the air! It might be kinda pretty but also terrifying. You'd see little colored squiggles representing the worms and medium-sized circles with giant eyes and antenna and angry faces w/ sharp fangs. That would be the sarcoptes lunging toward you ready to attach! It's scary, right?! Yeah, I know. The only way to protect yourself would be to wear an impenetrable suit of armor or something and carry around mineral oil to drown any that get on you. Good luck and Godspeed.

Picture People

For most of us, our home is a showcase of our decorating tastes, adventures and memories of days gone by that may or may not include family and friends. We often have pictures of celebrations, momentous occasions and/or beautiful scenery we came across during our travels. Up until now I thought this was the norm; that everyone followed this unspoken rule. Nope. Not so. Well, at least this is the case for this one person to which I am referring (pretty sure she may the only person in the entire world who does this). While my friend Holly* (name has been changed to protect identity) does have some pictures of family members and friends she also has an overwhelming number of frames that contain the original picture that was sold with the frame AND the models that were featured in said pictures. I call them her picture people. Even more disturbing, she has them hung on walls and, more often than not, featured under a spotlight of sorts or in a prominent viewing spot. Many of the frames even have some cutesy artistic writing on them featuring words like "family" and "love." Many also still have the writing for the size of the frame and the brand name of the manufacturer who made the frame so you would think there would be no way she'd try and pass these picture people off as relatives and extended family members. You underestimate Holly. Not only does she try and pass them off as family and friends, she has taken the time to name each and every one of them...although she often forgets their names and mixes them up so if you listen too closely you get confused. She also appears to have misidentified the sex of one of the "cousins." I've never been more convinced of this than I was after looking at the picture of the child she calls "Grace" for an extended period of time. At first I thought Grace was just a little mannish but then I realized that Grace-son (get it, Grayson but spelled with Grace and she's a son and not a daughter?!) was really just a little feminish and was actually a boy. I have a picture and will conduct a brief, but highly scientific and accurate, poll after presenting my case.

My Evidence:

1) Grace-son is wearing a boyish snow hat

2) If he isn't a boy, who is the small boy in the other two pictures that I assume the frame-makers were trying to pass off as pictures of him when he was smaller?

3) Grace-son is a boy

I'm quite certain you can now see why she is in fact a he (this news will be most devastating to Todd and Meghan...Grace-son's parents, i.e. the blonde and the handsome man on the left side of the frame). Mike and Carol (a name I'm pretty sure I just made up and Holly went with) will also be crushed...Grace-son's grandparents. Todd's brother, John, and his wife, Laura, are in the middle of the frame with their son, Scott, and daughter, ? (I can't remember her name I'll have to ask Holly for a refresher course of Family Picture People 101). 

Even more ironic is that Holly is an avid photographer. She takes pictures of everything and everyone and yet, well, you know the rest. I guess the silver lining is that she'd be easy to buy gifts for...just get some frame at Target and tell her it's a picture of you and her at a graduation. And another graduation. And in a meadow. And at another graduation.

By the way, the results of the poll are in and the results are pretty much what I expected...

Do the pictures on your iPod say a lot about you?

I think I've officially crossed over to the bad side. The side that blogs about nothingness and has one continuous stream of consciousness transcribed onto this virtual piece of paper. Again I reference my friend, Doctor. Or is it Amy? Or DC? Or Amos? Whatever. I digress. She encouraged me to blog and now I blog...for fun! GASP! (She has her own blog I encourage you to read. This girl is a hoot for sure...The Incessant Ramblings of a Not-So-Rural-Anymore Veterinarian). This cannot be good. Nevertheless, I was up late last night (well past my regularly scheduled 10:00p bedtime) and was thumbing through the photos on my iPod. I've definitely got some randoms. As I was thumbing I thought to myself, in my newly awakened blogger-thinking ways, "Self, I should blog about this." And so I am.

Picture #1: A lung lobe with a porcupine quill stuck in it that was removed via thoracotomy. I got to watch this surgery performed on a dog while attending a week long program at Tufts Univ. School of Veterinary Medicine. Totally awesome. Times a billion.

Picture #2: Mango Margarita from Rock Bottom Brewery in Denver, CO. Delish and oh so refreshing. Interpret what you like about me from this picture :). If you're thinking, "She must like mangoes," you would be correct.

Picture #3: Herp-Ease from Sunflower/Sprouts Farmers Market. Well, this was just too funny to not take a picture of, right?! I mean, what a clever name! I appreciate cleverness.

Pictures #4 and #5: The girls. My loves. So obsessed and you can totes see why, right?! Adorbs times a gazillion. The lower one of Keltsy is kinda hard to see but she's resting her head on my laptop screen. O.M.G. melt my heart. "I want to put them in a pita pocket!"

Picture #6: A cannoli from Mike's Pastry in Boston, MA. Incredible and leads me to my final thought: a shameless plug for another blog on which I am a co-author along with seven other lovely ladies...My Fare Ladies. Check it out and then go eat at all the places we've been and feel free to leave your comments! 

The Skirvin: Where Everybody Knows Your Name...

Yesterday, I dined at the Park Avenue Grill inside The Skirvin in Downtown Okc with a group of girlfriends. The Skirvin has quickly become our regular Sunday Brunch haunt because it has the best of everything: class, affordability and fab food and drinks. For a mere $25 you can get unlimited entrees and brunch cocktails! A deal that can't be beat. Plus, you're treated to the musical stylings of the one and only Edgar Cruz. And while it's obviously the first-class service and atmosphere that initially attracted us (we like to think of ourselves as super duper classy), it is perhaps the carafes of booze with a side of phenomenal shrimp and grits that keeps us coming back for more (and maybe all too often?).

When we first approached the hostess stand we were immediately recognized. I like to think it's because we're fun and cute. We were promptly seated, even though we showed up with 10 people and no reservation. Note to self: make a reservation for any group bigger than about four. We were greeted by a woman named Sucelia and our server Susan. We had recently graced the Skirvin with our presence but a mere two weeks prior and had so much fun with Server Barbara that we requested her but were reminded it was her birthday and she was off for the day. By fun I mean towards the end of the brunch Server Barbara had joined our festivities and we had laughed and made jokes with Manager Nick and one of the chefs! Yes, we are on a first name basis with many of the staff. Yes, they do wear nametags. Nevertheless, Server Susan and Sucelia held a mini-powwow right after seating us. This is what I imagine was said...

     Sucelia: "Susan, these girls are awesome. They are so classy even after having consumed eight+ carafes of mimosas and kir royales! Don't let their carafes go dry and you'll be fine! You may even have to resort to bringing out our last bottles of champagne but I promise it'll be worth it you'll have so much fun and make lots of new friends! Just be aware they may stay a little past closing time."
     Server Susan: "Awesome, Sucelia! Thanks for the heads-up. I love nice tables!"

The reason I believe this was the conversation is for the following two reasons:

     1) Server Susan, without us asking, swiftly filled six glasses with mimosas and had Manager Nick help her carry them out while she carried a filled-to-the-top carafe of back-up mimosas.
     2) Server Susan never let our glasses empty and never left the table void of a full carafe.

Apparently, we left quite an impression on Sucelia and Manager Nick; but a good one for sure. They were both all smiles when around us and were more than happy to converse with us. Sucelia even went so far as to give us a direct line to the restaurant so we could make reservations and even have a standing one for every Sunday if we so chose! Basically, we're famous.

We like to think they have special hours for us...

     Normal Brunch Hours: 11:00a-2:00p.
     Brunch Hours for Us: 11:00a-5:30p.

Yep, that's right, we literally make a day of it. Cheers to you, Skirvin!

Mr. Jones and me...

An obvious title for the post, I know, but I just had to do it...you'll see why in a minute. At the behest of my dear friend Dr. (aka "Amy") Canida I have decided to join the 21st century and blog. That is to say, I will blog tonight and probably forget to blog again for the foreseeable future...or I'll become completely obsessed with listening to myself write and do it every day until someone stops me! (Btw I tried to upload the live performance of Mr. Jones but to no avail. Sad face).

In the not-so-distant-past I had the pleasure of meeting the Crows...this is short-hand for what we in-the-know call the Counting Crows. The Crows were nice, old men who happen to put on one heck of a live show. I suppose mid to late 40s isn't all THAT old but compared to me it's pretty ancient. That being said, I found myself lusting after Adam whilst he performed...some sort of rockstar voodoo spell he put on me I guess (or I was horny and drunk/high from second-hand pot smoke?)...no no it must surely be the first reason I gave. It was somewhat disconcerting because, honestly, he's not my type and by that I mean the dreds totes disgust me. How does one keep dreds clean? Do dreds smell? How often is one supposed to change ones dreds? Perhaps sans dreds he might be a decent looking guy? Having to tell him this clearly broke his heart. As you can see in the picture the sexual tension is palpable. Me with my stunningly beautiful hair, sun-kissed skin, UCO t-shirt and bug-eye sunglasses; him with his dreds. A match made in heaven for sure. I had to play it cool and not ask them if they knew Justin or Britney because I thought I might get stoned by the other "fans" in attendance.

It's really a wonder I made it to the soundcheck/meet-and-greet on account of my friend Kim is a crazy ass driver, even in a late-model Mitsubishi! Girlfriend should definitely not be allowed to drive on city streets. The Mitsubishi, whom we lovingly named Marva Jo after an old lady I met in the Denver airport while waiting for my luggage, had very little get-up-and-go. Despite this, Kim managed to "punch it" more often than not leaving me clutching the seat and double checking the tightness of my seatbelt. Kim insisted she was a good driver and it'd been years since she'd even gotten a ticket. I think she was lying. To make matters worse the venue for the concert was in a lovely mountainous setting complete with red rock formations and winding roads with steep drop-offs. Poor Marva Jo and I were at the mercy of a madwoman so we turned up the music and tried to think happy thoughts.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful, although I do love Denver and the State of Colorado as a whole. The weather was lovely, the people are nice and the scenery is always gorgeous. Add in a few super-tacky souvenir shops and you've got the perfect city! Oh and some french food from a french restaurant in DIA. Yep, that's the first place I thought of for delish melted brie and fresh fruit. Trust.

"I don't know that guy but he's fine..."

It occurred to me as I was driving to Manahattan, KS this past weekend for Homecoming/Halloween that my followers, if I were to have any, would know nothing about me. What is a blog without an identifiable blogger; someone you can relate to? Who on earth is this "Rhythm Kation" and why is her name Rhythm Kation? The short answer...we all had nicknames in high school that related our given name to some sort of a party or party theme. My friend Elise was not her usual sober and low self (read: drunk and high) and she blurted this nickname out one night. It stuck. Well, it stuck with me anyway. I think I'm the only person who uses the name on occasion. Nonetheless, it is the name I'll shall use to blog mostly because I haven't yet come up with another creative and clever name to use as my blog name.

Okay enough about me and on to the weekend...Manhattan, KS: The Little Apple. It's such a glorious place especially now that it has some of the comforts of a real city like a Best Buy and Olive Garden. Somehow when I went there I didn't really miss those things but now that they, along with other big city creature comforts, litter the landscape I consider Manhattan to officially be on the map. Honestly, as long as So Long Saloon and Aggieville don't disappear, I could care less what else pops up in what the locals call Man-happenin'. Aggieville is like no other place on earth. Dirty, old, smelly bars each with their own version of bar food and special drinks. It's a smorgasbord of fishbowls, fishtanks, $3 pounders, grillie cheesys, fried pickles, cheap chinese, sweet potato fries and, in the case of this weekend, crazy and elaborate costumes. Oddly enough the most-seen costume of the night was a banana. Sometimes there was a monkey in tow but usually it was just the banana walking down the street in all his banana glory. I know you're hoping for a description and picture of my costume but I can never come up with anything I deem creative and original enough to wear by the time Halloween gets here. I know it's the same time every year but without fail it sneaks up on me. I always say "next year" and "next year" gets here and I got squat. This year my group and I went as undergrads - a last minute attempt at fitting in with the masses. I think this was supposed to inspire us to last into the wee hours of the night and drink like we just turned 21. Instead, we were all spent by about 11:00 but continued on thinking that's what everyone else wanted to do. We made our way from bar to bar so our pre-Aggieville, post-game decision to go on a pub crawl remained intact.

Since I started this blog entry over a year ago fast forward to 2012. It took me a minute to remember what the heck I was talking about in the title but then it came to me! I have a vague recollection of leaving the liquor store after having left the bar and then returning to the bar and walking past a guy. I don't remember his name since this was over a year ago, for now we'll call him Paul. Anyway, apparently in my drunken haze I felt that he was "fine." Yes, I do believe I used that specific word and I also believe I said, rather loudly, that I didn't know who he was but nevertheless proceeded to make out with him. A proud moment indeed as I look back and reflect. At some point, Paul and I parted ways - so sad. I believe this parting of the ways came when I decided I was bored and missed my friends, "stole" a bicycle from behind some house and rode it back to Aggieville. Fail. I don't recall if the bike made it back to anywhere but I'm fairly certain I reconnected with my posse and returned home no worse for the wear.

I have been back to Manhattan since this particular visit and remain enamored with the town. It seems as though, for me, it's like a mini-Las Vegas in that each trip is different but also very much the same. In other words, I'm schwasted before the sun sets on the first night, have lost my voice and have removed one or both shoes in an attempt to delay the inevitable face plant in the middle of the street. When I don't go to Manhattan on a yearly adventure I feel there's a void. The friends I laugh so hard with my face hurts and who remind me of classic memories from days gone by somehow seem closer even if I only see them once a year. Perhaps I'll go to Manhattan for homecoming again this year?! I think it's high time I get back there lest they forget me and my crazy ways.