I am a Girl. At least now.

I feel like the ultimate Ms. Priss. I spent a substantial part of last evening searching for and bidding on a silvery-diamond-ish tiara-comb thing on Ebay. AND my foster father* is going to have to follow up on the auction for me tonight throughout his fantasy baseball draft.

My mom is going to pass that kidney stone when she hears that.

Mom loves to relive the days when I refused to wear/do any of the following:

- a dress/skirt/skort/long towels
- pink
- bows
- makeup (although mom had me wearing mascara when i was about 10 ... something about how my 3" thick lenses kept people from seeing my beautiful eyes. not sure the mascara did anything but smear black goo all over the inside of my glass lenses ... story here ... save for later)
- shoes (i have the callouses to prove this)
- wash my hair more than once or twice a week ("helped" the frizz problem)
- brush my hair (truly i didn't ever brush it)
- tuck in my shirt (erroneous assumption that "baggy" hides the fat)
- not wear overalls/sweats (again, baggy)
- anything that might give someone the urge to tell me i looked "cute"
- socks that were not white
- carry a purse

I was The. Coolest.

Seriously.

It's not so much that I thought I was ugly, as I actually WAS ugly. You can't impose all of the above rules and have anyone still find you attractive. However, as in most things in life, I blame my mother for instigating the efforts-to-shun-my-gender when she gave me that perm/bang combo (to my already miserably thick and frizzy fro) in 4th grade. How do you recover from something like that?


But by 9:00 tonight, I should have my very own tiara. How's that for recovery?


* Since I moved out of my apartment last week and in with friends, I have gained foster parents. And a Tivo for a sibling. Ahhhh ....

My Sweet Baby

Dr. J and Dais
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

Daisy Maria (a.k.a. The Dias) passed away in her sleep on the morning of Monday, March 28, 2005. She leaves behind her parents, Missy and Dr. J, and countless honorary Aunts and Uncles, that loved her so very, very much.

You won't be forgotten.

Series beginning: Only Me

Many, many, many things from this weekend could be called Newsworthy, however since I am swamped with work and an overloaded personal agenda, a few stories will suffice. The most important of which comes from a little lesson I learned going through airport security on Thursday, and I defy you to show me anyone who has been taught a similar lesson.

So while trying to seem kool going through the bustle of declothing at airport security, I found myself in the all-too-common struggle of how to keep the boarding pass handy while taking off every article of clothing I was wearing. Stripping myself of my jacket, shoes, pants, shirt, whatever, required two hands so I was forced to place my boarding pass into my only free appendage, my lips. I did the polite folding-of-the-lips-back-over-my-teeth-so-as-to-not-get-the-piece-of-paper-wet-trick that I have been doing my whole life. Taking my jacket and shoes off required about 20 seconds at which time I was standing face-to-face with a large, beefy woman holding her hand out for me to give her my boarding pass.

Thus the fun began.

As I go to remove the boarding pass from my lips, the paper had completely adhered itself from one side of my bottom lip to the other. Tug. Tug. Nothing. I'm holding up the line and trying to move quickly, also getting quite nervous that this has no chance of ending pleasantly ... I start trying to push it off with my tongue. I'm not so sure if Beefy realized what was going on, if she did she certainly didn't find the fact I had a piece of paper pasted on my face in any way amusing - tug tug. Stuck. I'm wishing now I had torn the paper so that the piece that had become a part of my body could have eventually dissolved, but not having the privilege of hindsight, I firmly YANKED the paper and finally was able to free it from the hold it had on my mouth. However, the YANKING caused all of the skin on my lower lip to rip off and make this little smiley skin-line on the boarding pass and leave me with a bloody lip, trying to act as though nothing had happened.


It was only a matter of time until I started "Only Me". I've been cursed with this title since I was about two and a half. And there will be more.

I get to go home tonight!!

By home, I mean my parents house... back to the land of 10-digit dialing, mexican food yumminess and movie theaters that don't reek of B.O. Ahhh ...

I get to go home!!
I get to go home!!
I get to go home!!

This countdown is vanishing before I know what's happening. Rather exciting.

And I'm going to have to get all gooey and bridey but I AM SO EXCITED THAT I AM GETTING MY WEDDING DRESS FITTED!!! (yeah, no ... I'm not really so much a gooey kind of gal. except when it comes to crying. everything makes me cry. except for real-life things that are actually sad. same thing can happen in a movie and I'll drench my couch pillows with natural saline)

Oh sweet fresh flour tortillas! Oh my blessed chimichanga!! We will be together soon!

Kiss that Snooze GOOD-BYE!

Would someone PLEEEEAASE buy this for me? I don't think I can live another day without it!!!

Clocky

(Thanks, Mulls)

This could really be interesting

I get to fly home to Big-D tomorrow (that's Dallas for all you non-Texan-persons) and L.B. is supposed to pick me up at the airport. I just recieved word from him that his Big Truck (of course it's a truck, it's Texas) is on the fritz with a broken water pump. This is following a weekend of extensive vehicular repairs that required him to have his Big Truck hauled back to Hachie on the Monster Trailer my dad built. Not to worry - he has a solution. He'll pick me up at the airport, hand over the keys to me and LET me drive it to Hachie.

Ummm ... Thanks?

How is it my responsibility to make a 1/2 hour solo drive in a crippled truck? There are no possible times when a second party could follow the truck in case whatever action the water pump performs causes the automobile to strand the motorist?

Everyone who thinks this is a bad idea say "Aye".

Let's go ahead and add to this that the Big Truck is actually 4.3 times the size of the car I normally drive around. I say, if I can lay across the front seat and not have my head or pointed toes touch either door panel, it's too big.

No time to stop now

Are you ready for this????

L.B. is ENGAGED. Details to follow.


I'm currently overburdened with more carboard boxes than I can feasibly handle, all wanting to be filled with every item in my apartment down to the last scrap of toilet paper or elusive phone cable. Mom and I were up to the wee hours each night packing .... and pack we did.

Funny to me that I actually have phone cable strung along my apartment. I think that at one point, I must have intended to get a phone line but just never got around to it. One less utility to cancel. Excellent.

And I'm desperately trying to get work done despite the fact I have 43 things to take care of before the movers arrive here at 7 in the morning. I am what is medically referred to as a basketcase.

Tomorrow's Countdown

I am fully aware that I am probably the only one that is sincerely concerned about how many days until the Day I Quit My Job, but it's my blog so it will be continued to be posted. Tomorrow, Mum and I are going to be doing shamefully girl-ish things (that I hope results in a pedicure and oh, maybe a pair of cute strappy sandals) and I'll be sans computadora all day (Raise your hands if you caught the TRIO OF LANGUAGES represented in this sentence! YAY FOR YOU!)

Thus the countdown be-eth...

42 DAYS REMAINING

That seems so soon!!

Maybe I'm alone here but ...

Here's the thing. Dr. J is currently in Spain for work and poor little Daisy is having to amuse herself for a week in an empty apartment. Truly, you have never met a more needy cat. I mean, she can't help but provide complete companionship for her owners, but Dear God! she can't handle the despair that comes with any alone time and spirals into deep depression when left alone for more than 24 hours. All of the sudden, our very potty trained cat will poo on the floor, seemingly to express her displeasure, or pee on the bathmat. She seems to have enough respect for Dr. J and I to only pee on things that can be washed relatively easily.

So there's this girl (that speaks very little English) who is going by in the evenings (I think) to feed The Dais. This would be her first time playing this role. I feel for her, truly I do, because The Dais has been at her worst. The first day, the girl was traumatized because she could smell "urine" when she went to the apartment. Bathmat. Got it. On Day 2, The Dais apparently vomitted, and "excrement" was fouhd right in front of the entryway. Now, pet owners round the world know that blantantly visible "excrement" is a sign of flagrant disapproval. The vomit, however, has more to do with her illness, and poor Dais does pray to the porcelain god more often that I like to admit. It was also reported that "the animal" was not eating much. What can I say? She likes company!

Anywhooo, so I let her know that the soiled bathmat would be fine for another week and gave her this tip and comforted her with not-to-worries. But after her Day 2 trip, she let me know that she grudgingly did clean the "excrement" but was unable to attend further to the vomit.

One week old vomit will be ready to greet your arrival come next Tuesday, Dr. J!! HOORAAHH!

Now, I'm a sympathetic vomiter, truly, the mere sound or odor of vomit makes me dry heave, but no matter how much I hated it, I don't think I could leave a puddle of yesterday's partially digested lunch to swell on someone's carpet for a week. Am I alone?

Bring on number 3!!

Sorry I haven't been posting. I missed work Tuesday from antibiotic side effects and L.B. is in town for work so we've been chillin' in the evenings. Well, except for Tuesday. AND Mom comes in town tonight because there is a plethora of activity here in wedding land which includes my moving out of my apartment (Dr. J, you will have furniture soon!!) and a wedding shower this weekend. I'll be nomadic for the month of April - actually, for April, May, June, July, and half of August, something I'm sure will make me appreciate my bed when I finally see it again next August.

Tuesday consisted of me lazing about on the couch with much heating pad-ish action going on. Once I felt a little better I decided it was time to go and rent a movie, which I just almost never do, and about 10 minutes later, I found myself exploring the previewed movie selection at Blockbuster. It took me all of 5 seconds to find Spidey DOS on sale, and then Garden State, at which point I surrendered the silly notion that I would rent anything at all. My 5-minute drive home seemed to last an eternity with Spidey and DVD special features just crying out to be watched. And watch I did!! ALL of the movie, commentary, and Special Features .... the knowledge is now within me. And NO I will not reveal to you the subtle differences in the Spidey costume from I to II.

I am also excited about GS, but since I've had a crush on Spidey since before I was aware of the Y Chromosome, restraining myself was not really an option. Knowing that the third movie will not be released for another TWO YEARS is enough to kill a person. Well ... ok ... so maybe now I should restrain myself.

THANK YOU SAM RAIMI!! You are my hero!

It resulted in me watching Dirty Dancing on the couch, and that's hard to complain about

This wasn't my favorite adventure, but I'm sure someday ... when it stops hurting ... I'll sit back and laugh about it.

So Friday night, Mullsey was to join me for an evening in of watching silly movies and serious down time. I was all ready to make a quick dinner for us and lounge. Lounging we did, but only in the quazi-comfort of the ER waiting room.

After weeks and weeks (and weeks) of coughing, I finally coughed and felt (and I swear I heard) a painful pop in the middle of my back. And I mean PAIN. FUL. Poor Mullsey had to watch me weep and pretend to be fine for about 10 minutes before we decided to go to the hospital. So off we went! Since we had only been at my place for about 15 minutes before The Cough Heard Round the World, we were pretty hungry and after signing in, she left to go get din-din and returned with food, non-chocolate candy, magazines and crossword puzzle books. HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!

This is totally going to turn into an Ode to Mullsey ...

And then she proceeded to stay with me at the ER for SEVEN AND ONE HALF HOURS until they finally told me I had pneumonia, I was not pregnant, and probably a cracked rib. (Prego test only a precaution for the x-ray - don't worry Dr. J!!) The good news is that they told me to call first thing Monday and gloat to my idiot Dr. and tell him what he did. That and they gave me an antibiotic and new cough syrup that has all but cured my cough. However, there is this little side effect of the nauseating, tastes like I'm sucking on a rusty pole on the playground thing going on, apparently produced by the antibiotic. And something is definitely making me produce copious amounts of thick yellow green mucus ... better out than in!

So back to Friday, my favorite part was when I first hurt my rib and was sitting in my rocker, like the decrepit, broken, senior citizen that I have become, when Mullsey walks over to bring me some tissue. Having just been to the gym, she was wearing these sweatpants that, apparently, did not have any elastic in the waist and merely tied on. Just as she was about two feet from me and was handing me the tissue, the black sweatpants made a swooshing sound as they collapsed at her ankles. And no, I don't mean they caught on her hips or knees or anything. She was suddenly standing there in her t-shirt and underpants. I don't know why she didn't pick them up immediately except that maybe she was laughing harder than I was. And yes, it hurt HORRIBLY to laugh, but come on! How often do you get to see someone's pants swimming around their ankles?!

Mullsey, you rock my world.

Thought for the Week

Fish frys in the middle of a work day, do not a pleasant afternoon make.

- Missy

Miracle of miracles!

So today, I was EXCEPTIONALLY late to work so I had to forgo my Friday morning latte HOWEVER! I was here for all of 37 minutes before I get an email from our admin saying she's making a Starbucks run and do I want anything? DO I EVER??! And I've had a bit of a focusing problem lately so I requested a caff latte. CAFF. I'll let you know how this works out. I'm jittery just thinking about it.

Happy Friday everyone! I'm a bit discouraged from the ongoing struggle to find shoes I like for the wedding that aren't boring, expensive, and one-time-ers. I thought I found some last night and while they are great for sundresses and what not, I got them home and tried them on with my winter uniform (sweatpants, sweatshirt), they are just not quite right. Too casual. Sigh.

And the countdown is ...

49 DAYS REMAINING

Wow! Not to state the obvious or anything, but that's totally less than FIFTY!

Oscar Parties Require Feather Boas

Let's All go to the Movies!!
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

A non-kitty photo, as promised. (And a self portrait, to boot!)

Me and my very kewl friend and party co-host sporting our coordinating hot- and baby-pink feather boas. You can't tell from this pic, but we have her little fluffy white puppy in our laps, also wearing a boa. Since he is a boy, his father is concerned that posting pictures of him on the internet wearing a pink feather boa would be detrimental to his acting career. Sorry, Mr. Murph, you can be in the next picture.

Sometimes, I really do have the coolest little bro ever

Ok, so it's like this...

Dr. J and I are having wedding reception #1 in Dallas, the night of the wedding. This is the "official reception" although officially, we are calling it a dinner since the words on the wedding invite will read something to the effect of "reception immediately following ceremony in the church fellowship hall". This is completely unnecessary information to understand the extent of little bro's coolness.

Reception #2 is going to be in ColOmbia at the home of Dr. J's family at which time all members (and there are more than a few) of his extended family will be in attendance. This will take place one week to the day after Wedding Reception #1. My mother and father will be joining Dr. J and I in ColOmbia. This will be their first trip to ColOmbia (no, they don't speak Spanish and no, Dr. J's family does not speak English). Me entiendes?

Little bro (LB) had originally planned on going but since he started a new job about a month ago, I pretty much assumed those plans went out the window. However, as it turns out, LB negotiated this before he actually took the job! WOW!! I TOTALLY UNDERESTIMATED HIM!!


Not only that, but he's coming here for a week for work (next week) and we will get to hang and do things like watch TV in silence and eat hot wings. Sadly, I have a work trip that will be taking me to Albuquerque (there are no words to describe how irritated I get when I have to spell that word. It takes SO much thought) for two days. I never go anywhere! Why do I have to go somewhere the week that LB is in town?

So, what's the verdict? Would I have gotten in trouble

I was just reminded of a little story from my childhood

Once when I was little, I had a friend spend the night. I wish I could remember who it was, seems like something any of us might have done ... maybe it was Leigh-Ann ... anyway ... So I'm sure we drank lots of soda or juice or something and then stayed up talking until way too late at night at which time we found ourselves needing to relieve ourselves. Now, I'm sure Mom and Dad had both come in on multiple occasions to tell us to be quiet and go to sleep, so it seemed obvious to us that we must be as silent as possible during our bathroom excursion. Since our bathroom was right across the hall from my parents room and my dad slept with the door cracked, obviously, we could not use the actual toilet or we would have been in much doo-doo. Logically, we decided to use the only other facility in the house that would not waken my parents slumber, so one at a time, we climbed up on top of the counter and proceeded to use the kitchen sink.

Hmm .... which do you think we would have gotten in more trouble for? Waking dad while using the actual toilet? Or for using the kitchen sink as a urinal?

Nope we didn't get caught, so I guess we'll never know the answer to that.

I honestly can't roll my eyes hard enough

This guy brings new depths to the meaning of the word idiot.

Coughing on the Treadmill is Not the Fun You'd Think it Would Be

So yesterday evening, I attempted to pick back up the training that has been ... er, stalled ... from all the hacking and illness. My dream of winning the St. Louis Half Marathon went down the toilet with the three weeks worth of mucus filled Kleenex. My new and more realistic dreams are of finding a fourth teammate so that we can run the Marathon Relay (4 people with relay distances assigned to complete the full Marathon). If you know someone who lives in St. Louis, enjoys running but doesn't have the time or desire to train for a whole marathon and has $50, feel free to send me their name.

It's still cold-ish here and with the lingering cough I'm really not up to battling the cold, so I decided to treadmill it yesterday. I got about a mile into it before the coughing started. The thing about coughing on the treadmill is that the buckling-over reflex that is required with the really deep coughing, is more than just a little challenging when the floor is rolling out from under you at a steady pace. The first time I did it, I came inches from being thrown off the back end, just catching the sidebars of the treadmill and sprinting to recovery. It really wasn't that bad or that ungraceful, I'm not even sure that the swollen steriod of a man strolling on the treadmill next to me even really noticed. But then it was just a cough or two. The second time, was much more artistic. It was a full on coughing attack. I started groping for the side bars as soon as I felt it coming on, arms flailing and tripping over my own feet as I struggled to keep myself 1) upright 2) on my own treadmill and not in the lap of some innocent bystander and 3) from developing an audience (I'm not really looking for applause when I go to the gym - I prefer the anonymity that comes with having the body of a mediocre bacci ball player). I was kinda in shock by how quickly the whole thing took place. The clamboring definitely seemed to impede my ability to even cough in a satisfactory manner and of course, I had too much pride to simply stop the run for a moment so I could rid myself of the coughing fit, so the fun continued with the awkward buckling over and clamboring routine for another 15 minutes or so until I finally had enough to call it a successful comeback game ... truly it was a sight.

Sidenote: I'm sure that the poor chumps forced to run on the treadmills next to me were also not amused by the fact that it took more energy than I could muster to actually cover my mouth during any of the fits. At the time, I was so exhausted from the efforts of righting myself that it didn't really occur to me to try or to care.

I promise that I will stop diverting you to other websites but this just can't be helped

This makes me wish that I believed in reincarnation and that I could curse this guy to come back in his next life as a woman, work in middle management, and have three kids at home. Absolutely unbelieveable that there are people in the world with ideas like his.

As it is, please let him get fired (for this very email), and let him have to work under a woman for his next job. Amen.

30 Second Bunny Theatre

There are others on the website but this was my favorite.

It's a Wonderful Life (as re-enacted by bunnies)

Announcing the newest addition

To other friends of Karo, in case you aren't in a habit of checking her blog regularly ...

Check out the news.

I can see how this could happen ... but I'm SO glad it wasn't me!

Here's the story ...

Now, here's the thing. I know that my leaving the television on for Daisy when I have to leave and I had promised her I would be home is more for my conscience than hers, but maybe, just maybe, it lets her know that I care. I mean, obviously this works and makes them less lonely. I think the fact that Dr. J and I left the TV on all weekend when we went to Atlanta and came home to big foot speaks for itself. Clearly, she watched TV all weekend and was entertained and fulfilled.

Maybe we should have been more sensitive to the channel that we left it on ... there could have been a series of Joan London interviews - it was the weekend prior to the Oscars. Maybe she was speaking out in protest.

This is too cute.

Sound on, please.

I got me some Vitamins!

I have been anti-Vitamin for quite some time now. Dad used to force them down my throat every morning at the breakfast table until I was 16 (until my friend Missa sort of just moved in and I happily let her eat my morning meal and vitamin). On days that he stood there and watched, I actually swallowed it. They always did nauseate me. I'm not really so sure if it was the vitamins that did the nauseating, or the fact that we were required to eat from all four of the main food groups every morning before school.

I couldn't wait to go to college and escape this torture. I didn't eat breakfast for like 5 years out of protest once I finally left.

For those of you that are sitting there saying, wow, she is sooo ungrateful .... I'm gonna come into your home every day approximately 30 minutes before you are ready to wake up and make you eat eggs, toast, a pear, and a cup of yogurt every morning before you are even permitted to go to the bathroom. Let's see how hungry you REALLY are at 6:00 in the morning. Every day. Not just the days following the evenings that you FINALLY managed to drag yourself to the gym and you actually have an appetite. And if you still think that sounds nice, how 'bout the mornings that I change it up a little (just so you don't have to eat the same fried/scrambled/poached eggs, toast/bagel/english muffin, canned apple/pear/peaches, yogurt/milk/cheese) and for the carbohydrate, maybe I use the leftover spaghetti from the night before and put a little cheese on it, with a side of bacon and a banana? Mmmm mmm .... gooooood. And yeah. You gotta eat all of it. Before you can get ready. Now take your vitamin. Eat up!

So I was pretty much sick to my stomach by about the middle of first period every day - lots of burping of unwanted pears and bananas, but mostly I remember the vita-burps. Those are the worst.

However, I can't seem to shake this illness, so yesterday I got some vitamins. I got some chewable ones since I tried this once before in college when I got sick and the ginormous multi-vitamin still produced the nausea and the vita-burps, so I'm trying a new avenue. Get well, self!


Dad, you get a big A for effort. And Missa loved it!

So Like I Said ...

Daisy's Fat Foot
Originally uploaded by missyajg.

Never did figure out what made her leg do this, but see!? I'm talkin bout serious swell-time goin on!

There's probably some sick dog somewhere in the world lickin his lips and gettin off on this picture. Lunatic canine sicko.

I promise to one day post a non-cat picture. Really.

Mom, This Should Make you Proud

My coworker, Mullsey, and I were just having a intra-office IM conversation and the last few lines were something to this effect:

Missy: That thing looks like poop.

Mullsey: Whatever, poop is brown, that's grey. What color do you poop?

Missy: Shades of grey, sometimes lemon-lime.

Mullsey: Yes, then, you are right. That thing looks like your poop.

Missy: I remember this one time when I was a kid that I drug my mother to the toilet to show off some bright green poop - wonder what I ate that made me do that?

Mullsery: My friend's cat once ate the green feathers off a toy a he pooped bright green for a while.

Missy: (thinking ... did I eat feathers off a cat toy once? )

Missy: Poop is cool.

Mullsey: Yeah.


This is probably the only thing we've done that has wasted more of our time than when we spent the morning touching each other's noses trying to discover the differences. And I'm here to tell you, there are a few - that Mullsey has a squishy nose.

I'm Just LOVING Fridays

Today I feel MUCHO better - so much so that I stopped and got bagels for the office (attendance is low here, I'm only semi-generous as it only takes about a dozen scrumptious little delicacies to fill the tummys of this workplace). Sadly, the trip did cost me the time that is normally devoted to acquiring the Friday Latte, but a little Good Samaritan every now and then never hurt nobody.

Ahem.

56 DAYS REMAINING

Isn't that AMAZING!? And that's calendar days! And considering that I have 3 vacation days yet to be taken between now and then ... that's not much time! I bes get haulin it on dis here project I dun been assignded. I'm starting to not even mind so much that I'm already being phased out of all the goings on and project assignments here.

Welcome Back to Me

Yeah, I took a turn for the worse yesterday but am back at work again today. Yippee. And yes, I've been sick for about 3 weeks now. Tuesday I made an ultimatum to my cough that it would be no more once I woke on Wednesday, but it was all, "oh yeah, ho? take this", and I was all, "whatever dude, I can take anything you dish", and it was all, "pah-leease! losersaywhat?". And then it turned a nasty fever meltdown thing on me. Anyway, I'm back at about 80% today though.

Probably no one has time to read this whole thing, but it's just hilarious.

10 Worst Album Covers of All Time

The Results Are In

He said I have a cough. Thanks, Mister Doctor Man.

This was a new doctor for me - can't say I was that impressed with his clientelle, of which I was the youngest by at least 83 years, or by his stale nursing-home-smelling workplace. We talked, he poked at my ribs a time or two [shudder, cringe, squelching of cries], and then magically produced a red plastic bottle out from the back of some shelving units, slapped a prescription label on it, warned that it might make me drowsy due to the coedene (sp?) it contained, turned and mumbled something about drive safely.

For a while, the coughing subsided a bit, and [yawn] now I am falling aslelskeep at my keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuybo orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ........

Can't Hardly Wait

The cough is just getting worse and yesterday it went from badgering and annoying to mind blowingly deep to the point that I'm pretty sure I've cracked, if not at least bruised, my rib. The one thats all the way at the bottom on my right side - I'm positive I wasn't completely aware that ribs went down that far until the hacking. I really can't quite sit comfortably now and don't come close to standing up straight (very Kirsten Dunst / Maggie Gyllenhal-esqe).

Yes, finally, I have made a doctor's appointment. It's in about 45 minutes and I want so badly to get some work done between now and then, but the thought of this cough going away sometime soon has so overwhelmed me with excitement that it's pretty much all I can think about [cough, hack, cough].

I wonder if this doctor is aware of my miracle voodoo-like expectations of him?