Since starting school, I eat at Subway at least twice a week. It's sad, but I'm okay with it. I recognize that on a ranked list of sandwich places, Subway would be somewhere near the bottom, but their food is just good enough to satisfy, and I appreciate the things they have done with their menu, including the $5 footlong. The Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki is my new favorite.

Improv rehearsal was cancelled tonight, so I met the dudes at O'Donovan's for Young's birthday. They have a surprisingly nice back room there. And surprisingly delicious grilled calamari.

My cousin Kevin tries to get me to at least one Bears game every year. He is a wonderful man. We tailgated today by the lake, then watched the Bears beat the Eagles in one of the better games I have seen in the last couple years.

I love going to sporting events, but they really make me hate people. I understand rivalry and competition, but I don't think this is ever an excuse to be a total asshole to another human being. Why can't it be enough to go and cheer for your team? Why is it necessary to say horrible, hateful things to opposing fans? I watched a guy walk down the stairs, turn around, and call a family of Eagles fans f-ing douchebags. Out of nowhere, unprovoked except for the fact that they were wearing green jerseys. I turned around and apologized to them because I was truly disgusted. And granted, Philadelphia fans have a reputation for being obnoxious and unrelenting, but it's not okay to call a little kid a douchebag. It's sort of a mob mentality thing, "I have thousands of other people here wearing the same colors as me, so I can say and do whatever I want in the name of being a Bears fan. Plus I am drunk!" I think people's real personalities shine through in the moment where they realize, [Hey, there's an opposing fan. I can say something mean, unintelligent, and completely unfunny and at least a few of the like-minded idiots around me will laugh] "Hey. You and Donovan McNabb's mothers are lesbian prostitutes!" [Somebody give me a high five! Okay, I'll accept a reluctant fist bump.]

A bunch of us went to Cicero today for a conference on autism.

These independent hours are a real pain in the ass, but you do come away learning something from each experience. I never realized that there was such a strong digestive component to autism. Huh.

The Diplomat Motel had a show tonight at iO. It was kind of crappy. One of the nice things about performing often is the redemption factor; next week you go out and have a hot show and the last bad one is instantly erased from your memory. Except for the fruit tart opening, one of the more awful things I have experienced recently. I'll never forget that. Man, that was bad.

ANTS AND CICADA!

Today was the last day of my Mental Health rotation. I enjoyed it about a hundred times more than I thought I would. Next week I start OB, which I'm not real thrilled about; the idea of babies coming out of vaginas scares the shit out of me.

We played pool tonight at a sort of cool bar in Wicker Park. I have been missing a lot of league nights lately due to school, and I was happy to get out and bash some balls around with Troy and Knoxy.

I have managed to maintain my social schedule despite being really busy all the time with schoolwork. Sometimes I feel like dropping pool leagues and quitting improv and not doing fun things on the weekends, but that would be foolish. Without doing the things I enjoy, I would be totally miserable instead of just mostly stressed out.

Life in the Intensive Treatment Unit is very structured. At 9:15am every day there is a Community meeting, followed by supervised shaving.

In Community, counselors go over the rules, patients address concerns that they have about life on the floor, and daily goals are set. It often devolves into a few patients complaining about everything. Last week, one patient had a problem with the fact that patients are not allowed to chew gum.

Bipolar 1: How come we can't chew gum?
Counselor: Gum is contraband, and isn't allowed.
Bipolar 2: Well, nurses and counselors get to chew gum, it's not fair that we can't. Why can't we chew gum? We should be able to chew gum.
Schizophrenic 1: What flavors of gum are we allowed to chew?
Counselor: You are not allowed to chew any flavor of gum.
Schizophrenic 2: What flavor are you allowed to chew if you think you're chewing gum?

[And excuse me for referring to patients by their diagnoses. A nurse should always put the patient before the illness, but I thought the diagnoses somewhat relevant to the story.]

I met with Shannon and Gema on campus today for a group project we have due this week. I hate group projects. Not that I don't work well with others, and nothing against the other two; I would just rather do things by myself.

The College of Nursing has to be one of the ugliest buildings on a campus that isn't exactly known for its beauty.

My friend Jake was killed in Afghanistan in 2002. His family started an annual golf outing to benefit the Illinois Military Family Relief Fund, and a scholarship fund at Burlington Central.

It's a great event, something I have come to look forward to every summer, drinking beers and slicing golf balls into the same water hazards we did with Jake years ago.

How does one acquire the last name Outlaw? Probably by being a total badass. I found out a couple years ago, while I was substitute teaching, what Meador means in Spanish.

Raul: You know what your name means, right?
Me: What?
Raul: Your name. You know what it means, right?
Me: No.
Raul: It's like, a guy who pisses.
Me: Really? Thank you, Raul.

Indeed, the verb 'mear' means "to urinate". Awesome.

City squirrels are hilarious, often trusting humans enough that they will take food from your hand. I have determined that the probability of a squirrel taking offered food items is directly proportional to the deliciousness of the food. This guy realized that a Tic Tac was not worth the chance that I would catch him and break his neck; after running the appropriate cost/benefit analyses, the squirrels that live in Moody's beer garden have determined that french fries are worth the risk.

Also, I once saw a squirrel carrying a dead mouse around in it's mouth. It was one of the most awesome/disturbing things I have ever seen.

Aside from having eye surgery when I was a kid and getting stitches after a dog bite, I have had limited experience with medical procedures. Oh yeah, there was that hack at McKinley in Champaign that cut off some moles and didn't stitch them up or anything.

The prep work was terrible, but I learned two things: magnesium citrate is an extremely effective laxative, and it is difficult giving yourself an enema, especially when your arms are as short as mine.

The flexible sigmoidoscopy itself was one of the most horrible things I have ever had to endure. The only thing that really hurt about it is the gas pain caused by being pumped full of air. The worst part, which the doc warned me about, is when they turn the camera back on itself to look in the outward direction. Overall, it was extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing. It was kind of neat getting to see my insides on a 25" screen, but there was not another single positive aspect to this experience, except for the fact that they didn't find anything wrong that I didn't already know about.

Me: This is horrible. Am I being a baby?
Nurse: Maybe a little.
Me: They do full sedation for the colonoscopy, right?
Nurse: Yes, usually. I did mine without sedation.
Me: Wow, I really am a baby. [In my mind: You are an idiot weirdo.]

Two weeks ago Kuta talked me into going to a Cubs game with he and Bill even though I had flexible sigmoidoscopy prep to do. I realized that if I die as a result of a camera being inserted into my rectum and potentially perforating my colon and causing me to bleed to death, I will have seen the Cubs play one last time. And aside from fantasy sports drafts, I don't see these dudes very often, so it wasn't an opportunity I could really pass up and still feel okay with myself.

The preparation did not allow me to eat anything after 6pm, and I could only drink clear liquids. No hot dogs or beer at a game is weird, but it was a fun night nonetheless.

I generally don't reward people's pandering to be part of a blog entry, but Brendan has been pretty persistent in our last couple encounters. He told me that he tries to be extra photogenic and interesting when he's around a blogger. I told him he might get in if he has any interesting medical stories. Here he is reenacting the time that he developed a spontaneous pneumothorax, which basically means his lung collapsed without warning or discernible cause, as Beth feigns concern. I remember my clinical instructor telling us that this often occurs in tall, thin men as a result of a bleb (my favorite medical word) rupturing on the apex of a lung. Beth told me about her emergency gall bladder surgery, so she qualifies to be here as well. Are you happy now, jerks?

Joanne's 50th birthday celebration was held at the Ten Cat tonight. She arranged a pool tournament for the occasion, and included a couple charities to benefit from the proceeds. I love when fun things have a charity attached to them; I don't feel as bad playing in a pool tournament on a Sunday night when I should be studying if I know that it's for a good cause. Despite all the distractions (pool, friends, beer, fantasy football, and Zambrano's no-hitter), I was able to get a surprising amount of work done.

Martin and Marianna's wedding was today. Marianna was beautiful, and Martin looked like Martin wearing a nice suit. When I got up this morning and we were on hour 67 of continous rain, I felt bad that their wedding day weather was so gloomy. But the priest mentioned that in the Philippines rain on your wedding day is considered good luck, thousands of little blessings falling from heaven.

Well done, M & M. Good wedding.

Due to a health concern, I am having a flexible sigmoidoscopy performed next Wednesday. It's like a mini-colonoscopy because they only explore the descending colon. This procedure involves some preparation, so I went to Walgreen's today to buy the necessary supplies. Gross.

I am not looking forward to this at all. No sir, not at all.

One of our assignments for the mental health rotation is to attend an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Tonight I went to an open meeting in my neighborhood.

I didn't really know much about A.A. aside from what I had seen on TV, which in general is a fairly accurate portrayal, except for real people aren't as well spoken as actors and it isn't quite as dramatic. It was touching being there with people who share a common goal, using their collective experiences to help and support each other.

Another assignment involves going to a different 12 Step meeting. I will probably go to Gamblers Anonymous considering my occasional flirtation with out of control gambling. Or there's one for people who are really disorganized. And one for overeaters. Maybe I should go to all of them.

I attended the art therapy group again. We constructed positive statements of affirmation and hope by cutting words and pictures from magazines. They were then displayed on the bulletin board for all to see.

"Don't Forget What Matters" was my masterpiece. A schizophrenic patient created "One Cheese in the Garden", which I think is brilliant, and will be the title of my autobiography.

As nursing students, we are guests in the clinical facilites and have to work with what they give us. Today we had our daily lunch conference in a weird storage room on the pediatric floor. I was happy because I got to sit in a wheelchair; I can't help but think they're fun. If I couldn't walk, I'm sure they would be much less so.

I have lived in Chicago for over 6 years; yesterday was the first time I had seen the Lake Shore Drive drawbridge activated.

A recent episode of "Bones" had a recurring gag about the raising of the London Bridge being good luck for those who saw it. After a long weekend and home just a couple miles away, the raising of the LSD bridge was more annoying than anything.

And yeah, I watch "Bones".

I was concerned that Arcola would have an ordinance against dancing, but once the band stopped playing country music and covering everyone's favorite AC/DC songs, Margaret and the rest of the beer tent came alive.

I didn't think Broomcorn could possibly live up to the high expectations I had set, but I was wrong. This has been a really good summer.

This morning I drove to Arcola, Illinois, Broomcorn Capital of the World, to participate in the annual Broomcorn festival. It's kind of a big deal. What is broomcorn, you ask? It's the plant from which brooms are made; broommaking is a prominent industry in this central Illinois town of 2,652 gentle souls.

Julie's dad, a local broom baron, co-founded the Lawn Rangers, a precision lawnmower drill team, in the early 80's. They travel around the country marching at parades and college bowl games. Schroeder and I had the privilege of joining their ranks this year after a grueling 5 minutes of rookie camp, which consisted of mild hazing and learning three precision moves, including "walk the dog" and the death-defying "cross and toss". I am now a proud Ranger, and plan on decorating my own lawnmower for next year's parade.

Martin is getting married next Saturday, so we had a gentleman's bachelor party. Sushi, sailboat, batting cages, pizza, and beers.

This may be the happiest I have ever seen Trupe look in a picture; 20 minutes later he barfed his brains out. Sailing in choppy waters while smoking cigars and drinking beers after a huge dinner of raw fish was maybe a bad idea.

This semester we have 24 hours of independent learning activities that we have to complete. Tonight I participated in a webinar on Suicide and LGBTQ Youth. One down, 23 to go.

I'm a huge fan of the word blend, but webinar is gross.

ANTS!

One of my new responsibilities in the College is tutoring BSN students. Today Lia and I kicked off the tutoring season in the Student Center-West. One person showed up.

I was nervous I wouldn't remember any Pathophysiology/Pharmacology, but most of it came back during the tutoring session. I think we did good job, or at least didn't sound like morons.

I used nursing skills to inject ink into printer cartridges today.

Make sure you take caution when ordering printer supplies online. I thought I was getting new cartridges. I didn't realize that "Refill Kit for Canon Printers" means "We give you ink in terrifying syringes, and you have to take the cartridge apart and remove a tiny plastic ball, almost skewering yourself with the provided gimlet, and then probably get ink on your fingers and table."