Baila conmigo, yaar?

I signed up for Intermediate Salsa 4 tonight at SSQQ on Bissonet and 610 - it's my second salsa class, and I was suprised to see several Indian guys there! Not only were they Indian, but they were FOBs! The best part of tonight was seeing all the FOB's in their "salsa element," if you will. I will attempt to describe their dancing styles here in the unlimited space provided below.

• FOB #1 - The Nimble with Numbers FOB

This is a salsa style that incorporates years of mathematics training culminating most likely in a engineering degree at an American institution of higher learning (which led to his arrival in the U.S.). The style goes a 'lil something like this. You chant all the counts of the beats as they are performed, of course, while maintaining an Indian accent. With each count of the beat, you give your partner a little nod of the head., "one... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... and one, and two, and three, and four, and five, and six, and seven, and eight." How could this not make one smile, even a little?

• FOB #2 - Bollywood FOB (see picture)

This style is not so much what you do during the dancing, but what you do in between numbers. It involves tilting the head to one side with arms crossed and then running your hand through your hair. It also involves tugging upwards on your pants and then making your shirt is tucked in properly in all areas. And here's the clincher, which need a bit of explaining before understanding it completely: At our dance class, we rotate partners... if it's a big class, sometimes the guy will have to literally run across the entire dance room floor to dance with his next partner. Most people jog in order to accomplish this formidable task. Our Bollywood FOB hero begins to sprint across the room and covers the last 10 feet by sliding across the floor on his shiny black loafers to his awaiting lover, all with a large smile on his face. He pauses, to make sure everyone in the room has seen his daredevil stunt, and again runs his hand through his hair. I half expected Bollywood FOB to end up on one knee and seranade his partner in song with a violin that he somehow acquired on his journey across the room. Bollywood FOB is my favorite, needless to say. Thank god Bollywood FOB I saw tonight wasn't sporting the same kind of shirt Shah Rukh Khan is wearing above.

• FOB #3 - Clueless FOB A.K.A "How do they do these things in this country" FOB

This is the FOB that you simply feel sorry for. He's decked out in jeans and a kurta, and he can't quite seem to get the rhythm required to lead properly. He's always saying things like, "This appears to be quite complicated" and "These turns are simply spinning, spinning me to India." Clueless FOB wears chappals (Indian flip flops) to class, which salsa even more difficult.


So I told y'all which one was my favorite. Tell me, which one is your favorite, yaar??!!

*****
Note: Yaar = some sort of Indian expression, but i'm not sure how to explain it exactly. oooh i got it!!! It's the Indian quivalent of "y'all"!!! (I think... someone help me here...)

Gynecologically Disturbing...

Some things that I heard today during my OB-Gyn lecture on "Dysfunctional Bleeding" this afternoon:

• "Yeah those ballerinas are dancing their ovaries into oblivion."
• Something heard from the lips of DeBakey in the good ole days when he still performed surgeries: "What's the difference this hand and your hand? This hand (pointing to his own hand) is connected to this brain (pointing to his own head)."
• "Guys, don't get a cremasteric reflex when I tell you this..." ((You may access this website if you're not familiar with a cremasteric reflex. I refrain from explaining it here. http://www.gpnotebook.co.uk/cache/228196357.htm))
  
• "Dysfunctional bleeding is a physiological event in early puberty, and after your first few periods, you then take off the runway and you'll just fly away..."

Stay tuned for some stories from my interview in Pittsburgh...

On Top of Herman Hill

My torn sandals crackle the aged grass
with unfamiliar steep strides
sore from a lost love
now fading down Herman Hill

the sun drops baubles of sweat
on my breath, alone and alive,
as wind-blown strands caress my chin,
i finally feel beautiful again.

You know you're a 4th year medical student when... - Part 2

You know you're a 4th year medical student when you're having internal dialogue with yourself with the goal of trying to leave as soon as possible. Here's the scenario:

It's close to 7 am on 3A @ Ben Taub, Gold Postpartum OB-Gyn team. My team and I - including myself, two other 3rd years, and an intern- are about to round with the upper level. I'm post-call.

During my 24 hours on Labor & Delivery, I've:
- assisted with three deliveries
- delivered my first baby! what a cutie he was!
- got scutted by a fellow 4th year!!@@##$%#$#
- slept for 2 hours in the med student call room, minus the time when I awoke to the sounds of doors banging shut I'm tired.

We only have 5 patients to round on, so I expect to be outta here by 7:15 or so. We round on the patients, and I step forward, ready to put the charts back, ready to head out the door and go home when all of a sudden...

"Why don't we talk a little bit about prenatal care since there's time?" the upper level suggests.

Is this a sick joke? I'm post call! Can't you see?

And then maybe I think I look too cheery, and don't look like i'm post call, so I try and put on my best "haggard" face possible and decide not to suppress any yawns.

No, that's not going to work, I hear myself thinking, you need a way out. Tell her you're post call!

No, i can't do that, cuz then they'll think I'm lazy. But you ARE lazy. Ok, I'm not getting into this discussion with you right now!

Then, I develop a brilliant idea. "Isn't grand rounds today?" I ask the upper level.

"Ohhhh damn. I forgot." says the upper level.

SCORE!!!!!

"Well, we'll just get through what I wanted to talk about in five minutes, and then you guys can go to grand rounds." Sigh.

Somehow I doubted that this was going to take "five minutes." But I decided to keep the hope alive.

"So, when a woman comes in, say she's 8 weeks pregnant, what are some of the things you want to check?" the talk begins.

Silence fills the hallways of Ben Taub 3A, minus the endless gossipping of the Malyali nurses.

I look to my fellow third years. One of them is looking at the ceiling trying to figure out the answer. The other is biting her lip, thinking. I know they both know the answer - i've seen them reading books, but they're 3rd years... they might be afraid to give the wrong answer. How not cute.

Well say something why don't you??!! I hear myself say to myself.
Ok, ok!

"You wanna check some labs like HIV, Rubella..." I say, hoping the third years will fill in the rest.

"Yes, and?" the upper levels says, looking straight at me.

Malyali chatter in the background ensues.

"And Hep B, CBC..." I spatter off the names of other "really bad diseases."

"Ok, very good, and what do you want to check in a mother who's at 24 weeks?" she asks.

Damn, you don't know this one.

Silence again allows us to make out the linguisitc nuances of South Indian chatter.

Then, I telepathically transmit a message to my fellow third years. Say the answer! Say the answer! Say it now otherwise we'll be here forever...

"Is that when you want to check a Glucola test?" asks one of the third years. Now, I was happy to hear this answer, but also afraid that since the third year framed the answer in the form of a question, that the upper level would ask, "I dunno, is it?"

Thankfully, she didn't and we ended our little talk with a discussion on the glucola test. Finally, at 7:15... "Ok, you guys need to go to grand rounds... it's 7:15. Any other questions?"

I telepathically again transmit a message: Don't ask questions... Don't ask questions.... Don't ask questions.

"No questions? Ok then, see you in the morning!"

I headed home. I was one 24 hour OB-Gyn call closer to graduation.