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- Feb 19, 2004
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No....................but I just read the email for SPAL............holy crap.........nothing like being expected to be a doctor in second year..............gotta love it🙂
cremaster2007 said:Do you ever step back and look at stuff like your life and just wonder........why you make decision you do, why you act the way you do, maybe even wonder if you are happy or not. But then you realize it doesn't really matter overall cause you can't control it, you just gotta suck it up and quit being a whiny little b**ch and continually get your a** handed to you. That's when you just shut everything at 9:30 go to bed and hope tomorrow doesn't suck quite as bad as today! At least nelly remade a remake and it's called N Dey Say....listen to it........it was a great![]()
Hi double elle,double elle said:Hi Des Moines people!
I am wondering if any of you have any thoughts on the surgery program at Mercy. I am thinking of applying, but have heard absolutely nothing as far as reputation. Any comments?
havent checked SDN in awhile, just want to say...you guys are FU#KED up.Portier said:Doggone stinking golfballs. I freaking hate them.
I don't even want to learn to play golf. I want to learn to play croquet, or cricket, or soccer, or Hi Li, or well, damn near anything except golf.
I found a pretty good golf ball, tried to play croquet with it, and that didn't work. So I tried cricket...that was better but no cigar. I killed a guy with the Golf Ball coming out of the Hi Li mallet, because he wasn't prepared to catch so small of a fast moving object. Soccer was a loss.
I then decided to run over to the exchange and see if my golfball could be changed into something I liked better. The golfball didn't really like going to the exchange. It said the man with a beard and funny clothes really didn't know what he was talking about, and doing what it wanted sounded a lot funner. Who cares what the "according to Hoyle" rules of golf are. We can break them, it said. We can PLAY golf!
It first, wanted to live with another golfball. I told it that was out of the question. Next, it tried to bargain with me to get a football into the rotation, but I said sports leads to sports related injuries. It resisted. I won.
So finally, I dropped the golfball in the sand. I said I couldn't play golf. I said I was wrong, I thought it was another sport. I said I didn't even know if I could play sports anymore seeing as how I was so old now, and I didn't have the heart to keep the ball from a sporting game. I told the ball I was still going to look out for it. I would come by and rotate it from time to time. I could even be available to move the ball whenever and whereever it wanted to go.
Then another golfer came by. He wasn't a doctor precisely. He worked on the body, but only in parts, and he had no such problem playing any sport at all. He wasn't very good by reputation at any sport, and didn't have the look that he could become any better. He was currently as good at golf as he ever would be, and that was far below average, as was his intelligence.
His clothes told the story of his life. Not very bright or creative. Not very sensitive to colors, or style. Never able to break away from standard golf attire. Just run of the mill, no imagination. He looked like a real golfer. That is, he didn't look like me.
His bottom lip stuck out very far, when he tried to think. So far in fact, I wondered if it was attached anywhere. He forced it out so he could think better...there is some relationship between neuron firing and bottom lip out sticking. I'm sure of this because I sensed the intense work behind the sloped forehead whenever that purple and red lined protuberance of his face pushed out.
Everyone I knew told me, he won't play golf. And even if he does want to, the golf ball knows better. It'll sit there when he swings. It'll convince him not to swing. It's all gonna' be fine. Just give it time to shake out. I mean, look at you, and look at the golfer.
Then, do you know what he did?
He hit my golfball.
🙁
double elle said:Hi Des Moines people!
I am wondering if any of you have any thoughts on the surgery program at Mercy. I am thinking of applying, but have heard absolutely nothing as far as reputation. Any comments?
Astroglide User said:I agree cremaster - YOU just need to suck it up sometime and ask yourself what would Kirk Ferentz do...he would keep rowing his undersized/underpowered boat upstream with the salmon and hope to God (himself in this case) he does not get eaten by the bear. As long as he passes the bear (boards, GI exams, SPAL's, etc), he has a land of FERTILE refuge to attend to. The pond awaits you my friend, but you must take a few scratches before you hear the words, "oh you're a surgeon...i like fast cars too...oh my god i'm naked....of course i am cool with an open relationship." you get the picture.
and if any of you are wondering, i thought of that ANALogy up myself.
DMAKSIMOVIC said:What the hell has Des Moines been putting in the water? You guys are seriously messed up. GO BEARS.....WOOOOOOOOO.
dmak
Portier said:Doggone stinking golfballs. I freaking hate them.
I don't even want to learn to play golf. I want to learn to play croquet, or cricket, or soccer, or Hi Li, or well, damn near anything except golf.
I found a pretty good golf ball, tried to play croquet with it, and that didn't work. So I tried cricket...that was better but no cigar. I killed a guy with the Golf Ball coming out of the Hi Li mallet, because he wasn't prepared to catch so small of a fast moving object. Soccer was a loss.
I then decided to run over to the exchange and see if my golfball could be changed into something I liked better. The golfball didn't really like going to the exchange. It said the man with a beard and funny clothes really didn't know what he was talking about, and doing what it wanted sounded a lot funner. Who cares what the "according to Hoyle" rules of golf are. We can break them, it said. We can PLAY golf!
It first, wanted to live with another golfball. I told it that was out of the question. Next, it tried to bargain with me to get a football into the rotation, but I said sports leads to sports related injuries. It resisted. I won.
So finally, I dropped the golfball in the sand. I said I couldn't play golf. I said I was wrong, I thought it was another sport. I said I didn't even know if I could play sports anymore seeing as how I was so old now, and I didn't have the heart to keep the ball from a sporting game. I told the ball I was still going to look out for it. I would come by and rotate it from time to time. I could even be available to move the ball whenever and whereever it wanted to go.
Then another golfer came by. He wasn't a doctor precisely. He worked on the body, but only in parts, and he had no such problem playing any sport at all. He wasn't very good by reputation at any sport, and didn't have the look that he could become any better. He was currently as good at golf as he ever would be, and that was far below average, as was his intelligence.
His clothes told the story of his life. Not very bright or creative. Not very sensitive to colors, or style. Never able to break away from standard golf attire. Just run of the mill, no imagination. He looked like a real golfer. That is, he didn't look like me.
His bottom lip stuck out very far, when he tried to think. So far in fact, I wondered if it was attached anywhere. He forced it out so he could think better...there is some relationship between neuron firing and bottom lip out sticking. I'm sure of this because I sensed the intense work behind the sloped forehead whenever that purple and red lined protuberance of his face pushed out.
Everyone I knew told me, he won't play golf. And even if he does want to, the golf ball knows better. It'll sit there when he swings. It'll convince him not to swing. It's all gonna' be fine. Just give it time to shake out. I mean, look at you, and look at the golfer.
Then, do you know what he did?
He hit my golfball.
🙁
That's a funny quote my dear Dartos, although I have never seen that movie. Add that to my to-do list. And you are still on my to-do list. Damn it I need to get cracking on everybody and everything I need to do.Dartos Vader said:Is anyone besides me unhappy with their GI test results? I rocked about fifty percent on good ol' drevyanko...I hurt where I sit thanks to semon and hills, but other than that...Oh well, my primary purpose for posting this was to show off my new signature. It's from Kung Pao, Enter the Fist, one of the most hilarious movies ever. I MEAN...CRAP MAN...IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE? IT'S LIKE A...STOMACH...PLUG. THERES NOT EVEN ORGANS OR ANYTHING.
Portier said:Hell, I don't even know anything about golf.
I grabbed at it because it was sufficiently abstract to me, and because of a surrealist joke I heard in grade school:
How many surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Green, stupid. Golf balls don't have hair!
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I don't care about golf anymore. I'm gonna' see if I can't try something different: Maybe just grow up.
sether52do said:That joke made me laugh. And I don't even have a brain any more after our anatomy exam today.
Portier said:
luckystar said:You also love cremaster, but in a very girly-man kind of way.
luckystar said:so does cremaster.
Who can't?DMAKSIMOVIC said:I can vouch for cremaster's extra appendages........son of a......
luckystar said:So....your team is now I Love Whipped Butter?
If it's girly to want a little help from some battery operated friends then by God I don't want to be manly. And if it's girly to ask your wife to "be the man in bed" once a week, then I'm a girly-man every day of the week. Sometimes twice on sundays. Sometimes over lunch.Portier said:Nope...
That's how Dartos loves Queen Bee...I hear she has extra appendages. 😀