Re-compromised

Remember a few days ago when I told you that our secret test ID numbers had been compromised?

Well, we've been re-compromised.

A different teacher just posted our final grades in his class using our new test ID numbers, but rather than arranging them in number order, he arranged them in alphabetical order. So, if you want to know someone's grade, you just have to look at the alphabetical list of our class and match it up with that list.

It's tough to keep a secret around here.

Lip Service

Today I had a rotation at school where I was supposed to go into the dental clinic and assist a 3rd or 4th year student while he or she worked on a patient. Most of the time on these rotations our entire afternoon of "assisting" consists of holding the suction in the patient's mouth, but this time was different. Since I am no longer a lowly 1st year student but rather a slightly more knowledgeable 2nd year student, the professors encourage us to help with more procedures on these rotations. Today that meant that I got to do some injections.

The first two injections went fairly well, except that the patient jumped while the needle was about 2 inches into her gums. Not cool. Then she started to complain that she could feel the warmth from the injection going all the way up her scalp.

Just in case you didn't know, we are not supposed to anesthetize the scalp during routine dental procedures.

As it turns out, the patient didn't really have any problem from the injection, and only the parts of the mouth that were supposed to be anesthetized were anesthetized. I don't know what the whole "scalp warming" thing was.

Feeling quite proud of myself for doing the first two injections well, but a little nervous from the scalp warming panic, I went for injection number 3. It was a type of injection I'm not as familiar with, so I was a bit more nervous than usual, but I gave the shot and then the 3rd year student asked me to get an instrument for her from another room, so I left.

When I returned in a few minutes, my heart almost stopped when I saw the patient. Her bottom lip looked like this...
Oh. My. Goodness.

I sat in my assistant's chair, stunned and wondering what I did wrong. I didn't know what I had done or if this Octomom look was going to be permanent for my poor little patient. Then I started to think about all the other job options I have besides dentistry (because obviously they weren't going to let me pass if I was doing unlicensed, unsolicited, and accidental plastic surgery on people's lips).

Then I noticed that while I was gone the 3rd year student had put a big, fat cotton roll in the patient's lower lip. Hence the swelling.

Yay! I can still be a dentist!

Eleven

My new favorite number is eleven. Eleven is the number of school days (beginning tomorrow) in which I do not have a written exam. There are lab exercises, quizzes, and practical exams, but there will be no tests. I think that the last time that happened was on the eleventh day of school this semester.

In no particular order are the activities that I am going to do during my days off.

1. Work out. If only to prepare for the Thanksgiving gluttony and Christmas laziness that will ensue over the next 2 months. And to counteract number 2.

2. Eat double stuf oreos. Jeffrey and I haven't bought these since we got married due to an incident while we were engaged that involved two people eating an entire bag in two days. Enough said.

3. Blog. Yay!

4. Knit.
Right now I'm attempting to knit a sweater for Jeffrey. Scary! So far, so good--about halfway through the back section of the sweater. It looks really handsome, but I'm hesitant to put pictures up on the blog in case I can't figure it all out and finish!

5. Think of Christmas presents for family and friends. One of my favorite parts of Christmas is to think of ideas for presents with Jeffrey. We think up all the best ideas we can and then go buy them together long before Christmas.

6. Cook. I've taken quite a long hiatus from cooking--or at least, REALLY cooking. I've been alternating the same old recipes through the kitchen, and while Jeffrey has been very sweet about each time he's had to eat spaghetti, it's time for a change. On the menu for this week? Homemade lasagna with fresh green beans, brisket and sweet potatoes, grilled chicken baked in foil with baby carrots...yummy.

7. Prepare my costume for the Halloween party this weekend. The current idea is that Jeffrey and I will go as Barbie and Ken. I'm still trying to convince Jeffrey to go with his shirt off after I paint big, plastic-y muscles on him.

8. Study...but only a little.

9. Watch all my Wednesday TV shows. I have 5 favorite TV shows, and 4 of them air on Wednesdays. Normally that means that I have to choose one to watch and then catch up on the weekend, but this week it's gonna be a marathon!

10. Clean the apartment. Let's just say there are quite a few single socks looking for mates around here. These eleven days will be like match.com for them.

11. Enjoy eleven days off!!!!!!!!

Compromised

There are many words in the English language that have two meanings that have completely different meanings. One such word is "compromised." The good meaning goes like this: Jeffrey and Lauren got into a fight about whether to buy a cat or a dog, but they compromised and bought a dog that meows."

*Just for clarification, we did not buy a meowing dog.

The bad meaning of compromised goes like this: Dear Dental Class of 2012, The secret test ID numbers that we assigned to you at the beginning of your dental education have been compromised. We will need to reassign the numbers, and until that time none of your grades will be able to be posted. Sincerely, Dean of Students."

Yes, one of our teachers (who apparently was unaware of the SECRET status of our test ID numbers) posted a document on a school website with the entire class's names next to their ID numbers. Guess who's not getting a Christmas card this year?

But the story doesn't end there. The dean's office decided to mail us our new secret ID numbers by campus mail. Campus mail isn't often used in dental school, and about 9 times out of 10 I can't figure out how to open my mailbox (embarrassing, I know), so I hadn't checked my box in almost two months. During one of our labs, however, word started to go around that two of our grades had been posted by our new ID numbers, and we needed to get our code from the mailboxes in order to check it.

I was especially nervous about this grade, so I left the lab to go to my mailbox, crossing my fingers all the way in the hopes that this day would be one of the days that I could (with the help of my college and post-grad education) figure out how to unlock my mailbox.

Luck was in my favor and I opened my mailbox on the first try. I quickly walked back to the wall where the grades were posted and looked for my ID number...

There was no 241612. None at all. In fact, the numbers skipped from 241610 to 241616. Cool.

I checked my email to see if I could make sense out of this little issue, and I saw another email from the dean's office. "Dear students: There was a problem with some of the new test ID numbers, some of them were duplicated. Please come to the dean's office to get your new new test ID number."

I finally got my real test ID number and checked my grades (they were good, you can uncross your fingers now!). After that wild goose chase had ended, I decided to open the other letter that I had found in my mailbox...

"Dear Lauren, Thank you so much for your willingness to serve on the Altered Curriculum Committee. Students are appointed to the committee for a 1 year term. You can expect emails from ___ shortly."

I do not know what this committee is. I do not know the person who is supposedly sending me emails about it. I did not sign up for this committee. The letter was dated August 25, 2009, and I have not heard anything about it yet.

But apparently, I am willing to serve.

What a weird day.

I Spy Alumni

Last weekend Jeffrey and I went to Abilene for ACU's Homecoming--Go Wildcats! And though the #1 ranked mighty Wildcats lost their big football game, we still managed to somehow have a great time visiting friends and family.

One thing I learned while I was back in A-town was that we have quite a few more "blog stalkers" (do you think the term "blolkers" could catch on to describe that?) than I realized. Never fear, you who creep onto our blog in anonymity, I actually like blolkers. Few things make me as happy as looking down at our little map that shows how many hits we've gotten on our little website and seeing a big number. The only thing that would make me happier is for you to actually leave a comment every once-in-a-while so that I don't feel like I'm writing this blog to no one.

For all you blolkers who were concerned about my make-up test that I wrote about in my last post--here's the rest of the story...

Dr. X just stopped emailing me completely after the first eleven unsuccessful attempts at communication. Once the week of the test arrived, I decided that I had to go to the next level--I made a meeting with the department chair. The department chair assured me that he would take care of the problem, and incredibly he somehow got Dr. X to email me that very day with a make-up test date. (On the other hand, he's probably mad that I went over his head, so I'm interviewing for a job as a trash truck driver in the morning in case Dr. X flunks me out of dental school.)

As I was thinking today about what to write on this post, I started to think back on my high school's homecoming, and suddenly my thoughts settled on mums. Remember homecoming mums? A custom that could only be popular in the great state of Texas, mums absolutely consumed the thoughts of any junior high or high school student at my school. If you didn't have a boyfriend you had to get one around homecoming, otherwise your parents would have to buy your mum and instead of saying "Bobby" or "Jeremy" in glittery letters on silvery ribbon your mum would have a big fat ribbon that read "I love you schnookems!"

And the problems didn't end if you had a boyfriend, either. A mum that was too small clearly said, "I'm going to break up with you after the homecoming dance in the cafetorium tonight." A mum that was too big said, "You are definitely going to trip over this on the way to your seat in the bleachers at the game." Talk about being trapped between a rock and a hard place!

The following are my rules for successful mum-wearing...complete with pictures of real people that I got off of blogs that I stalked tonight. (See--it's ok to blog stalk--everybody's doing it!)

Rule #1: The mum is too big if it literally knocks you over.

Rule #2: It is NOT ok to rock the "one mum per boob" look.

Rule #3: The mum is too big if it is larger than your entire head. (But it will make your hips look smaller--just like wearing black!

Rule #4: If your mum is so big that it covers your entire body, your boyfriend hates you--he is trying to choke you with mum material. There is no other reason that one should give a gift containing such exorbitant amounts of ribbon and string.

Rule #5: If your mum turns your crew-neck t-shirt into a v-neck, it's too heavy, and you are risking permanent neck damage by wearing it.