Hot Cross Bleaghhh!

Last night was that annual rite of parental torture, the Wingnut Elementary School band holiday concert.

My kids like playing in the school band, so, as supportive parents, we pay the instrument rental fees, put up with their unearthly screeching practice sessions in the living room, and attend the 2 annual concerts.

Elementary school band concerts are never a blast. They're held in the school cafeteria, meaning you have to sit at long lunch tables designed to be partially comfortable only for people half your size.

The kids really do try (at least most of them) but are still often out of sync and flat. And then there's the music selection. After the first 2 numbers all the songs start to sound A LOT alike. And they all sound like "Hot Cross Buns," which you've already heard played in your home so many times that you want to barf.

These things last about an hour, but seem like much longer. You sit there, politely clapping after each number, and hope your kids don't notice that you've dozed off or started playing Angry Birds.

As veterans, Mrs. Grumpy and I came well prepared. We sat in a far row where our kids couldn't see if we were playing scrabble doing medical research on our iPhones, and brought some Diet Cokes. You can always tell which parents are first timers, because they sit in the first row and bring cameras.

But this year, we had an unexpected reprieve.

At 18 minutes into the performance, during "Good King Wenceslas" a kid playing oboe abruptly projectile vomited into the first row, showering a group of eager parents with a partially digested Happy Meal. The other band members stopped, then valiantly tried to restart for a few seconds, but were so horribly out of sync as they tried to both read music and watch the new entertainment that it was a lost cause. Barf Guy's mom heroically leaped onto the stage and tried to use her husband's sweater (fortunately with him out of it) to clean it up. Then the kid heaved some more.

After about 30 seconds the band teacher politely said "Thank you all for coming, and Happy Holidays. Is the janitor still here?"

I feel sorry for this kid. Because from now on until he moves away to college he'll be known not as Mike or Steve or Mason, but simply as "the kid who puked during the holiday concert."

Today's featured gift

What's really enjoyable when you're sound asleep? Is "having a big hairy paw suddenly grab my face" at the top of your list? I didn't think so.

But a Japanese company is hoping that's high on somebody's list. They've developed a teddy bear sleep apnea robot.

It puts a cuddly-looking oxygen sensor on your finger, and if it hears you snoring, or detects your oxygen level dropping, it reaches up with a mechanical paw and wacks your face to make you turn your head.

Here's an informative video:





Personally, I have to say that if I was asleep and this thing grabbed my face, I'd likely shit the bed. So unless the robot is going to clean that up, too, I don't want one.

Great drug rep moments

"Do you need any more booklets? I just got a bunch of shit, uh, shipments of patient education materials."

Why do I bother?

Dr. Add: "Hello?"

Dr. Grumpy: "Hi, this is Ibee Grumpy, returning your call. You left a message about Mrs. Wilder?"

Dr. Add: "Oh, yeah, she's been having a lot of side effects, and I think we ought to stop her Trigenum."

Dr. Grumpy: "Um, I stopped it earlier this week. I faxed a letter over to you."

Dr. Add: "Oh, I never read those things."

"He's flatlining! I mean flatbreading!"

While not available as a gift, I have to admit this design concept "defibrillator toaster" by Shay Carmon would be totally awesome to have.






CLEAR!!!

Thank you, Tab!

Dear Mr. Livingston,

I understand that you were on the way to work when you came to your appointment today. Many of my patients are.

And I understand that you are a clown. Literally.

But, I don't appreciate having to listen to your horribly corny jokes. Or you honking a bicycle horn after each one. Or showing me your cheesy squirting flower.

And it's hard for me to assess your balance when you wear giant floppy shoes.

But thank you for the smiley face "I met a clown today" sticker that you put on my shirt.

Today's featured gift

We all have that co-worker/classmate/boss/whatever who's under the impression that their own solid waste doesn't stink. Now there's the perfect gift for that person.





Yes, a few drops of this stuff in the toilet bowl allegedly nullifies any odiforous vapors, and allows them to continue in their belief that their ass smells like roses and cotton candy.

It should be noted that the product only works if you actually shit in the toilet bowl, NOT on top of the tank as the picture suggests.

Patient quote of the day

"I've had blood pressure here and there, but most times I don't."

Training

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay... the MRI report says the study was normal, and this is a good doctor who read it."

Mrs. Kroger: "Yes, but it was horribly misread. I've been comparing my films to some I found on the internet, and here's a list of all the diseases I have that the radiologist missed."

Dr. Grumpy: "Are you a doctor?"

Mrs. Kroger: "No, I'm a cashier at Local Grocery."

Breaking medical research

A recently published study found that asthma patients can control their asthma better by...

(Drumroll, please)

...TAKING THEIR MEDICATIONS!

Really. This study got published.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say these findings might be extrapolated to cover my epilepsy, migraine, Parkinson's patients, and pretty much most chronic conditions.

But, as always, further research is needed.

Thank you, History Doc!

Today's featured gift

What's the perfect gift for your newly divorced lady friend? Besides a gift certificate to a lawyer and a shitload of chocolate, she'll need some kitchen furnishings for her new place.

So why not get her the Ex-Husband Kitchen Knife Set?





This lovely piece is the perfect combination of culinary equipment, homicidal fantasy, and voodoo doll. And it's available in 7 colors!

Disclaimer: I'm NOT getting paid to show this (or any other gifts). The link is so you can see the other lovely colors (including blood red!) yourself.

Chemistry set

Okay, while I do not condone the practice of making meth, I must say that if you're inclined to do so, do it at home, or a meth house, or some private structure.

NOT by wandering around WalMart, mixing ingredients you found on the shelves.

To me the highlight of the story is that employees called police after noticing she was acting weird. Given what I've seen on my rare trips to WalMart, I'm somewhat reassured to know that they actually do have a cut-off point.

Thank you, Kimm!

Spies like us

So last night Mrs. Grumpy and I sat outside on our freezing cold patio to have the "what are we getting the pet rats children for Christmakuh?" talk.

While sitting there we suddenly heard this LOUD crunching and rattling noise, which kept getting louder and louder. As we watched, one of Frank's remote-controlled cars (which makes more noise than a garbage truck) came rolling slowly around the hot-tub. With a running digital voice recorder duct-taped to the roof.

I have to give Frank points for innovation, but a "FAIL" for execution. If you're going to spy with a remote-controlled toy, use one that doesn't sound like a garbage disposal.

Fancy cars

For whatever reason, someone (who I assume hasn't been taking their medications) sent me a long rambling diatribe about how much they hate doctors. Specifically, the phrase "rich doctors and their fancy cars" was used several times in the rant.

Therefore, in the interest of full disclosure, I hereby list all of the cars that Dr. Grumpy has ever owned:

1982-1983: 1978 Datsun 810 station wagon (if you remember Datsun, you're old, too)
1983: 1979 Pontiac Trans Am (wrecked after 3 months)
1983-1984: 1982 Pontiac Trans Am
1984-1989: 1982 Oldsmobile Cutlass station wagon
1989-1993: 1988 Mercury Cougar
1993-1999: 1990 Infiniti M30
1999 to present: 2000 Nissan Maxima

It should be noted that the current car is the only one I didn't get used. All cars were driven until they were wrecked or completely fell apart, and the cost of repairs exceeded their value.

All cars except the last 3 were shared with siblings and parents. The current one is shared with 3 insane backseat drivers (not including Craig's hair).