Some Random Time-Killing Observations

      Just a few loose notes here on some of the minor oddities as the Not-So-Good Doctor procrastinates ever-so-slightly from more pressing tasks at hand:

• Jenny, it seems, is here to stay. She has in the five weeks she's been here gained more weight than I have in the past fourteen years. Like all the females that come into the Doc's life, she eats like you wouldn't believe. It has become practice: feed Jenny first, and then while she's eating feed Trouble, and then go get Trouble and put him right in front of the food so he'll eat. Jenny finishes first and watches from a distance until Trouble is done and saunters away. Within a minute, she's up wolfing down what she can of Trouble's food. Don't feel too sorry for Trouble, though. He sneaks her water when she's eating his food.
  
  And the irony of all this: Trouble is the fat one. For now, anyway. That's okay. It seems she's the one with the crush on him. He wisely sloughs it off most of the time. Unless, of course, he wants to terrorize her for his own amusement-- which, of course, amuses me, turn-about being fair-play indeed.
  
  
• Imagine two universities within an hour's drive of one another. One claims to be very student-driven while the other is very administration-driven. Guess which one charges $10 for a copy of one's transcript, and makes students sit through bank-like procedures simply to place the order for them, and does not accept cash in payment. Guess which one charges nothing, processes the request with great dispatch despite the alum in question long having forgotten his student number, and allows the alum to order extra copies just to save him having to make unnecessary trips. Now guess which one has alumni that support it, and which one doesn't. Now guess why the Not-So-Good Doctor brandishes this logo in his sidebar:  .
  
  
• I hate my CV. I just have to say that.
  
  
• My beard-- now grown over like a hypothetical garden in a Shakespeare play -- is, for the first time I can recall, turning blonde at the edges. Blonde. White or grey would not surprise me, but blonde?!?!??! As the Farkers would say, "WTF?!?!?" The last time I was blonde, a different actor was Governor of California.
  
• Weirdest search term ever to bring anyone to this blog: "theories in minimizing chicken odor."  
  
  I couldn't have made that up if I had tried. The runner-up? "Dr J's nose drops."   
  
  
• I still hate my CV.
  
  
• Reading this news reconfirmed my gratitude for living in this wonderful, frozen land we call Canuckistan.   Well, okay, not all of it, particularly not these paragraphs:
  
  

  The woman had been watching television with her two young daughters in their family room, a room lit only by a television screen and light from the adjoining kitchen.
  
  The woman moved to another room for a better view, then called her husband. The pair watched Clark for up to 15 minutes from the privacy of their darkened bedroom.

  For a better view.   It's always the ones in the cheap seats that are the first to complain.   After all, if they had been in the front row, they might have gotten something on them.  
  
  
• Blonde. BLONDE. Does this mean I have to start wearing my underwear around my ankles? Wonder if that would improve my CV at all. And RK thought I'd already permanently scarred some of his students.  
  
  
• I've now wasted enough time on this blog entry that I'm going to have to feel guilty about it. Maybe not. After all, this discovery of my peripheral blondeness suggests that the process of whoring myself may not be quite so far removed from my disposition as I'd first thought. Now I just have to learn the swagger. Dear, dear me.

Okay, back to work. And now, my fellow Canadians, you may return to your living rooms to do what you do so well. At least now you know it's legal.