Just for Laughs #12 - A Crazy Patient

*SW = something wrong

Me:                         Morning! How can i help you, ma’am?

Auntie SW:         The rain was really heavy out there.

Me:                         Yup, it’s been raining season lately. How can i help you?

Auntie SW:         You see, i have this condition A that requires me to take warfarin, i have been taking it for ......

(rambling on and on about her disease for the last 10 years for 5 minutes while i was busy accessing my terminal for her old records in the hospital)

Me:                         Yes, i see that you have this condition for the last 10 years, and your last INR test done yesterday was great! But can you tell me what brings you here today?

Auntie SW:         Oh ok.

She flipped out a referral letter from her private cardiologist that she saw this morning. It was directed to the cardiology team taking care of her in my hospital, with a recommendation to lower her dose of warfarin.

Me:                         Hmm. You just saw your cardiologist this morning, and this letter is directed to the National Heart Centre. Where do i fit in this picture?

Auntie SW:         Oh i am going for a cataract operation in 2 weeks time in your hospital.

Me:                         So?

Auntie SW:         Can you please help me update my new warfarin dose in your computer system?

Me:                         Auntie, do you realise this visit costs you 90 dollar?

Auntie SW:         Yes i do.

Me:                         You could have just waited for the day you come for the operation and let them know of your new warfarin dose you know? The nurses then will serve you warfarin at your new dose.

Auntie SW:         But... what if they serve me the wrong dose? I can die from that!!

Me:                         Auntie...... No one dies from bleeding from a cataract op, even if you have warfarin on board. And you could have saved this 90 dollar by showing them the letter on day of admission.

Auntie SW:         Nevermind, i can pay the 90 dollar. Just update my new dosage on your computer for me.

Me:                         Auntie i can’t do that. My emergency room’s record do now show on their electronic prescription database.

Auntie SW:         Can you just try?

Me:                         It can’t be done. (My heart rate presently 140/minutes)

Auntie SW:         Really?

Me:                         Yes.... Auntie, why don’t i just cancel your visit and save you the 90 dollar? You just show your letter on admission as i have told you just now.

Auntie SW:         Hmm... Can you do an INR test for me today? I am willing to pay 90 dollar for that.

Me:                         YOU HAD JUST DONE AN INR TEST YESTERDAY! WHAT’S THE POINT? AND PAYING 90 DOLLAR JUST FOR A TEST ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!!!

(i mildly raised my voice. just mildly, believe me. really. )

Auntie SW:         (sheepishly) Ok then. I go home then. You really cancelling my visit for real?

Me:                         YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Auntie SW:         Ok then. Bye. (walking out, then turning back) I really don’t need an INR test today?

Me:                         YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Bye.

Went through the trouble of erasing my entries and instructed the nurses to cancel the visit. So much trouble for saving 90 dollars. She might be dirty rich, despite the haggard clothing.

Was half way through my another consult when i heard a door knock, and the door was opened without me acknowledging first.

Auntie SW:         (popping her head in) Why don’t you uncancel my visit and do an INR test for me?

Me:                         (Heart rate 180/minute, face flushed with anger) I AM NOT GOING TO DO AN INR TEST FOR YOU AND YOU STOP WASTING MY TIME! GRRRRRRRRRRR

Auntie SW:         Ok ok... sorry.... (sheepishly went out again)


Being a doctor is a real health hazard. My cardiovascular risk must have gone through the roof that day.

An NS Boy's Earnest Attempt at an Excuse

Background:

Time and Place: Sunday morning, in P3 (Priority 3) clinic

Quirk: Instead of the usual mix of elderly and young people looking genuinely sick, all the patients lined up to be seen were:

1. 18-19 years old who were supposed to be ghettoed inside National Service Camps (NS boys)
2. dressed up so well that they should have been in a mall instead. And also wore perfumes.

1. pink rosy cheeks

Me: struggling hard to spend more time on genuinely sick patients while sifting through a pile of NS boys flocking to the ED to get medical certificates to delay going back to their camp after a long weekend.


Me: cough? colour of phlegm?

NS boy 1: yes. green.

NS boy 2: yes. slightly greenish yellow.

NS boy 3: yup. tinge of green.

NS boy 4: cough so much that my throat hurts, and the phlegm i spit are all greenish!!
.
.
.
. (patience wearing thin)
.

NS boy N: yes. the sputum green in colour loh!

Frustrated at the same predictable answers to all my questions, as if they were all using the same ’NS Boy’s Handbook to Getting Medical Certificates’, I slammed the table and blasted.

Me: Why all the NS boys are coughing out greenish sputum?!

(NS boy N was shocked by the sudden hostility, hence a pause of few seconds, looking contemplative)

NS boy N (sheepishly offered) : err... maybe water in Tuas ... not clean?

I fell off my chair.

Absolutely Beautiful Song

"Pimples"

I used to care so much about what others think about
Almost didn't have a thought of my own
The slightest remark would make me embark
On the journey of self doubt
But that was a while ago
This guy has got stronger
If I knew then what I know now
I would have told myself don't worry any longer it's OK

[Chorus:]
'cause a face without pimples is like a sky without stars
Why waste a second not loving who you are
Those little imperfections make you beautiful, lovable, valuable,
They show your personality inside your heart
Reflecting who you are

Who you are
Who you are
Who you are

I wondered if I could trade my body with somebody else in magazines
Would the whole world fall at my feet?
I felt unworthy and would blame my failures on the ugliness I could see
When the mirror looked at me
Sometimes I feel like the little girl who doesn't belong in her own world
But I'm getting better
And I'm reminding myself

[Chorus]

Reflecting who you are
Reflecting who you are
Hmmm
Whoooooo whoa hmmmm oooooo

[Chorus]

Just for Laughs #9 - East West Dissociation

* 3 days to finals! Woohoo!!

Been busy studying so didn't have much time posting new entries. But quite a few funny happenings transpired these few days. I will share one with you. 

Coming from the great Malaise-ia, the idea of referring to my location in Singapore as being in the west or in the east of the island was quite foreign. 

Rarely have i heard Malaise-ians saying they are staying in the east or west. Granted there are West and East Malaise-ia, and also West and East Coast, but when have you heard them being referred to in that manner? People proudly profess that they are from Kuching or Kuala Terengganu and so on.

So i can understand that some Malaise-ians CAN have difficulties associating with East/West. 

I am staying in Bukit Batok*, just north of the blue bubble on the map above which marks Jurong East MRT interchange. Bukit Batok MRT station is only one stop away. Going by the location of Bukit Batok relative to the island, that would put me in the west of the island. 

*No it's not a hill, and i don't see unusual concentration of coughing patients here. The only elevation in the island with lots of coughing TB patients is at Tan Tock Seng Hospital, which is at Novena, or the central of the island. 

But this is classic. 

Scenario: Reading a food blog and lamenting our poor fate of living in the west of the island where there is not much good makan place. The east of the island is where most of the population stays in, with a glut of better good food. 

CJ: Sighs too bad we are staying in the west. 

Someone*: West? 

CJ: Yeah we are staying in the west of the island. 

Someone*: Really? 

CJ: (eyes rolling) Yeaaahhhhhh.....

Someone*: But it's Jurong EAST!!! Why would they call it east if it's in the west?!!!

CJ: (falls behind, mouth frothing, face twitching, and legs kicking = seizure from disbelief)

 

*Someone = Steph aka Almighty. 

Another Accident During Breakfast

I survived an explosion. 

Yes, right here in Singapore. You may think it is such a safe country, but no one is safe from unexpected turns of events. 

Impermanence of life, so Buddha taught...

Sighs. 

The aftermath was absolutely gory, with remains of an organic being strewn all over the place. 

My ears were still ringing from the deafening blast hours later; my heart still beating fast from the horrible experience. 

I am safe though, don't worry. Unharmed. Unscathed. 

(yeah i am making you scroll)

I did not lie. Egg is organic, isn't it? *

I will learn from the experience, and will not meddle lightly with weapons of cookery from now on. 

The poached egg gadget bought from Daiso is such a bitch to use. Or it could just be me. 

Likely the latter. 

*Disclaimer: I did not char the top of the oven. Not ME! But there's a lesson to be learnt. Do not cook cup noodle in microwave. You are supposed to pour hot water in. If you have to microwave it, remove the paper/aluminium foil lid too, please...

The Malaysian that ...

An awesome photo

Saw this photo on my favourite retiree's blog. 

Someone went...

'Ah i know, this is... this is...' 

I thought she recognised the blog i was reading. 

Then she came up with an impeccable follow-up. 

'What's that towers called again?'

So much for being a Malaysian. Haha. 

An Accident During Breakfast

Screenshot from Midwest Teen Sex Show, an online sex education show with a twist. 

What can happen when you eat a sandwich in front of your computer? 

No i didn't spill my drink on the keyboard. Imagine something more unlikely. 

You know what? I took one bite at my home-made sandwich, and the still runny egg yolk shot forth in a huge squirt, and landed squarely on my keyboard, running the entire length of that sleek white and aluminium darling of mine. Thank goodness it missed everything else. 

My heart skipped a beat. I remained stunned for some time, not knowing what to do. 

I never expect to be able to shoot that thick, viscous, proteinaceous fluid from between my mouth!

Luckily i had a silicone cover over my keyboard. Otherwise i guess i will be spending the rest of the day taking my keyboard apart and scrubbing it. 

I continued to devour my sandwich before i cleaned up the mess. 

Yellow c**shot on my keyboard. Eww...

Time to go back to read, and see more. I do hope my joke this time has been less subtle. 

 

Old (Fart) Student

'Hey Sir!' 

I glanced over my shoulder. A pretty young thing was trailing me as i hurried along the walkway next to the MRT station. 

Do you remember Michael Jackson had this song Pretty Young Thing? 

Dressed in an apple green spaghetti top and a jean skirt, she did not look dressed up enough to be working for the credit card companies. Those companies usually stipulate formal dressing code, even for their part-timers. 

Excluding the differential of working for credit card company, my provisional diagnosis was that of a survey questionnaire administrator. 

With the tell-tale sign of a writing pad over her bosom chest, she casted me a million dollar smile, and her lips twitched in preparation to vocalise.  

'I am in a hurry.' I pre-empted her, not wanting to waste my time, and hers. 

'Oh I won't take too long.' 

I know. 

Not impressed, my feet continued carrying me at a velocity of 1 metre per second, I repeated, 'I am really in a hurry.'

'Sir are you working?' 

I was like, Bingo! They will usually leave me alone after i tell them i am still a lowly student. I gleefully proclaimed that i am a student. 

But i wasn't at all prepared for what comes next. 

She shot me an incredulous look. 

The same kind of incredulous expression. Check out his cool T-shirt. Led Zeppelin. 

'You are still a student?!' Her tone was that of a complete disbelief. Maybe even disgust. Haha. 

'Yes I am.' I bluntly replied. I was like, what the heck. Haven't you seen 25 years old students before? 

So you have problem with a student's age... (Notre Dame de Namur honored their oldest graduate Ruth Singleton 82 who graduated in the school of arts and humanities)

Before i have even finished my train of thought, or rather the train of curses mentally, she poof-ed into the thin air, nowhere to be seen. 

&%$!?>@... 

Blasphemy

* It's meant to be funny ok? Don't take it too seriously. Especially if you are religious. 

Was on an mrt the other day when it happened. 

I was being my usual self: totally absorbed in the wonders of my book, completely oblivious to my surrounding, cocooning in the blissful sphere of serenity gazing at lines and lines of printed text. 

You can send a whole cell of terrorists barging into the train and blow it into smithereens, and i would perish without having any single inkling of what the hell has happened. 

But not this one. 

 

The force is strong in this one... 

I saw someone gingerly taking a seat next to me from the corner of my vision. I stole a glance to my side and i swear a church bell rung in my head. 

It was an elderly nun, reading her copy of well-worn leatherbound holy book, complete with an air of serenity. 

I looked at my book, and i gulped. 

Tada!

I then pressed the pages opened very widely to make sure the covers were safely out of her sight. 

What was it that i fear? That she would exorcize me start telling me i was a sinner and i needed to believe in the Holy Trinity? That she would chastise me for reading that yellow book? 

Even though i am a non-believer, i do respect all those who have devoted their entire life to a seminary vocation, believing firmly and selflessly that they are doing good to mankind, irrespective of religions. 

*That is until they start talking nonsense. My respect for them then will take a slow but sure spiral down into some abysmal depth. 

Anyway, i was feeling rather disrespectful to be reading that book next to her. Perhaps that's how it feels to be drooling over some skimpily clad chick featured on Playboy's cover page, while seated next to her mother. While humming will.i.am's I Got It From My Mama. 

Baby where’d you get your body from?
Tell me where’d you get your body from.
Baby where’d you get your body from?
Tell me where’d you get your body from.
I got it from my mamma.
I got it from my mamma.
I got it from my mamma.
I got it got it got got it…

Wonderfully respectful isn't it? 

Anyway i resumed reading my book, while she started doing the fishing thing in the midst of a underground mrt tunnel. 

Fishing without killing. (For the clueless, it's the act of losing neck tone followed by jerking backwards while dozing off)

She must have dreamed of landing a huge catch when she dropped her holy book on the floor, scattering many pieces of notes and so on all over the floor IN FRONT OF ME. 

What followed was an extremely contortion of my body done out of supreme desperation. 

Man he looks like Koh Tsu Koon doesn't he? 

Reluctant to put my book down for fear of her reading the title, i tried balancing my bag on my thighs, and by means of internal rotating my left arm, slightly flexing my elbow, over-pronating my forearm, flexing my wrist to the max with fingers extended and somehow had the book safely tugged out of her sight to the other side, nestled between my back and the back rest of the seat. 

Then I had to bend my body forward and lowered myself  to the dangerous level of farting assholes, stretching my right hand far ahead of me to pick up those scattered notes and pictures that any further my right shoulder was sure to dislocate. 

No one offered to help. I guess they were too engrossed watching an idiot performing contortionistic performance. 

Oh did i mention that my cheek was hovering perilously close to the other CHEEKS of fellow commuters too? 

While stepping out of the train, i couldn't help but marvel at all these interesting coincidences that happen in life. The faithful probably will claim that God is trying to send me a message, and i better heed the calling lest i invite God's wrath.  

Well, i say He should spend some time writing a new Holy Book. 

This one bored that poor nun to slumber. 

NO FIT

Nesa was telling me yesterday about some absurdity that was being practised at the Immigration checkpoints. I had a good laugh but the full impact wasn't felt until i saw it happening this morning at Woodlands Checkpoint, en route to Senai Airport.

A Caucasian lady in a full length figure-hugging red dress that accentuated her willowy figure was lining up just ahead of me to cross the checkpoint. There must had been some issue with her passport or so, for the immigration officer and herself spent a long time explaining to each other, seemingly to no avail even with the help of waving limbs.

Eventually their animated discussion ended abruptly, and she was told to put her thumb on a scanner. She's not a particularly hot lady so I naturally turned my attention to the screen of the immigration officer's computer, trying to peek at the content. Surprisingly, this monitor was not protected with a privacy screen protector*.

*A privacy screen protector would make viewing angle so narrow that no one else apart from the officer directly in front of the screen would be able to see anything shown on the screen.

A detailed scan of the thumbprint turned up, then out of the blue the face of Mas Selamat popped out really big on the screen.

NO FIT, the system proudly declare on the screen in huge green letters.

The officer glanced at the Caucasian lady again, and satisfied with his visual assessment he dismissed the lady and beckoned at me.

He sized me up a bit, then took my passport and student pass to scan, never softening his intent gaze on me even for a bit. He then gestured for me to use the thumb print scanner.

The system showed error, and again i felt a pair of concrete-boring gaze befalling on my cheeks. Probably he was trying to make out if i was donning a mask ala Mission Impossible.



He must have decided that Mas Selamat would have more self respect to use a better looking mask, for he stop analyzing my face.

He asked me to use my left thumb instead, and this time it registered.

NO FIT. Those huge green words were plastered all over the screen again. He waved me goodbye coolly.

I sighed in relief. You know, i do look a lot like Mas Selamat in that picture.



I have brownish skin, 2 eyes, 1 nose, 1 mouth, 2 ears, and a short crop of hair too. Minus the facial hair. (I shaved them ok, not that i am not manly enough. Ha)

Maybe Mas Selamat was tall and willowy too, that must be why the officer was gawking at the lady. Did i say gawking?

Mas Selamat must be able to take many shapes too, as Nesa saw an officer trying the thumbprint of an old, hunch-backed lady who probably had genu varum from osteoarthritis.

Mas Selamat must be a magical being, for the immigration officials to think he is capable of taking so many shapes. If he is magical, then why bother.

It's just darn ridiculous.

* the lady's footwear shop PRETTYFIT should take a cue from the immigration officials. Instead of disappointing their customers by saying there's no more size with earnest face that tries extremely hard to be apologetic, they should just install a screen and say NO FIT, with Mas Selamat's face. At least we will all get a good laugh.

Who's Your Daddy #1 (The Tale of 4 Hotdogs)

Dear Child, 

I went to Ikea* this evening, to pick up some boxes. 

*Ikea is one of the few places that manages to make both men and women squirm in joy every time they step in, when your daddy is still in his twenties. No, it's not a love hotel, if you wonder. Yes you are right, people do squirm in joy there too, but Ikea achieves that mostly by just selling awesome furnitures at a cheap price (not always). 

The boxes are meant to carry my books, as daddy will have to move to a new apartment shared by Uncle Nesa, Uncle Rags and Auntie Lydia in Bukit Batok. Even though daddy hasn't graduated and can continue to stay in KEVII Hall, i prefer to move out with the uncles and auntie. Otherwise i will probably die of boredom being the oldest guy around, and you will probably never see daylight. 

Anyway, i haven't had dinner when i arrived at Alexandra, where Ikea the swedish furniture supermart was located. I originally intended to dine in a nearby hawker centre, but it was rather warm and humid so i decided i would just eat in the cold comfort of Ikea's restaurant. 

But there were too many people queuing up. There must have been 20 people lining up for Swedish meatballs, so i just walked away. 

Daddy usually won't choose to get stuck in a long queue just for food, even if it's good.

So i went downstairs to eat Ikea's hotdog* instead. 

The identical hotdog that i ate (lifted from here)

* I don't know if people at your time still eats hotdog, or still calls it so. PETA might already have made you ban hotdogs. It's not really a dog. It's just a sausage that is wrapped in a long bun, and you get to choose what sauce to put on top; a choice of mustard, ketchup and chilli. Daddy never likes chilli sauce. 

Child, one day you will realise that women in their skin alone wields a lot of power. (lifted from here)

At one dollar a hotdog it's really cheap. I ordered a hotdog and a soft drink at $1.70. Before the cashier could pay me the change, i already ordered an extra one. Yeah your daddy kinda eats a lot. 

Anyway i finished the 2 hotdogs in no time. I folded the paper wrap into neat small squares and threw them away into the bins. You must throw the litters properly too ok?

(lifted from here)

But 2 hotdogs weren't enough, so i went to buy another 2 more. 

(Sorry child your daddy really eats a lot. But i am not obese. I just have high BMI. Really, you can ask any of the aunties or uncles who know daddy in university. It's either the result of dense bones or a dense brain. You guess which.)

So, for the comfort of air conditioning (i wonder how bad global warming is at your time), and my reluctance (why waste time?) to line up in a long queue, i ate 4 hotdogs. Most people would find it slightly crazy to eat 4 hotdogs. That's usually the province of the crazy Americans (and Uncle Nesa, that crazy uncle once walloped 11 pieces of KFC at one go)

Crazy Americans posing with 5 hotdogs there. (lifted from here) Heh

Lastly, just wanted to tell you, my child, that life isn't always fair. Don't always compare with others. Just be happy with what you have got. 

Ikea Hotdog in Norway (lifted from here)

Some people just have it longer. 

Talk About Coincidence

Life has its funny ways of pulling your legs.

Last time when i told everyone not to worry about failing med school, i ended up failing it myself. 

This time it's much more subtle, but just as funny. 

Yeah failing med school is painfully funny. 

Anyway, my last entry was about dolphins humping each other in an advertisement on a news portal, The Star Online. Regretfully the post was inevitably laced with saucy jokes, i don't know why. Seriously. 

Then when i sent it to Nuffnang's Innit blog aggregate for submission, the anti-spam measure told me to type the word MATURE. 

...

I hope the next time i post something about failing my finals, it won't tell me to type AGAIN. 

Please. 

A Boring Blog

My blog reflects the true boring state of mine. How so? 

1. Not talented enough in photography so i always end up lifting relevant pictures from Google Images. 

Relevant to me right? Heh. (from Hold Your Stick Steady Ya!)

2. Can't paint at all so i use other people's masterpieces. 

Someone actually searched for 'fat naked lady'  images  and ended up in this entry in my blog. Haha such fetishes. 

3. No enemies in life to flame on my blog. But even if i do, i doubt i have the balls. 

Eh i am not asking anyone to blast them ok? But i will be eternally grateful for that. (lifted from this blog)

Hey i do have balls ok? I will need these for contact sports. 

If you really have to ask. it's The Hog.  

4. Lack the relevant anatomy to post up sexy pictures of my own. 

You know, i have always envied those photographers. Best job on earth. Now that's getting paid doing a job you love. 

5. No cash to eat at fancy places that i can write about.

6. No money to travel around and make you envy. 

This is taken on Penang Hill. No fancy Eurotrip. 

7. Grown too old to write teenager's angsty rants about how somebody pissed me off by doing absolutely nothing. 

This one has potential. Look forward to her blog. 

8. Not old enough to dispense wisdom. 

Wise Old Man too dirty busy at the moment. 

9. No *ahem romps to chronicle about. Unlike THE hustler (be warned: mature content) 

Research assistant, anyone?

10. Not in an industry where i can blog about my work and not get into trouble. 

The book started from this great blog. Go read. 

11. No pet to take cute photos with and blog about. No, my Almighty is not a pet ok? Because she will kill starve me if i say so. 

I wonder which pet shop she hails from. Gonna pay a visit some day. 

12. Not enough time for anything in life. 

Argh another day gone!!!!

That's why. I really wonder why you are reading my blog. Seriously...

---

Anyway i started typing this entry wanting to inform you guys about the new Snapshots functionality that i added to all the links on my blog. You should have noticed by now the sometimes irritating bubbles. 

But since i use so much outside content for my blog i guess this is a good addition to us all, and potentially can save some time of yours.

Here's a little information on how it can be utilised even better. 

Every Woman Should Carry A Condom

Spot check in Chung Ling High School, my alma mater. Lifted from this blog

'Spot check!' Screamed the leader of the horde of prefects invading the classroom. 

Everyone in the classroom shifted their bottoms nervously. A few guys turned pale, hoping fervently that the incriminating discs in their bags would somehow disappear into thin air. 

'Stay put and bags on the table!' The overweight adolescent prefect with pimply face was trying to act macho by roaring out the orders. He had a grain of rice stuck to the corner of his lip, betraying his packet of nasi lemak consumed in the Prefect Room's privacy, way before recess (which makes it illegal in high school).

Penang Free School Prefects from a bygone era when prefects were prim and proper, and honourable (from here) 

Sauntering down the aisle in feigned authority, completely ignorant that the back of his shirt was no longer tucked into his ultra low-waist pants, he chose himself a pretty victim. He poured the content of the bag onto the table. 

Choose your bag carefully, lest it reveal more than you desire. 

'What is this!' He held up the object in question with trembling fingers. The entire class looked in his direction and revered at the sacred object. 

The mysterious Ring of Sex Life in a thermal-sealed aluminium foil packaging

A wave of emotions washed over him. Even though he had seen condoms in porns (confiscated from the students), he had never seen one in real life. 

He would always gawk at the boxes of condoms on sale at the payment counter in supermarket, his eyes revealing an aching curiosity and sexual frustration. He would try to chat up ladies in clubs only to be ridiculed at as an adolescent. But that wasn't the case for his counterparts in the States! If only he attend American dorms colleges, he mused. 

Shaking off his disbelief at the haul, he inspected the delinquent more closely. 

Athena looked all sweet and innocent, with plaited hair running down the length of her creaseless uniform. Such decency! 

Such decency! 

He reminded himself that Japanese porn actresses were all sweet and innocent, with plaited hair running down the length of their uniforms too, and tried convincing himself that she was capable of such a heinous crime. 

Despite the thought process, his eyes lingered just a tad too long on her blouse. The uniform was unfortunately not as transparent as some religious group claimed to be. 

(Lifted from The Star)

Sighing silently, he pulled his eyes away regretfully from her chest to her eyes, all the while considering being more lenient with her and ask her out one night day. He smirked at the thought. 

'Why do you carry this to school?' He asked gingerly, not wanting to spoil his chances. Who'd believe such an innocent-looking girl would be so, erm, well-prepared. 

Expecting an admission to an amorous rendezvous in the school, he started imagining where such illicit activities could place. 

Sex in the University. Yes this site exists!

He was still dreaming an adolescent fantasy when the answer shattered his daydream. 

'Because the Deputy Health Minister said so!'

 (lifted from the The Star)

How stupid can he be. Sighs. 

The Sex Lives of Med Students

*The article was written in jest, and should not be taken too seriously. Relax, but laugh hard.

Was going through my emails when this Medscape article screamed for my attention. It's about the findings of a pilot study on the sexual prowess sex lives of medical students.

Intrigued, i read on, and my heart started pounding harder and harder. I almost wept for the entire profession of medicine. The sacrifice was just too great.

Read on, and you shall weep for us as well.

That means i have 4.29 times more impotent guy friends than the general public. Look at what sacrifices we male medical students have made...

Unfortunately, the girls did not fare any better.

63% is awfully high!

My heart aches for all the gentler sex. I know how much tougher medical education must be on you all now.

And i have heard from friends in medical schools all around the world that their female counterparts are always more hardworking. Staying behind in wards when the guys have went to chill in some cafe. Now we know the price being too hardworking exacts.

And it appears that plenty of them are sexually frustrated too. I hope you don't start getting any idea on female medical students...

And this...

Huh? I didn't know that was an option. Hmm... Maybe i should have studied in the States. Damn i should have known better...

And I have found my favourite medical journal too.