<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:25:25.633-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gautam MD</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1983834043723368694</id><published>2009-05-11T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T22:33:15.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Animals that I don't care about:</title><content type='html'>Animal 1: Racoons; these little creatures, as innocent as they may look, are actually as useless as one can be. Like seriously, I was looking around in the backyard today and saw one climb up onto the deck and looked like it was on a mission, but in fact, it wasn’t! To me it looked like it simply climbed a fence, took a small walk back and forth, and then went back into the woods. People may say it was looking for food, but to me this thing looked a bit fat...so it wouldn’t be looking for food. Maybe it was trying to lose weight or something, although there’s nothing wrong with being a fat animal...&lt;br /&gt;One thing I’d hate to feed racoons is cocoons. I’m not doing this just because these words rhyme...I’m also saying this because I’d hate to see racoons with wings...we already have rats with wings (pigeons), how are we supposed to deal with racoons with wings? It’s crazy! Getting rid of racoons isn’t a problem...getting rid of their food source...garbage. But wait...you toss garbage into a garbage bin, you make more garbage...you toss that into another garbage bin, you make even more garbage! This means that racoons have an everlasting food source. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Animal 2: Hyenas; I’m not going to lie, I’m a funny person...but I’d never tell a joke to a hyena because they laugh at everything; I wouldn’t know which jokes to tell to who...but when I’m low in confidence, I’d buy a hyena and tell it some jokes because then I’d start thinking hey, at least I can make animals laugh...unless I manage to make a hyena stop laughing...in that case, I must really suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1983834043723368694?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1983834043723368694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1983834043723368694' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1983834043723368694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1983834043723368694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2009/05/animals-that-i-dont-care-about.html' title='Animals that I don&apos;t care about:'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1386603917647658245</id><published>2009-04-13T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T20:22:19.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flashlight?</title><content type='html'>I was looking outside my window the other day, and I saw a yellow light...which suddenly registered in my mind as a UFO. Thats right. It may have been an airplane, a helicopter, or a loner playing catch with a flashlight, but to me it was an Unidentified Flying Object. I had no idea what it was and it was in the air. It was probably a plane or something to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, I recalled this event and thought to myself...a UFO is very scary, but its less scary if you know what it is...its even less scarier if you don't know what it is, but its not flying through the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we have 2 options: Flying Object (could be a frisbee) or Unidentified Object.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets focus on the Unidentified Object. If a little kid saw a UFO, he'd shit in his pants and yell out of fright. But if a little kid saw a UO (unidentified object) he'd be like "hey, whats this? this is cool...especially because when you climb into it, it spins". Thats right kids, never climb into UO's. It's actually much more safe if you make UO's into IO's and then when you destroy them they become just O's...which remind's me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you have a box of cereal, and its a copy of cheerios but it really isn't cheerios and you have no idea what it is...you shouldn't eat it...because its a box of Unidentified O's. Think about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1386603917647658245?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1386603917647658245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1386603917647658245' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1386603917647658245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1386603917647658245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2009/04/flashlight.html' title='Flashlight?'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5190292032273565319</id><published>2009-04-08T22:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T22:41:19.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chess Club</title><content type='html'>Also known as discotheques, clubbing is this generation’s way of life. But these institutions are very peculiar in the sense that they’re name doesn’t indicate what they really are. Here’s a situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob: What are you doing tonight?&lt;br /&gt;Bill: I’m going to a club.&lt;br /&gt;Bob: Cool, which club? The chess club?&lt;br /&gt;Bill: No...Circa...&lt;br /&gt;Bob: Thats nice. What do people do in the circa club?&lt;br /&gt;Bill: Nevermind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Club, as defined by Princeton’s Wordnet, is a verb; “strike with a club or bludgeon”. It is also defined as “a formal association of people with similar interests”.&lt;br /&gt;Interesting enough, here’s another situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob: Why are you telling me to nevermind?&lt;br /&gt;Bill: Clearly, you don’t know what clubbing means.&lt;br /&gt;Bob: Yes I do Bill. Yes I do.&lt;br /&gt;Bill: Okay, what is clubbing?&lt;br /&gt;Bob brings out his club and whacks Bill on his head. Tsk tsk Bob, now why would you go and do that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, misinterpretations happen. Bob just misinterpreted what clubbing meant. It’s not his fault though. It’s no one’s fault. In fact, Bill deserved to get hit. He should’ve said “I’m going to the discotheque”. In fact, that’s two points for Bob since the first club that came to his mind was the Chess club. Good work Bob.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5190292032273565319?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5190292032273565319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5190292032273565319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5190292032273565319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5190292032273565319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2009/04/chess-club.html' title='Chess Club'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5701653602245706899</id><published>2009-02-15T23:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T23:45:43.858-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nerdy</title><content type='html'>Hmm...I haven't blogged in a while, so please bear with me...this blog is going to, hopefully, be as funny as my previous ones, but no guarantees...What am I writing about? well read, and find out!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I was listening to some music the other day, and this techno song came on...which is when I realized what techno music really means...atleast what I think of it - sorry if I offend anyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think techno music is a bunch of nice sounding clicks put together in a very appealing tune...in fact, let me go back to what I think about the name "techno"...and possibly where it came from...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;to me, and im sure to many other literate people, the word techno is part of the word technology... therefore, when someone says "I listen to techno", I interpret them as saying "I listen to technology"... sure, thats not nerdy at all...i've heard of people using the internet...and even computers for that matter! but listening to technology? man, I just find that weird...like a remote control...i consider a remote control, technology...but what if there's a guy who starts listening to his remote control? I consider this guy a person without a life...funny, but true...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;what about a person who listens to House music? why did they name it House? i dont play that kinda music in my house...no way...but i'll save this issue for some other day...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5701653602245706899?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5701653602245706899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5701653602245706899' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5701653602245706899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5701653602245706899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2009/02/nerdy.html' title='Nerdy'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5292130615102667276</id><published>2008-12-31T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T10:47:25.019-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Karma...</title><content type='html'>I have some good news; and I have some better news. The good news is that i'll be posting on this blog again, and in fact, since all of you readers like it so much, i've decided to start another blog - Life on Shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for something even better...a post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karma...what is Karma...why do we have Karma...isn't Karma edible? well I can tell you straight up that it is not edible...but it is one letter away from being edible...replace the second letter with a U and your hunger will be satisfied! (im not a big fan of Kurma). What the hell am I even talking about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to Karma...Karma is something that is good, and it can be something that can be bad. You hear people saying "this is bad Karma" or "this is good Karma". These are prime examples of good and bad Karma. Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karma, in my opinion, is when you do something resulting in something being done to you. If you step on an ant for no reason, some day, an elephant will step on you for no reason and smirk at your squashed self. This I call is bad Karma...Good Karma, on the other hand is when you help somebody and somebody then does something good for you! Now...my question to you, the reader is, which Karma does a doctor have to face?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The definition of a doctor, in my opinion, remember, this is completely opinion based, is that a doctor is someone who helps others by causing harm physically, but at the same time healing someone internally. What this means is beyond my knowledge, but i'm sure with further analysis it makes perfect sense. A doctor puts you to sleep and cuts you open...fiddles around with your organs or lack there of...does this mean that someone will put the doctor to sleep and cut him open and fiddle around with his organs or lack there of? :O thats horrible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, whats for dinner?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5292130615102667276?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5292130615102667276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5292130615102667276' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5292130615102667276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5292130615102667276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/12/karma.html' title='Karma...'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-6051261999438254683</id><published>2008-04-09T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T08:27:42.302-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So I noticed something today; some school's lack chairs. It's a little weird sounding, but it's true. I was in class today, and a random student walked in and asked "Can I borrow a chair?" I'm not going to lie, I did chuckle a little, but you can't help but feel bad for the kid. How would you feel if you walked into a class one fine day and all the chairs were already being sat on? It's like no one wants you. You're the only one standing. You might as well stand outside.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I noticed another thing today; I was walking to one of my other classes and I saw one of my friends walking towards the place I just came from...as soon as we made eye contact, he said "Gautam", and nodded very slightly. I stopped and looked at him for a second, and he did the same to a couple more people, and after that...I thought to myself - okay, so this guy is good with names. After being in the same school for about a year, all he could say was my name? no hi Gautam or anything? maybe he's just playing a game with himself, memorizing everyone's names, and then reciting them without looking at his book of friends. Anyways, I figured this blog isn't going anywhere, so I might as well just stop.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Have fun!&lt;br /&gt;Gautam&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-6051261999438254683?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/6051261999438254683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=6051261999438254683' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6051261999438254683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6051261999438254683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/04/so-i-noticed-something-today-some.html' title=''/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-6560984077810891231</id><published>2008-03-09T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T15:37:05.713-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coexist</title><content type='html'>So a couple days ago, I was on a plane. Generally, I don't like airplanes - they're not nice. But what I do like are airports, because when your in an airport, its like "hey im in a shopping mall where there are no taxes.....where do I park my car?", but when you're in a plane, its like "damn, I gotta sit beside this smelly guy who seems like he's dead but he's only sleeping...I hope"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, you can't compare airports and airplanes, because they can't co exist without each other. Just like an airplane is interdependent on an airport, an airport is interdependent on an airplane. If an airport had no airplanes, it would be considered a tax free shopping mall, and if an airplane had no airport, then lets just say the passengers are screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hate it sometimes when people get really specific with airplanes..........I ask a friend "so what flight did you fly?" he's like "I flew a KLM Boeing 747". Okay...what the hell does that mean? Can you be more specific (sarcasm). The funny thing is, he got more specific and started explaining the seating patterns to me, which was a little scary. "so there are three rows, with 3 seats in each row and 4 seats in the middle row. Touche my friend, now can you please tell me where all the gates are located in the Amsterdam Schipol International Airport? thanks in advance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gautam&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-6560984077810891231?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/6560984077810891231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=6560984077810891231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6560984077810891231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6560984077810891231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/03/coexist.html' title='Coexist'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-6944608058877570628</id><published>2008-03-01T19:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T13:56:34.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spit</title><content type='html'>Have you ever wondered why some people, especially people who work with piles of papers or books tend to lick their fingers before flipping a page? like I was at the library once and I was going to sign out a couple of books for research, and when I took it to the front desk, all of a sudden, the librarian licks her finger and flips through the pages of the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for licking that page. Now its gross. Your spit is on that page...why? just because your fingers can't grip paper...for whatever reason...doesn't mean you gotta lick my book. Now how am I going to turn the pages without touching your spit? I want you to go wash my book. I think this practice should be abolished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my question is...why can't your fingers grip the page? have you not fully evolved into a human yet? So can I trust you with this glass vase? or would you have to lick your fingers before you can hold it? If you happened to eat chicken right before you licked your finger, then im not able to read that one specific book because i'm a vegetarian...and also because THAT IS GROSS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-6944608058877570628?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/6944608058877570628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=6944608058877570628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6944608058877570628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6944608058877570628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/03/spit.html' title='Spit'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1342893046994260632</id><published>2008-02-16T19:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T09:06:27.241-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Multiple Choice?</title><content type='html'>So i've been on msn quite a bit this week, and i've noticed a small trend developing...have you ever had someone say "true" right after you tell them something? Like you say "yeah i'm going to bed soon" and your friend replies "true".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell kinda answer is that? First of all, I didn't ask you a question, secondly, even if I did ask you a question, im not the one to ask True and False questions. This isn't a multiple choice quiz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion, when the word "true" is used, its used because the person who said it really doesn't care about what you just said. "i'm going to bed soon". rather than saying "okay, i really don't care" your friend has said "true". This word is used to pretend to acknowledge something you said that really doesn't matter...but they don't want to sound very rude...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its really funny if you think about it - what if someone said "false"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;circle one:&lt;br /&gt;i'm going to bed soon - true/false&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1342893046994260632?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1342893046994260632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1342893046994260632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1342893046994260632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1342893046994260632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/multiple-choice.html' title='Multiple Choice?'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1481083903944803791</id><published>2008-02-09T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T10:58:17.138-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secrets</title><content type='html'>Personally, I like secrets. But I hate when someone tells you a secret in person. Because when someone tells you a secret, they come close to your face and whisper. Whispering, is nothing but exhaling carbon dioxide from your lungs and shaping that carbon dioxide so that it sounds like words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I especially hate when someone has just finished eating and then they tell you a secret. Usually when someone talks, there are good words and bad words. When someone whispers after a meal, then there are good words, bad words, and words that smell. "Hey! don't say that word...it smells...." or "I like your vocabulary...they remind me of cookies"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always wondered something though...can a person with a naturally strong lisp, tell a secret? Or does their tongue get in their way...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1481083903944803791?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1481083903944803791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1481083903944803791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1481083903944803791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1481083903944803791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/secrets.html' title='Secrets'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1613950164540046966</id><published>2008-02-03T23:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-03T23:06:27.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Remember</title><content type='html'>Kids, remember............sticks and stones can break your bones.........but rocks can kill you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1613950164540046966?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1613950164540046966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1613950164540046966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1613950164540046966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1613950164540046966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/remember.html' title='Remember'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-7022910133228992893</id><published>2008-02-02T19:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T20:08:57.228-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Floss It</title><content type='html'>So I want to become a dentist when I grow up. Dentists are like police officers...and not practicing the perfect oral hygene is like committing a crime. They make you admit things you really don't want to. They interrogate you. They make you lie down on an uncomfortable chair with a leg rest, and shine a bright light on your face. They have sharp things near your mouth and as they scrape each one of your teeth, they ask you questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When was the last time you brushed your teeth?" they ask. You know it was last night, but your afraid to tell him. You know they're not going to harm you, but in a way they do; they take away your self confidence and expose the true you. They want to hear from you that you did not brush this morning. They want only the truth. Some dentists even post the Miranda Rights on their walls. Well they don't, but im going to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you floss?" they ask. They know I don't. I know I don't. If I did, they wouldn't ask. I should've flossed. But I didn't. And they want me to admit to them, looking straight in their eye. You can picture a court room scenario...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Please call in the witness*&lt;br /&gt;"Okay, i'd like to ask you madam, if you've ever seen this boy clean his teeth"&lt;br /&gt;"Well I can hear him through the bathroom door"&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks, now does the defendant floss?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm unable to answer that question"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*The defendant would like to plead...guilty. He does not brush*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well this is it for tonight! Hope you enjoyed this one!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-7022910133228992893?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/7022910133228992893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=7022910133228992893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/7022910133228992893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/7022910133228992893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/floss-it.html' title='Floss It'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5247728447274081244</id><published>2008-02-02T12:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-02T13:08:22.795-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing.</title><content type='html'>When you freeze something, you call it ice. When you like something...you call it nice.&lt;br /&gt;When you eat something, you're usually starving. When you eat steak, you're carving.&lt;br /&gt;When you come out of the shower, you feel fresh. I knew an Indian guy named Venkatesh.&lt;br /&gt;When you take some medicine, your mouth tastes bitter. But I have to take it, im not a quitter.&lt;br /&gt;When you pee in your pants, its a mistake. If you need to pee when you're sleeping, you awake.&lt;br /&gt;If you feel thirsty, go get a drink. Element Zn from the periodic table, stands for Zinc.&lt;br /&gt;If you like to talk, joing the debating team. Some people are really good at it...Aaron Hakim.&lt;br /&gt;If you have no friends, then its time to make some. Unless you're a loser, or a bum.&lt;br /&gt;If you carry a purse, then your not a man. If you are, then watch out for the Ku Klux Klan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a blog about nothing really...but its still in english, not swahili.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5247728447274081244?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5247728447274081244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5247728447274081244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5247728447274081244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5247728447274081244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/nothing.html' title='Nothing.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5796885559296760190</id><published>2008-02-01T18:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T19:06:51.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Apple Juice</title><content type='html'>There this issue, you see, doctors love to take samples from their patients. Like blood samples, throat swabs, even urine samples. They think they're just allowed to steal what is rightfully ours. So I was with a doctor the other day, and she wanted a swab of my throat. She said "let me just get in there and get a swab of that white spot". No. It's my throat. It's my white spot. It's my disease. I don't share diseases. I didn't go to it, it came to me. I didn't go to you doc, you came to me. You want that sample don't you now? haha. I was nice and I gave a sample. It came back negative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Similarly, I had to give a blood test. The doctor said "Okay im going to call the lab technician and we're going to have to take some of your blood to test it for mono". No. No mono. mo NO. My heart ain't working this hard to just give blood away. Its mine. If my heart has to work this hard to make my blood, you're going to have to work MUCH harder to take my blood. I was nice and I gave a sample. It came back negative. So no mono.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, when the doctors want a urine sample, they're expecting a lot from you. They expect you to have urine in your system just waiting to be given away at that very moment in time. I had to give a urine sample once. The lab technician handed over a little container and I read it to myself and it said "urine". I looked at the technician and said "hmmm Urine". She said "yes, pee". Thanks dictionary.com, I didn't ask for a synonym. I know what urine is. I asked her when she wanted the sample, and she said "now." Uh oh. It was tough because I really didn't have to go. You can't just expect someone to urinate whenever you want them to...you gotta tell em in advance...I need a sample at 6:15. Drink lots of apple juice. eat a watermelon. I was nice and I gave a sample. It came back negative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one as well!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5796885559296760190?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5796885559296760190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5796885559296760190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5796885559296760190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5796885559296760190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/apple-juice.html' title='Apple Juice'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-9039013783349323650</id><published>2008-02-01T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T18:53:27.628-08:00</updated><title type='text'>APO-CLARITHROMYCIN</title><content type='html'>So, its been a while since i've seen sunlight. I like to live in the shade...or I have to live in the shade :( as long as im on apo-clarithromycin. Now you may be wondering what the hell that is...and i'll tell ya, whatever it is, it aint that great. APO-CLARITHROMYCIN is just fancy lingo for Biaxin. It cures pneumonia, thats all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Wednesday, I felt like crap. I went to the health centre, and I spoke to the nurse. At the time, none of us had any idea I had pneumonia. Anyhow, my lungs didn't sound right and my throat looked a little weird...there was white spots. Thats not normal. Thats why I was recommended to the doctor. The doctor had no clue what these white spots indicated, although she had a feeling it may have been Neisseria or something...which is basically a type of Meningitis. She wanted a sample of my blood and a sample of my throat...a throat swab they call it, and until these samples returned from the hospital, analyzed, I would have to live in quarantine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to take this moment and describe the life of a guy in quarantine. Its like having no friends...not even imaginary friends want to be near you...the nurses and doctors wear masks and gloves when coming into the room, and they're the only other humans you will see until you are out of quarantine. I had my own bathroom in that room...but it didn't have a shower. I wanted a shower. Gautam got a shower. You see, I spoke to the nurse about this issue, and she was very nice...she went over to the public bathroom, which contains a shower, and posted a sign saying "Do Not Use".......oh ok.........I get it. Normal people aren't allowed to use it just because a guy from quarantine wants to. Am I not human? Do I not blink?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, the samples came back from the hospital negative, but whilst waiting for the samples, I developed viral pneumonia. I had to get an x-ray in order for the doctor to see what was going on in my lungs. So I finally ended up with Biaxin. I was officially free from quarantine. Or so they said. I still stayed in that room, took showers in a room regular people weren't allowed to enter. I lived there for 8 days, and yesterday, Thursday, January 31 was my last day there...hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm on antibiotics...Biaxin, they call it. "Take 2 tablets twice daily for 10 days". You can analyze this. There is an alliteration...four words in a row starting with the letter T (take two tablets twice). I'm supposed to take it for 10 days. I forgot when I started. Uh oh. There's a warning sign saying "You should AVOID prolonged or excessive exposure to direct and/or artificial SUNLIGHT while taking this medication." I don't even know what that means, but i'm assuming i'm supposed to live in shade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this blog! I enjoyed writing it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-9039013783349323650?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/9039013783349323650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=9039013783349323650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/9039013783349323650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/9039013783349323650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/apo-clarithromycin.html' title='APO-CLARITHROMYCIN'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-8131328045199800840</id><published>2008-02-01T18:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T18:28:22.689-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Good Question</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So…it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog, but I’m only doing so because a friend requested me to. So to start off, I have a question, and I have an answer. The question is…how do you fit an elephant into an igloo? Read below to find out…the answer’s in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do you fit an elephant into an igloo? You know, this is a good question, and I have the perfect answer…but before I tell you the answer, I want to talk a little bit about how an elephant and an igloo relates to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I like elephants. They’re my favorite animal. I feel they’re a little underrated. They need to be advertised so more people know about them and like them. Igloos on the other hand, they’re a little overrated. Why the hell would you want to live in an igloo? Its cold enough outside, and now you want to live in a dwelling made out of snow and ice? Speaking of things being cold, the house I live in, in my boarding school is pretty damn cold sometimes; like at night. Turn on the bloody heater, I’m freezing my ass. So what have elephants got to do with the house I live in? Well, an elephant is a wild animal, and my house contains wild animals. It’s a little ironic because we aren’t allowed domestic creatures in the house, but I guess a wild animal is okay? Like the other day, I came back from a class and I see this guy jumping and hitting the roof – I ask “What the hell is going on?” He says “There’s a rat in the roof!” I asked “why?”, and he replies “because it’s up there”. See I hate these kinds of answers, because he’s just telling me what I just found out, from him. You see, I thought after the first question I asked, we had already established the point that there is a rat in the roof, but I guess he just wanted to reinforce it. It’s really pointless I must say…kind of like the dialogue below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy says: There’s a rat in the roof!&lt;br /&gt;Bobby says: okay.&lt;br /&gt;Billy says: There’s a rat in the roof!&lt;br /&gt;Bobby says: um…I thought we already established that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, forgive me if this blog wasn’t as good as my previous ones…it’s been a while and I guess I just need to get back into the groove. Oh right, to answer my question…you don’t fit an elephant into an igloo. Like why the hell would you want to do that?&lt;br /&gt;Okay I’m done.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-8131328045199800840?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/8131328045199800840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=8131328045199800840' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/8131328045199800840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/8131328045199800840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2008/02/good-question.html' title='A Good Question'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5018964579866684505</id><published>2007-12-16T16:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T16:25:10.219-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forget it.</title><content type='html'>So I was sending out a couple of emails today, and I wondered...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been the last person part of an email sent out to a group? well, if you haven't then you need to make some friends...haha just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but seriously, being the last person part of an email sent out to a group can mean two different things...either the person forgot about you...and then remembered, or you're the least important friend of their group of friends...both of which I think is bad. Its kind of like saying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob says:&lt;br /&gt;yes, i'm going to invite robert, bill, frank, and mike......&lt;br /&gt;Phil says:&lt;br /&gt;what about Joe?&lt;br /&gt;Bob says:&lt;br /&gt;oh right, I almost forgot about him....well I guess I can invite him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now wouldn't Joe feel bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so the next time you send out an email to a group of people, choose wisely as to who the last person on the send list is going to be...but you can always BCC them...which is rude in a way because then it'd seem as if you're embarassed that that person is your friend...I don't know - figure something out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5018964579866684505?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5018964579866684505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5018964579866684505' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5018964579866684505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5018964579866684505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/12/forget-it.html' title='Forget it.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-3325006807075691725</id><published>2007-11-29T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T16:31:03.754-08:00</updated><title type='text'>45 minutes and a cup of tea.</title><content type='html'>So its been a while...not been a while since i've written a blog, rather, its been a while since i've slept for atleast 8 hours one night. Last night was no exception; I started working at 7:30, snuck out to Tim Hortons with an old friend at 8:00, came back at around 9:00, then worked my ass off till 6 in the morning. I woke up at 6:45 because I was hungry and wanted to go to breakfast. Good times. Seriously...there is nothing more satisfying in life than to finish all of your work ahead of time and have the rest of the day free. But this isn't what im going to talk about...my main topic for today is "Tea..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I learned from attending a private school is that there are many types of tea. Before I joined the school, I went to my friend's house and they asked me if I wanted something to drink. I said, "yes please, i'd like some tea". They're like "what kind?" I said "lipton?". I made a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally learned that Lipton isn't a type of tea, its a brandname. Kinda funny actually because i've been making that mistake all my life. But still, what the hell is "English Breakfast Tea"? Its ridiculous because I had some of it today and it tasted no different from my "lipton". Lipton's good. Double Double I call it because I use two sugars and two creams...its a good ratio...but sometimes you have to change it depending on the size of the tea bag...if the tea-bag is too big then a double double will make the tea-bad. haha. Honestly though, "Peppermint Tea"? that just sounds a little disguisting. there's this philosophy that I follow - its called "Keep it simple stupid." (computer science teacher's philosophy) and thats exactly what people have to do...why mess around with your body by experimenting different flavours of tea? Different flavours of icecream = okay. Different flavours of candy = okay. Different flavours of tea? not okay. Anyhow, this blog is going absolutely no where, so I think im going to get back to my studying. This blog must be used for educational purposes only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-3325006807075691725?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/3325006807075691725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=3325006807075691725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/3325006807075691725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/3325006807075691725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/11/45-minutes-and-cup-of-tea.html' title='45 minutes and a cup of tea.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-4834029035868213022</id><published>2007-11-17T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T20:25:09.364-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vegetables</title><content type='html'>There are some people in this world who sometimes just don't understand basic things...i agree calculus can be quite difficult at times, and even world issues like the oil prices rising can be confusing, but differentiating between a vegetarian and a non-vegetarian is quite the general knowledge that everyone should know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was sitting at a coffee shop the other day, and was cherishing my latte, when one of my friends asked me about any dietary restrictions I may be involved with. I said yes, I have one main restriction...I am a vegetarian. This "friend" as he likes to call himself, then asked me if I ate fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. I don't eat fish. Fish lives. It breathes through gills. I still consider it an animal even if it lives under water. No exception. I don't eat seafood. If you dip a chicken in water, is it now considered sea food? No. Then why the hell would a vegetarian consider fish a vegetable? Can you plant a seed and make it grow into a fish? I hope not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gets worse. Another one of my friends then asked me if I drank milk. Big Mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not lactose intolerant. I drink milk, in fact, four times a day. I like it in chocolate, and sometimes I even make it into a milkshake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the fact that vegetarianism can become a competition. Right after I mentioned that I was in fact a vegetarian, my friend pointed out that another one of his friends was vegan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vegan is simply a guy who can't eat animals, or anything that comes from them. Basically, no milk, no eggs, no meat. Okay, thanks for telling me that your friend is a more intense synonym of what I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haha I think im going to end this little rant here, hope you enjoyed it. I sure enjoyed writing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-4834029035868213022?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/4834029035868213022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=4834029035868213022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/4834029035868213022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/4834029035868213022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/11/vegetables.html' title='Vegetables'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5333637573744580932</id><published>2007-10-07T20:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:34:54.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buzzer Beater</title><content type='html'>So I was thinking one day; technology is advancing very quickly. Laptops are getting smaller, cell phones and mp3 players are getting smaller, and even PEOPLE are getting smaller. And by that I am not making fun of short people, rather, I’m simply stating that this generation of children are quite small. I saw a troop of seventh graders the other day, and they were all about 4′6 - 4′7. And by no means was this a coincidence; it was meant to be. They were playing basketball too which made me think “damn. so short people can play basketball. I do have hope.” Anyways, this isn’t what my blog is going to be about.&lt;br /&gt;Back to advancing technologies. Did you know that there are many drinks these days that state not only the expiry date but also the expiry time? I mean, it really freaks me out. I was at a school fair (International Service Fair) the other day and I was thirsty. Its that time of year, where the sun shines brighter than ever and global warming gives you a huge smile. Anyways, I decided to get a bottle of orange juice, and to my surprise it had not only a date of expiry, but also time of expiry. It was going to expire at 20:03 that very day. I looked observed the clock and it was 19:58. I like buzzer beaters. The bottle contained 330 mL of juice. 1 minute sounded good. I waited until 20:02. I drank rapidly but left some juice behind just for kicks. The clock struck 20:03 and I raised the bottle to observe the remaining juice. No bubbles, no colour change, no chemical reactions due to oxygen/nitrogen/other gases in air. No spontaneous combustion. I decided to drink the rest but something inside of me told me “Gautam. Don’t drink the juice. It’s expired. If you drink it…you’ll expire.” I felt like a champion. I had just seen Orange Juice expire. Now I bet everyone of you who are reading this has never seen anything expire.&lt;br /&gt;Technology is advancing fast: 100 years ago they would’ve said “this drink will expire sometime next week. Smell before you drink.”&lt;br /&gt;Yup, thats it for today. Hope you enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Term of the Moment: medterms.comKidney Stone: A stone in the kidney (or lower down in the urinary tract).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sticks and stones can break your bones, but kidney stones can kill you.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5333637573744580932?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5333637573744580932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5333637573744580932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5333637573744580932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5333637573744580932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/10/buzzer-beater.html' title='Buzzer Beater'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1415530771484854632</id><published>2007-06-10T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:47:30.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>End.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;This is it; my last blog of the school year, and i’m going to try and make it unique. In fact, i’m going to bring in some of my personal experiences…and share it. Hope you don’t laugh at me, and instead…laugh with me. (even if its not funny…it’ll make me feel good)&lt;br /&gt;I was playing basketball the other day and I was making all of my shots. That same day when I was sleeping, I had a dream that a bird shat on me. Then I realized…bird crap may be a lucky charm. (not the cereal…trust me…)&lt;br /&gt;I was wearing cologne the other day…which made me think. Do I really want to smell like Calvin Klein? Or do I want to smell like Gautam? I mean, he doesn’t want to smell like me…why do I want to smell like him? Then again…who doesn’t want to smell like me?-I smell amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I had to go shopping the other day and I saw a product - it was on sale. Beside the “Sale” was a smilie face. Then I wondered…would smilie faces have the same effect if they had a nose? Think about it…and draw a smilie face without a nose…it won’t look that happy anymore. This made me think even further…what if people didn’t have noses? would they be happier?&lt;br /&gt;This is going no where…i know. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is a shoutout to some of my friends who are leaving this year…be it going to university, or back to Mexico, or wherever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A.K&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;W.T&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;M.V&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;B.C&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;J.C&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;T.S&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a good summer people! and remember…kabhi alvida na kehna. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1415530771484854632?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1415530771484854632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1415530771484854632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1415530771484854632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1415530771484854632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/06/end.html' title='End.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-4906349713981424553</id><published>2007-06-06T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:46:00.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>English</title><content type='html'>Back in the day- 11 odd years ago when I was still a kid, it all started; I was an immigrant from India, and I hadn’t been in Canada long enough. I don’t know what it was about it, but my accent in 2nd grade caused curiosity amongst my peers. One young chap had the courage to ask me if I spoke English, and much to my delight I did. I responded by saying “yes I do.” Thinking back, I could’ve said many other things honestly, rather than simply “yes I do.” Since this lad was not from Canada either, I could have said “hey! you’re an immigrant too, and i’m not complaining!” Luckily I didn’t say that. I would have probably have had to repeat second grade…not that I avoided it.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I repeated second grade; they said I was too young to go into third grade, but something tells me that they’re lying. Seeing I was too smart for second grade, they should’ve bumped me up. I mean, I got 98% on my IQ test and all. Maybe i'm just too cool for third grade...- but I’ll save that story for a later date.&lt;br /&gt;My point is…if you’re an immigrant, don’t make fun of other immigrants. It’s not nice. I remember another story; this one was in grade 3 - the very next year in a different school though. Some kid (of asian descent), came up to me, and in a goofy accent asked “do you speak like this?”. I obviously said “no I dont.” And I didn’t! I swear. But yeah, thinking back to that situation, i’m pretty sure someone had asked him the same question before…Ironically me and this guy became pretty good friends and played basketball together.&lt;br /&gt;To conclude, i’d like to say that immigrants are amazing basketball players.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Word of the Moment: medterms.comZygoma: The part of the temporal bone of the skull that forms the prominence of the cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy: Hey! You’re zygoma is swollen.&lt;br /&gt;Bobby: Nope, I just have candy stuffed in my cheek.&lt;br /&gt;*Billy punches Bobby’s face*&lt;br /&gt;Billy: What about now? Is it swollen now Bobby?&lt;br /&gt;Bobby runs home crying.&lt;br /&gt;Billy: I feel like having some candy, but then again, it’ll get stuck in one side of my zygoma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-4906349713981424553?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/4906349713981424553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=4906349713981424553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/4906349713981424553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/4906349713981424553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/06/english.html' title='English'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-9000099672939144011</id><published>2007-06-04T20:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:41:56.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Greener.</title><content type='html'>We were learning about the Domain theory in physics today. I was hungry though, and I had lunch next. I started thinking about the Vegetable Lo Mein theory. That seemed better than physics, tastes better then physics, and after eating, I would probably learn better than when I am in physics. Honestly, it is one of the courses in which you can’t learn that well.&lt;br /&gt;On another note, someone today pointed something out to me. White people want to get darker, and dark people want to get whiter. This is a marvelous example of “the grass is always greener on the other side”. Do you not find it weird that in countries such as India, they have facial cream that makes you whiter? Have you ever seen a tanning place in India? nope. What about in Canada? Have you ever seen facial cream that makes you whiter? I don’t think so.&lt;br /&gt;To conclude, I have just proven that the “Grass is always greener on the other side.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Word of the Moment: medterms.com&lt;br /&gt;Tylosis: A callus or thickening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy: Hey! Look at that guy; he’s going through tylosis.&lt;br /&gt;Bobby: Yeah. he’s becoming thicker and thicker every second.&lt;br /&gt;Billy: yeah. thats mean. Go home Bobby.&lt;br /&gt;Bobby: Yes sir.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-9000099672939144011?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/9000099672939144011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=9000099672939144011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/9000099672939144011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/9000099672939144011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/06/greener.html' title='Greener.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-7154459666484680646</id><published>2007-06-02T15:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:39:50.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angry</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So I decided to take a break from studying because it got boring; or did studying decide to take a break from me because I got boring? whatever the case, i’m not studying right now.&lt;br /&gt;Just a couple of minutes ago I was thinking of something - why is it that when a person gets angry, they are said to have “gotten up from the wrong side of the bed.” And i’ve noticed that when that phrase is said, one gets even more angry. Did they get up from the wrong side of the bed twice? Now here’s an experiment for people who like adventures - what if you go back up to your bed right now and lie down for a minute and get back up - but this time get up from the other side of the bed (not the side you got up from this morning). Comprende?&lt;br /&gt;Here’s a second situation…for people who are always angry…this type of person is obviously getting up from the wrong side of the bed everyday; from this I can conclude one thing - that their bed is pushed up against a wall, so there is only one side you can get up from…the WRONG SIDE!!! interesting thought eh.&lt;br /&gt;Now in some places they don’t have beds; people sleep on the ground. I’m telling you one thing - these guys are the happiest people considering they can never get up from the wrong side…unless of course they some how “wake down” instead of “waking up”. Unfortunately these guys do get angry…but because they get back pains from sleeping on the ground.&lt;br /&gt;You know, when you go to stores to buy beds…I feel they should label them; they should have an arrow point towards the “wrong” side, and one pointing towards the “right” side. They should also have a warning label posted on the bed - “Caution. Waking up from the wrong side of the bed may cause severe rage, anger, and even depression.” Yeah, I agree, this has been a pretty pointless post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Word of the Moment: medterms.comMutagen: Something capable of causing a gene-change. Among the known mutagens are radiation, certain chemicals and some viruses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Billy: Look at all that radiation Bob!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bobby: Yeah. I heard radiation is a mutagen.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Billy: I think you’re right. Kids, don’t go near radiation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bobby: Yeah. You’ll suddenly have 3 eyes, 3 noses, 4 ears, and maybe even no friends.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Billy: Wow. thats extreme.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bobby: yeah. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-7154459666484680646?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/7154459666484680646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=7154459666484680646' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/7154459666484680646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/7154459666484680646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/06/angry.html' title='Angry'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-9043134152359967021</id><published>2007-05-29T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:36:30.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This.</title><content type='html'>It’s an interesting world this. So many things happen so fast and basically, time flies when your having fun. I’m sorry, this isn’t going to be one of the funny posts that I usually write, instead, its going to be a little educational and motivational. Firstly, there are 3 types of people in this world; people who give up, people who win, and people who don’t care. What type of person are you? People who give up usually try once, and then immediately give up if they don’t succeed. People who win, usually just win; and people who don’t care, frankly, they are probably going no where. But the thing is, people who always win don’t learn anything. They don’t know how to handle a loss. Thats why I introduced a fourth type of person - people who may lose at first, but still learn much more than people who usually win. Remember, its not about how hard you can hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit and still move on.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the boring post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Term of the Moment: medterms.com&lt;br /&gt;Rossi Counter: An instrument used to measure the energy deposited by radiation in microscopic sites such as cells. Named for its creator Harald H. Rossi (1917-2000), a radiobiophysicist who contributed much to our ability to measure minute amounts of ionizing radiation and their effects on living things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey! That guy is carrying a Rossi Counter. Lets get him fella’s.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-9043134152359967021?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/9043134152359967021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=9043134152359967021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/9043134152359967021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/9043134152359967021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/this.html' title='This.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-6296928913853842498</id><published>2007-05-23T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:52:27.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>365.</title><content type='html'>There are 365 days in one year. This is equal to 52 weeks, 12 months, or basically one hell of a year. This year has not been a great one, and I’m not saying that because I simply want to complain – I’m saying that out of anger. If it wasn’t for the “n” number of things that has gone wrong today…I’d be perfectly fine!&lt;br /&gt;But you know what folks…you just have to deal with days like these. Let’s do some math right now. 365 good days, minus 1 bad day = 364 good days. Now we need to find the 3rd derivative of the slope of the tangent of the number of good days in order to graph the y intercept that is reflected by the vertical asymptote. What does that mean? I have no clue. But you know what…if you find me the answer to that question, I guarantee that all of you will have an amazing rest of the year; trust me…there is nothing more satisfying in life than an epiphany – a revelation.&lt;br /&gt;So I was down by the lake today with a bunch of friends…yes, a bunch meaning more than 1. What was good was that we saw a family of ducks floating along the meniscus of the lake. What wasn’t good was that minutes later…a duckling disappeared (the last time something like this happened was when one of my friend’s was hungry). Oh well – and then I found my friend aiming stones at birds…this was mean…and I wanted to aim stones at him. But I’m not mean so I didn’t. But if I ever catch him swimming, I’ll make sure I get a family of ducks to throw stones at him. After all, anything and everything is possible…except for the fact that I know where I’m going with my blogs. I actually don’t. So I’m stopping this one now.&lt;br /&gt;Have a good day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Term of the Moment: medterms.comMydriasis: Dilation of the pupils induced by eyedrops. The opposite of miosis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy: You see that guy around the corner?&lt;br /&gt;Bobby: Nope.&lt;br /&gt;Billy: Well then, have these eyedrops.&lt;br /&gt;Bobby: Okay. Hmm…Mydriasis drops? What does Mydriasis mean?&lt;br /&gt;Billy: Well Bobby, haven’t you been reading the Medical Term of the Moment from Gautam’s Blog?&lt;br /&gt;Bobby: nope, but I will now. Thanks for the information. I have to go now, bye.&lt;br /&gt;Billy waits alone counting the decreasing number of ducks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-6296928913853842498?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/6296928913853842498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=6296928913853842498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6296928913853842498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/6296928913853842498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/365.html' title='365.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5284010695979155312</id><published>2007-05-21T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:32:53.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Once upon a time...</title><content type='html'>So I was just recalling my childhood. Now I’m not talking about 5-10 years ago…im talking more like 12 years ago. One distinct thing I remember was how I was taught the different colours in art. It involved a lot of poetry:&lt;br /&gt;Yellow, yellow, dirty fellow.White, white, ready to fight.Black, black, cut some slack.et cetera.&lt;br /&gt;If its lame, it’ll work. This is lame, this worked. I find myself reciting this many a times when I forget what a colour’s name is…whats the colour again? its kinda like blue but not really…I think it starts with a R…no wait, im thinking of something else…anyways.&lt;br /&gt;I also remember a very, very Indianized version of the alphabet nursey rhyme:&lt;br /&gt;A, B, C, D, E, F, G…….H, I, J, K, LMNOP……..LMNOP, Q, R, S, T…….U, V, W…X, Y, Z…….X, Y, Z…sugar on the bread……If you don’t like it…go to bed…..&lt;br /&gt;Weird huh…the last verse also emphasizes the starvation of little children/the illiterate, who may be reciting that. Go to bed if you don’t like sugar on your bread -go sleep without having dinner. Since we’re already on the topic, i’d like to take this opportunity and ask a simple question -&gt; does alphabet soup have the same effect on the illiterate as it does on kids? anyways…&lt;br /&gt;Since I just realized that I’m going no where with this blog, I’m going to finish off in a good note. Kids, always eat alphabet soup. Also, learn to like sugar on bread. It actually tastes pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Term of the Moment: medterms.comAnaptic: Suffering from an impaired sense of touch, (a state called anaphia) or tactile anesthesia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy: You see that guy around the corner? I think he’s anaptic.Bobby: Maybe thats why it didn’t hurt you huh? because you can’t feel his punches.Billy: It actually hurts a little bit…I need to see a doctor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5284010695979155312?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5284010695979155312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5284010695979155312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5284010695979155312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5284010695979155312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/once-upon-time.html' title='Once upon a time...'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-704707967219984464</id><published>2007-05-20T20:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:31:34.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>House. Friend's House.</title><content type='html'>I had quite the trouble thinking of a name for this article…so I randomly made one up. Anyways, back to the blog. Have you ever wondered why the first thing that is asked of you when you go to a friend’s house is when you have to go back?&lt;br /&gt;Billy rings door bell.Bobby answers door: “hi Billy!”Billy says: “Hi!”Bobby replies: “So what time do you have to go back?”&lt;br /&gt;In such a situation, the “So what time do you have to go back?” is a very polite way of asking, “how long do I have to tolerate you in my house?” From then onwards, everything the host says is opposite of what he really means…unless of course it’s a birthday party. In birthday parties…the guy who invited you WANTS you to come; not because you’re a nice person, but because they WANT MORE GIFTS! you know it.&lt;br /&gt;Thats why they should’ve created the proportional party rule:The number of friends you are allowed to invite is proportional to your age.&lt;br /&gt;This means that if you’re 6th months old…you’re a loner. If you’re 2 years old, you’re allowed to call two friends. 3, then 3. 30, then 30. get the drift?&lt;br /&gt;I’m not going anywhere with this blog, so I think it’s a good time to digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Word of the Moment: medterms.comEmesis: Vomiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy: You see that guy around the corner? he’s my emesis.Bobby: You mean nemesis…but I guess he does look like vomit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-704707967219984464?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/704707967219984464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=704707967219984464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/704707967219984464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/704707967219984464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/house-friends-house.html' title='House. Friend&apos;s House.'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-611814855438927739</id><published>2007-05-20T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:53:54.442-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lots of Work? or is it...Lots of Doesn't Work?</title><content type='html'>Crappy name? well, there’s a crappy situation that goes with it. So I was thinking…why do we have so much work this week? is it just me or do teachers really like to sabotage their students’ lives? I mean, I have 4 major assignments due this week, and no teacher has stepped up and felt bad; and mind you, this isn’t even about procrastination…i’ll save that for later. In fact, if I was really procrastinating, I wouldn’t even be writing this blog now…i’d be thinking I have my whole life to write it.&lt;br /&gt;By now, you’d be thinking what the hell I’m writing this blog for…and I don’t blame you because that’s exactly what I’m thinking at the moment. In fact, I’m just here to complain about my workload; so with all due respect, im going to rant about some useless subjects they teach in school.&lt;br /&gt;English: why? are we not speaking english in our other classes? why do we need to analyze books that are older than us? Isn’t that rude?&lt;br /&gt;History: why do we bother learning about stuff that happened in the past? what has happened has happened, and now we need to move on…stop reminding me of bad memories…&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I feel we should just eliminate these subjects from our curriculum and learn like cooking. It’s very useful…no stress…quantitative and qualitative abilities required…as well as following proper algorithms. Make sense? if it doesn’t, then I don’t blame you because even I don’t know what I’m writing about.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for wasting 2.32 minutes of your life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Term of the Moment: medterms.comHypnic jerk: The common normal phenomenon of jerking awake, usually accompanied by a feeling of falling, just as one is drifting off to sleep. Also called a sleep jerk or sleep start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Billy says: “You see that guy around the corner? He’s such a hypnic jerk.”&lt;br /&gt;Bobby says: “you mean, that guy wakes up when he falls?”&lt;br /&gt;Billy says: “no I mean he’s an idiot.”&lt;br /&gt;Bobby says: “I got it. He’s just a jerk.”&lt;br /&gt;Billy says: “yup. but mine sounds cooler.”&lt;br /&gt;Bobby says: “okay”&lt;br /&gt;Billy says: “yeah. I have to go. bye”&lt;br /&gt;Bobby says: “bye”&lt;br /&gt;Bobby waits alone in the middle of no where, looking to see if he can befriend anyone, anything, even a bug.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-611814855438927739?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/611814855438927739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=611814855438927739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/611814855438927739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/611814855438927739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/lots-of-work-or-is-itlots-of-doesnt.html' title='Lots of Work? or is it...Lots of Doesn&apos;t Work?'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-1451223934276400984</id><published>2007-05-18T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:21:08.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What happens when a foreign Indian goes to India?</title><content type='html'>So what happens to a foreign Indian when he goes to india? Well, heres the thing; there are two types of foreign indians, as I have learned: an NRI (Non-Resident Indian) and a PIO (Person of Indian Origin), the latter unofficially being me. I’m not going to talk about them. I am going to talk about Indians who have lost all mental connections to India. Nothing special happens to them when they go to India except getting ripped off. Using their broken Indian dialects, they try and bargain, not knowing that they in fact, are requesting an increase in price. This is why, to all of you NRI’s and PIO’s, don’t buy from people who have a smile and accept your bargain. Anyways, I’ve been to India many-a-times this past decade, and I feel I have a fairly decent understanding of their principles. Sleeping on the floor can give you a bad back pain, but believe me, it’s worth it when you see yourself standing more straight up in the morning. This shows confidence. A foreign Indian may be of a better build than a typical Indian, but this difference is miniscule compared to the intellectual abilities and cape-abilities that a normal Indian has. A normal Indian CAN and WILL outsmart you in any and every single waypossible.&lt;br /&gt;So you start up a normal conversation about basketball - “did you know that the backboard is very useful when shooting?” you ask. “yes, but it looks best when the angle you shoot at is 45 degrees on the dot.” he replies.&lt;br /&gt;A typical foreign Indian, in my opinion is very confused about India, unless of course they have good cultural experience as a child. Otherwise a term called “white washed” comes into play. This term can be defined as one who is thoroughly influenced by the Caucasian culture. When a person of this type goes to India the first time, I theorize that it wont be fun. But believe me kids, if you go to india as a “white washed” indian, you will returnas an “indian based” american.&lt;br /&gt;Cheers,Gautam&lt;br /&gt;PS: I’m going to incorporate a medical “word of the moment” everytime i write a blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-1451223934276400984?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/1451223934276400984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=1451223934276400984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1451223934276400984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/1451223934276400984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/what-happens-when-foreign-indian-goes.html' title='What happens when a foreign Indian goes to India?'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-7050492285478098814</id><published>2007-05-18T18:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:24:57.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God's Games</title><content type='html'>Yes. The name says it all. God plays games with people all the time. Have you ever wondered why:&lt;br /&gt;1. You put your earphones in your pockets, and they come out tangled?2. You need to go to the bathroom right at the best part of a movie?3. When you really need something you can never find it?4. You forget everything you learned right before starting to write a test?&lt;br /&gt;I bet you after reading those questions, you’re first reaction was like “what the hell?”. That was my first reaction too until they started happening to me…except for #4. that only happens sometimes…but I still pull of a miracle. Pointless post, but I was bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Medical Term of the Moment: MedTerms.comPathogenic - Causing disease or capable of doing it.&lt;br /&gt;“you see that guy around the corner? I think he’s pathogenic…”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-7050492285478098814?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/7050492285478098814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=7050492285478098814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/7050492285478098814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/7050492285478098814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/05/gods-games.html' title='God&apos;s Games'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-4731148442567510749</id><published>2007-01-18T16:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:04:43.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Burn!</title><content type='html'>Yup, the name says it all - Burn! You might be wondering to what i'm referring this term to; well, it's my tongue. I just burnt my tongue. Other than that, I have also realized that in my residence, there are no working power outlets other than in the hallway and of course, in our rooms and the common room. Simply put - the bathroom outlets don't work.&lt;br /&gt;So I was in the mood for some nice hot cup of hot chocolate - but I didn't have all the necessary equipment to make one. I did have "Land Lakes - Cocoa Classics - Classic Dark Chocolate Hot Cocoa Mix" which I just realized IS ARTIFICIALLY FLAVORED when I was typing its name, and I also had a mug. You can tell I like chocolate, as long as it's NOT ARTIFICIALLY FLAVORED. Anyways, I was in need of a kettle. Finding a kettle is like finding an Italian resteraunt - you find the best ones in Italy. So I looked for a kettle in a room where people love and make the best noodles. I asked one person and he said the kettle was in the bathroom. As I walked across their room to get it, I saw that the door was shut and the lights on. I asked myself; "Do I really want a kettle that has been with someone in the bathroom?" Not at all.&lt;br /&gt;I resorted to plan B. Instead of exploring and experimenting with the best noodle making kettles, I asked my neighbor for his, and to my delight, he agreed to lend it to me. And then was the bathroom incident - no outlets worked. I literally wasted 10 minutes trying to make this kettle work. I had to move on.&lt;br /&gt;Plan C. I make it somewhere safe and private where no one would ask for some hot chocolate (if they ask, for some reason I can't say no); a place with a door and a working outlet. Something like a room, but no, we're not allowed to have kettles in our room. I really wanted some hot chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;So 5 minutes later, I find myself sipping a cup of artificially flavored hot chocolate and typing this story away. And I wondered, why would they have 22 power outlets in the bathroom beside each other? Is it just a mere coincidence that all of them don't work? or is it meant to be? Someone call the X-Files.&lt;br /&gt;Hope you enjoyed it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-4731148442567510749?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/4731148442567510749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=4731148442567510749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/4731148442567510749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/4731148442567510749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/01/burn.html' title='Burn!'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-5794249163417083078</id><published>2007-01-17T22:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:03:35.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Super Heroes</title><content type='html'>I got up this morning, and wondered, what happened to that era where all of these powerful super heroes were being introduced? spiderman, batman, superman, x-men, etc...I agree, thinking about this is quite a waste of time and energy, but hey, what else could I do during my first period spare? it was too early to work, and too late to sleep. Anyways, I just found out that they're introducing a new superhero - skate ranger. And then I realized why; people are running out of ideas.&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion, I feel that these days, those old fashioned "cape wearing" super heroes have disappeared, and the modern day tv show heroes are taking over. I think that Alan Shore from "The Practice" or Dr. House from "House M.D" can easliy be super heroes. Alan Shore has the power to outwit and outtalk anyone from this world and possibly another, and Dr. House can save anyone with any diagnosed disease whenever he wants. "The Lawyer with a Cape, or SuperDoctor".&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the above opinion is pointless and I should warn you that more of these pointless points will be posted.&lt;br /&gt;Check back soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-5794249163417083078?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/5794249163417083078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=5794249163417083078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5794249163417083078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/5794249163417083078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/01/super-heroes.html' title='Super Heroes'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8758436646405902001.post-8857882598898744499</id><published>2007-01-16T23:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T20:00:56.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Open Heart Surgery</title><content type='html'>This morning I got up and wondered, looking out the window - hmm, if it were to snow today, then it would be a snow day - quite a useless thought, but nonetheless, I was hopeful. It didn't snow, and it wasn't a snow day. But still, it was freezing. Anyways, enough of the weather report, there were bigger tasks for me today - like the dissection of a sheep's heart...&lt;br /&gt;To let you guys know, I am a vegetarian, and I have never previously cut any meat in my life; and to start off by cutting a sheeps heart, somewhat demoralized me in a way. So I ran off to my biology class and to my surprise, I was the first one...its either no one wanted to dissect the heart, or I was just in the wrong class. Anyhow, there was a tray (the same type of trays from our Dining Hall, but labelled "science" ), with many hearts on it. The teacher told me to pick one...i didn't quite know how to determine which heart was better, so my partner chose a random one. In my opinion, its like picking a banana...never pick the green ones.&lt;br /&gt;During the incision, I felt like I was doing an open heart surgery, just the heart without blood, or an open chest. We had to cut right through the center, almost like cutting a strawberry in half. It was cool, and smelly. People who know me know that I'm a little paranoid - something inside of me kept telling me that the heart was going to start pumping again...which is why I cut some of the major parts of the heart out...to ensure that there was no possible way. I don't think I was supposed to do that part.&lt;br /&gt;It was fun, I stuck my finger into the heart and I could see it through one of the arteries...soon to realize that my glove had a hole in it. In fact, I was having so much fun, I wanted to take a picture with this heart; but then again, i'll get plenty more opportunities when I become a doctor (maybe not, if I become a dentist).&lt;br /&gt;I had lunch next.&lt;br /&gt;Well then...i'll see you guys later. I bet you, you were bored reading this. Hope not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8758436646405902001-8857882598898744499?l=gautammd.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/feeds/8857882598898744499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8758436646405902001&amp;postID=8857882598898744499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/8857882598898744499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8758436646405902001/posts/default/8857882598898744499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gautammd.blogspot.com/2007/01/open-heart-surgery.html' title='Open Heart Surgery'/><author><name>Gautam</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16045313340657822774</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
