Take a Bath, Fratboy
Sorry I haven't been posting blah blah blah schoolwork blah blah.
Every time I get confused in class I immediately start having dirty thoughts. Really graphic dirty thoughts that involve some frat trash sitting near me. It's like my brain takes the metaphorical "I'm so fucked in this class" and turns it into the literal "I'm so fucking you after class." It's really very distracting. Luckily the premed frat boys here are fairly repulsive. And often smelly.
I just found out that my godsons (and their parents) are moving from New York to London. Yet another strike against going to med school in NYC (second only to the fact that my boyfriend won't move there.) Now I've only got three friends left in the city. PLEASE DON'T MOVE, MOLLY & LARRY & LAIRD. I'm coming back one day, I swear!
I have to get three letters of recommendation (side note: this posting blows, but I don't have much time so I don't know what to tell you) for med school applications. One of which has to come from one of my Columbia professors. Yikes. That was seven years ago! I contacted my Columbia adviser and he agreed to write me a letter but he clearly didn't remember who the fuck I was. So he asked for a letter explaining why I want to go into medicine and a resume. I included a photo, too. Hehe -- how incredibly embarrassing. "Here I am -- NOW do you remember me?" Probably not.
Every time I get confused in class I immediately start having dirty thoughts. Really graphic dirty thoughts that involve some frat trash sitting near me. It's like my brain takes the metaphorical "I'm so fucked in this class" and turns it into the literal "I'm so fucking you after class." It's really very distracting. Luckily the premed frat boys here are fairly repulsive. And often smelly.
I just found out that my godsons (and their parents) are moving from New York to London. Yet another strike against going to med school in NYC (second only to the fact that my boyfriend won't move there.) Now I've only got three friends left in the city. PLEASE DON'T MOVE, MOLLY & LARRY & LAIRD. I'm coming back one day, I swear!
I have to get three letters of recommendation (side note: this posting blows, but I don't have much time so I don't know what to tell you) for med school applications. One of which has to come from one of my Columbia professors. Yikes. That was seven years ago! I contacted my Columbia adviser and he agreed to write me a letter but he clearly didn't remember who the fuck I was. So he asked for a letter explaining why I want to go into medicine and a resume. I included a photo, too. Hehe -- how incredibly embarrassing. "Here I am -- NOW do you remember me?" Probably not.
Labels: Medical School, Molly, Postbacc Program, Sex
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