There’s a Creepy Naked Guy in Your Brain

One weekend during my Neuro block last semester, while I was busy trying to figure out what the heck a heinously disproportionate and frightening naked guy named Homunculus was doing living in my brain*, my 16 year old sister, Madison, came to visit. When I mentioned that 2013, the year I have to leave school behind and get a big-kid job, seemed like light-years away she kindly reminded me that the world would be coming to abrupt end on December 21, 2012, so I shouldn’t worry about it. I pulled out my collection of notes and books from that 10-week block and decided right then and there that, should the world end in 2012, the Mayans and I would be be sitting down for a serious discussion when I caught up with them in the promised land. Someone better call Peter and Paul to make sure things don’t get outta hand…because I wanted a degree to show for all those brain wrinkles, dangit.**

At the end of that block a package arrived at my doorstep. I figured it was a goody package from my mom  (yes, my mom still sends me candy and cards and decorations and restaurant certificates for almost every, single holiday and it. is. awesome.), but it was actually a gift from my sister.
A giant, 1 pound (ONE POUND!) marshmallow brain…

with a lovely note on the back:
  “Neuro = 
  • 3 months
  • five books
  • helluva lot of studying
  • 10 billion gloves
  • and praying the world doesn’t
    end in 2012 making all of that
    worth nothing.

As far as I’m concerned, the only that could make that gift better is if a life-size marshmallow Homunculus body was stuck to the side of it. She totally gets it.

Yup, I have an awesome family and two phenomenal sisters. My other little sister, Morgan, is 15 and she just got a Twitter. You should go show her some love, I’m sure she would pee her pants if next time she got online she realized she’d gained a bunch of followers. And come on, it’s always hilarious when your younger sibling pees their pants.

*That outta bring some interesting google-search traffic to my blog.
**Medical school brain wrinkles appear at the cost of losing previously learned elementary motor skills and common sense. I mean really, do you think your doctor had that handwriting in junior high? Absolutely not. Somewhere between learning what branchial pouch the parathyroids come from and memorizing what to do should that branchial pouch fail to develop appropriately we just forget how to properly construct letters. And that, my friends, is the real reason we are switching to computerized medical records, because your future doctors no longer know their ABCs.