Death... Poop... What's Your Poison?

I had my first long night of classes yesterday and found out that I do not, in fact, have my Assholey But Crushable (henceforth referred to as ABC) Anatomy instructor this semester. This is probably a good thing as I will get to avoid the discordant medley of swooning and then angrily berating myself during four hours-worth of class.

And yet, somehow I was a tad bit sad. Color me masochistic.

Our new Anatomy & Physiology instructor is a bizarre little fireball of a blond woman whose brain meanders with an incoherence remarkably akin to my own. Her attitude towards learning is a bit intimidating (this is good), but she cracks my shit up--I have not laughed so hard and consistently in a while. Her bizarre comments will be finding a place in my sidebar to replace ye old insane Ethics instructor, no doubt, and this time they're shared with love, not bitterness.

Oh, and she giggled when she referred to a bony structure as a "horny protuberance," so I suspect I shall enjoy her.

My current A&P instructor discussing my ABC Anatomy instructor's obsession with all things death-related:

"He talks about death. I talk about poop. Death... Poop... What's your poison?"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Continuing A&P Quote Collection:

"He talks about death. I talk about poop. Death... Poop... What's your poison?"

"Fissures! They're the cracks around your anus!"

"Cells! Make you wanna yell! ...
I's just kiddin'.""