Showing posts with label anal glands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anal glands. Show all posts

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Lawsuits, Professors, and Anal Glands

A friend posted a story the other day about a young woman suing her university because, she claims, she was graded unfairly in a concerted attempt to thwart her graduate degree aspirations.  In other words, she felt the professors in her graduate program didn't want her to have the degree, and so they downgraded her work and performance in order to prevent her from achieving that degree. And, in fact, they succeeded--she did not receive that degree, but another, different graduate degree which translates to lower pay and doesn't allow her to pursue the career she had desired.

My friend posted that this is why she left teaching--because students these days are whiny and entitled and don't want to do the work required for the better grades.  And I absolutely admit that does seem to be a problem in many undergraduate programs these days.  The kids are just unprepared for college, unprepared for the work required.

However, there's no way for us, the readers of a news blurb, to know if that's the case here.  The fact that the woman had completed her undergraduate work with sufficiently respectable grades to be accepted into a graduate program tells me she's not likely a whiny slacker.

When I was going to college, I had a professor who solidly disliked me.  In fact, I'd go so far as to call him disrespectful, disdainful, and almost aggressively unpleasant.  He had been only dismissive until things went south in the classroom in a big way.  You see, he came into the full classroom and declared that, because we were thieves, we could no longer be trusted to work in the lab alone, so we would now have to make appointments for lab use so he could arrange to have us "babysat" in order to prevent us from stealing anymore.  Thirty students, and he's just painted every last one of us thieves.  When asked what was missing, he said that two Skinner boxes had gone missing and, since we were the only class using the Skinner boxes, it had to be us.  No, he wasn't a very logical guy, considering that the lab was never locked and anyone could have walked in.

He was also wrong.  There were no Skinner boxes missing, and I knew it.  Because my roommate and I had been the ones to move the boxes.  See, they'd been on a table with a non-functioning electrical outlet, so we'd moved them to a table with a usable outlet so we could actually USE the boxes.

Roommate and I looked at each other and KNEW what was going on.  I asked if I could speak to him in private, but he shut me down, told me there was no way I could defend this thievery, and, unless someone came forward with the name of the culprit, he would see to it that ALL our grades suffered, with notations on ALL our records that we were thieves.  No kidding.  Yes, college.  I'd had enough.  I stood up, said, "Pardon me, Dr. M?  Mind if we just go over to the lab and take a look?"

We did.  As a class.  I walked around the room, counting the Skinner boxes.  When I got to TWELVE, I whirled around and said, "Gee, I count 12.  Are you using that fancy NEW MATH?"

He spluttered.  He stammered.  He actually suggested that someone had run in (between the time class started and that moment), returning the boxes.  I spoke over him, explained that the boxes had been moved because of the non-functioning outlet at their table.  And then I blew any shot at forgiveness.

I demanded an apology.  An apology for the whole class.

Dr. M never, ever forgave me.  Like I said, he didn't like me to start with, but now?  Now it was personal.

Margaret was in that class.  She scored lower than I did on every exam, every quiz, every assignment, and even the huge, astoundingly rough final project.  She earned a C-, based upon her individual scores.  I pulled all A grades except for an A- on the big final project.  My grade?

B-.

Now Meg called Dr. M, cried about her grade, which she feared would affect her Student Aid awards (she wasn't the only student to do that).  So he bucked her up to a B.

B!

In other words, I outscored her on every test, every assignment, but her ultimate grade was higher than mine.

When I tried to discuss the grade with Dr. M, he told me that he "graded on a curve, and sometimes things just turn out that way."  I pointed out two cases where he'd bucked up grades based upon students pleading with him, then asked how THAT affected his curve.  His answer?

"A B- is a perfectly respectable grade.  It's not as if you're grad school material."

Except grad school was exactly what I was shooting for, and he knew that.  And so he'd just smeared me with a crap grade in the most important research course in my major.

So maybe the woman with the lawsuit isn't being spoiled, petty, or trying to blame others for her laziness.  Maybe she just had a Dr. M for a professor.

Regardless, I don't think she's got a snowball's chance with this lawsuit.  See, it turns out her father is a faculty member, so her education has been free.  It's very hard to push a thing like this when the service you're suing over has been provided gratis.  I don't think that's fair, but I think that's how things usually go.

I'm reminded of a woman I know.  She had a umbilical hernia (so do I, dang it), and no insurance. The local low-income clinic referred her to a local surgeon, who, along with a local hospital, agreed to perform the surgery for free.  In addition, the doc offered to do a "tummy tuck," since he was going to be in there anyway AND because he said it would help keep the hernia from recurring.  Free tummy tuck, right?

Too bad about the free malpractice, too.  Guy tore her up inside, she wound up having to go back into surgery twice (and requiring transfusions) because she was hemorrhaging dangerously.  And then?

Then came the vicious MRSA.  She was open (with a "wound cage" and drains) for ages.  Just running pus.  This was a huge, open, weeping infection.  She had to go in for wound care, her son had to learn how to care for the wound and change out dressings.  This went on for months.  She nearly died, was left with a huge, twisted, disfiguring scar.  And when she contacted an attorney?

He told her flat out that, because she hadn't paid for the services, there was no way anyone would take her case.

Insult to injury?  The doctor and hospital then slammed her with bills--for the follow-up/MRSA care.  They argued that, while the initial surgery was free, they hadn't agreed to cover any followup care resulting from the return trips to the OR, the MRSA-related readmission to the hospital, or the months-long wound care.

So, right or wrong, I don't think the woman with the lawsuit against her alma mater has much of a chance.  Because people lose sympathy for victims when they're damaged by something they got for free.

Back to Anal glands now (I initially typoed that as "anal glads," which, I'm pretty sure, is something a little different).  See, in all the years I'd had dogs, I'd NEVER had their anal glands expressed.  And they never had a problem.  Charlie didn't have a problem.

Until the groomers expressed his anal glands.

Now?  Now every week or two, Charlie goes nutty, chewing his butt for a minute or two, and then he stinks.  Bad.  For a few minutes.  And then it's over again for a week or two.  It's like, by allowing them to do his glands (they said that, with small dogs, it's a necessity), we opened up a door to anal gland stink.  Had we just told them to leave it alone, I think we would have been fine.  So take some advice from me.  If your dog's never had an anal gland problem, don't let anyone touch those things.  Because they might just GIVE him a problem.  We're going to try adding some pumpkin (canned, not pie filling) to his diet, try to bulk up his already nicely solid stools.  That's supposed to help.

Oh, and putting "Anal Glands" in the title?  Turns out it doesn't do a thing for hits.  Not sure why that one blog entry takes so many hits.  Many of them from Russia.  It's a mystery.

Here's a picture of Charlie.  Even if he does stink sometimes now, he's adorable.


Sunday, February 3, 2013

Don't say "Anal"

Wow, lesson learned!  My blog takes "okay" hits.  A few comments here and there. Not a star (yet--share me!  Link folks up!).  I take respectable enough traffic, I suppose, but nothing spectacular, especially when it comes to folks leaving feedback.

With one notable exception.

Back in September of 2012, I wrote an entry titled "Anal Glands, Huh?"  About my dog's grooming experience.  That entry?  Has taken ten + times the hits most of my others have garnered, and has raked in dozens of spam messages.  Dozens.

So, I guess there's a lesson there.  Put the word "Anal" in my titles more often . . . and keep those comments moderated.  Laws, yes.

We watched Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince on Blu-Ray last night.  Not the first time, of course.  In the lead-in, there is an advert for a remastered version of the The Wizard of Oz.  Hubby, who hates that show, was completely captured because Toto looks SO much like Charlie.  So  now he wants to rent it.  LOL!

Well, our boy tested for his yellow belt in Hapkido last night.  The only one of the white belts to be invited to do so.  The others?  One is much newer, and the others have pretty abysmal attendance and participation records.  So it was just our boy for the yellows (others were testing for yellow-black (degree), red, and brown.

I haven't seen him at Hapkido in months.  I've avoided it because I felt I was making him nervous.  I wanted this to be his to do without any perceived pressure or self-consciousness.

Needless to say, I was floored by him.  So much he has committed to memory, so much he is daring to do.  He made no mistakes, he was wonderful.  And he even broke a couple of boards, one with a hand strike, one with a kick.

I am super-proud of him.  He managed to memorize his Korean, and did an all-around fantastic job.  Even the husband of the new red belt took a moment to tell us how very well he was doing for a first belt test.

Of course, it's not his first belt test.  It's just his first REAL one.  This was so much more involved and serious and demanding than the self defense martial arts he loved so much so many years ago.  This was real.  Absolutely.

I wrote a review of my amazing, magical, wondrous new keyboard of joy and perfection.  Here it is:

Logitech K800

Making more candles tonight.  Blue, this time, with a wonderful mahogany/sandalwood scent in palm wax.  Figuring out the amazing crystal formations you see with the palm.  I'll post some pics when they're done.

Updated to say "they're done."


Loving the crystalline gig with the blue ones (palm wax)


Speaking of candles. we ordered from a company called Candlewic, based in Doylestown, PA (very close to the town of Perkasie we were eyeing when first looking to move back east).  Found them online, only to later discover they're the same company as "Country Lane Candle Supplies," which stocks most of the mega-craft stores around here.  The shipping charges are steep (as they seem to be with most of the candle places we've looked at), so we made sure to order everything we wanted.  When the order came, the shipping receipt stated that the patchouli scent was on back-order.  Okay, fair enough.  But then, a day after delivery, I get an email telling me that the patchouli was out of stock, is NOT on back-order, and I won't be receiving it when it comes back in stock--I can reorder then.  Translation?

They want to nail me for another 12 bucks or so in shipping on a $2.75 product.

I responded to their email, told them that wasn't okay--I want the patchouli, my packing receipt states it's on back-order, and I want it shipped.  They ignored my email, did not respond, did not do as I asked, and refunded my card.

No more orders through Candlewic.  Way to blow it, kids.  Not that they likely care--they appear to be a very large company, and very large companies tend to let customer service take back seat to making a few extra bucks.

So our next order--some soy wax, a few scents (including the patchouli), and a few molds--went to a smaller company.  When the order comes, I'll let you know how it went.

I promised some amazing bad paneling, and fully intend to deliver tonight!  A HUGE thanks to Leif, who has kindly given permission for me to search his archive of awful in search of prime examples bad paneling!

Perfectly awful--blond paneling AND dead fish!

And a quick little note, just for a special guy in my world--don't argue Australian crime statistics with me in support of weakening gun control laws and then quote the NCPA to my BMJ.  Like the Kochs and Carl Rove are going to give me a fair, unbiased analysis.  Goodness, no wonder you can't think.



Sunday, September 16, 2012

Anal Glands, huh?

I've had dogs all my life.  And while I've heard of anal glands, and I've read up on how to drain them and how to identify signs that a dog is having anal gland issues, fact is, not one of my dogs has ever had an obvious anal gland problem.  No butt scraping and dragging, no . . . anything.  I've had dogs live as long as 16+ years, and never once had their anal glands drained.  I'm not sure what that means.  Perhaps I've just lucked out.

Today is Charlie's first time to be professionally groomed.  In fact, it's the first time any dog I've ever owned has been professionally groomed.  I hand strip/pluck his back, so they'll only be doing legs, butt, head, feet (including claws) and, yes, anal glands.  Have fun with that Charlie!  I'll be sure to post before and after pictures.

Of Charlie's head, not his anal glands.

They've had our poor, excitable boy for over three hours now.  I hope he's not giving them grief.  I hope they didn't cut his ear off.

Charlie will be one year old on the fourh of October.  We've been here for a year and a week.  Seems only yesterday.

And they just called--off we go to get our Charlie-dog!



Charlie, pre-grooming


Charlie, post-grooming


Honestly?  Not all that much of a difference, and a little choppy around the face.  But his claws look better, his ears look neater, and his anal glands have been handled by someone other than me.  The groomers said he was very well-behaved, polite, and stood perfectly for him, even with face and nails.  What a good boy, he got a new Kong toy for being such a sweetie!