Listen up, Fashionistas.

Sonic Nurse (love that title) complains that scrubs for guys suck. Most scrubs for women suck, too, but I have a solution to that little problem.

It's called Ladybutton Fabrics.

Yes, yes, I know. The fabrics there are nine-fiddy a yard. You'd have to find somebody to make you the tops once you do have the fabric. But honestly, come on: where else you gonna find scrub toppable fabric with sushi on it? "Futurella" pinup girls? Women who love their appliances? Beloved sister had a sushi scrub top made for me two years ago that looks fantastic still and gets many compliments. Soon I will have *more* crazy scrubs, since it looks like LBF just got some new stuff in.

There's no excuse for being boring in your nursey suit. If your facility allows you choice in scrubs, join me. Rainbow-colored poison dart frogs are only the beginning.

Not-smart things to do

For a pretty smart chick, I sometimes do some pretty dumb stuff. Managed it again last night, when I went to a local dive with some friends. Now, no matter how good and greasy dive-bar food is, no matter how nice it is to sit next to a biker named Skillet and his dog Nanook, sometimes you need to exercise a little restraint when it comes to adventurous eating and drinking.

Those words are shocking my friends, who remember me saying things like, "Oh, look! A guy selling tamales out of his car! Let's get some!" Or stopping at every boudin shack within a hundred-mile radius. Or eating way-undercooked turkey legs proferred by toothless inbreds at VW Fests. Whatever. I'm learning slowly, in part due to Skunked Beer.

I do not know, nor do I want to know, what makes beer skunked. All I know is that I got one last night, had enough of it to realize that it was off somehow, and then thirty minutes later came down with the second- or third-worst headache I'd ever had. It's an odd sensation, sort of like having the stomach flu but without any stomach symptoms.

I'm better today thanks to liberal applications of water and ibuprofen, but I'm still feeling a little peaked.

Which leads me to a book review.

I'm reading Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything and making slow progress, not because he's a bad writer (near as I can tell he writes on every conceivable subject and makes it all understandable and fun), but because the book is so damned dense.

Still, it rates a Highly Recommended on the Nurse Jo Nonfiction Scale. He makes string theory comprehensible. I can't wait to see what he does with quasars.