Doctor Who?

So, hello out there. I...am a bad blogger. You have no idea how tragic this is. I love blogs. I read a lot of them. If you have a blog then chances are I read it. And so it was with great confidence that I began this blog to tell all the fabulous stories of my life. And then never ever ever wrote in it. I mean really, cake quizzes? This isn't myspace people. And so in an effort to increase my blog output (which I know, the demand for that is like, so high) lets introduce a new segment I like to call....



"PICK A CAREER FOR HANNAH THAT WILL INCLUDE COOL OUTFITS AND HEALTH INSURANCE AND HOPEFULLY A GOOD DENTAL PLAN AT LEAST UNTIL A WEALTHY BENEFACTOR SHOWS UP AND WHISKS HER AWAY TO A LIFE OF LUXURY JUST LIKE IN PRETTY WOMAN EXCEPT FOR NOT BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE RICHARD GERE AND I DON'T BELIEVE IN PROSTITUTION!"



(I'm working on a slightly pithier title)



Once upon a time I went to college. I stayed there for eight thousand years. They gave me a degree. At the end of this lengthy and expensive (though not as expensive as it could have been thank you public school system!) process I still have to decide what to be when I grow up. Here is a list of possibilities I've come up with so far:



1) Writer
2) Doctor
3) Retro type diner owner
4) Sleuth
5) CIA Agent
6) Astronaut
7) Lawyer
8) Zoologist
9) Vigilante
10) Matlock
11) Rock star
12) Computer Hacker
13) Computer Hero, or rather the Anti-Hacker
14) Counselor
15) Artist



Lets explore some of these possibilities shall we?



Career: Doctor

Outfit: Authoritative Lab coat, comfortable scrubs in traditional blue or in trademark Addison pink. Stethoscope. (This would be a good place for me to include a photoshopped picture of myself on a doctor's body, but I am not gifted in the ways of photoshop, plus that would mean I spent way too much time on this post.)
Projected Earnings: Um, lots. Lets pretend I’m a surgeon. Surgeon's make the most yeah?
Location: Oh, lets see, it could be anywhere, Chicago, Seattle, Los Angeles, New Jersey, I might even start out in New York but end up in a small mountain town in Colorado where I open up a free clinic and try to make sense of life in the face of death and tragedy. Possibly even frontier style.
Excitement factor: Extremely high. Can’t you just imagine me all dolled up in surgical scrubs, asking my trusty scrub nurse Grace to please get me more suction because unless I find the source of the bleeding this man is going to die! I need a thoracodomy tray! And a scalpel! And SUCTION, GRACE! FOR THE LOVE OF PETE GET ME MORE SUCTION!

Best Part: Hmm there’s a lot to work with, the money, the prestige, the sweet possibility of impromptu musicals, but probably getting to see George Clooney around the office everyday.
Worst Part: The fact that George left the show in 1999. Also Medical School.
Projected Outcome: I would start out pretty strong but would quickly lose steam thanks to the lack of sleep. This would cause me to no longer blow dry my hair causing it to lose luster and shine. Unwilling to cope with this loss I start experimenting with different chemical compounds, eventually coming out with my own line of hair care products, which naturally leads to a show on Bravo. But lets be honest, that fame would go right to my head and before I know it I would develop some sort of addiction, most likely cheese. After a rapid decline my other attractive and well coifed friends would have an intervention for me and send me to a star studded rehab center. There I would form an alliance with Britney and Lindsey, vowing to take charge of our lives and change for the better. After swearing off the sauce Lindsey goes to back to school and eventually gets a prestigious fellowship at Harvard for her work in the field of Genetics. After a few classes and a couple of long heart to hearts with Madonna, Britney figures out the whole parenting thing and is able to restart her career. Unwilling to leave her children to go on tour she opens the Britney Spear’s School of Pop, for kids who want to learn how to sing good and how to do other things good too. At the ribbon cutting ceremony a man has a heart attack...or um, like, stops breathing. You know. Something medical. And I SAVE HIM! Which reminds me of my original ambitions to be the worlds greatest cardiologist...or respiratory surgeon. Whatever, the important thing is that George and I totally make out in the end.

Tune in next week to see what life would be like if I was Matlock!