Is it wrong to take a hit out on my dentist?

I’ve been dealing with the whole broken tooth thing. The “temporary” they put on it is small, so it looks a bit odd (Captain Clueless calls me baby tooth) – but my dentist was being cautious and didn’t want me to break off more of the remaining tooth until he got it all fixed up. While I was dealing with this, I figured I might as well get my other 3 veneers replaced. They are supposed to last 8 to 10 years, mine were pushing 20. (If you don’t know what a veneer is read here. I fall in the ‘small gap tooth’ category.)

I went to the dentist at 7 fucking a.m. expecting to get my permanent crown on my “baby tooth” and I expected a chemical/tool combo of some sort to get rid of the old veneers, to be replaced by temps until the new ones came in. Then off to work I’d go.

My first warning should have been when the assistant asked if I wanted novocain. “Will I need it?” I stupidly asked. “Oh yeah,” she replied.

My 2 front teeth (top) are mine. Two on each side of those are veneered (one of those is the broke ass one.) The novocain went into the very sensitive gum line in the top front of my mouth. I’m not a wimpy person but these fucking shots made me cry. I don’t wear waterproof mascara, so there went ‘blackish brown’ streaks down my temples. This should have been a warning, but no, I sucked it up and carried on.

The sadistic bastard then drilled off the veneers and god knows what else. I felt most of it. I really wished I’d gotten nitrous at this point, but I didn’t want to seem like a pussy so I soldiered on. After 30 minutes of this shit, they tell me they have to insert rods or some such bullshit in my gums. I thought I was too far gone to care.

I was wrong. This shit was bad. It was worse than the pain when my knee bent in the wrong direction. My hands were clenched together to keep from punching him in the face. And his cute little assistant. More tears. Somehow I survived it. Then the CLA and another S&M bitch start taking molds. Two of them (green) had to be left in 5 minutes to set. My bottom lip sealed to one of them and when CLA tried to pull it out I almost lost it. I carefully peeled my lip off of it and allowed her to proceed. The next time (with the whole fat, numb upper lip and everything) I had drool dripping down all over my chin. Wonderful.

Now, the S&MB starts taking molds for my temps. My gums are already swollen to twice their normal size, and my upper lip at least four times. She says ‘We don’t normally put temps on for veneers, but I guess you wanted them. (no shit) They’re going to be very fragile so you should avoid biting into things and nothing chewy. The veneers are made in Florida so it will be about 3 weeks for them to come in.” WTF??? Ok, I’m a positive person (NOT) so I thought, maybe this will help me lose weight.

Luckily I stopped in their bathroom on the way to the receptionist. I cleaned up the mascara mess. And the remains of the green molding stuff that was all over my face. The streak under my nose that looked like a booger was a pleasant bonus. AND the baby tooth is still a fucking baby tooth. Then I charged you don’t even want to know how much on my Capital One card for this. Am I the one with a problem??

Back in the car, I tried to take a drink of water and it dribbled all over the front of me. Then I tried to smoke, but couldn’t get my fat upper lip to cooperate. So I said fuck this and stopped at a donut shop and bought an apple fritter that was as big as a dinner plate and a chocolate donut (I so deserved both.)

While some of my twisted co-workers may have enjoyed my completely trashed state, I said fuck it and went home with my donuts. I emailed my boss that I was FUBAR for the day and snarfed donuts and chocolate milk (through a straw stuffed to the back of my mouth.) When the novocain wore off I dosed myself with vicoden the rest of the day.

When I go back for the rest of the dental work, I am so demanding nitrous. I don’t care what they say, I already paid an arm and two legs so at least I should get a good buzz out of this shit.

Where the hell have I been?

I have many stories to tell, a dentist visit from hell, 746 jello shots, cripes it's been some week. I had a really witty post all written up and ready to publish the other night but the damn maintenance ate it (thanks Google!) Now I'm exhausted (and surprisingly sober) so I have nothing better to leave you than this gem from my dear mother, titled Redneck Seafood Dinner. I've never been a calamari fan myself, but I know Jeanne loves it!

Ass Drag Monday

I know, I can't believe it's already Monday again. Someone really needs to do something about this shit. Well, since it's here, and so are you, here is another totally worthless Monday post.

Some have noticed that I changed my "photo." The pic of Teri Polo was not cutting it. She looked so wholesome, and, well, nice. Slowly, the picture started getting on my nerves every time I saw it. I mean, she doesn't even look like someone I would hang out with. Eventually, after viewing it so often, I wanted to kick her ass (not just for the photo, did you see Meet the Fockers? That's roughly 2 hours of my life I will never get back.)

So I started looking through my photos trying to find a replacement. One thing, I hate getting my picture taken. Most of the photos were horrible, maybe since most were taken by my supposed friends while out partying (re: wasted.) Or by my dad when he was in his 'photography' phase, which also happened to be in the 80's. You can imagine the hair and make-up. Really. Because I'm not showing you.

I found a few where I was turned away from the camera. However, I also happened to be flipping the bird in all of them. For my own page that would be one thing. But for it to show everytime I leave comments just seemed rude.

Then I found one of a mooning in progress. I couldn't determine if I was pulling up or dropping down and it wasn't a full moon. As Captain Clueless would say, just the coin slot was hanging out. Butt (hahaha,) that seemed only slightly less rude than the finger, and I have that whole 'internet perv' fear thing going on.

So I settled for taking a photo of a few of my bad habits. Marlboro's. Billiards (why is this a bad habit? My dad forbid me from hanging out in pool halls as a teen so I figure he thought there was something wrong with it. Obviously I don't take well to being forbidden because that's where I was ALL THE TIME.) And the drink. What's in it? Well, I will leave it for you to imagine your favorite just-add-cola potion. Because really, what booze won't I drink?

Ambushed

I woke up this morning to more snow, so I decided I should go out and clear the driveway. Lo and behold, I get outside and it’s a veritable heat wave. A whole 21° F! After finishing my chore and trudging back inside, the general informs me that Q called and we’ve been given a top secret mission. No one is supposed to know, but posing as my butler is just one of his cover jobs. Being a matter of national security and all, I know you won’t tell anyone.

I had my suspicions that this mission was just a ruse. But I was also aware that stir-crazy was on the verge of morphing into just plain crazy and if he didn’t get some outdoor time I might be smothered in my sleep.

The general and I head out into the frozen tundra. We got visuals on some old tracks, but no active signs of life.

The general beat the brush and bank looking for furred or feathered enemies to scare the bejeepers out of, all to no avail.

About a mile and a half into our mission we came across a suspicious looking ridge in the distance. “Hmm,” I say to the general, “there’s never been a ridge in this area. And there’s no snow on it.” He agrees that it’s odd.

We go into stealth mode to investigate. As we get close we realize we had stumbled upon an entire battalion of enemy troops! (And me still with no gak.)

I don’t know if they were tipped off by jingling dog tags, or a reflection off my spy cam but they suddenly split forces and beat a hasty retreat.
Some went to the other side of the partially frozen river, others remained in the sky.
The general diligently searched the abandoned camp site for clues of their nefarious plans.

“It’s a trap!” I screamed to the general, “They’ve circled back around to flank us. Retreat, retreat!” We hauled ass back to the bunker, barely escaping with our lives. The general is still on duty, making sure that none of those dirty birds followed our tracks back to the safe house. “Ruse indeed,” he snorts as I meekly go about my duties.

Have you seen my dancing slippers?

Once upon a time there was the ‘Season’ in which Lords and Ladies spent hours getting dressed in their finest frippery and stayed out dancing until dawn. And then slept until noon the next day, because really, what else did they have to do besides eat, drink and be merry? My own season is about to start, but it’s a slight bit more common.

What season is it? Of course, it is the whirlwind of softball fund-raisers. It starts out with, if you come to ours, we’ll come to yours. Next thing I know every weekend I will be traipsing out in freezing ass weather to eat bad fish, soggy fries and all the draft beer I could want. Do you know how you feel the day after drinking all the draft beer you could want? Let’s just say I’ll be spending enough time in my bathroom to start contemplating new color schemes for it (again.)

These things tend to be held in drafty halls, which means I will have to wear something reasonably warm. As if I don’t feel fat enough I get to pile on a couple of layers to keep from getting frost bite. There aren’t even flowers, a band or candle light to hide your flaws. Just smelly fish, bad PA systems and harsh fluorescents. Eventually the beer and (they better have) jello shots will kick in and I won’t care so much.

I wanted to rest up for tonight, the first big opener. But I had to get up at some unholy hour to go to the hospital and have some tests run. I tried to nap this afternoon but people kept stopping by and calling on the phone. I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t my butler turn all of these people away? He just barked and barked adding to the general chaos. Good help is so hard to find these days.

The best I can hope for is to win a really good door prize, because I always lose my ass at the gaming tables. Now I have a little over an hour to get ready so I had better go. After all, I still need to track down my corset and have the maid dress my hair.

F@#$%$! up the rules again

I got this lovely award from Debra. I was supposed to list 10 honest (ah hem) things about myself and pass the award on to 7 others. Now, I don't have all that many contacts in the blogger community yet. So you're gettin' the list and if anyone else wants to participate feel free to steal it here and pass it on. Is this against blog etiquette? Is there blog etiquette? Here's a honest freebie for you, I wouldn't care if there was...

1. I download both mine and my husband’s ipod music on my PC. None of the Kelly Clarkson is mine. Neither is the Shania Twain. Draw your own conclusions.

2. I lie about watching Oprah. You know, when the girls are all talking about ‘Oh, you’re so lucky when you work from home you can watch Oprah’ or ‘Did you see the Oprah episode about countries that love fat women?’ I nod and smile. Hell, I can remember her talk show on TV when I was young enough to earn my income from babysitting. Besides, she is on at the same time as Ellen. And Ellen friggin' cracks me up.

3. If my dog needed a kidney and I was a match, I would give it to him.

4. If I stopped highlighting my hair I would have a large swath of gray front and slightly off center. So I will never stop highlighting, and come on, everyone knows in the movies the woman with the streak of gray hair in her bangs is a total psycho bitch.

5. I play Grand Theft Auto. I haven’t yet whipped out a gak and started blowing people away but that might be because I don’t have a gak. Also the newest one is really annoying because by the time you beat down 2 random people on the street and take their money the cops are all over your ass.

6. When I was younger I was so skinny that people joked about my hip bones sticking out farther than my boobs. Now I'm just trying to keep my stomach from sticking out farther than my boobs.

7. I cuss like a sailor. My friends are amazed that while at work I can somehow censor out all of the fucks but when I’m around their kids they keep slipping out. I’m trying, really. Maybe they should make their kids carry around blackberry’s and dress in suits…

8. I’ve seen KISS in concert twice. Once with make-up and once without (them. I was made up like a total slut.) And I think I actually remembered the words to 3 of their songs.

9. I love horror movies. The really scary, gory ones. After seeing The Ring, The Grudge and Bogeyman that PG-13 shit is banned in my household.

10. I am the coolest person I know. My husband thinks he is the coolest person I know. And that’s just one of the many reasons he is so lovably clueless.

Whew, that was tough. I think I need a drink...

Random thoughts

It's been a slow week. I had a phone chat with Mini-J earlier, pretty much all I got out of it was 'hi aunt hoodchick', 'blah blah poopie blah blah blah' and 'see you later.' I tried to clarify the poopie part, but he wasn't giving out details.

I did get an award, which says I have to list 10 honest things about myself. It may take me a while to come up with this list of things but I will give it a try. In my mind I am still debating the nuances of honest.

Now I'm missing American Idol. I resisted this show for the first several seasons but even the best of us falls (and I dig David Cook) so I'll leave you with the shortest psychiatric joke I know (so you might get a laugh out of this wasted post:)
A man walks into a psychiatrist's office wearing nothing but saran wrap. The doctor says 'I can clearly see your nuts.'