Okay, I’ve come to the conclusion that I SUCK lately; at least as a blogger. I had two poems and a handful of other songs that I wanted to come back and post yesterday, but time just got away from me… again. In my defence, I am sick – damn kids! – and I’ve got a million and one little tasks on my agenda right now (mostly annoying and somewhat mundane things like sorting 2 ½ TB of computer files). Alas, it is what it is. I have some things to do this morning, and than I will try to find some time to devote (exclusively) to my blog and – of course – catching up on all of yours. Before I do anything, I’m going to leave you with a song and a confession…
Now, rewatching this video makes me greatly question my own libido, but I must plead guilty to having had a major crush on Billy Idol for more than half of my life. This crush remained incredibly strong until the point when I became addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (wow, why stop at one embarrassing confession?) and replaced Idol in my fantasies with James Marsters. Yes, I am a special girl.
Dancing With Myself – Billy Idol
I’m not really having the greatest day. Not that I’m having a terrible day or anything… just not a fantastic one. The entire right side of my face is frozen, I have a split lip, and I’m pretty sure I’m doing the Billy Idol sneer, though I haven’t bothered to consult a mirror as of yet.
They always over-freeze me when I have work done at the dentist; it’s not that I require extra freezing, it just takes longer to work in many members of my family – for whatever reason. They never seem willing to listen to this logic though, and always end up giving me five or six shots when two or three would probably suffice. Since I’ll start feeling the gaping hole in my jaw when the freezing really starts to fade, however, I’m oddly okay with the overdose today.
I had a wisdom tooth out, you see. This is my third of the four to be abstracted. Originally the plan was to have them all taken at once, but apparently my teeth are very stubborn, and the ones that I’ve had taken already took nearly three hours (a piece) to extract. I have asked around… I’m pretty sure this is not freakin normal! According to my dentist it has something to do with the way my nerves or roots (or something) have bonded with my jaw. You know what else is not normal, while I’m on the subject, is the fact that two out of three people I know who have had wisdom teeth extracted have been put under for the procedure… why the hell can’t I have that?
Anyways, sorry, I got away from the point. What was the point? Oh yes…
My appointment started at nine this morning, and ended at about a quarter to twelve. I’m starving and I can’t eat; I’m dying for a smoke, and I can’t smoke. Well… I’m not supposed to smoke, but I’m seriously thinking I’m not going to play by that rule much longer since I’m getting crabbier by the minute.
I had a piece I wanted to work on this morning – naively thinking that this tooth extraction wasn’t going to be as bad as the last (my dentist PROMISED it wouldn’t be, but he said that the time before too… liar, liar pants on fire!!!), but now I find myself completely uninterested in a) sitting at my computer, and b) concentrating on anything specific.
When I got home, I wasn’t even going to sit down here but I really don’t want to get into the habit of missing posts; once I let that happen, it could start a whole trend with me and I don’t like that idea; so I thought I’d just sit down and ramble/rant about my morning before I wonder off to do something other…
Why do dentists talk to you while they’re working? I mean, they have their freakin hands in your freakin mouth; it’s not like you can answer them. Don’t get me wrong, I like having friendly dentists and all, but seriously… what do you want from me? I can only “mmph glub garble blah” so many times before I want explode their heads with the power of my mind. That doesn’t work by the way, I’ve tried.
The dentist’s assistant; sweet girl, I get her all the time and I like her a lot; wants to ask me kid related questions – since she knows I have kids – while doctor giggles is using some gawd awful appliance to wiggle-yank on my tooth. At least, that’s what I think was going on; I close my eyes while I’m having oral work done because there are still some things in this life that I’m a total wuss about, and the medieval torture device looking gadgets in a dentists office are definitely one of those things.
So anyway, I’m laying back with my eyes closed feeling enough pressure in my jaw to make me assume the dentist has decided to remove all of my teeth for shits and giggles, and his assistant is cheerily asking me about good movies to take an eight year old to see this weekend, and if I think a girl that age would be interested in getting a manicure.
At first I’m doing my part to try to mumble a response around the dentist’s hands, “glum bumble blegan glop,” and she’s trying to guess at what I’m saying. She was way off by the way… you’d figure dentists who like to talk to their patients would be better at translating mumbo-jumbo, but they usually kind of suck at it. After awhile I start thinking the whole thing’s a game – I’d probably do the same thing to keep myself amused after all, just mess with people for the hell of it – so I give up on trying to actually answer and just start making random noises so it sounds like I’m still involved in the conversation.
Then the damn dentist looses his grip on whatever tool he’s trying to rearrange my mouth with, and his hand jerks as he bashes my upper lip with something – still not sure what it is, I refused to look. Beautiful! A lovely split lip to go with my Billy Idol sneer. And oh, mmm, even more blood for me to choke on – thanks doc.
He mumbles, “Oops,” and then goes right back to wiggle-yanking.
At this point I’m thinking about how much I’d like to have a turn at his mouth with those tools. I try not to be a nasty person; I try not to have too many violent thoughts; but I’m not going to pretend there aren’t times when I’m perfectly okay with giving into my darker fantasies. At that moment I was rather enjoying the mental-movie of the doc strapped down, and me hovering over him doing my best impersonation of Steve Martin from Little Shop of Horrors.
Fortunately, the tooth finally came loose not long after that. Then there was that weird whatever they hell they do after – I think they’re plucking out nerves or something, or at least that’s what it feels like; I usually try not to hear too much of what they say they’re doing while they’re doing it since the language in a dentist’s office can be damn near as daunting as those horrid looking tools they use. He puts in a few stitches, smiles and writes me a prescription for something I’ll never bother to fill out; I don’t take pain killers unless it’s absolutely necessary, and yet doctors and dentists are always trying to overmedicate me for some reason. The more I object to the heavy drugs, the heavier they seem to prescribe me; I was once prescribed oxycontin for a very minor toothache, and I still don’t remember five or six hours of my life because of that crazy crap.
Anyway, I say “thank you” as we’re saying our goodbyes. I don’t know why I always say thank you to the dentist; it seems weird to thank someone who’s just tortured you for nearly three hours; but I do. I’m polite like that. I book the appointment for my final extraction for the end of the month –despite wanting to put it off for six months to forever – and escape into the somewhat decent day beyond.
My littlest one was with my sister while I was in the torture chamber; they’re waiting for me when I stroll out; and I open the car of her door and get smacked in the senses with the stench of vomit; Kara (I think that’s what we called my little’un last time) is not feeling well. She starts crying, “mommy, mommy… snuggle” as soon as she sees me, but then she takes a better look at my face; the split lip and Idol sneer; cheers up a bit and tells me I look like a monster. Kids are sweet, aren’t they?
Anyway, I’m home now, so YAY! I’m not in much pain yet, but I can feel the agony working up to something special, and I’m feeling more than a little sick to my stomach; probably from all the blood I’ve swallowed. Disorganized as it may be, this will quite likely be my one and only post of the day, and I don’t even think I’m going to get to any blog reading… sorry, I’ll catch up tomorrow. I’m going to go lay down with Kara, snuggle up and watch some T.V. or something. Have a good one folks.