What Am I Still Doing Here?

When reviewing my entries for last week, I was proud to see that Hey! I posted five days in a row! I totally need do to that again! So yesterday afternoon I slaved over a post that was intended to honor Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, but the Internet was acting wonky and I forgot to copy and paste the text into Word before hitting "Publish" so I ended up losing the whole damn thing. Which is OK with me in the end, because the post was fine, but it didn't feel like ME. So here is something more ME. Crap! In the form of chunky paragraphs without transitions!

Friday

The BMV mix-up was resolved in eight minutes, with profuse apologizing on behalf of the branch. It was implanting my post that took an hour and a half, what with my sobbing hysterically every time the drill attempted to secure the metal screw through my bone. It all started on Wednesday, when I accompanied Luke to have four cavities filled (because the HSA debit card is in my name and practitioners like to be compensated for their work) and warned both the doctor and hygenist about my tendency to get a tad "anxious" in the chair, suggesting it would benefit all parties involved to nail a nitrous oxide mask to my face for the entire procedure. The doctor just laughed and assured me I wouldn't feel any pain, he'd thoroughly numb the area and anyway bones don't have nerves so I shouldn't feel a thing.

I laughed, too, and didn't give it much thought until Friday morning, when they called me in after a thirty-minute wait, during which I reflected on the hell I experienced in Rensselaer when they attached a permanent crown to my badly cracked tooth and thought once again that nitrous would best calm my ultra-sensitive nerves. And once again, I was silenced with promises of no pain. It wasn't until the doctor had pumped my gums with Novocaine three times in an effort to stop my hysterical chest heaves that he began to second-guess his decision, but it was too late. I was afraid of the drill and the size of the screw, and everyone's attempts to comfort me just resulted in more tears because being the center of attention when I'm upset is embarrassing, and when I'm embarrassed, I cry, and the vicious cycle repeats itself until I'm home, where I can unabashedly surrender to my hysteria and then move on with my life. Until I remember all the caring and sympathy and cry again.

The doctor called me at home later that afternoon, when the pain had turned into a dull, bearable throbbing, and apologized for the miscommunication; a nice touch on his part, and I hung up feeling pretty good about the whole situation, soothing myself with the knowledge that I had a six-week time frame before my next appointment, during which I could pray for selective amnesia.

Saturday

Molly of Lost A Sock fame and I joined forces to drive to Chicago and attend Dawnie's 27th birthday bash at Dave and Buster's, marketed as Chuck E. Cheese for adults. Dawn and I "met" each other through a CD swap organized last spring and have been e-mailing back and forth since then, but this was our first meeting, not to mention MY first time meeting a blogger in real life, so by the time we parked Molly's Ford Explorer (an adventure in its own right) and made our way through the crowd to find Dawn and her friends, I was ready to wet myself.

There wasn't much time to talk, but it was a fun night. Hopefully we can do it again before BlogHer. Also, don't you like how Molly and I used mental telepathy to coordinate our outfits?

 

I risked my life to take this photo by pretending I wanted a shot of Molly scoring tickets from Pirate's Revenge, but it was totally worth it because this woman looked like she'd had one too many Appletinis and was concentrating harder than a gambler in a Las Vegas casino. She must've been sitting in front of that "Wheel of Fortune" station for at least thirty minutes. Of course, Molly and I dropped twenty bucks apiece at the Skeeball lanes (where we almost had to rumble with a couple of bitches who claimed we were taking their place in line, even though they were gabbing it up a good five feet away), so who am I to judge?

WARNING: the following two paragraphs contain spoilers for 24. Fans not in the know should proceed at their own risk.

Sunday

The first two hours of 24's season premiere. I spent most of it yelling at the television because after six years, don't these people know Jack's super powers can't be thwarted by a twenty-month stint in a Chinese prison? Watching him bite flesh off a terrorist's neck was pretty disgusting, but I nearly lost it when the Muslim American teenager labeled a terrorist by some hillbilly redneck actually turned out to be a terrorist, causing me to change my Gmail chat tagline from "Tragic Love Friday: now with more tragedy" to "Twenty Flop." Way to break down ethnic stereotypes, FOX.

Monday

Two more hours of 24. Two more hours of yelling at the TV and lamenting Curtis's totally out-of-character personality change and subsequent death. However, the nuclear explosion was cool, so I changed my Gmail tagline to "Twenty Forgivable."

I also lost a crown while brushing my teeth.

I got the crown in June 2004; the following January I received a root canal on the same tooth, which is how the hole started (he had to go through the crown to get to the nerve), until it got bigger and bigger and eventually it was so big I could feel it with my tongue. My dentist and I had previously talked about replacing it since the hole leaves the tooth underneath susceptible to decay, so I'm not heartbroken, just baffled as to why the crown chose MLK Day to make the break.

Tuesday

As soon as I finish this sentence, I'm going to the dentist so he can make the crown situation all better; I could've left an hour ago but didn't want to go another minute without updating this blog. I'm nothing if not dedicated. And stupid.

Comments

[TasterSpoon]

That's a pretty blingy crown.

[Katie]

Let this be a lesson to never brush your teeth!!

[Molly]

I spent ten minutes trying to figure out what the black thing was at the bottom of my sweater. Then I remembered that typepad is the bomb diggity and opened a larger picture in a new window. (New fangled technology...) It's the handle to the little plastic elephant guy. Problem solved.

I also think you should attach that tooth to a chain and wear it as a necklace. You'd be a new and improved cave woman.

That's all I've got.

[Isabel]

Hooray for you and Molly meeting a blogger. (Looks like a fun night!)

Here's to BlogHer 2007!!!!

[mjd]

Oh no, back to the dentist so soon... I am glad that you have posted about the party as I missed hearing about the fun details in person.

[Luke]

I think your new crown should have an embossed "F" on it. Word.

[jenabeeb]

The place you guys went looks like fun!

Can I guess at something? Did you have to look up how to spell Novocaine, and then copy and paste it in your entry? Because I just looked at it and thought, I never could have spelled that if I didn't look it up. Or perhaps you are JUST. THAT. SMART!! ;)

[Stacey]

Oh, your poor teeth! My gums tingled just reading about your adventures in the dentist's chair.

[Erika]

Can they give you a prescription for valium or something before you go? That's what my mom has to do for anything more than a cleaning. I too have had a dentist-chair freakout but luckily my father was nearby (I was in college)!

[Brittany]

Frema!! Greetings from a long-lost blogger!! I'm back in business and catching up on all of my blog reading while the wee one sleeps.

I was totally going to tell you to string your crown to a chain and wear it as a necklace, but Molly beat me to it, so now I think you should have a contest and offer your crown as the prize (ok, maybe not... but think about it).

[Art Nerd]

Skeeball!! I love Skeeball so much, and love to whoop my husband's butt at it even more!!

Sorry about your dental woes. I had to take my mom to get a root canal last night. What is it about dentists' offices that smell that way? I've been in to see about 4 different dentists in my life, all with that weird novocaine-y, rubbery, spitty smell.

I'm sorry, I'm done!!

[VirginiaGal]

At least you don't get hysterical enough to vomit on yourself at a doc-in-the-box when you've snipped into the fleshy part of your finger while trimming shrubs and are bleeding like a stuck pig. That's really embarassing (and smelly, and gross, etc.). Not that I would know or anything...

I'm sorry you had to return to the dentist so quickly after the last episode. Hope you were able to go straight back, so as to avoid the whole "sitting and thinking about it" buildup. Novocaine doesn't help that kind of pain.

[Silly Hily]

You act like Chuck E Cheeze is for kids or something? Is it? Cause I totally run around that place like I own it. And I love me some Wheel of Fortune games so I would have had to ask that lady to go pass out somewhere else. That is, after I had a few drinks myself to have to nerve to tell her to move.

[Elizabeth]

What a terrible dentist ordeal! I hope hope hope that I never have to have anything like that done. I hope your crown turns out to be a more pleasant experience.

I saw 24 on Sunday, but not Monday due to some whacked-out VCR debacle that only recorded the sound and NOT the picture. I totally agree with you, it's JACK people! If the blasted terrorist told him that info, of course he's going to free himself by doing something outlandish and then try to get in touch with CTU. I bet he is so sick of them not listening to him.