Barely, I am emerging from my post-election depression. To celebrate, I spent quite a while at the dentist. Woo, fucking, hoo, I’m all about living large and sucking life’s marrow.
It was my first visit, since the ugly poisoning episode. The plus side of bleach keeping my throat its whitest white, and the thrill of the afterburn, appears to be two-fold.
One, they are bending over backwards to be the nicest, bestest dentists around with me their star patient. The senior dentist guy came in to the room to say “hi” and make sure I was comfortable. Later, he came in to assist with filling my broken tooth nub. (I now have a tooth that looks more metal than tooth; nice and gangsta-style, only it’s silver not gold. It kind of looks like that James Bond villain, Jaws.)
Secondly, it looks like I might get some bucks off the final crown (the part of the crown that exceeds insurance). So, yeah, bring it on, and torture me, just so long as I get a bargain.
I still feel a little weird that I helped lose a chick her job. Apparently, she didn’t leave gently into the night and accused the dentist of overselling her role in the murder attempt. I was there, and I know she could have been a whole lot more attentive to, I dunno, her job and me, the victim. But, nonetheless, on the karma front, as a recent statistic in the job losing field myself, it doesn’t feel great.
(They told me she got a job across the street from their office at the Greek take-out place. That little detail kept me from getting the Greek Salad and/or wrap I was planning on buying post-cavity plugging. Bleach and feta, the new white.)
In other news, helping a bit with the Bush-winning blues, is the power of the Internet. The subject of a couple posts reached out over the virtual world. Besides reminding me that not all people living in the “red states” are assholes, we got to do a quick catch-up via IM.
The only downside is the complete and unadulterated dorky teenageness (I guess the actual word would be adolesence) of the cyber-convo. The dork stakes got raised when the phone rang midway through the IM’ing session, and it was Kevin, who started the whole thang that led to my stalking in the first place. So, there we were, three former Math Team colleagues, talking and typing with me as the virtual gatekeeper. Sad really. I kept thinking one of us should ask about that week’s homework assignment or the extra credit.
Yeah, at moments like that, I have a hard time comprehending that I am indeed (as are many of my friends) in my fourth decade of living. Maybe I should get a job hunt thing going, so I can better remember the painful shackles of mature adulthood, instead of getting all wistful for the painful shackles of junior high and life as an erstwhile Bomar.