Tuesday, November 29, 2005

grump, grump, grump

Christ, had to go to the dentist this morning for a filling on a top, most inaccessible molar. Ended up only needing to be smoothed, not filled, but the effing dentist slashed my gum and it hurt and bled like the freaking Inquisition, and now my mouth tastes like shit...that flouride crap combined with ground calcium smell. Gross. Am feeling very sorry for myself, although I should be grateful they didn’t have to drill (shudder).

Don't you think it's a little rude when the dentist applies the vile flouride goo and THEN tells you, 'Oh, by the way, you can't eat for six hours. Byee!" It was 10 o'clock in the morning, and that meant I couldn't eat anything until FOUR O'CLOCK! If I'd have known that beforehand, I would have eaten more then toast. Maybe a whole loaf of toast. With bacon. So by about three, I was having sinking spells and wanting to die in general, and every time I'd look at my coworkers, I'd envision them as Oreos and had to resist biting their heads off and dunking them in milk. And why is it that when someone says you CAN'T eat, instantly you NEED to? Like when you have to have some procedure and the surgeon says no food after midnight...I'm always ravenous at about 12:30. (I say always as though it has happened more than once.) Anyway, by 5:30 when it was time to leave work, I was about to snap off my own arm and sit there all wild eyed with this twitching, flapping arm sticking out of my mouth. I figured while my coworkers ran amock shrieking in horror, I could loot their desks for snacks. Fortunately, my friend The Wench rescued me and took me for pimiento burgers....Mmmm, I get a warm feeling just thinking about it. Pimiento cheeeeeeese.

Is anyone else totally pissed that they booted off Kim from America's Next Top Model? They kept the thief and threw off the lipstick lesbian? What the?

Also, A.S. was being totally irritating tonight. And I KNOW that my friends who may or may not read this are rolling their eyes and saying how ungrateful I am. Well, I'm ALLOWED to be annoyed with him sometimes. Plus, this is MY blog. I can tell when he's calling from the studio, because he's four beats behind the conversation at all times. And he answers everything with, "What?" before catching up. And he's incapable of making a decision because he's thinking about fourteen other things at the same time. And since the topic we were discussing was whether I would meet him in the mountains on Friday night or drive two hours out of my way to meet him at his apartment and stay there until Saturday (thereby wasting time that could be spent romping in a tent), I think he could afford to pay just the slightest amount of attention. After all, it is my weekend too.

Grump, grump.

Oh, and I have to take my cable box in for repair because it's only showing half of my channels. This is just what I've been dreading. I do without cable for almost 30 years, and then I have it for six months and it's become NEEDY. It needs repair. It needs to be paid. It needs upgrading. Maybe I should just cancel the damned thing. All it does it make me watch vile shows about dead people and keep me awake all night--CSI and Law and Order and Special Victim Units and the Closer and such. How revolting.

On the bright side, I get paid on the first, and my raise should kick in retroactively! Hooray! And maybe I'll finally get paid for some freelance work (I won't hold my breath)! Then I can maybe actually buy Christmas presents for people. At this rate, I'll be able to afford a nice bar of soap for everyone. A small bar. Unscented.

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