I Hate Dentists and They Hate Me, I Think

I think my new dentist secretly hates me. The only reason I keep going back to her is she made me pay in advance for a new crown weeks ago. I was there last Monday and the anesthesia started to wear off while she was working on me. I let her know and she said "Oh well, I think we can finish this up without more anesthesia." Who says that??? She was drilling in my mouth for christ sakes! Now she tells me my new crown may have to be gold. She wants to give me a gold tooth! It's 2006, is she kidding me? She claims that may be my only option because gold teeth are stronger than enamel. We'll see....I may soon be bling blinging...

Sunday Barbecue

My sister and I decided to have a little barbecue gathering on Sunday and invite my visiting grandparents. This turned out to be quite the ordeal. They showed up with an uncle who is losing his mind to alzheimers and his daughter who was serving as their driver for the day. They also brought their son, my uncle Albert, who is the black sheep of the family. Let me tell you a little about Albert. The day before the planned barbecue, my grandmother calls my sister practically in tears telling her how sorry she feels for Albert. Apparently, Albert had called grandmother and told her he has no friends, no one checks on him, no one calls him, and he is just so lonely he doesn’t know what to do. Albert is in his fifties. He has never had a job. He collects disability because he has diabetes and cut his foot and didn’t go to the doctor until his foot turned black and began to stink. The result was the loss of his leg to the knee. My grandparents supplement his disability payment by sending him a check every month. They have also bought him a prosthetic limb. He is missing several teeth and he is fat. I wish my grandmother had called me to relay Albert’s sob story or better yet, I wish Albert would have called me himself. Our conversation would have gone something like this…

Albert – “I don’t have any friends.”

Esmerelda – “Well, Albert, let me tell you why you don’t have any friends. First of all, most adults meet friends at work. Why don’t you get a job?”

Albert – “No one checks on me and no one calls me.”

Esmerelda – “Is there a problem with your dialing finger?”

Albert – “I’m so lonely I just don’t know what to do.”

Esmerelda – “Maybe you could go to the dentist and pick up some teeth. Friends like to do things together like go out to eat. No one wants to eat with you because you spew food all over the table and on other people’s plates through the massive empty spaces where teeth should be in your mouth. How about pushing back from the table a little earlier also. You’re fat and unattractive, but you don’t have to be. Improving your appearance would be a good first step in you making new friends.”

Heh…

I’ll post more about the barbecue later, and believe me, there is a lot more to post…

Pinkie Break

I broke my pinkie last week. I’ve had my hand in either a cast or a rather restrictive splint ever since. I have been going to work everyday, which turns out to be a futile effort since a major portion of my job requires typing. Have you ever tried typing with one hand? It’s not easy. My boss is constantly telling me how much she is worried about my hand, but in the next breath she hands me something to type. It goes something like this…

Patty – “Esmerelda, how’s your hand?”

Esmerelda – “It really hurts today.”

Patty – “Oh, that’s too bad. I really don’t want you using it. Here, type this.”

Funny. She’s such a bitch.