–Thank you, commenters, for the offers of Viagra and payday loans. How serendipitous, because I’d need a loan for all the Viagra I’d probably need to buy, given the need for it someday.
–I don’t generally consider myself a whiner about physical pain. Mental pain, psychic pain, whatever you’d like to call it–yes. Like an interviewee on TMZ or ET, the pity party is on, till it sickens even me. But the shitty little bit of pain I’ve had so far (there’s more?–what a thrill) in life, I usually try to laugh off, as it seems to have its peaks and valleys and disappearances. I try to subscribe to the “Pain don’t hurt; heartache hurts” mentality.
Dentist visits don’t usually hurt all that much, until I have to write the co-pay check; that hurts. In case you haven’t gone to the dentist in 3o+ years, what they do is swab your gums, maybe your cheek also, with some foul-smelling anasthetic crap, then stick you with some novocaine. Usually, like for the last dozens of times in a row, when they do that it’s a quick, intense rush of pain that lasts a second or two, then a quick ebbing of the pain, a relief that the first huge pinprick of the needle wasn’t any worse, and you start to feel numb pretty quick. If they move the needle to a new spot, it hurts again but quickly ebbs again. Then you’re numb for 2-6 hours and you get to go to fast food and get a soda and dribble it down your chin and lisp “Am I drooling?” at people.
Today, though, today was a different motherfucker. Maybe it was me, maybe it was somebody different handling the needle–I don’t know but I know it was unfuckingreal. Like all medical professionals now, the dentist tries to shove as many patients through as possible, as quickly as possible. It’s like a harem in there, a male dentist with a staff of 6 or so women. So the new hygienist gave me my novocaine while he was in someone else’s mouth. Don’t take this wrong (already used this joke today and probably will for a while), but I wish the dentist had been in my mouth from the beginning. From the minute she was in my mouth, after swabbing me with the fucking scrapings from a petrochemical factory (or so it tastes and smells), and was first starting to jab me, it was the meanest-assed pain I’d ever felt. I wasn’t sobbing out loud, but there were fucking tears rollin’ out my eyes. It felt like someone was stabbing my gums and slicing little bits off my tongue at the same time. I kept trying to pull my mouth away and I think once I even I tried to reach my hand up, as if to pull her torturing motherfucking needle out of my mouth, which is probably when she said, “Noooo,” really hard, fair, but very firm, like you would to a misbehaving dog or child. It was frickin’ hilarious. Afterwards, that is.
It (the novocaine needle-prick fiesta) was probably 30 seconds, tops, maybe a minute; I don’t know, because time went into another dimension once she started. I do know that one more minute of that and I would’ve told the Nazis who the other Resistance fighters were. Two more minutes, and I would’ve told ’em exactly how to torture the other Resistance people. “Jean-Luc likes marching band music and hates torch singers; 5 minutes of Edith Piaf and he’ll tell you where the explosives are stashed.” I was numb for 6 hours, really numb for 5. That coming-back-to-life of your tongue is kinda cool, isn’t it?
–Speaking of bodily sensations, after my little car crash in December, I came to the realization that one should be careful about who one tells that they suddenly, the evening after the car crash, realized that they kinda would like to have sex someday during a car crash, because, fucking-A, what a LIVE rush of feeling a crash is. Not everyone needs to know that. The nun in Walmart seemed surprised that I was talking to her. I heard they made a rather bizarre movie about this very phenomenon.
–Had a conference the other day with three female elementary teachers, one married to a guy and the other two it’s none of my business. I was, how to put this diplomatically, trying to bring up the possibility that some students (who shall remain nameless) don’t want to do anything these days, whether it be homework or home chores. So, because I think I’m so endlessly clever, I started to say to these three ladies: “I hate to bring up the L word, but sometimes kids are lazy.” Let me tell you, that pause between “the L word,” and “kids are lazy” was a long period of time once I realized what I said. I don’t propose to know or care what either of the other two ladies does in their spare time, but I do know a common use for “the L word,” and I wondered, later, what they all thought, for a second, of the idea that any lifestyle or point of view might have anything to do one way or another with the quarter grades of one student. Oh, and kids can really be lazy. Wonderful, but lazy.
Test 14–will YT allow me to play some live performances?
–I’m becoming boringly tolerant at times. Instead of saying that a person would have to be an idiot to not like “Wild World” by Cat Stevens, I say, “I can’t imagine a world in which a LOT of people wouldn’t love this song.” I sing “I hope you’ve got a lot of clean underwear” instead of “I hope you make a lot of nice friends out there,” because I’m nerdy and junk like that.
Same goes for this Carly Simon performance of “That’s the Way I’ve Always Heard it Should Be:”
Other than “Saving Private Ryan,” this is the first I’ve actually listened to Edith Piaf, after hearing about her for a lot of years. “La Vie en Rose:”