What emergency?

Yesterday morning as I drank a glass of Banana, Strawberry, Orange juice I felt something funny in my mouth. I carefully swallowed the juice and spat the object into my hand. Gosh golly, it was the composite cap from my front tooth. Shit! I raced to the bathroom in disbelief but it was so... It was a clean break though, I could fit the cap back on and it would sit there without falling out. What to do? What to do? It was only six in the morning mind you. Well as much as I wanted to do something there was nothing I could do. I have to admit that one of my "solutions" was Crazy Glue. Had I followed up on this I might give new meaning to the term Crazy Glue. I foresaw putting too much glue on the cap and using my tongue to keep it in place until it hardened and then having my tongue welded to the tooth also. Well, I thought better of that. God does of course take care of fools and children.

I went and sat on the bed with a hand mirror staring at the tooth as if my sheer will could bond it back into place. It did not work. That's not my super hero power anyway. I decided to just go about my day. I first went to the computer and checked out a few of those chain sites. My actual dentist who replaced the composite a year ago I believe left town for higher pursuits shortly there after. So, around ten after ruling out Aspen Dental and the others I decide to go to the emergency section of the dental factory I have gone to before. To my surprise I had a very different idea of what constituted an emergency. I have had this problem through out life but it was still a bit of a shock. "Is there bleeding?" No. "Is there great sensitivity?" No. "Is there any sensitivity at all?" No. "So, your only problem is that your cap came off and you don't like how it looks" Yes, but you cheapen things. The very loud woman shouted over the moans in the waiting area to tell me that I needed to go upstairs to my regular dentist's office.

And that I did, I went upstairs. I told the fluffy fellow at the desk my problem. "I'm sorry for that Sir but, you need to make a regular appointment." I asked him if he meant a regular appointment as in a couple months from now. Yup! I took the cap out and showed him while telling him that that was unacceptable and I needed to see some one today. I did not mind waiting. I realized that I was a walk-in where walk-ins are not welcome but, I needed to see someone today! He seemed very uncomfortable. Nothing like an angry black guy to get people all jittery. He then went in the back and when he returned he told me that no one could see me because they we all at lunch and would not return for at least an hour. "I'll wait," I told him and without waiting for a response I sat down.

I waited for an hour and a half. I have to admit I was mildly entertained by the other patients. This would be with the exception of the guy next to me trying to hack up a lung. At one point he made it known that he was a doctor. Well, then he should have known to get a friggin' mask or something. After I continually adjusted myself enough where by back was to him, he made a teeth sucking sound and got up and moved off to the corner where he should have been to begin with. As well, the woman with her boy/girl 14 year old twins was also entertaining. I won't tell you why because she was too scary. She had apparently just been released from prison and was still "bonding" with the youngsters.

Moving right along it was now more than two hours into my wait. I then heard the check-in guy and the woman next to him talking about me as if I was not there. He told her how I had lost a cap and I expected to be seen by the doctor. (Did you pick up on the point that it was now more than two hours I was waiting?) He asked the woman if he should even tell the doctor I was there. At this point I stared directly at them and the woman looked over at me. Noticing my expression she told the check-in guy, "I think we better." Ten minutes later the doctor appeared. Oddly it was my original doctor who I had thought had gone away. I waved and she asked how I was doing. The two at the desk told her why I was there and she looked over at me and then told them to check me into the computer. I could tell that I was the only person who really wanted this to happen. -Not like I haven't been in that situation before. The doctor took me back and asked what the problem was and I told her. She said, "we can take care of that but I have four patients ahead of you." Fine.

About a half hour later I was taken to the back and a half hour after that I was better than new.

The moral to the story: your emergency very often is not anyone else's emergency but, it still does not mean it can't be treated like one.

Evolved ?

A friend is in town so we went out for drinks, dinner and drinks last night. Fine, fine, fine and the funny part was... We met up with others later. As I stood sipping a Stoli and tonic at the bar of some place called Pastabilities, (too cute of a name but great food!) a gentleman walked up who knew a member of our party. He was in his forties and kind of 60's fried with a heavy pilled striped ski hat. He was very friendly and actually entertaining after I relaxed a bit. The funny part was he at one point lifted his glass towards me and said, "he is very handsome." I looked over my shoulder but there was no one there who fit the bill. He said it again and I did the same never occurring to me that he meant me. He tried a third time. This time he pointed at moi. "Oh, you meant me," I said. I went on to say I thought he originally meant some one else. "No, I meant you. But hey, it's alright. It's not like I want to f**k you or anything. I'm just sayin' you're handsome," he told me. I politely thanked him and the conversation moved awkwardly onward.

Now, wasn't he evolved.

Makin' Bacon

Bacon, the new sugar... discuss.

Last evening I tried a new recipe for Pasta E Fagioli (Pasta Fazool, to use the vernacular). It turned out especially well. I believe it might have had something to do with the bacon*. The recipe called for cooking two chopped strips of bacon. The bacon was so thick and lean and smelled so comforting that I added an extra strip. Of course that extra strip could have only been a positive thing. I decided then and there that bacon IS the new sugar. Much like sugar, bacon makes just about everything better. It's a breakfast standby, proposes to your club sandwich at lunch and the dinner possibilities are endless.

Come on sing along with me:

A spoon full of [Bacon] helps the medicine go down.
The medicine go down.
The medicine go down.
Just a spoon full of [bacon] makes the medicine go down, in the most delightful way.

Not buying it? Well try this: think of your favorite meal(s). Wouldn't it/they be better with bacon or more bacon? Not turkey bacon mind you, the real stuff from Mr. Ziffle's farm. We are carnivores aren't we? We haven't convinced ourselves that we have evolved into only plant eating creatures have we? Well, some of us and I do love you all but... Even dogs love the stuff, if I am to believe the commercials.

Okay, okay, bacon isn't exactly heart smart but, neither is a job that you hate, interacting with teenagers or traffic for that matter. Someone once told me that, "not even a good job loves you back." The Pasta Fazool with bacon did so love me back.

(Voice over)
*Bacon should only be enjoyed in moderation.

Out with the bad air...

As I crossed the street from my dermatologist's office it started to rain, again. But that's not the story here. The story hovers around what I saw to my left waiting for the traffic light to change. It was an older dark blue SUV. Maybe a Ford, I think. I immediately noticed scrawled on the passenger's side of the vehicle more than foot high letters which read, "YOU A SHIT BITCH."

Having what many might consider an over-active imagination, I was perplexed as to where the words had come from. No, I don't mean defecation or female dogs but, rather where the anger originated. I imagine the "writer" was very angry as evidenced by the size of the letters and how deeply they were scratched into the vehicle. I could plainly see the vehicle's raw metal. As well, the last word almost seemed an after thought in that while sizable, it was a few fonts smaller than the others. Maybe the writer added the last word for emphasis. -or perhaps he or she really wasn't that pissed. I then looked at the driver, a woman in her mid-thirties who flashed me a, "don't go there," look and swiftly turned a head.

My curiosity planted me squarely on one of the soap boxes in my head. The one with the sign, "why are people so angry?" Really, when I was younger than today one simply removed him or herself from negative situations. You just got away from people who pissed you off before you could hate them. 'Anyone worthy of hate isn't worthy of hating,' I used to say. I still believe this. It seems that today most people don't even believe this a little bit. Any negative feeling must be acted upon. And the accompanying expression of anger must be several times the perceived offense if there was an actual one. An example might be people who routinely call the work places of people they have a beef with in order to cause them problems or perhaps get them fired. This is the result of a perceived or actual Personal situation. Another example of the punishment not suiting the crime might be the guy in the news who shot his two "buddies" because he told them not to smoke his last cigarette before he left the room. They did the deed and... It seems that we are at a point where one can not just not like you or your actions, you must be destroyed. How did we get here? When did we devolve into believing that it was better to destroy the "shit bitches" of the world exponentially rather than just getting away from them to a more positive existence?