I'm just glad that the oversized sixth grader who repetedly kept calling me a stoner
was
stoned at the time.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Another Filling...
Reading a book.
Being called in.
Looking
up
at the
parachutes and
planes.
Looking up at Pulski's toothy smile.
Lights.
Planes.
Parachutes.
Walls.
Pitter patter of the rain.
Parachutes.
Pitter.
Planes.
Patter.
Novocaine.
Novocaine.
Novocaine.
I hate it.
I hate
novocaine.
I'm fine with needles.
I
just
hate
novocaine.
And I
also hate
how
everytime I'm in to have some weird procedure done to me
the wizard show is on.
I hate
this freaking
wizard show.
Being called in.
Looking
up
at the
parachutes and
planes.
Looking up at Pulski's toothy smile.
Lights.
Planes.
Parachutes.
Walls.
Pitter patter of the rain.
Parachutes.
Pitter.
Planes.
Patter.
Novocaine.
Novocaine.
Novocaine.
I hate it.
I hate
novocaine.
I'm fine with needles.
I
just
hate
novocaine.
And I
also hate
how
everytime I'm in to have some weird procedure done to me
the wizard show is on.
I hate
this freaking
wizard show.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My History Teacher Is A Gamer...
And it's so cool
because sometimes--
I don't even know
what
the fuck
he is talking about.
Sometimes.
because sometimes--
I don't even know
what
the fuck
he is talking about.
Sometimes.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Dr.Pulski
The walls are baby blue and the light from the light fixtures is shining through pictures of clouds. One of the fixtures has a cartoon of U.S Airforce planes--that one's right above me. The other one has pictures of the bottom of parachutes, so it seems like the parachutes are falling down above your head.
The television is turned to Disney Channel. It's the show about the wizards.
"Open big," Says Dr.Pulski.
Poke.
Poke.
Poke.
Novocaine.
"Just stay there for a second." Alright, Doc--I'll try not to get up and go for a jog, or something. I look at the framed child drawings on the wall.
The doctor's assistant comes by and looks at the digital clock.
My cheek starts to numb, but I'm not feeling that weird, shaky, distant feeling I usually feel with novocaine.
I look at the digital clock.
15:32
"Zulu time," I say.
"No honey, it's Army time."
I nod. Nothing to say.
"I can't fix it." She picks it up. Presses numerous buttons.
"Look at that!" She fixed it.
Look at that.
The Pulski returns.
"Lean back."
I lean back.
"Do you need my glasses?"
She says something along the lines of..."Givvy here, darlin'." I open mouth and she puts a metal thing on my tooth and attaches it to a strange rubber thing (that matches their walls) on my mouth.
"This won't take long. Now tell me if anything hurts." I stare at him.
Why do dentists do that?
After I get my filling, I go get ice cream.
On my way out, I notice that the assistant has not "fixed" the clock.
She has only, in fact, changed it to 04:53 AM.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Oral Surgery
So on Thursday I skipped school to go see my oral surgeon (yes, I know--I’m so badass. I do this whenever I get bored of school).It was a lengthy drive so I slept until 9:30 and then went to take a shower.
Face.
Jeans.
Shirt.
Socks.
Shoes.
Hat.
Car.
Me and my mum drove around a bit. She helped my dad out at our restaurant and then went to visit her friend--"Uncle Sam" (I call him this for various reasons). Uncle Sam bought me some coffee, which my mother was not very happy about. We got in the car and drove to the directions of my mum's GPS, Lucy.
Turn left on Salmon Drive.
*Turns left*
Turn right on Milford Street.
*Turns right*
Route recalculation.
Route Recalculation.
Recalculating.
Recalculating.
Route recalculation.
*face palm*
Eventually, we got there (Lucy always gets us there). When we got inside, we were greeted by an odd smell and a TV with one of the old Martha Coakley commercials where all she talks about is how much of a douche bag Scott Brown is. I went into the little office in the corner and was given a clipboard with a bunch of questions. I asked the lady there if she wanted me or my mum to sign it since I am not of legal age (obvious answer, but I was just wondering). All I had to do was to answer the questions.
Name.
Age.
Town.
Number.
Dentist's name.
Same old questionnaire.
Half of it, though, were questions pertaining to the illegal usage of drugs, but worded differently every time.
Do you use drugs for recreational purpose? How often?
Do you use drugs that are not prescribed to you? How often?
When was the last time you have used an "over the counter drug" when it was not needed?
Have you ever used tetrahydracannibinal, methylenedioxymethamphetamine, or diacetylmorphine?
Have you ever been treated for a drug addiction? Where?
Are you addicted to drugs?
Um, I’m sorry--can you repeat that?
When it was finally time to go in for my consultation, a nice, middle aged, auburn headed female took me by the hand to get an x-ray.
"Alright, take your sweatshirt off. When I’m done showing you how it works, you can take your glasses off as well." I had to stand up during the x-ray. It was quite high tech, and whilst having radiations go through my skull, I couldn't help but smile.
[I wonder what they do with the x-rays. Next time I’m going to ask if I could keep mine.]
After that, me, my mother, and my infant sibling were escorted to a little room with the basic dentist chair and PhDs on the wall. A bunch of degrees were from sometime during the industrial revolution.
The auburn headed lady gave me and my little sister a kiss, and gave me a cheek pinching (I liked her). She went on her way.
Soon enough, "Dr.Chen" (oral surgeon) entered the room. He didn't have much of an accent, but he mumbled a lot. And from what I could see, he wasn't around during the invention of the sewing machine.
After looking at my x-ray, he asked me a couple questions.
"Would you like general anesthesia, or an intravenous?" I already knew what I.V and anesthesia were but I asked him if he could explain it, just so I could have more time to think. After the fifth time of him explaining it to me, I finally decided on I.V. (I.V=knocked out. General anesthesia=awake, semi-aware, and no feeling except tugging and such)
I was a little shaky for some reason, but I didn't know why. They were just doing a root canal. I'm not bad with pain (not saying I want to be awake when this happens). Maybe it's because the word surgery was thrown around a couple times. Maybe because I chose the drug with more complications (I’m healthy).
I don't know. Just a little scared, that's all. Just don't tell my mother.
At that, we were given an appointment date and time and a disjointed goodbye from Dr.Chen.
Face.
Jeans.
Shirt.
Socks.
Shoes.
Hat.
Car.
Me and my mum drove around a bit. She helped my dad out at our restaurant and then went to visit her friend--"Uncle Sam" (I call him this for various reasons). Uncle Sam bought me some coffee, which my mother was not very happy about. We got in the car and drove to the directions of my mum's GPS, Lucy.
Turn left on Salmon Drive.
*Turns left*
Turn right on Milford Street.
*Turns right*
Route recalculation.
Route Recalculation.
Recalculating.
Recalculating.
Route recalculation.
*face palm*
Eventually, we got there (Lucy always gets us there). When we got inside, we were greeted by an odd smell and a TV with one of the old Martha Coakley commercials where all she talks about is how much of a douche bag Scott Brown is. I went into the little office in the corner and was given a clipboard with a bunch of questions. I asked the lady there if she wanted me or my mum to sign it since I am not of legal age (obvious answer, but I was just wondering). All I had to do was to answer the questions.
Name.
Age.
Town.
Number.
Dentist's name.
Same old questionnaire.
Half of it, though, were questions pertaining to the illegal usage of drugs, but worded differently every time.
Do you use drugs for recreational purpose? How often?
Do you use drugs that are not prescribed to you? How often?
When was the last time you have used an "over the counter drug" when it was not needed?
Have you ever used tetrahydracannibinal, methylenedioxymethamphetamine, or diacetylmorphine?
Have you ever been treated for a drug addiction? Where?
Are you addicted to drugs?
Um, I’m sorry--can you repeat that?
When it was finally time to go in for my consultation, a nice, middle aged, auburn headed female took me by the hand to get an x-ray.
"Alright, take your sweatshirt off. When I’m done showing you how it works, you can take your glasses off as well." I had to stand up during the x-ray. It was quite high tech, and whilst having radiations go through my skull, I couldn't help but smile.
[I wonder what they do with the x-rays. Next time I’m going to ask if I could keep mine.]
After that, me, my mother, and my infant sibling were escorted to a little room with the basic dentist chair and PhDs on the wall. A bunch of degrees were from sometime during the industrial revolution.
The auburn headed lady gave me and my little sister a kiss, and gave me a cheek pinching (I liked her). She went on her way.
Soon enough, "Dr.Chen" (oral surgeon) entered the room. He didn't have much of an accent, but he mumbled a lot. And from what I could see, he wasn't around during the invention of the sewing machine.
After looking at my x-ray, he asked me a couple questions.
"Would you like general anesthesia, or an intravenous?" I already knew what I.V and anesthesia were but I asked him if he could explain it, just so I could have more time to think. After the fifth time of him explaining it to me, I finally decided on I.V. (I.V=knocked out. General anesthesia=awake, semi-aware, and no feeling except tugging and such)
I was a little shaky for some reason, but I didn't know why. They were just doing a root canal. I'm not bad with pain (not saying I want to be awake when this happens). Maybe it's because the word surgery was thrown around a couple times. Maybe because I chose the drug with more complications (I’m healthy).
I don't know. Just a little scared, that's all. Just don't tell my mother.
At that, we were given an appointment date and time and a disjointed goodbye from Dr.Chen.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Dear Customer...
This section is a little bit like one of Tom Reynold's post called "Dear Alcoholoic". My parents bought a pizza store a couple years ago and I usually take calls, since all I can cook is pizza and fries and such. Some of the customers there are very interesting.
Dear Customer,
If you would like to call in for a delivery, that's okay, but can you make sure you haven't consumed large quantities of alcoholic drinks preceding this call? I can't understand a word you're slurring. Also, if you decide to come in inebriated, call in before and tell me so I can hide.
Dear Customer,
If you're having a party, can you please figure out what you are going to order before you call as I am not very fond of loud noises in my ear. I am also not very fond of hearing obscenities yelled through the phone from your drunk guests.
Dear Customer,
If I know you, and you know me, and you call in for a delivery--don't bother asking me if I will give you free food. I will not.
If you know me, and decide to give me a hard time, then i'll just start singing badly.
Dear Customer,
If you start singing badly then i'll just hand the phone over to my mother.
Dear Customer,
Could you please not yell at me because it's taking a little longer to take your order. You are not the only customer there, but I promise i'll try to go as fast as I can.
Dear Customer,
Can you please refrain from yelling at me in different languages. I may not understand what you're saying, but I get the gist. Also, don't yell at me if i'm the one making your food.
Dear Customer,
Thank you for putting your paper plates back on the counter. I'm sure my mother will have an exciting time washing it.
Dear Customer,
Thanks for making nice pictures on the table with the ketchup bottle. I really appreciate seeing your amazing art in here all the time.
Especcially those nicely drawn reproductive parts.
Dear Customer,
Please do not enter the restaurant telling me you are a poor, impoverished soul. I will throw you a loaf of stale bread. Yes I know, "Jeez! Douche baggy."
[Didn't spellcheck. Will update.]
Dear Customer,
If you would like to call in for a delivery, that's okay, but can you make sure you haven't consumed large quantities of alcoholic drinks preceding this call? I can't understand a word you're slurring. Also, if you decide to come in inebriated, call in before and tell me so I can hide.
Dear Customer,
If you're having a party, can you please figure out what you are going to order before you call as I am not very fond of loud noises in my ear. I am also not very fond of hearing obscenities yelled through the phone from your drunk guests.
Dear Customer,
If I know you, and you know me, and you call in for a delivery--don't bother asking me if I will give you free food. I will not.
If you know me, and decide to give me a hard time, then i'll just start singing badly.
Dear Customer,
If you start singing badly then i'll just hand the phone over to my mother.
Dear Customer,
Could you please not yell at me because it's taking a little longer to take your order. You are not the only customer there, but I promise i'll try to go as fast as I can.
Dear Customer,
Can you please refrain from yelling at me in different languages. I may not understand what you're saying, but I get the gist. Also, don't yell at me if i'm the one making your food.
Dear Customer,
Thank you for putting your paper plates back on the counter. I'm sure my mother will have an exciting time washing it.
Dear Customer,
Thanks for making nice pictures on the table with the ketchup bottle. I really appreciate seeing your amazing art in here all the time.
Especcially those nicely drawn reproductive parts.
Dear Customer,
Please do not enter the restaurant telling me you are a poor, impoverished soul. I will throw you a loaf of stale bread. Yes I know, "Jeez! Douche baggy."
[Didn't spellcheck. Will update.]
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Lunchline Chronicles
In the lunch line.
On Friday.
Minding my own business.
Staring at the inspirational poster plastered wall.
Oh no! Here comes a flying pizza!
Splat! Right on the shoe of the biggest guy in school.
Silence.
Big guy is livid.
He stares at the wall angrily.
Then looks at puny pizza-flinger.
Pizza-flinger cringes.
Big Guy kicks the pizza, which lands somewhere in Korea.
Pizza-flinger runs, mumbling an incoherent apology.
Big guy looks down at me.
"I just bought these shoes."
On Friday.
Minding my own business.
Staring at the inspirational poster plastered wall.
Oh no! Here comes a flying pizza!
Splat! Right on the shoe of the biggest guy in school.
Silence.
Big guy is livid.
He stares at the wall angrily.
Then looks at puny pizza-flinger.
Pizza-flinger cringes.
Big Guy kicks the pizza, which lands somewhere in Korea.
Pizza-flinger runs, mumbling an incoherent apology.
Big guy looks down at me.
"I just bought these shoes."
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