I fancy myself my dentist's favorite patient...and I think that is somewhat accurate considering that all the hygienists hang around during our conversations...
Today's 1 hour cleaning-turned 5 hour re-creation of cracked fillings was no exception.
On the topic of a bite guard:
"So my jaw hurts...right here." I said and pointed to right under my ear.
"We might need to look into getting you a bite guard, for you to wear at night."
"A bite guard? Do you never want me to get laid again?"
On the topic of the surprise cost of today's fun:
"Does your wife need a gift or something? This is expensive!"
"Well try to stop breaking your teeth. This is why you can't have nice things."
On how tired I am:
"I'm sorry to report Doc, but I drink nothing but Coca-Cola. I need the caffeine. I'm tired all the time."
"Have you considered developing a coke habit?"
"Doc, I can't even put afrin in my nose."
"Dump it in your cola, that's how they intended the stuff in the first place."
On the topic on NWA:
D: "Good old NWA, What's your favorite Ice-Cube song?"
Me: Unintelligible non-sense.
D: "yeah, but i like "Today was a good day better."
It was an unsinkable ship that sank on it's maiden voyage in 1912 and was located in September of 1985 over two miles below the surface in the middle of the Atlantic.
I was 8 years old with unfettered access to my father's National Geographic subscription.
Ours was a love made for the ages.
The Titanic and I met for the first time in the fall of 3rd grade, when anyone who was anyone in Mrs. Bohlen's class was filching their father's Nat Geo's as they arrived, to oooooh and ahhhhh over the pictures that came from a little submarine named Alvin and an even smaller swimming robot named Jason. Now the photos would be considered almost crude, but in 1985, the world's first glimpse of Titanic was at the very least, exciting.
I fell hard for the ship and for maritime disaster in general. I watched the Nat Geo movie on the "Secrets of the Titantic" with religious devotion; Chronicling the entire course of events on my mother's kitchen calendar. (Which caused some major confusion in the household until my mother realized who "Carpathia" was and where she was arriving.) The ship and it's fabled trans-Atlantic crossing became my first love, long before James Cameron ever made it a real love story.
And what a love story we have had! My ocean liner has never let me down. Through countless book reports, class speeches and research projects, my public school education provided me with a number of opportunities to renew my devotion and share it with others. Even in college...I gave three different "Titanic" related speeches.
And then there was the one time where Dr. Ballard was speaking to the Indianapolis Economist's Club, which my father was a member of and he asked me to come and attend with him. I was so excited I narrowly avoided a speeding ticket on the voyage from Bloomington. (One of the exceedingly few times I was able to avoid such a fate) and when we ran into Dr. Ballard in the hallway of the convention center, I couldn't even speak.
I'm not sure I even could today, as an adult. I think I'd end up blurting out verbal waterfall of his career accomplishments, to which he'd reply "yes, i know, i was there."
So, each April, I anxiously await the middle of middle of the month, when I can re-count the timeline of the great ship going down, from it's launch, it's voyage, the iceberg and several days later when the Carpathia arrived in the New York Port.
And while there have been other disasters which have fascinated me...the Andrea Doria, the Edmund Fitzgerald, the Bismarck, the Lusitania (the last two also being great moments in Dr. Ballards career) It will never be my first love, my first maritime disaster.
Because you only get to love one ship-wreck in a lifetime.
somehow...and i'm not sure how this happened...i got sad...
possible it has something to do with the abusive situation at work? yes.
possible it has something to do with my advanced level of exhaustion and crippling feelings of being overwhelmed? yes.
but, thanks to a great friend, i left my feelings of sadness at the professional level.
i started...and just for a second...to add my personal shortcomings.
I was stopped, literally, dead in my tracks.
"Before you get all fucking melancholy, can i remind you that this is the same dude who you found ACTUAL PHOTOS of his junk, in your bed, that were sent to craigslist transvestites? Or do I need to point out that this happened more than once. Or that he was looking for hookers in foreign countries THIS YEAR?"
Ummm...i tried to interject...
"Let me remind you that you found him at some girls house and that he LIED TO YOUR FACE, while you WERE STANDING IN HER DRIVEWAY and said that he wasn't sleeping with her...and that this was AFTER he accidentally sent you the incest porn videos of herself that she sent him?"
Ummm...one can't really argue when the topic of "mommy porn" comes up.
"Your struggles have been real this year, baby girl. They've been real and they've been sad and they've caused you to loose an alarming amount of body weight. I hear you talk about work and my heart goes out to you because I love you so damn much and you work so damn hard and you're being abused at work."
I love you...and I'm starting to tear up.
"But this is professional and you'll live through it. But let's NOT get sad about the personal stuff...because he's in no way a wonderful man you lost. He's a sick puppy, a pervert and a sex addict who used the best parts of you until you had nothing more to give and even then, he humiliated you. Who the fuck in the world thinks sending dick picks to craiglist shemales is okay.?!?!? Honey, you have the emails. You have the screenshots, you have the proof. If you ever feel like you're forgetting, go back and look at that. Go back and remind yourself how you felt in that chick's driveway reading those texts about having someone having rug burn from their sex session. Remind yourself that for everything that you are and everything you ever will be...that this person is not worthy of you. He's not a catch, no one else wants him...and neither do you. Let that fucker be someone you used to know."
Thanks for quoting that fucking song, you bitch.
"That's what i'm here for, honey...doses of reality and well placed lyric references. But in all reality, He's a loser, he'll always be one...and that will be all he will find because that's all he can be. You spent enough time in the loser chair. Time for a new seat."
...in those words...I got un-sad. I remembered that he lives a giant lie. That this is baggage I can put down...and leave right where it is.
...and with those words, I realized...to have loving and caring friends...who levy a dose of reality and unwavering devotion...that's just magic.
