Touch My Tooth And Make Me Whimper And Other Awesomeness From The World Of Yours Truly


It was officially confirmed to me today that I am, as I thought, the only patient at my dentists office to ever crack a tooth by sneezing.  Ever.  I’m fairly certain, in fact, that they didn’t even know such a thing was possible.  And, in typical me style, I did a pretty awesome job of cracking that poor tooth.  And when I was chatting with my pal Tom before I headed to the dentist, I told him I should probably let him go so I could go get ready to go to my appointment, where they were going to “you know, touch my tooth and make me whimper”.  The second the words were out of my mouth, my brain made a little snorty sort of noise and latched on to the statement like some giggly pre-teen.  I started snickering and repeating it in a sultry, totally 900-number kind of voice, which of course got Tom and I giggling and snorting and such.  We’re kind of immature like that, or maybe we’re just a whole new level of hilarious that just isn’t properly appreciated yet, really it could be either one, though I am leaning toward the latter of course.   Anyhow, I was super happy that my dentist, who is totally way more awesome than yours, squeezed me in today to fix my poor tooth, especially since she’ll be gone from tomorrow until September, and I totally do NOT want to go to another dentist.  My dentist is so awesome that I didn’t even end up whimpering or trying to escape the chair or anything.  My jaw aches since the tooth they had to fix is the one way at the back, and it always seems to make my jaw ache when anything is done to the teeth way back there.

So my little niece starts first grade tomorrow, well, technically today actually.  She is super excited to be a first grader, I think she told me that she’s going to be in first grade, like, 10 times during our last Skype call.  She is hilarious.  And awesome.

I was pathetically pleased to discover that the new season of America’s Next Top Model started, and my DVR was kind enough to go ahead and record it for me, which was good since I totally didn’t even realize it was starting.  I actually didn’t realize I’d programmed it to record the episodes on that channel permanently, so yay for me accidentally doing that.

Okay, so I watching a cheesy horror movie on Chiller (the horror channel), and they totally showed a clip from a movie I absolutely want to see.  Actually, I really, really, really want to own it, but I haven’t had any luck finding it on anything other than VHS, which I have but, well, it’s VHS!  Well crap, I lied to you I guess.  Apparently I could now get the movie on DVD from Amazon!  Which I swear was not possible when I checked a few months ago!  I MUST own this movie!  It is hilariously, cheesily, awesomely, delightfully hokey in a perfect sort of way.  And what is this movie you ask?  Well, I will tell you.  It is the one and only C.H.U.D. 2:Bud the Chud!  It’s a late 80’s (1989 to be exact) flick that I stumbled across way back when it was still fairly new-ish.  It’s actually kind of the movie that started my whole zombies-are-awesome thing, and I must have watched it at least a hundred times over the years.  That movie cracked me up!  It’s super hokey and the acting is less than stellar, but it’s still awesome.  I highly recommend watching it if you ever have a chance and you’re in the mood for a goofy zombie movie.  So anyway, they showed the movie on an advertisement for Chiller’s throwback Thursdays, but they don’t say when the movie will be on and it’s not available on the search thingy that checks upcoming shows for the next 2 weeks.  It is totally not cool to show me the clip but not tell me when the hell they will play the damn movie!!  Bastards.  I really wish I didn’t know it’s available on DVD ’cause now I totally want it.  Siiiigh.

Randomosity:  That movie even has a catchy theme song!  Okay, is it just me or is that toaster strudel kid creepy as fuck?  You know, the kid from those stupid-ass commercials where he speaks with a terribly cheesy accent and wears lederhosen. (screw you spell check, I totally spelled that right and instead of being all “way to go!”, you’re all “what the hell is wrong with you that’s not even a word you bonehead” which is mean and judgmental and totally WRONG ’cause that is totally a word and I spelled it right so suck it spell check, you’re an asshole!)  So I had this really awkward moment at work Friday night.  This older fella sees me putting out some stuff from this weeks truck stuff, and he sees this as the perfect time to chit chat and tell me all about his retail experience and how awesome he was at it and such.  And then he starts talking about how happy I am in my work and how that’s all that matters and blah blah blah.  And I’m all like “What the hell dude?  Have you lost your frickin’ mind?  I work retail!  Retail is the annihilater of happiness, it is soul-crushing torture!  Seriously, are you high or something?  What is wrong with you?”  But you totally cannot say that to a customer.  Like, ever.  Never.  No matter how very much you want to.  Instead, I froze.  What the hell am I supposed to say to that?  The truth is obviously not an option, and I simply am not a good enough liar to make whatever he wants to hear sound believable coming from my mouth.  So I stood there, dog leashes still in my hand, which hovered in the air, not moving any closer to the peg, as my brain tried desperately to come up with something, anything, to safely handle the horrific comment he had so casually thrown out.  My brain first got all pissy because, who the hell does he think he is, informing me how I feel about anything?  Then it got all panicky because the old guy was obviously waiting for some sort of reply, which was not forthcoming, then, finally, it came through for me and I simply agreed that being happy in your work is all that matters, he had that totally right.  He didn’t even notice that I had effectively dodged that bullet with a simple side-step and distract method.  Thankfully, he finally got tired of chit chatting and wandered off to find his wife, leaving me to finish what I was doing and mentally pat myself on the back for once again thwarting my true thoughts’ attempted escape through my mouth.  It was close though.  I got to talk to my big brother today, which was cool.  I can’t believe he wants me to name his character Roscoe Danger in my book–he’s such a nerd.  Maybe I should have his character insist on everyone calling him that to make him seem cooler than he really is…hmmm, I’ll have to think about that one.  Roscoe Danger, the bike-riding zombie killer.  lol

Night folks!


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