Satan's Tooth

I am OCD about a lot of things. Second only to checking that I've turned off the oven is - flossing my teeth. I floss my teeth every day at least once a day. Maybe it's because I grew up with an orthodontist uncle or maybe I just like clean teeth. Either way, I am completely crazy when it comes to brushing and flossing. How bad you ask? Every year I ask my mom to get me the Costco size Glide dental floss for Christmas...you know, the one that's a 6 pack or something...it's THAT exciting for me to get new floss.

I went to the dentist this year and was surprised to see him show me a crack developing in one of my teeth. Hello, I'm 29, not a 65 year old from Podunk with 3 teeth missing already. So he said I needed a crown. Fine. Got fitted for the crown then my tooth started to hurt so he sent me to get a root canal done. Fine. Despite what you've heard, root canals are a walk in the park, btw. I would much rather have a root canal than a cavity. Drilling during a cavity filling makes me want to have a heart attack.

So after the root canal is done, my tooth still hurts. They give me antibiotics in case I have an infection. Doesn't fix the problem. I get one more week of antibiotics. Doesn't fix the problem. I get the root canal opened up and done a second time. Yes, it was a pain in the ass but it didn't hurt (again, vote for the root canal and not the cavity). One week of antibiotics later and guess what? It still feels like this.

Last Friday I got to go to an oral surgeon to see if he could do an apicoectomy (deep root canal that involves cutting the gum and going way up in the tooth canal). I'm talking surgery with an IV and stitches and pain killers. Oh, and the root canal goes so far up toward the sinuses that I'm not allowed to blow my nose for two weeks since I guess I could blow a hole from my nose to my tooth. Oh, and if I sneeze, I must do so with my mouth open (this happened twice yesterday and I thought I was going to crap my pants I was so nervous that I might blow a hole through my nose).

It's been a week now and guess what, my tooth still hurts. The doc said my stitches haven't dissolved yet so hopefully that's the only reason for the pain - and to come back in two weeks. But seriously, I'm going nuts. I'm pretty sure I've turned into robo-bitch because I'm in constant pain. It hurts to talk on the phone and it isn't fun to talk at work or even smile (because smiling tugs on the stitches, hurray!). I actually have to take Sensodyne to work and brush my teeth every hour just to get 15 minutes of freedom. The other day it got so bad that I just shoved some up by my gums and left it there...no rinsing out. How gross is that? I'm desperate.

I'm pretty sure I might go all Carrie on some body's ass if they so much as look at me the wrong way. I mean, I'm pretty sure I have horns sprouting out of my forehead and claws growing, just ready to rip some one's eyes out. So if you see me around, don't expect me to talk to you or even smile at you for that matter.

Childhood Movies

Last night Greg and I were watching Glee...if you haven't seen it, watch it online. It's awesome. We ended up talking about how that show must seem really cool for little kids because it's like a tv series of High School Musical. But then did anyone catch the line between Emma, the guidance counselor, and Rachel, the girl trying to be bulimic???...Rachel: "I guess I just don't have a gag reflex." Emma, the counselor: "One day, when you're older, that'll turn out to be a gift."

Um, hello. It was almost like watching Shrek 3, where there's all sorts of crazy adult innuendos in there, but it totally goes over kids' heads. So we started reminiscing about movies from our childhood. Since we were born only two months apart, we pretty much grew up on the same movies, tv shows, and music.

I specifically remember being absolutely terrified watching the movie Lady in White. And I remember loving the Halloween movie The Canterville Ghost. So we rented The Canterville Ghost from Netflix, and let me tell you, it was the worst movie ever...it made me question my brain as a child. The Lady in White came on tv over the summer, that movie is still scary as shit. Then I remember watching Grease 2 with my sister. Robyn was seriously obsessed with this movie, no joke. Robyn wrote a letter to Michelle Pfeiffer whenever the movie came out and she actually got a letter back with a signed photo.

Now that's a movie I totally don't understand why my mom let us watch it. They sing a song about reproduction and the whole movie is about getting lucky. Really, we were like 6 and 9 years old when we watched that. Didn't we run around singing "where does the pollen go"??

There is one childhood movie that is just as good now as we remembered it: Monster Squad.

The movie was just as funny and the monsters were pretty entertaining. I mean, who doesn't like a character named Fat Kid and who wouldn't love seeing a little 5 year old girl tell her older brother that he's a chicken shit?

Blair Witch Auction

A few weeks ago, Greg and I went to a real estate auction for the first time. Before the auction started, we both took bets on how much it would sell for. Greg was surprisingly accurate. But we knew when the auctioneer tried to start the bids at twice what we would pay that there was no chance in hell we'd even bid.
This Saturday we went to another auction in town. The house was in a great location and had great square footage but from the outside picture, it looked old and outdated. We thought maybe we could get a great deal on it though and just fix it up.

We arrived about 30 minutes before auction time and were a little confused because there was no one else there. At the first auction, we were 25 minutes early and there were already 50 or so people there. So we strolled on down to the house to check it out. The brown rusty pipes in the garage were the first sign of an old gross house. As soon as we walked in the main level, my allergies went crazy. The place looked clean, just outdated...as in blue carpets in the bedrooms. We walked down to the basement and were forever traumatized. This house totally had a killing room. I mean, 5x5 ft room with a single bare light bulb and a door. This was not a storage closet. It was totally a Blair Witch room where they make you stand in the corner before they whack you over the head and kill you. No joke. I made Greg go stand in the corner so I could take this picture. Although it was funny and we giggled like little school girls, we were both terrified that someone was going to show up behind us, shove us in the room, and chop us into little pieces.

So instead of taking bets on how much this place would sell for, we took a bet on how many people have been killed in this house. Too bad we'll never know. And we weren't dumb enough to stick around for the auction - we were outta there faster than fat kids in dodge ball.

Steak Bone-r Anniversary

My husband and I just celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary by going to my favorite restaurant in downtown Franklin, TN. It's a cool place with fun eats like beef tenderloins with blue cheese risotto and asparagus. Yum! We sat on the upstairs patio and got a really awesome waiter, so we were totally excited about this anniversary dinner.

I ordered the usual and Greg ordered what I can only describe to be the Old 96er. Only this seemed to be a very horny 96er because it totally had a boner. I couldn't help behaving like a 12 year old with a giggle fit when our waiter slapped that down on the table. Although, to my defense I had just had a very potent martini. I mean, just look at this thing.

Really, couldn't they have cut that off before they cooked it? One order of circumcised steak please! I was immature enough to pull out the iPhone and take a picture - in front of people. And that wasn't enough, I had to actually get a close up shot. And then, I had to do a Perez Hilton and draw on it. Apparently I have no manners. Sorry mom.

Buddy the Squirrel

Growing up, my house always had some kind of recovering injured animal in it. I think my mom is some cross-version of a horse whisperer / animal loving Snow White. You know that scene in Shrek the Third where Snow White sings Led Zeppelin's The Immigrant Song? I immediately though of my mom and her army of wild animals - birds, turtles, hermit crabs, etc. We always had baby birds living on our porch because they'd fallen out of neighborhood trees. My mom would use a syringe to feed them baby bird food and we'd take turns playing with random recovering birds on our porch.

One time I even caught a chipmunk, but let me tell you, those are not fun pets. I think I had it in a gerbil cage for all of one hour before I let it go - I thought it would have a heart attack trying to run out of the clear plastic cage. But the craziest pet we ever had was a pet squirrel named Buddy.

When I was away in college, one of my best high school friends found an abandoned baby squirrel. And what did she do - she called my mom. Next thing you know, my mom is taking care of a squirrel - after calling animal control to see if they carried rabies, of course. She named it Buddy and it lived in a dog carrier on our porch. Seriously. He'd even crawl under the towels we'd given him and circle the cage like a dog deciding where to plop down to sleep. I first met Buddy when my parents came to visit me freshman year. My mom carried him in some straw-like purse thing and he'd poke his head out from under a towel every few minutes. I'm just happy the dorm staff didn't realize my mom was smuggling a wild animal into their facilities.

I came home for the holidays to find that Buddy would crawl up my mom like a tree and then run, jumping off her outstretched arm, onto my 6'3 father. When I arrived, Buddy was thrilled to see that a third human tree had sprouted for him to scamper up and jump off of. It was just short of freaking crazy to have a squirrel run up your back and soar off of an outstretched limb. But he was a chill little guy and this was life at my house.

After a while, Buddy grew up and it was time to set him free into the wild again. It took him a few days to stop coming back to the porch each night to crawl into "his" dog carrier. He'd still hang around our backyard and even come running if my mom ever called out his name. He'd been gone for several weeks before I came home for summer break from college. I was dressed and on my way to work one morning when I felt I was being watched going to my car. I looked over and saw a squirrel staring at me on the sidewalk. "Buddy?", I said.

I was immediately transformed into the human tree, with a squealing squirrel running up my side, through my hair, and around my neck. OH MY GOD. This was de-house-broken, I know how to hunt my own food, going to cut you with my claws, Buddy. I flipped out because he wouldn't get off me, he'd peed on my shoulder, and seemed to be ready to claw my eyes out. I managed to grab his body, fling him several feet away from me, and run inside the house just as he was about to get in behind me. I'll never forget the shrieking sound he made when I had to tosh him like a bean bag into the yard.

So needless to say, I am TERRIFIED of squirrels now. No joke. If I see a squirrel in a park, or on a campus, or even near my car, I freeze, trying to figure out the quickest way to get inside a building or a car. Even if a squirrel is just running around a tree or picking up an acorn, if it so much as looks at me, I grab the nearest person (usually my husband) and hide behind them. So if you're ever walking with me and I have a panic attack, just look around and see if there are any Buddy's walking around.

I See Spiders

Most people don't know this about me, but I see spiders. ALL THE TIME. There have been many times when my husband and I will be watching tv and I'll randomly jerk my head in one direction for no apparent reason. Why? Because I swear I see a spider out of the corner of my eye. I mean seriously, this happens at least twice a week, probably more. Most of the time there's nothing there and I know I must be losing my mind - or have some form of visual turrets.

But I do ACTUALLY see a spider about 40% of the time. Case in point: I'm doing a little house-sitting (house invading is more like it) this week. I'd like to preempt this with a very large "I'm sorry" to the couple who will probably rather not know the story I'm about to tell. The first night in the house was totally fine, I didn't have any head twitches of the spider persuasion. However, the second night, yikes. I really don't like spiders, really really. This may stem from seeing Arachnophobia way too many times as a youngster. Anyway, I have a box of stuff (ok, boxes, plural) in this house, sitting on the floor in the hall. I casually walk past it and immediately do the head spasm thing. OH my LORD. I'm pretty sure that thing could eat my face off.

On the very bottom edge of the box is the largest spider I have ever encountered. It's huge and brown and has scary legs and I'm convinced it's a brown recluse. I'm gonna die - because they bite you and then your skin starts to eat itself - I know for a fact because a guy in my business class got bitten by one and you should have seen this poor guy's hand eat itself away. Nasty. I freak out. I'm barefoot and the only item nearby to beat the living shit out of this thing is my brush. No way, then it truly will eat my face. I do a quick look around, half expecting to be Alice in Wonderland and a magical bottle of spider repellent appear saying "Use Me". No luck. What do I find? The best new bug repellent I've ever met: Shout! As in - gets stains out of your laundry "Shout!". I sprayed the spider once and it immediately balled up, fell off the box, and died. Shout is my new best friend. Me -1, Spiders -0.

Ah, but round 2 was only one day away. I get home from work to find the largest house centipede I've ever seen on the wall in the kitchen.

Right now my spider seeing accuracy is at about 110% and I need it to be -500%. The only thing I hate more than house centipedes are silverfish and those scary brown camel crickets...



Animals like this just shouldn't be allowed inside a human dwelling place. I didn't have the courage (or height) to kill this one so I just ignored it. And now I live in fear because the million legged creature disappeared from site an hour later. I'm hoping the mercy I showed the centipede will make its way through the spider nation so I don't get ganged up on for killing mister brown recluse. I'd love to keep my face covered with skin.

This is Just an Appetizer

I know, I know. I've been totally MIA. But it's actually been on purpose. I'm truly about to explode from all the little random things I want to publish on this blog...think Gretchen Wieners from Mean Girls...hair so big because it's full of secrets. I don't think it's safe to write about them all until after I leave this contract gig, but I will give you a taste of the stories to come:

It's 6:55am on Good Friday, I'm the only one at work yet from my department, and things are super quiet. I see a man from another department walk past my office and think nothing of it. Until he back tracks and walks into my office. (Back story: this guy is much older, really shy, and keeps to himself. He's just a guy I pass in the hallways and say hi to - as any polite southerner would do).

I say hi and he immediately hands over something and says "this is just an appetizer". My brain screams "say WHAT? what? what does that mean?". My eyes look down and see two pieces of individually wrapped chocolate in a zip lock bag laying in my palm. Ok, this is weird. Not that I have a totally dirty mind or anything, but seriously, doesn't that sound SO sexual? Hours later I will obsess over this phrase "this is just an appetizer" and try to convince myself he only means it's an appetizer for all the chocolate Easter candy I'm about to get. And really, wrapped chocolate in a zip lock bag? What's up with that? I'm so shocked at this point I don't know what to do - I am definitely a deer caught in headlights.

Then here comes the best example of why I'm the biggest dumb ass in the world. He follows up that one liner with, "I'm not very good at this, but would you like to have lunch with me this week?". Now, I know what a normal married person would say - Hells No. But I immediately recall a time when a girlfriend of mine told me that not all guys are interested in me and that I shouldn't be so full of myself. Thanks friend. Because my reaction was "Suuuure???". I mean come on, this guy is shy and totally not social, and I felt like he was asking because he was trying to make a friend. I was trying to not be full of myself and consider this a lunch date. And to my own defense, I practically shoved my wedding ring in this guy's face to make it clear I was married. And of course, as soon as the "Suuure?" response vomits out of my mouth, I immediately follow up with the excuse that I'm really busy at work right now and I don't know if I'll be able to get away for lunch, etc. He offers up another great one liner: "Well, you know where I am". Um, yeah, I do, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to stay as far away from that office as I can.

As soon as that's all over I call my husband and he agrees that we should give the guy the benefit of the doubt because he's probably just trying to make a friend (I know, how retarded ARE we!?!). I tell one of my coworkers because now I'm scared this guy is a crazy serial killer and he's going to hack me up in little pieces and make me eat my own fingernails or something. She totally thinks it's a date invitation. I literally hide from this guy for 2 weeks. Isn't that sad?

After two weeks, I'm certain he's gotten the picture that No, I don't want to go out to lunch. Yeah. Right. Monday morning arrives and again I'm at work really early all by myself. I've gotten in the habit of keeping my office door almost completely shut until some other people start arriving at the building. I hear footsteps in the hallway. I hear a tiny knock at my door. Panic rushes through me and my heart is practically outside my body. I look at that tiny little sliver in my door and see flowers. Beautiful flowers. How did my husband get in a secured building??

And then I see a head poke in the door and it's crazy serial killer man. NO! As soon as he walks in and tells me he's brought me flowers, I make a stop motion with my hand and tell him this is very inappropriate because I'm married. Yikes, that was fun. I can tell he's mortified as he stumbles through saying that he grows flowers at home and that he brings them in for coworkers sometimes and that he should have asked me first if I was married. Way to avoid the sexual harassment claim buddy. I'm mortified, call my husband and he offers to do some ass kicking. My coworker walks down the hallway to see that no coworkers in his department have flowers. Talk about awkward. So now I cringe every time he walks by my office (which has significantly increased since the flower day) because I'm pretty sure I have my very own stalker.

So moral of the story - be as full of yourself as you want to be - because he totally means it sexual when he says he's got an appetizer for you. Oh, and make sure you throw that chocolate away immediately. You don't want to get all roofied.