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I finished drawing up diagrams a few minutes ago. I think now I have all my areas and ideas down on paper. The problem is all the reading I'm doing is causing a tumor of inspiration and I can't seem to write down my ideas fast enough. What I need is a midget stenographer I that follows me around all the time. And, because he's a midget, when I no longer want to smell that cabbage-like essence, I can tuck him under the bed like a nordic-track.
I went to the dentist today. I arrived for my appointment, which was at noon, about 5 minutes early. Some folks came in after me and they went in first. After staring at their television for awhile (hoo-hah for C-SPAN *gag*), I took a firm hold of my cell phone in pocket, figuring that I'd hurl it like a ninja star, or better yet, a high-heel shoe right at the secretary's head, knocking her out cold, so I could ring that nifty little bell they had on the desk. Instead, I just checked the time. 12:12. I thought about making a scene because I never do that and there was enough people around that I would seem like a total whack-job, but just as I stood up the door opened and a nurse came out and asked for 'Steven'. I sighed, having been the victim of such poor name-calling mockery since before I could even recall. I blame my mother wholeheartedly. I threw on a grin and was shown to a room with one of those cliche dentist chairs you see in the movies. I sat down upright at first but after the first minute or so passed I decided I'd play it cool and pretend like I was sitting on a lawn chair, like at the beach, sipping a martini, chilling with the homies, carefree, etc etc, you know, that old biscuit. I mean, I was facing a window and everything, but the room's white wall and beige tile motif was totally killing my daydream.
A few minutes passed and I decided to reach for my cell phone (yeah, to check the time.. again). It was 12:21 now. I took a moment to reflect on the situations I had just encountered. I made a handy checklist for you guys (adore me fuckers):
1. arrived at dentist early, signed in, spoke to nurse and was generally ignored while other patients went in and came out of their visits with happy smiles. I wondered where the fuck my smile was and how big the jar he was going to give me one out of was, and all while mindlessly forced to experience an author's bout of C-SPAN about why we should ban junk food in public schools. Man, whoever told you this was a free country lied to you. my only thought was - assholes..
2. now, i've been ushered into a fantasy-destroying, badly decorated room that might as well have been something out of a bad horror flick, and all for what was described as a 'quick check-in', whatever the fuck that means. First of all, I checked MYSELF in and secondly, if this is what they gauge as "quick" then I don't want to see their drive-thru service. I felt as though I required a spoon with which to gag myself but I reasoned that one of those long tongue-depressors would make a swell substitute, so I got up and grabbed one from the jar in case I needed to stab something, or at least, give it splinters.
3. the doctor is cleverly avoiding me, I thought. He must know I am armed with the Widget of Worry. Yeah, worry that something bad's gonna happen when he steps in. And maybe..
"Hello! How are you?" The doctor's voice rang out. It was as irritating as it was two weeks ago and I had considered asking him if they pulled the badger from his ass yet, or whether he just liked to keep the cotton balls in all day long. I answered that I was fine. He smacked on some rubber gloves as he spoke some jargon about my mother saying I felt fine on the phone and about the hassle of making me come here just to take a peek at how I was healing. He asked me to open up. He asked me to bite down. He told me I could leave. I was ready to kill him. Dr. Bart Silverman, M.D. and the last two letters stand for Mega-Dead because I had been there now for about 32 minutes of my life so he could ask me to open my mouth and bite down and say 'well it's as I expected! healing fine!'. I mean, couldn't he have just come out to the waiting room and done the same thing? I exited the office, resisting the urge to kick him in the groin. Several times.
I had totally lost track of what I was thinking about in there, but I had stolen a piece of wood resembling a small ironing board, so rationally it either paid off or paid for itself. haha.. and the day is mine. I treated myself to some chinese food and returned home to veg a bit before I had to drive my sister somewhere and go see my other doctor.
My diagrams have flourished! and so have cracker-jacks at Yankee stadium. Peace out lemmings.
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