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2006-12-06 - 6:27 p.m.

While I Was Out

I jaunted over to the dentist this afternoon to get my cavities filled.

The assistant asked "White or silver?"

Um, DUH. Silver, of course. I have a dream of synching my dental work with the year 1962.

I furrowed my brow at the question. "White, please."

Then, with giddy anticipation, I asked how much it would cost to get laughing gas.

"Uhhh...let me check my sheet. $35."

"Mmmm. Yes, yes. Let's go for it. It's worth it!" (psychedelic visions of sugarplums danced in my head)

Everything was going along nicely (except that whole part about the dentist being confused about how to turn on the gas), my gums were numbed, and then they brought out the needles. One for the top, one for the bottom.

Dammit. No matter how much they numb the gums, you cannot avoid that painful pinch. I breathed in deeply. Again and again.

"You ready?"

"I think so..."

"Here we go with the top one."

JAB! *SQUIRM! SQUIRM! Squirm, squuuuuirm...*

"Ok, now the bottom...breathe in deep."

JAAAAAB! (Holy FUUUUUUUUCK! Right in corner of my mouth near where the ear meets the jaw. My hands were clenched up in little balls as I thrashed my legs).

The assistant soothed me and patted my arm: "Almost over...breathe through your nose! Deep!"

After what seemed like an eternity, it was over, my body relaxed and I floated away to happy land as my mouth began feeling flubber-blubbery.

Heh. Nice nice. Happy. Soft and nicey. Squishy fuzzy joy. La la la....

While they waited to let the shot fully work, I drifted off, but bobbed to the surface every few minutes because another assistant came in and they all started chit-chatting. I want music. And all of you to leave now. Bye-bye. Hush peoples...This is the happiest I've been in years....be quiet like bunny rabbits and skibble off. Bunny rabbits. Heh. Bunnies are doe dweet...

But I kept hearing tidbits like "How's Dr. Hinkle doing?" and "I'm expecting more boxes from LL Bean but I only got one today. My husband paid extra to have them arrive today too."

Shhhh...I'm paying good money for this...

Before I knew it, the dentist started drilling. All was fine for a moment, and then I felt a deep pain like she was ramming a rod of ice through my tooth, down into my spinal cord. I howled and flailed.

OK. I'M AWAKE NOW, YOU FUCKERS!

The dentist and the assistant sat back:

"Oh, well that's not good. We'll give the shot a few more minutes to work. You alright, honey?"

"Eeeee-uuuuuuhhhhh."

I breathed in deep and tried again to float away. More chatter about LL Bean and Christmas and last Friday's windy day that blew everyone's decorations all over the place. I tried to drown them out and began to coast on a wave of glee, when the dentist started drilling again.

"Ahhh..AHHHH! AHHHHHIEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Mmmm. Your tooth isn't liking that at all."

No fucking kidding.

A few minutes later, they tried again. I could tell they were attempting to finish up with the last few minutes of drilling without having to give me another shot, but my next batch of yelping stopped them.

"Well, that's not gonna work. Alright. Let's do another one."

This was all on the bottom tooth, so I was subjected to yet ANOTHER JAB in the back corner of my mouth.

But not before I asked the dentist to crank up the gas.

I'm gonna get my money's worth, dammit.

More flubber-blubberies on top of wave after wave of I ain't got nooooo worries. Life is grand... and then the bitch with the drill went at it again, TOO FUCKING SOON.

My right leg shot up in the air TWICE, my arms and hands flailed and froze, and my back arched as I squirmed in the chair like a death row inmate getting acquainted with Ol' Sparky.

The assistant was perplexed: "Geez, that time, it was worse!"

Yes, I am WELL AWARE OF THAT. What tipped you off? My flailing in agony, or the part where I howled like a mortally wounded coyote who witnessed her pups getting their heads blown off?

My thinking was that Nazi doctor figured she could drill harder since I'd had two shots. And that the reason my tooth was still sensitive was that one, if not both, of the shots had been misplaced.

I should've been flying like Jim Morrison, but instead, I was brought back down to earth being all fuckity-fuck analytical per usual. Feeling as if my spinal cord was being sawed in half with the frozen jagged edge of a Starkist lid can do that.

The shot kicked in a bit more, and she was able to finish the drilling, with only minor leg twitches from me.

Then she went to work on the top cavity and I hardly felt a thing. You know, the way the whole goddamn procedure should've gone.

I sniffed in my last few deep breaths of gas while Dr. Mengele tried to figure out how to turn the canister off. Keep fumbling, man. Cool by me. One more minute would be great. I know you can't find the switchy mcdoodley. But that's okay, man....everything's fine and daaaaaaaaaaandy. Hey, where am I? What time izzit? Don't matter none. Yeaaahhh. I gotta break on through to the other side. Break on through, break on through..."

Wha? We're what? All done?

FUCK!

I drove home kinda mellow-like as I poked my finger around my numb cheek and bottom lip. Hellllllo! Bah-bah-BAH. Ohhh! Music! I never thought Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton would ever do a duet. A good Christmas one, to boot! Bah BAH BAH...Pfffffffffffffbbttt. Baby, it IS cold outside. La la la LA la la...Pffffffbtt.....

Good drive. Good times.

In other news, check this out:

'Member how I said I think my other co-worker is leaving? I have gathered further evidence!

Yesterday, I heard her shuffling lots of papers. And moving things about. For the last two months, she was "buried" with work, and suddenly she's got all this time to organize? And the shuffling and moving could be attributed to end-of-the-year, getting ready for the next year, stuff. But it sounded more purposeful. I can't explain it, but it came across as DEFINITIVE and FINAL.

THEN, I heard many bings from her computer. One after the other in quick succession. I know that noise. That's the sound of files being deleted!

So today (she's still acting removed and sullen, although a BIT more perky), I heard more shuffling and gathering and sorting. At one point she walked over with a brochure for some kind of breeding software, and asked if there was a place I kept stuff like that for future reference for my boss.

"Ummm, not really. I keep files on stuff he's interested in, but other than that, no."

"Ok." Then she walked off.

Later in the afternoon, while she was away from her desk, I took a peek to see if I could spot anything different in her cubicle.

First off, I noticed a bottle of spray and paper towels in the corner. She was literally cleaning off her desk.

I looked at her window shelf. She'd put out some Christmas stuff, but her silly can of "Florida Sunshine" was gone. Hmmmm....

Then I saw she had cleared off her faux-cord adhesive board. There were a few business cards in the corner, a couple login info reminders on post-its, but most of it, was bare. One item in particular was missing: Her home phone number, which she left up in case anyone had questions on the weekend during booking seasons. She won't be available for help next year, will she?

And the topper: All the photographs were gone. She didn't have many in the first place, but all 5 or so had disappeared. From the board. And the ones taped to the side wall. Plus she removed all the silly things I'd given her (goofy shit snipped from magazines), her Chinese fortune cookie notes, running pix she'd taped up, etc.

The first thing in quitting, besides re-organizing your desk tray, is to remove your personal presence as much as possible.

The only thing she has left is a jockey bobble head doll and a ceramic grandma done up in New Orleans garb which she got as a gift from the farm owner's assistant - her buddy/running friend - that says "Old, but still kickin' it" (or some bullshit). Ohhh, plus some color cut-out of a cartoon woman running (also given to her by FOA).

Which tells me that FOA doesn't know yet and would notice/comment on the stuff missing. She probably wants to tell her, but can't because something might slip, ya know?

Plus, she doesn't give a shit about the crap I gave her (it was SYMBOLICALLY valuable).

Anyhoo, to further nail everything in the coffin, she said this to me today, after I did a sing-song of her name per usual, for no reason:

"You know, in all my 45 years, I've never heard anyone say my name as many times a you have in 1 1/2 years." (I've been there 2 1/2, but who's counting? And it was so obvious that she'd been wanting to tell me this for SO LONG).

"But I'm silly." (biting my lip...WTF?)

"Yeah, I know, but I HATE my name and I especially HATE hearing it said." (Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT. I always preface everything I say to her with her name, even when I'm being silly. OMG! I can't believe she's telling me this NOW!)

"Ohhh....Should I make up a new name for you? How's Victoria?" (tap dancing on thin ice)

"Noooo." (fuck shit fuck)

"You hate me." (pseudo-whiny-hurt to cover up because I didn't know WHAT ELSE TO SAY and I felt like HELL on a platter of SHIT)

"Noooooo. I didn't say that."

I was waiting for "I just don't like my name being said, is all."

But she didn't bother saying it.

My conclusion: She's about to leave and wanted to finally tell me how much I drive her nuts.

(And may I tell you how much your martyrdom bullshit drives me crazy?)

Jesus, how weirdly uncomfortable for her to just blurt that out. Why bother? Now? Or at all? If you're leaving, get gone.

And if I'm wrong about her leaving, I was just handed another reason to leave myself. On a silver platter. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

The rest of the hour I was there today, I did not call her by her name. It was like a bullshit party game without the party, or alcohol.

"Hey...you...phone call."

And good god she looks miffed when there's a call for her. QUIT, bitch, because you're already gone.

But, I need to focus on me. Her plans are hers, mine are mine. I cleaned out a shitload of files today, and boxed up a bunch of old stuff from past years (which I needed to do ANYWAY, even if I were staying, just to make room). I made a comment about as she was passing by (in case she was wondering - she wasn't), and if anyone else asks, it's "year end" clean-up.

I took more "me stuff" off my wall. I reorganized my files. Tossed, shredded, gone, done.

Beyond all this, I think something bigger might be going on at work, that I'm not privy to.

I hate venturing into the "What are THEY up to?" avenue, but if the underlings (who have higher positions, thus know more than I do) are defecting, it's only a matter of time before the big guns under the owner ditch.

Based on my new evidence, I'm gonna have to jet in early January. Or at least be ready to leave at any given moment. In a blazing fit of HISSY.

Dentist appt: PAINFULLY DONE.

Doctor appt: Dec. 19th. His signature on a three month supply of Rx via mail.

In the meantime, toss, shred, toss, delete.

And I must ignore the bitch: She who has no name. I'm in a race to quit before she does.

She is NOT laying her shit at my feet.

I've got a trip to Ireland to plan for.