Hygenist Cratchit

I went to the dentist the other day for my annual cleaning. Aren't I responsible? Except I got read the riot act for not flossing regularly. Whatevs. I have better things to do.

I have never had a problem with the dentist. I am not one to cringe and dread and make a stink about the appointment. But that may have changed after this last visit.

Since we're new to town, we had to find all those important things like doctor (check), dentist (maybe check), etc. So one day I looked up dentists that were taking new patients, and those that are in my 'hood. I found one that is less than a block from my front door. I can see her office from my balcony. An appointment was made.

As I settled into the chair, Amber cooed her way into the room. Amber had one of those squeaky-girl voices. On a woman, it does not fly, especially with me. It sounds ridiculous, and I often feel the urge to punch the squeaker in the throat. Amber liked to talk a lot. I don't mind a talking hygenist, just as long as they don't expect an answer. But Amber did. She kept asking questions, and peering over my cheek, looking for my answer.

But Amber had a know-it-all-asshole tone about her. She lectured me on flossing, then she went into how to brush, what brush to use, what toothpaste to use, how to floss (even though she didn't floss me!), the magic of Listerine, and then it went on to the physical make-up of teeth. All the while, she is flailing her hands around in the air. Not in my mouth. All the while, my jaw is flicked wide open, I am gagging on my drool, waiting for her to quit yakking about Listerine and clean my teeth! A simple cleaning took more than 45 minutes.

I have a sensitive spot on my right side, and sure enough, Amber went on at length about what causes a sensitive spot. I didn't care about the cause, just how to get rid of it. Then she nearly got her lights knocked out. Amber sprayed cold water directly on to the sensitive spot. I flinched and my fist instinctively flew into the air. I missed her cheek my a millimetre. I hate Amber.

After choking on the water Amber splashed directly down my throat, and scraping my teeth for an unbearable length of time, I started laughing. It was such an absurd visit, and everything that could hurt had happened. Then my dentist came in and told me I need to get two fillings and four sealants. Come again? It's better than having all four wisdom teeth taken at once, like last year's dentist in Edmonton wanted to do. This dentist says she'll just put a sealant on them. I don't care what she does, just as long as Amber stays the hell away from me.

Hissingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

The Newly Wed and Nearly Dead

Like the new picture? It was taken on Saturday night after we came home from the opera. We saw Madame Butterfly, and it was amazing. There was one scene where tiny paper rose petals (or were they butterflies?) tinkling down on stage. It was brilliant, and we loved the performances.

Except I was sitting next to Typhoid Mary.

Victoria has that nasty nickname of "Home of The Newly Wed and Nearly Dead". Byron and I are almost newley wed, but we were outnumbered by the nearly dead on Saturday.

The woman I sat next to was at least in her seventies and had the worst cough I have ever heard. She would put a kleenex to her mouth and proceed to cough this deep, rough hack that shook my ribcage. Then she would reach into her coat pocket, which was on my thigh, and scratch around for a cough drop. I can handle the coughing and the scratching, but what she did next almost cost her her teeth.

She clacked and sucked and made such a racket with her cough drop. You know that noise... the loud suck, the clatter against the teeth, another big suck and the circle continues. Next to the sound of someone barfing, that noise drives me crazy! I wanted to smack her in the dentures.

I would guess that more than half the audience was sick. There was always someone coughing or sneezing. At intermission, I swear it was like swimming in a sea of phlegm in the lobby with everyone coughing and snotting.

Byron and I wondered why someone would go to the opera if they were sick? Then Byron made a good point... everyone is old and probably almost always sick. Who would go to the opera if all the Nearly Deads stayed home sick?

It was certainly annoying, but we'll still go to the next opera in April. And hope people are more forgiving when we're old and phlegming up a storm.

Sickeningly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

My Funny Valentine

This year will be the very first year I have a Valentine on Valentine's Day. Big whoop, right? Well, for this lady who has always loathed the day, it's kind of weird. Years ago, I held an Anti-Valentine party, complete with anti-love songs and "dirty" cupcakes (I wrote things like "you're diseased" and "jerk" in icing. Tres classy.) I never got swept up in wearing red and pink on February 14th. I wore black. I hated all the schmaltzy cack that went along with Valentine's Day. And I do believe I still hate that cack. But I am a whore for those red cinnamon hearts.

Last night, I was working out and a couple women were talking about a singles event at a local grocery store. Apparently tomorrow night is Singles Night. You can get your groceries and troll for a mate! They have nametags, and sexy music blaring. There are contests and freebies, and a DJ who will annouce that Bobbo saw Chicksy in the yogurt section and wants to talk to her. Very strange. One of the women went last year and had fun, and is thinking of going again.

As I walked out of the workout area, the veteran Singles Nighter said "aren't you glad you're engaged? Now you don't have to go through this anymore!" I giggled nervously and said that I was in their boat last year and I understand.

I understand?!?! What kind of patronizing answer was that!?!?

Thinking back on it, what was she doing asking me such a thing? I'm glad I'm engaged to a wonderful man, and yes I am glad I don't have to troll for men in grocery stores. I am glad I don't have to endure loser men any more. I am thrilled I have someone to talk to and kiss whenever I want to. I am happy to share my life with Byron and I no longer have to think of clever ways to meet a good and decent man. I met him and we're happy and getting married in 219 days. That's what I really wanted to say, but instead, I understood.

Blech.

Understandlingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

Call this a comeback

Oh Amy Winehouse! How I love thee!

Candie referred to her as "Britain's Britney", what with the drugs and trainwreck of a life. But unlike Britney, when she had a chance for a comeback, she took it.

I must admit her spindly legs spooked me, and I couldn't figure out why she was bunching her tres mini-skirt into her crotch. But she did well.

And that is a comeback. Maybe now she'll wear a shirt in public and change her shoes.

Celebrity-Watchingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

(PS - I still stand by my prediction Britney will kick it soon.)

Green and Gross

I live in the hippiest, environmentally-friendly place in Canada. I have never seen such diligence when it comes to "green initiatives" (frig, I hate that phrase). My dad always had a compost pile when we were kids. Halifax was pretty forward when they brought out the Green Boxes years ago. When I lived in Yellowknife and Edmonton, there was no curbside recycling. My cans went out with my dirty kleenex. Imagine Byron's shock coming from Alberta to Victoria, land of blue boxes and all things green.

At work, they are even more guerilla-like. My garbage can at my desk is smaller than my lunch bag. Half the public kitchen is taken up by various recycling boxes, including a composting bin. There are campaigns to get us moving, eating less junk, and recycling all we possibly can. I can keep up. I will recycle all I can, eat more flax seeds and less brownies, and walk whenever possible. I do my part.

But someone has gone too far. Way too far.

Again, at work, there is a woman who insists on NOT flushing the toilet after she goes. Several times I have scurried into the bathroom, swung open the stall door, only to be greeted by a yellow pool. Blech. It grosses me out. I think it's rude and disgusting, and no one wants to look at let alone pee on someone else's waste. Save that for home! Some things, like farting, adjusting your bra, and not flushing are best kept for your own home.

Now, if there were logs laid and not flushed, I would start a riot and burn the place down. That is one of my biggest public bathroom nightmares.

All I ask is for some etiquette. I'll recycle every single can I open, if you'll just flush the toilet! Deal?

Compostingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt

1989? Really?

The big news in BC lately has been a report form the Vancouver Police Department saying they spend too much time dealing with mentally ill people. They say there needs to be better services for the mentally ill. Fine. Fair enough.

While watching TV last night, Byron and I saw a report on Global BC. This guy, Mike McCardell was, in a way, calling himself an expert on the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver, since he has been covering stories in that area for decades. He showed clips of people completely off their rockers, and shook his head in shame. There was shot after shot of people staggering, blathering, passed out, shooting up, and the obligatory hooker-in-the-night-hitchhiking shot. If you watch the clip, you will see at the end that Mike claims there were no homeless in Vancouver before 1989.

Really?

Were there teddy bear hugs and sunshine kisses, too? Who is he kidding? There are and have been homeless people in every city and town since, well, we started living in abodes.

I wonder what catastrophic event took place in 1989 that brought the scourge of homelessness to the happy, candy-coated streets of Vancouver? Mike, any ideas? Or was that when you just pulled your head out of your ass?

Incredulously Yours,
xoxoSallyt

What can I say?

I have nothing to say. There are no anecdotes, no stories, no adventures.

Byron is on a kick to clear out our lives. You know, get rid of things we've been carrying around and hanging on to for years. His thinking is that we are starting a new life and we should make it a clean one. So we've taken out the trash, organized, and made our home our own. He starts his new job on Monday, so it's time to celebrate his (and our) new life, and his new job. New chapters deserve clean pages, no?

In that, though, there have been no musings on life and love.

Sorry, all. Perhaps the winds of change will inspire me soon.

Stallingly yours,
xoxoSallyt