May 2010

Remember that “root planing” incident not too long ago? I didn’t share this for fear of being long winded (who me?), but while I was there the Dentist was kind enough to point out that I had five cavities and a broken crown. She was all, “Did you know you’ve been walking around with half a crown?” which was slightly embarassing but not nearly as embarassing when she asked how I had come to find myself with half a tooth for the better part of two years.

It’s a long story but in short, it involved me having a hissy fit over an unexpected change in my comp plan and needing a Diet Coke to calm myself down. I tried to get a can of Diet Coke from the vending machine. After it ate two one dollar bills, I kicked the machine and said something that might have rhymed with “Mother Tucker” and proceeded downstairs to purchase one from the desk attendant. I couldn’t get that damn bottle to open either so I did what any stiletto wearing, temper tantrum throwing drama mama would do and used my teeth.

Um, yeah. Thirty seconds later as I spit half of my crown into the sink, I realized that perhaps that might not have been the best course of action. Also, you should know that all of this happened at a La Quinta…in Bentonville, Arkansas…right before I went on a sales call at Walmart.

Irony much?

Anyway, here I find myself some two years later having to tend to my neglected teeth. I had two cavities filled on the left side of my mouth on Thursday and apparently I had forgotten what a numb mouth really means to your ability to do every day things. I learned two important things:

1.) A bean burrito is not your friend no matter how hungry you are. I thought since it was soft, it wouldn’t hurt the ouchies going on in my mouth. I was right on that count but trying to eat that thing was another story. After several failed attempts with beans, cheese and grease slowly dripping their way down my chin, I finally got a nice big bite. Immediately after that, I thought, “Wait!!!! Where did it go?” I could feel the right side of my mouth and there was nothing there. Surely I had not imagined this. I pulled down the mirror and took a peek. There, sticking out of the left side of my mouth was approximately half a burrito, sticking out like a cigar and oozing it’s contents all over my white pants. And also my hair. NOT PRETTY. The workers in the car next to me were having a good laugh, I gave them a pfft look and proceeded to swing my hair back over my shoulder while spraying bean burrito all over the pristine sand colored interior of my car. What can I say? I was hungry.

2.) After getting your mouth numbed, you are most certainly not fit for kissing. After arriving home with bean burrito all over me, my hair and my car, I thought giving The Man a little kiss would be a swell idea. I had no idea why he looked at me with such pity when I puckered up…normally he’s a big lover. Want to know why? Because of this:

There is no explanation for the shape of my nose or whatever that weird light is on my face….but the lips? I blame on the dentist and my own inability to realize my face was no longer working.

The Man kissed me anyway, he’s seen me in worse shape. Let’s see how he deals with me when I have the root canal on that broken tooth!

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::WARNING::

This post may make you break out in hives, faint and vomit all at the same time.    TSM assumes no responsibility for any cases of hysterical blindness, desire to spork your eyes out or the arrival of police when your neighbors call after hearing you scream.

Okay, now that you’ve been warned, let’s carry on, shall we?

Had some travel again this week.    This time, however, I was really looking forward to it even it if was work related.   It was a big annual internet advertising conference where I’d get to see my fellow geeky ad peeps from around the country.   Also, it was held at a five star resort and totally paid for by my company.   BONUS.

I got there Sunday afternoon, it was hot and I was tired.   Hoping to get a few minutes of shut eye before two full days of classes and nights of parties started, I violated my cardinal rule and flopped down on the bed before removing all the pillows and coverings.   (Have you seen those Dateline shows with the blue light in the hotel room???   I have, and they scare the shit out of me.)

So like I said, I flopped down for a few minutes of shut eye.   About fifteen minutes later, I stretched out, feeling refreshed, turned my head to the left…

…and started screaming.

There before me was a square shaped, brown decorative pillow.   On this pillow there was a large amount of something VERY BAD.

Take a guess what it is:

After I finished screaming at the top of my lungs while simultaneously trying to pull my hair out and remove my eyeballs,  I ran into the scalding shower and scrubbed most of my skin off.

Now bald, blind and a stunning shade of red, I made my way to the phone to pick up the phone to inform the front desk of my findings.

Front Desk:    And how may I assist you today, Mrs. Stiletto?
TSM: I just checked in? And there is something really bad on one of the pillows.
Front Desk: Describe bad.
TSM: Well, it’s crusty, white and, um….ropey
Front Desk: Can you be more specific?
TSM: Certainly. I believe it to be a bodily fluid of some sort and to be exact, I believe it is sperm and it is all over the decorative pillow in my room which almost made contact with MY FACE. Also, I could inform you that there was a small black hair next to the pillow but I feel like that might be overkill.
Front Desk: **silence**
TSM: You still with me?
Front Desk: **heard in the background, “Hey somebody get help, Bob just fainted!”**

Well Bob didnt’ really faint but he was possibly the most horrified employee I’ve ever encountered. He assured me that someone would be up post haste to change all the linens in the room and also gave me the first night free of charge which honestly was the least he could do given I’d had a close encounter of the sperm kind.

I got back to my room around 1:00 am and it looked like everything had been taken care of. Bed folded back, fresh pillows fluffed….I happily went to bed.

However. The next morning I woke up and called home. As I stretched and got out of bed, I walked to the end of the bed while talking to The Man. The conversation was casual right up to the moment I yelled, “Oh My God! The sperm pillow is still here!!!! AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!”, at which point The Man was all, “What the hell are you doing down there???” and I let him know I had no time for explanations. Action must be taken.

I threw the pillow out the front door, and called the front desk again. I got another employee this time, went through the entire embarassing story one more time all the while scratching myself and rocking back and forth. I would have sucked my thumb but to be honest, I was afraid of what might be on it.

I’m happy to report the entire incident was resolved. New sheets were brought to the room, along with all new bed coverings that were applied under my strict supervision. Also, it would appear that I can be bought off because in addition to the free room, I was given a one hour massage at a value of $175 and it was the best damn massage I ever got. I’m back at home now and while I’m bald, blind and still a stunning shade of red with some odd scratch marks, my shoulders feel fabulous.

However, if my nose ends up pregnant after that encounter, I’m totally going to demand a full spa day in reparation.

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Wow…it’s been a week since I blogged. I kept meaning to but life got in the way.  Every. Single. Day.

Cases in point:

Monday: Awoke at 3:45 AM to sound of fancy coffee maker cycling itself before shutting down. Immediately suspected a serial killer because when a serial killer breaks into your home in the middle of the night, of course he will want some coffee. Prowled through darkness looking for perp, never went back to sleep. Remainder of the day a blur, opted for Red Bull late afternoon…evening spent babbling incoherently at husband who was able to make out approximately every third word. Crashed and burned at 9:00 pm.

Tuesday: A repeat performance of last years “The Silence Of The Bunnies” (read it if you haven’t, it’s pretty good.) wherein my 38 lb pug decides to snack on tiny bunnies like this one.

This time, it was a family of four baby bunnies, one of which is in the picture above. Hours were spent trying to get them to move all the while trying to keep a ravenous pug indoors. Important to note: “Shoo bunnies, shoo!!!!” and “Where IS your mother???” do not work in cases such as this. Awoke in the morning only to find two of them had found the entire event so traumatizing they committed bunny suicide in our pool sometime in the middle of the night during a scuba expedition.

Wednesday: Locked out of computer for most of the day despite repeated warnings to change my password. Important to note that my boss did the exact same thing the week before and I laughed at him. Most embarassing text ever? “Dear Boss, I am a dumbass….” sent from my iPhone at 7:00 am when I had to admit to him that I had done the exact same thing.

Thursday: Catch up day after aforementioned unfortunate “Access Denied” stunt on Wednesday. Work furiously all day to make sure everything was done before heading out to Fifth Grade Talent Show.

Show? Yes.  Talent?   Hmmm.  Remainder of evening spent consuming copious amounts of wine trying to convince my ears that it was safe for them to hear again.

Friday: Well, what’s the point? None of you are going to read me on Friday so I might as well conserve the key strokes, right? With all this talk of conservatism and greenishness, I feel like I’m doing the planet a little good right there.

Or I’m just lazy.

Your call.

Hope you all had a wonderful week!

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How do you top a weekend of small Boy Scouts with Astronauts? You have a little diva who has her first communion, that’s how.

In case you aren’t Catholic, or if you have never seen a gaggle of little eight year old girls dressed up as brides, allow me to explain. Technically, it’s the first time they can receive communion (the body of Christ in flat bread form) as a member of the church. Also there is the question of whether or not to “drink the precious blood of Christ”. Which, I’ll be honest, might be just a little much for an eight year old girl to get her tiny arms around.

But I digress. First, let’s all admire her cuteness, because honestly, that’s really what the day was all about for her.

Here she is after I staple gunned the veil to her head admiring herself in the mirror….

And also, here she is as a slight breeze picked up in front of the rose bushes at our house…

…and one more with a group of her little friends before they walked calmly sprinted down the isle for the service. Cute right?

Yeah, about that. Little did I know I was raising a future member of the Cullen gang from Twilight until the mass was in full force. On the way to church, and for several days before, the discussion of whether or not to “drink the precious blood” had permeated our home. Much worry was given to this topic. Does it taste like blood? Does it taste like wine? After I finally reassured her it tasted like wine, The Man offered that possibly we should let her have a sip to taste it. Which would work, except….we like very nice red wine and I’ve tasted that swill the church is passing off….it doesn’t compare. So on and on…and on and on we went with this dilemna.

Got to the church and scored a prime seat right behind Miss G. I could see EVERYTHING. Which meant also she could see me. Every few minutes she’d turn around and mouth, “I’m drinking the blood” or, “I”m not drinking the blood”. Back and forth we went until I convinced myself that if she really was a member of a vampire clan. To be honest, I started to worry she would scare her little communion friends.

Finally she made her way up to the altar and took her First Communion. She scurried past the lady with the lovely gold goblet of cheap Catholic wine and made her way back to her seat.

She turned around and looked at me with a proud smile on her face. The smile quickly disappeared as she noticed that her mother, seated only a few feet behind her, was crying.

Because I cry at everything, and especially days like this, that’s why.

With a roll of her eyes and a disdaining look she hissed:

“OH MY GOD, are you…..CRYING?????”

At which point, I never got another glance from her for the remainder of the service. Pfft.

She got even with me a little later though when we had her after party. All of our friends and family were present and I attempted to interview her with her sweet little cousin Miss K, who up until that moment thought Miss G had gotten married that day. Pay attention to the message she wants to share with me at the end:

Yes, that’s what she’d like to share with me at the end of this extra special day. Honestly, a “Thank You Mommy” would have done just fine.

Never let it be said that my daughter is dull.

PS: The winner of my Oprah book is….drum roll please! Michelle Renee from It Must Be A Full Moon! She promises to share this book with her Nana who refers to Oprah as “Ofrah”….I hope her Nana enjoys it!

Also, I know I promised you guys a video drawing but since The Man had to sit and listen to me bitch about this book for four entire days, I just allowed him to shout a number out to free himself of the entire experience. It was healing for him, really.

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