26 09 2007

A press release has arrived in my inbox: The first seven days of October are designated as “Sleep Apnea Awareness Week.” FYI. I mean, I’m not trying to make fun here, but I wonder how one celebrates this week? Sleeping and snoring as loud as possible?

Injured list

18 09 2007

I believe I detailed this in other online locales, but I have some kind of annoying pain going on in my left thumb. It’s hard to type even though I’m hardly using that thumb. I blame the iPod click wheel for this. Beware, all, of the dangers inherent in modern devices!

The meaning of life and rubber chickens

14 07 2007

On Friday, yesterday, I faced a major conundrum: to buy a rubber chicken or not to buy a rubber chicken. (I’m pretty sure Shakespeare had a few situations like this in his day.) I opted not to, and now I regret it.

This happened to me before in Vegas. I was in a magic shop and I came close to buying a rubber chicken but I just couldn’t do it. Every time I get the chance, it’s like I freak out and I can’t go through with it.

In a way, rubber chickens are a metaphor for life. Do you seize the moment and grab that rubber chicken by his spindly neck, or you, uh, chicken out? How many times have you missed out on the rubber chickens of your life because you thought it was too indulgent, too trivial?

Seriously though, one of these days I’ll buy one and walk through the city so that for once, I can be the freekazoid in someone else’s blog.

In other news, the train operator kind of forgot to stop at the station before the one where I get off. Without apologizing, the operator simply said, “Those of you who were going to get off at the last stop can get off at the next stop and catch the train going back in the other direction. It should be coming soon.” Well I should hope so. (I once had an experience where I got to my station and then the doors near me wouldn’t open. By the time I realized what had happened, we were off to the next station and it took me forever to get back. And then I got the same defective train door situation and almost missed getting out *again*… heh. And then there was the time when I got off the train and trudged up the long, broken escalator, only to find that all the doors out of the station were locked. Running up the side stairwells (5 or 6 stories high) was to no avail as they had a grate covering the front of them as well. The only solution was to run back to the platform and wait for a train to come, at which point I asked an operator to buzz for help.)

[WARNING: THIS IS KINDA GROSS] Oh, and to get rid of that thing on my face, that two-in-one tunneling cyst of doom, I’m on (pricey!) antibiotics and the occasional delightful hydrocortisone shot right in the bullseye. Apparently there is a slim-to-none chance that it will go away on its own. So far, so good. It’s already a lot less noticeable and it’s only day 1 of treatment. A funny thing happened on the way out of the doc’s office as I tried to run out before someone saw the bulging, pulsating sack of cortisone on my reddened cheek: A woman approached me and asked, “Are you here for your skin?” Uh, yes. “Is it expensive?” Heh. [END GROSSNESS]


11 07 2007

I got another weird train story for ya. Eventually I’m going to have to find something else to write about but these are pretty funny so I’m gonna telling ’em as long as I gots ’em. So I’m riding on a crowded to the gills train this morning and I spot one open seat next to an odd guy. We’ll call him OG for short. He was slightly odd. And so am I. So I have sympathy. So he seems relatively harmless; I mean he’s making nervous gestures and wiping himself feverishly with a white washcloth, but that’s nothing I can’t handle.

Then I notice that he’s sneezing and blowing his nose or wiping his nose/mouth area with this cloth, and then, for some inconceivable reason, he’s wiping this cloth on an empty seat to the side of him. Essentially, he is smearing gook from his oral-nasal area onto the seat via washcloth. This is kind of driving me nuts. And then, he proceeds to pas gas in a very obvious manner. It made a funny-sounding noise, and I kind of smiled and giggled. WHOOPS! Oops! I shouldn’t have done that. Dang. I haven’t evolved to the point where I can remain maintain stoic countenance even as flatulence occurs around me. So I pull a book out and proceed to attempt to read it and distract myself from this guy and his wiping. As I’m reading, I feel little drops of wetness dripping on me. My first thought is, Oh, God, is he leaking bodily fluids on me? And then I realized it was just condensation from the air conditioner. Whew. Wait. Actually, ick. This is a train we’re talking about.

And… that’s the story. Sorry folks, that’s all for now. Tune in next time for Train Stories II: The Passenger of Azkaban.


29 06 2007

You can pretty much ignore this entry if you want. Excuse me while I rant about going to the dentist. Today I took the day off and that’s one of the things I did….

So I switched around my work schedule and was able to go to a long-planned dental appointment and in general get my relaxation on. And when I say long-planned, I mean long-planned. I must have made this appointment in January or something. But you know, going to the dentist is not one of my favorite things to do, and I’m guessing that you, unseen reader, feel the same way.

It seems like invariably a dentist sees my two intact, unopposed, relatively healthy wisdom teeth (the lower two never came in) and salivates at the thought of removing them. Why, it’s a hygiene issue. And of course, the hygiene is never good enough. (I like to munch on sweets and I only brush my teeth once a day, which ought to be plenty in my book, but apparently it’s not.) And I really haven’t had issues with my two unopposed third molars on the upper part of my mouth, so why get them out? On the other hand I have a hard time keeping them clean…

[DAYDREAMING SEQUENCE COMMENCES … Elevator music plays softly in the background] I can’t help but think of the dentist scenes in Little Shop of Horrors. By the way, one of the best musicals ever made… but what ever happened to Rick Moranis? Suddenly I feel an urge to watch Honey, I Shrunk the Kid. I loved that movie, that and Back to the Future(s), when I was little. [FADE OUT FROM DAYDREAM SEQUENCE]

So that’s a decision that remains. The thing I hate about going to the dentist is I feel so vulnerable with my mouth all open like that and someone sticking sharp, often vibrating tools in it. It’s such a humbling experience. I did have “subgingival calculus” going on. I like math and I enjoyed my brief encounters with basic and integral calculus in high school and college, so it’s hard for me to imagine what’s wrong with that. So, I have mathematically inclined teeth. Jealousy perhaps? But alas, this necessitated numbing up my gums and sticking a prod in there to loudly scrape all sorts of Tooth Goblins out of there for about a half an hour. In October, I’ll go back to have a “finescaling,” which is… I’m not sure, but I think they go in there with some kind of vibrating tool or something. I dunno. Fun stuff! And I don’t even want to think about getting my wisdom teeth extracted… I’m not yet sure if it’s worth it, but if I do it, it’s probably better to do it while I’m in my mid-20s rather than wait, if I’m sure that problems will result. But that’s the thing; my last dentist thought my teeth would be fine…

Also: I thought it was amusing that they were playing some boring classical shite in there and then the dude comes in and goes, “What is this? A funeral dirge?”