The Gurly Life

A visit to the dentist

Yesterday I went to the dentist to have a filling done. I was not thrilled about the idea, if for no other reason than I take excellent care of my teeth, I should not need to have a filling. There should not be any tooth rot when you keep you teeth meticulously clean and floss every night. However, what is more important to me than not needing fillings is not needing gum surgery, root canals, getting teeth pulled out etc. So I can live with a filling.

The dentist I go to retired and passed his practice on to a younger man. The retired dentist was excellent, if not a little unconventional. He is a tall thin man who moves at the speed of light. Nervous energy, thy name is My Dentist. He has a square-looking body and a square-looking head and square-looking hands the size of a frying pans. His voice is as loud as his body is square. No matter where you were in the dental office you could hear him talk to clients, staff, whoever. He does not yell at people the way you and I yell at people - to emphasize something or when we're angry. He just yells because that's how he communicates.

My favorite thing about him was that he lectured his patients relentlessly about good oral hygiene and how critical it is to get your teeth cleaned regularly and to floss every day. If the patient was not taking care of his teeth, he would spout dire predictions while working in their mouth, effectively cutting off any possibility of a retort. "YOU SEE THIS RIGHT HERE? THIS. RIGHT HERE. WAIT, LET ME SHOW YOU IN THE X-RAY." And then, leaving several instruments in the patient's mouth, he'd wheel his chair to the file, come to a skidding stop, grab the x-rays out of the file, and skid back to the terrified patient. "OK NOW YOU CAN SEE IT. LOOK AT THIS DAMAGE. THIS IS BECAUSE YOU SMOKE AND YOU DRINK COFFEE AND YOU DON'T FLOSS. AND THE LAST TIME YOU CLEANED YOUR TEETH" skidding back to the file "WAS TWO YEARS AGO. THERE IS A LOT OF BONE LOSS UNDER THE GUM AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOUR TEETH IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF YEARS YOU HAVE TO START TAKING CARE OF YOUR TEETH."

Then he would stop, put his hands on his thighs, sigh and his head would droop, in an expression of hopelessness. He would look like he was considering whether or not to say the next thing he was going to say, but of course he was just preparing himself for his dramatic ending. Finally, his head would come up, and would look at the patient straight in the eye with those mad scientist eyes of his, and let loose.

"YOU KNOW, I SEE PATIENTS IN HERE ALL THE TIME. AND I TELL THEM EVERY DAY THAT THEY HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THEIR TEETH. BUT DO THEY LISTEN? MOSTLY, NO. I AM NOT A MIRACLE WORKER. THERE IS ONLY SO MUCH I CAN DO FOR YOU. BUT IF YOU INSIST ON NOT DOING WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO THEN YOU WILL LOSE YOUR TEETH AND IT WILL BE PAINFUL AND THEN YOU WILL BE HERE AGAIN COMPLAINING ABOUT YOUR TEETH EXPECTING ME TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. BUT I CAN'T. BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T DO WHAT YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE. NOW I'M GOING TO DO MY BEST HERE BUT YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THAT THERE IS ONLY SO MUCH I CAN DO."

Then he would dig in again, and the litany would continue unabated. The patient, eventually, would leave, looking sheepish and probably shamed into taking slightly better care of his teeth.

I myself was regaled to such a lecture the first time I went to see him, and it worked. The last time I saw him, before he retired, he was pleased as punch. "NOW THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. YOU TAKE EXCELLENT CARE OF YOUR TEETH. WELL DONE. YOU WILL KEEP YOUR TEETH YOUR WHOLE LIFE. I TELL MY PATIENTS EVERY TIME THAT THEY HAVE TO FLOSS AND GET THEIR TEETH CLEANED BUT YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW FEW PEOPLE ACTUALLY DO IT. I MEAN IT'S INCREDIBLE. DON'T THEY WANT TO KEEP THEIR TEETH? DO THEY WANT TO COME HERE AND HAVE GUM SURGERY?" And so on.

I made sympathetic noises as best I could, and then he sent me on my way. The last thing I heard was his booming voice addressing a naughty patient.

The man who replaced him is a good dentist, but he balances out the personality universe by having as little as his predecessor had much. He has a thick foreign accent, perhaps Armenian, and is a completely humorless man. Or at least, not at work. He also has a dental assistant who has a wolfish look about him, and I don't mean like Jacob.

The assistant is either mean or has no people skills. He asked me how my teeth are, did I have any problems. I said no, but the tooth where I have the crown is sensitive still when I floss. His response: "That's normal. You had EXTENSIVE work done there. When there is SO MUCH WORK, SUCH EXTENSIVE WORK it's normal for it to stay sensitive." I'm thinking, um, it's a crown, it's not that extensive but ok. Then he asked if the previous doctor ever recommended a night guard. I said yes, but I could never get used to it and couldn't sleep with it on. "Well, I think that may have been your error," he responded ominously, and then left it hanging there, and I could almost see the DOT DOT DOT bubble in the air, full of latent meaning. I felt like they were about to remove all my teeth and one of my limbs, and it was my fault because I didn't wear a night guard.

The doctor came by to give me a shot of novocain or whatever it was, which hurt by the way, but the doctor appeared not to care. No soothing noises like, just a couple more seconds hang in there. Nothing. Just more painful jabs. I was all, ok, then and by the way OUCH!

While the anesthetic took effect, the doctor left me with wolf boy. I asked how long he thought it would take to drill. In reality, it took maybe a minute or two, with frequent pauses to rinse things out so it really was not very much. But wolf boy took full advantage of the situation and said the damage was EXTENSIVE. I swear, the man is a ghoul! I asked him to show me the x-ray. He pulled it out and showed me the decay, which was not a tiny speck, but it was not by any means "extensive." So I said that, and he gleefully pointed out that "this is just a cross-section view, the decay might wrap all the way around the side of the tooth it's hard to tell how bad this is but it could be really really bad." Marathon Man came to mind.

Pick up your shit and go home!

On Saturday, nothing happened.

The End.

No, I kid. But not so much. So, to make this quick and easy, this post is mostly pictures.

Saturday was a day for the birds.

 
[These are Mexican seagulls - so don't say I didn't bring ya nothin']

Saturday was the day for the onshore activities, though many of us declined and stayed on the ship. By many of us, I mean people from the firm. The ship was empty and quiet, and we really did wile away the hours. Here's as far out as mom and I got:

 

It was a bit chilly, hence the jackets and the scarves.

We sat in the lounge on couchy seats, tip tapping on the computer or listening to books on tape, we chatted with passing friends, took pictures (lots of them, and probably only interesting to us) and waited until dinner. Somewhere in between, there was napping. Some folks enjoyed massages or the jacuzzi. I did not bring my suit for the jacuzzi, though I doubt anyone could have prevailed upon me to get nearly nekked with temperatures in the low 60s.

Dinner was a slightly more formal affair on Saturday night,

 
[With Ivy, who looked gorgeous]

though things degenerated fairly quickly.

  

The dinner show involved the entire dining room singing "Wheeeeeeeen theeeee moooon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amoooreeee" and of course there was some waving of arms involved from some of us not all of us but many of us I won't name any names but pretty much all of Kim's table. No one can accuse our firm of being passive or not fully participating in whatever bird-brained scheme is being hatched. 

There was dancing, again, and the Evil Gnome was out, again. Saturday night he met willing partners, one of whom was a tall blond woman whose dress barely covered her ass and crotchumous area. There was also a woman in a bright orange prom dress who kept making rather raunchy advances towards her date, who managed to look mildly bored even as she did a full forward bend and rubbed her butt against his front package area. I'm not sure who I felt more sorry for in that little domestic drama. I hereby make a sweeping generalization based on nothing but conjecture and say that when you have to resort to such measures to get your date's attention, and fail, it is time to move on.

Some pole dancing occurred

  

And some of this happened too, though I'm not totally sure what "this" is.

 

And in all fairness, some of this:

  

In other words, we had a good time. Some of us were drunk, some were not, and the undrunk kept the drunk from falling off the boat. It's good to have friends.

Sunday was our Day At Sea. By that I do not mean that we were all confused, but that the ship stopped in the middle of the water on the far side of Catalina Island, and on board activities and such were enjoyed by many. I'm not sure how, but the day frittered away. I took some scenic shots, and I even saw a whale cruise by. She was not really close enough for pictures, but I saw the water plume a couple of times.

I took a couple of scenic shots:

 
 

At 11 on Sunday morning I attended the debarkation debrief. The cruise director gave us all the info we could possibly ever want about how to debark, which amounted to pick up your shit and get out. I think I could have figured it out myself. Had the weekend benn even a tiny bit more productive, I might have demanded that hour of my life back. But since I had nothing to do, it would have been more like demanding a wasted hour back so I could go waste it on something equally unimportant. 

Sunday afternoon we gathered for a little cocktail party

 
 

After the cocktail party, some of us made a beeline for the "sushi" bar - extremely popular, judging by the length of the line, which to me indicates that sushi needs to be a staple of cruise ships. I mean, they're on the water for pete's sake, it can't be too difficult to have fresh fish, right?

By Sunday evening we had all pretty much collapsed. We napped until dinner, and then soon after everyone scattered and went to bed. Except for Jamaar and Shani, who danced till 4 am. Crazy kids!

  

Monday morning we were up with the chickens (birds again!) for breakfast, and we took our shit and got the hell off the boat, into cold and rainy weather. Vacation was certainly over, but not without fun memories, stories that will be told for the next several years, and some choice photographs that will be used as blackmail, or for a firm calendar. I vote for firm calendar.

Show me the way to San Jose

Thursday and Friday, I was in San Jose. I went for 2 days of a 3-day industry conference. If you live in LA and you think I meant film industry, I would say stop thinking you're the center of the universe, or the center of anything, or really, even that important. But I digress because I so despise the entertainment industry.

Our firm had a booth for the first time and so myself and a few others were called upon to represent. I know, right? I think Zebigboss foolishly believes (hopes?) that I have learned to behave in public, but as it happens, I have not. On the plus side, I entertain, so I get away with it.

Thursday was the tough day. I got up at 4am to catch my 7:15 flight, and I had to be social and friendly all day, then we went to a dinner my boss hosted for our clients who where at the conference. I finally got to sleep at 11pm.

At one point in the afternoon I decided to go into the city attorneys' room to get some knowledge and some MCLE credits, but the room was a meat locker, I was tired, it was after lunch, AND the speaker was soporific. My eyes rolled back into my head, and I may have drooled a little. When Ivy called about something not urgent I was all, oh I'm outta here I HAVE to take this call.

I did collect a few city pins, and got a very lovely City of Westminster coin.

It was just like Disneyland, with people trading and showing off pins.

My horribleness before breakfast was confirmed yet again. I don't wake up in a bad mood, but if I have to wait to eat I become an absolute fucking bitch on wheels. Pre-breakfast hunger is primal: if you collapse on our way to breakfast, I am as likely to eat you as I am to call 911. A not-too-together taxi driver almost lost his life on Friday morning. He didn't smell particularly good, so he was saved.

On Thursday evening Kathya and I had a mini-adventure. We needed cash, and the Mexican bar across the street had one of those ATM INSIDE fluorescent light signs in the window. We jaywalked our way over, and when we opened the door we were hit by a wall of Mexican bar music. I tried to tell one of the waitresses that we needed to use EL CASHO MACHINO (because, you know, when you make up words and yell them, it makes communication easier), while she looked at me like I was some cracked-out gringo chick. While waiting for Kathya to get her cash, I looked around at the sparsely populated bar, and I think there were as many patrons as wait-staff. The security guard was playing pool, that's how slow it was. I could also point out that Kathya speaks Spanish, but she did not intervene while I yelled made-up words at the uncomprehending waitress.

Dinner was very nice. We ate at the Silicon Valley Capital Club. You can go here for a virtual tour. I recommend the North Terrace virtual tour. That's where we hung out until our guests arrived and Zebigboss came out to inform us that we needed to be inside. The food was excellent and I spent about half the evening chatting to Zebigboss's wife, Judy, about yoga.

At 1:45 on Friday, the conference ended, and I was able to catch a flight three and a half hours earlier than planned, got an awesome seat and chatted with a very nice man, my bag was the first one out, and I hit no traffic on my drive home from the airport. On a Friday afternoon. I think the cats had a hand in arranging things so I could be home earlier.

Writing class!

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I am taking a Stanford U. online writing class, which begins on September 28. The context at the time was the odd reaction I got from someone about it. Now I'm writing about it because I'M SO EXCITED I CAN'T STAND IT! I have my books, and I'll get my assignment next week.

Did I mention that after law school I swore I would never ever take another class again?

Willow is a rock and roll trollop

Today Willow and I went for a bike ride. After an hour of whatever it was we did, we finally got on our bikes and off we went. First, we stopped off at the local fire station, where they were having a fundraiser. I guess now that budgets are being cut, the LAFD is taking matters into its own hands. There were tacos, a truckful of LAFD paraphernalia, and firefighter-made salsa. Mmmh.

We wandered around and got our pictures takes on one of the engines. Here I am, ready to drive off

 

Now, I don't remember having that flabby pooch, but since I stopped running there are all sorts of little rolls of flesh where there were none before. Ah, well. Here's Willow

 

If you notice, Willow is wearing new Keens on her feet, a birthday present from our friend Michael. They match the fire engine.

I did find this fire hydrant thingy, which I like to call a veritable cornucopia of colors.

Having biked three whole blocks on an empty stomach, it was time for lunch. We went to The Counter, where you customize your burger. Mmmh. Delish. Excellent meat, and they can make it on a bed of greens which is essentially a salad. I thought I was not going to be able to pedal after that, but instead was quite the happy fed biker.

We braved Lincoln Blvd to get to the bike shop, where we intended to buy baskets for our bikes. Because, you know, we're not cool enough. But the basket we wanted was only available in white, and I thought why draw attention to our dorkiness any more than necessary. We will wait until the black baskets come in next week. Instead, I bought a bell and Willow got some lights for her bike. The rear light has a Knight Rider mode, where the little red light swings from one side to the other and back again. The bell is a straight forward RIIING RIIING kind of thing. Its best use for today was to periodically let Willow know I was still there and had not been run over by a truck or abducted by aliens. Or simply distracted by bright colors.

We continued our meander around the marina, and finally arrived at Fisherman's Wharf, where a rock and roll band was playing its little heart out. Some senior citizens were rocking out. We pulled up on our bikes and listened for a short while. Within seconds, a rather hot sax player spotted Willow and played his way over to her, and this happened

 

Willow is a rock and roll trollop. The rest of the bike ride was without incident, but Willow's reputation is sealed.

This week in Maliboo Kitty

This week we have a guest appearance, backpacking cat. Thanks to CuteOverload for the find!

My miracle friend

Today I paid a visit to my friend Maria.

 

She should not really be alive, but she is. Read about what happened to her, and a new technique they're using at Providence Tarzana Hospital.

And in case you're wondering, she says it's pretty boring on the other side. So make it count here, cos you don't know for sure that you get another shot.

I lived through jury duty, and now I'm telling

The title of this post is way more interesting that the post itself, just so you know.

As you might remember, a couple of days ago I was beside myself with fury at the whole jury duty thing. Ordinarily, I am a ray of sunshine, or, as Willow says, open to new things. But every now and again, I lose my shit. But, as Willow pointed out, being pissed off about it wasn't really going to do me much good.

Therefore, the next morning I returned with a brand new attitude, and decided that if I did end up on the jury, it would be a great learning experience. I could haggle later with my boss about losing the hours. Besides, this was a felony trial with some hairy charges and experienced attorneys, so it would have been very interesting.

It appears, by the way, I was not the only one who experienced mad rage on day one, and returned resigned to my fate (and by resigned to my fate I mean a ray of sunshine and a beacon of hope) the next day. It helped that my jury pool buddy was a hot firefighter. But I digress.

It took 2 days to get my butt in the jury box. There was a lot of waiting around, mostly because the court was dealing with its regular calendar as well as the trial, so most of the mornings and a little of the afternoons were taken up with motions and various other bits.

But once I got in the jury box and I got a chance to tell the attorneys what I do for a living and that I work with a lot of cops and I happen to think very highly of them, well, it was time to let the courthouse door hit me in the ass on the way out.

Thus ended my jury duty adventure. I donated my mileage cents to the Leukemia Society or some such charity, and should be receiving my $15 check in the mail in about a week. I'll be donating that to a charity also. To make up for the bad karma of being so bitchy the first day.

A pink bike passed us

Yesterday (Saturday) I went on a bike ride with Willow, Adam and Michael.

[Adam, Willow and me, and Michael took the picture]

Oddly, the weather was nicer at the beach than inland. Usually the marine layer is thicker, you know, near the sea. But hey, we've had rain in June so we have apparently entered bizzarro weather world.

You can only see the handlebars, but this is the new bike, the one my dad got for me. Good lord, how old am I? Doesn't that sound like something a 6 year-old would say? Anyway.

I hadn't been on a bike ride at the beach in a long time, probably going on 10 years. Now that Willow and Adam live so close to the beach and there is not a parking issue, I'll be going again much more often.

If you look closely you can see a short antenna sticking out from Willow's side. Adam equipped us with walkie-talkies and ear mikes so that we could communicate without having to yell and turn our heads backwards. We had lots of fun chatting back and forth while at the coffee shop, where of course we had to stop before our mosey. I think we said "testing, testing - over" and "what?? - over" about a hundred times. It was quite windy so the communication was not as efficient as we might have liked. I suggested to Adam that next time we needed more high-tech gear. Turns out he has more high-tech gear, but it's more expensive and he's not sure he trusts us with it. We later found out said high tech expensive gear is headphones that cost $32 a pair, and have a foamy thingy covering the mike so that the wind doesn't distort the voice as much.

I was all, oh for pete's sake, bring those next time if I break it I buy it. Of course, it didn't even occur to me to say "Next time, I'm not wearing this nerd gear." That is simply out of the question, we are after all, the Nerd Posse. Nerdgasm, anyone?

We biked very slowly. We probably covered about 6 miles in 2 hours. I think I used to run faster than that. Well, that's not fair, we did stop to sip coffee and eat sandwiches (I had a rather delicious decaf latte, myself). Also, I stopped the posse several times to photograph the fauna:

And the flora:

In this, the walkies were useful because I got to scream in everyone's ear to STOP!

Regardless, a bike ride to end all bike rides it was not. At one point, we were swiftly passed by a pink bike. It was ridden by a very fit looking woman, but it was pink, for heaven's sake.

However, since we weren't in any particular hurry to go anywhere, moseying was just fine. And as we get used to the intense ass pressure that bike riding puts on your ass, I'm sure we'll go further. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must pomade my butt-tocks.

The fray or not the fray?

So I'm considering getting back into the fray, i.e., the dating game. I'm bored and nauseated just thinking about it, but as Dean says, the idea of me dating in my mid-70's is kinda gross. Long story.

I might do a scorched earth type of thing, where I sign up for several different online dating services. If nothing else, it'll make for excellent blogging.

Edited to add: You know what? Plan scrapped. Oh yeah baby. The online thing is out. Done. Deirdre made an excellent point: going into it already resigned that I'm just going to be wading through bozos in the dim hope of meeting someone decent will not work. Well, it'll work if all I'm doing is looking for ridiculous people to write about, but ostensibly that would not be the reason. Actually, what Deirdre said is that an open and compassionate heart is necessary to find the right person. I think she's right. But I don't have openness and compassion for online dating, and I'm not interested in creating it.

Therefore, I'm going to follow my own advice (and Willow's): I'm going to go do the things I like to do and create being open while living my life.