no pain, no political gain.
A few weeks ago, I went in to see my dentist for one of those every-6-months check-ups. He asked the usual grown-up questions about school and exams and my future career goals after graduation ("Sleeping," I said shortly). "So I hear you're going to become a politician," he said, as he began preparing for my tooth examination and cleaning.
"No," I said, baffled. "That's never been one of my choices."
"I see. Alright then."
"Wait. Have you been talking to my father?" I asked suspiciously.
He shrugged lightly. "Well, yes, that's what your baba said. He said you've been hanging out with a lot of politicians lately."
I laughed. "They're not politicians, they're university administrators. My baba likes exaggerating because he says he'll never understand what I'm studying."
"Well, make sure you get your wisdom teeth pulled before you become a politician though," he deadpanned, "because you'll need to prepare for the future."
On my way out the door, after we had established that my teeth were looking mighty grand, I stopped by the receptionist's counter to make an appointment for an upcoming wisdom tooth extraction. Having taken care of that, I said to her, "Alright then, have a beautiful day, and I'll see you in a couple weeks!"
She leaned over the counter towards me, widening her eyes and stifling a burst of laughter. "Did you hear about the two men in Los Angeles who were cleaning windows and the scaffolding broke?"
I stared. "Oh man, that's terrible."
"I mean, it's not funny, but better them than me, right?"
At a loss for words, I continued staring at her unsuccessful attempt to suppress a smirk, then fled out the door before I did something like hit her over the head with…umm…my messenger bag? my flip-flops? the latest copy of TIME magazine? her thick appointment book?
The rest of that morning went somewhat like this:
I was back at the dentist's this morning to get my wisdom tooth pulled. The receptionist prepared me quite nicely for that by giving me a headache when she presented me with change in $2 bills for a $20 bill and then proceeded to confuse both herself and me while counting out said change. $2 bills? I had forgotten those even existed.
So the wisdom tooth extraction was not as much drama as I had been expecting. I walked out of the place half an hour after I walked in. My sister (here on out referred to as "Chauffeur Extraordinaire") and I celebrated by going to the grocery store and spending tons of money on my prescriptions (for penicillin and ibuprofen. Where's my vicodin, huh huh huh?), yoghurt smoothies, instant custard, peach-and-mango-flavored applesauce, ice cream, and fruit popsicles. I'm all set for the long haul. Hey, I'm an invalid; I'm entitled.
Then I came home and sprawled on the couch and watched Donnie Darko and Traffic, which were damn depressing. I think I need to watch The Goonies and The Princess Bride to cheer myself up instead.
I also:
I'm getting (slightly) tired of being all bitter and using the word "damn" multiple times in this post though. So, My Stupid Gum From Which That Damn Wisdom Tooth Was Extracted, can you please hurry up and stop bleeding so I can start eating some real food already? Because I seriously think meatballs taste better than cotton balls, I'm sure you agree, and, besides, I'm on spring break now and I would like to make it revolve around food and not around how loudly my tummy will continue growling before I give up and grab another one of those applesauce containers, because that's just no fun.
Thanks, much appreciated.
A few weeks ago, I went in to see my dentist for one of those every-6-months check-ups. He asked the usual grown-up questions about school and exams and my future career goals after graduation ("Sleeping," I said shortly). "So I hear you're going to become a politician," he said, as he began preparing for my tooth examination and cleaning.
"No," I said, baffled. "That's never been one of my choices."
"I see. Alright then."
"Wait. Have you been talking to my father?" I asked suspiciously.
He shrugged lightly. "Well, yes, that's what your baba said. He said you've been hanging out with a lot of politicians lately."
I laughed. "They're not politicians, they're university administrators. My baba likes exaggerating because he says he'll never understand what I'm studying."
"Well, make sure you get your wisdom teeth pulled before you become a politician though," he deadpanned, "because you'll need to prepare for the future."
On my way out the door, after we had established that my teeth were looking mighty grand, I stopped by the receptionist's counter to make an appointment for an upcoming wisdom tooth extraction. Having taken care of that, I said to her, "Alright then, have a beautiful day, and I'll see you in a couple weeks!"
She leaned over the counter towards me, widening her eyes and stifling a burst of laughter. "Did you hear about the two men in Los Angeles who were cleaning windows and the scaffolding broke?"
I stared. "Oh man, that's terrible."
"I mean, it's not funny, but better them than me, right?"
At a loss for words, I continued staring at her unsuccessful attempt to suppress a smirk, then fled out the door before I did something like hit her over the head with…umm…my messenger bag? my flip-flops? the latest copy of TIME magazine? her thick appointment book?
The rest of that morning went somewhat like this:
- I bought a $5 pair of pants and $7 pair of boots from the Goodwill store down the street. (This is why the majority of my paycheck always goes towards food and not towards clothes.)Anyway, that was then.
- I literally almost got my sorry self run over because I thought I was too cool to look both ways while crossing said 4-laned street. Clearly I'm getting cocky from spending way too much time in downtown Sacramento, where jay-walking is normal for me.
- I stopped by another store with the intention of buying hearing aid batteries and walked out with two pairs of flip-flops for $10.
- To celebrate my nice, shiny, newly-cleaned teeth, I ate doughnuts and candy all the way to Berkeley.
I was back at the dentist's this morning to get my wisdom tooth pulled. The receptionist prepared me quite nicely for that by giving me a headache when she presented me with change in $2 bills for a $20 bill and then proceeded to confuse both herself and me while counting out said change. $2 bills? I had forgotten those even existed.
So the wisdom tooth extraction was not as much drama as I had been expecting. I walked out of the place half an hour after I walked in. My sister (here on out referred to as "Chauffeur Extraordinaire") and I celebrated by going to the grocery store and spending tons of money on my prescriptions (for penicillin and ibuprofen. Where's my vicodin, huh huh huh?), yoghurt smoothies, instant custard, peach-and-mango-flavored applesauce, ice cream, and fruit popsicles. I'm all set for the long haul. Hey, I'm an invalid; I'm entitled.
Then I came home and sprawled on the couch and watched Donnie Darko and Traffic, which were damn depressing. I think I need to watch The Goonies and The Princess Bride to cheer myself up instead.
I also:
- ate a heaping bowlful of custardAnyway, the damn bleeding still hasn't stopped, so I'm stuck on soft, cold food for now and I had to sit at the dinner table and watch everyone eat meatballs and hot roti while I spooned applesauce into my mouth around the cottonballs, because did I mention it's still bleeding? I mean, I know my favorite color is red and all. But still. Geez louise.
- munched on one fruit popsicle (cherry-flavored)
- applied an ice pack to my cheek/jaw 598905839587 times for fifteen minutes at a times
- tried the mango-peach applesauce, which was surprisingly yummy
- spit out and replaced the blood-soaked gauze pads and cottonballs in my mouth 493874902740274 times (you know you're dying to hear all the gory details, just admit it)
I'm getting (slightly) tired of being all bitter and using the word "damn" multiple times in this post though. So, My Stupid Gum From Which That Damn Wisdom Tooth Was Extracted, can you please hurry up and stop bleeding so I can start eating some real food already? Because I seriously think meatballs taste better than cotton balls, I'm sure you agree, and, besides, I'm on spring break now and I would like to make it revolve around food and not around how loudly my tummy will continue growling before I give up and grab another one of those applesauce containers, because that's just no fun.
Thanks, much appreciated.
Labels: Conversations and Encounters
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