My Narrow Mouth

I have always hated doctors. With a passion. You can trace this back to many things in my childhood, of course, but let’s not go there. Let’s focus on the positive.

So I recently chose a new dentist, which, by the way, is the worst of all doctors (haha, this may not be so positive after all). I have always feared the dentist and have always dreaded going. I have very strong opinions about what goes in there. For example, I believe that the reason my gums bleed is because, “I obviously have very sensitive gums, more sensitive than most.” But, in reality, I know that it’s because I don’t floss enough. Still, that doesn’t stop me from grunting, “Owww... what the hell?” when they poke at me, usually followed by, "f'in bitch," in my head. And then I add a good solid roll of the eyes. I believe that oral hygienists have the compassion of twigs.

I am so horrible as a dental patient, it’s almost embarrassing. I say “almost” because I haven’t yet reached the point of rational thinking. I still HATE the dentist and all that he stands for. I still think the equipment is barbaric and cruel. And I still think people who go into the dental profession must have some sick twisted idea of humanity. And it’s called sadism.

With that said...

I went to the dentist yesterday for a follow up appointment, some x-rays and a discussion with the doctor about additional cosmetic work. I have to say, if I must endure the dentist, I found the place to do it. This place has scented candles, soothing music, water, juice and a food massager. And, they LOVE me. What can I say, I know how to turn on the charm when necessary.

Throughout the whole experience – the x-ray chair, the regular chair and the three or four hygienists that worked on my mouth – there was a distinct theme. I’ll let you be the judge. You ready for this? These are actual quotes, no joke.

During xrays:
(The hygienist didn’t speak English very well.)
“Oh boy! You have small mouth! How supposed to get it in there?”
“You can’t open mouth wider than THAT?”
“Mouth so small! How you have mouth so small?”

During the consultation with the doctor:
(The doctor was amazing, but loved to hear himself talk.)
“You don’t have a lot to worry about actually. You have great lips. And you present well.”
“What I’d like to do is widen your smile. Like Julia Roberts. Your mouth is really narrow, but it’s deep.”
“You have excellent bone structure. Very healthy. Very healthy.”

During the goopy-mold mouth impression:
(This hygienist was curiously giddy. I think she snuck into the nitrous room actually.)
“I can’t seem to fit it in. Your mouth is so tiny!”
“I want to use the child version on you because your mouth is so small, but then we wouldn’t be able to get it all the way back. Your mouth is narrow, but it goes back far!”
“You have to be quick with these things. Sometimes it gets hard before you even get it in the mouth.”
“Brace yourself. I’m about to pull it out.”

So, in the end, given the obvious hilarity of the above quotes, this past dentist appointment wasn’t so bad. It’s amazing how a little sexual innuendo can make any situation funny... and, in the case of the worst doctor in the world (i.e., the dentist), sexual innuendo can make it tolerable... especially when you’re laughing on the inside, unbeknownst to anyone else in the room.

I also learned that although my mouth is abnormally narrow, it’s deep. And I have nice lips.

Flux

Flux is such a great word. Totally underutilized. I feel that lately my life has been in a somewhat surreal state of flux, which, by definition, means flow or change (or bodily discharge, fyi, but obviously I'm avoiding that particular meaning, at least for this post).

I've always been the type of person that avoids change at all costs. Moving to DC was the biggest change I had ever hoped to endure. I'd go to school here, get a job here, meet new friends, live here, breathe here. Forever. FOR. EV. ER. Thank you Sandlot.

But what I failed to realize was that change would happen around me and directly to me. And that I'd be powerless to stop it. People move away. Schmadri, Schmenny and Schmatie (names have been changed for the sake of anonymity), for example, three of my closest and dearest friends, three people that know me better than most, have already moved on. And several more are about to. My job has changed... twice. My apartment... once. My hair... a lot.

People in this city are constantly saying that DC is "so transient." It's become a cliche at this point. "Oh, nobody is actually from here. It's so transient. You know." ... "Yeah, man. Word."

Well, finally I've accepted this state of change, this state of flux, for what it is. One of the tenets of Buddhism is that life is always in flux. There are no constants. And if we believe that something is constant or always this way or that way, we are fooling ourselves. And we create what Buddhism calls "dukkha," which is essentially when you feel like shit. Ha.

People will move away, and I will miss them. But I have the power to keep in touch and to... pause... "visit" them. I mean, really, it's not like I have to wait for the next horse and buggy to pass through town. Everyone has their own path. Right now, mine is here. And it'll be interesting to see where others' paths take them.

Also, change is not necessarily negative. I'm so happy I'm on job #3 now. I love it. And if it weren't for job #2, I wouldn't be here. Scmatie, Scmadri and Schmenny are all in great places now. We'll always have a strong bond, and I am so very happy (and hopeful) for them. And change can be cyclical too. Schmaroline and Schmusan, yay for your return. And I love this apartment. And my hair, well, it's a work in progress. But that's kind of fun. It's in flux, so to speak.

According to a Buddhist saying, we are not corks in a river, as many proverbs teach, flowing with the tides and the waves. We are the river, changing, adapting and then changing again. As for transiency, I say bring it on. It's what makes life interesting and fun. I'm a river, damnit. Next post: why tubing is frickin awesome.

Madam's Tomorrow Night

How can you resist the Madam?

Well, perhaps you can. I mean, it's possible. But in any case, as you may know, RAINN is hosting charity happy hours at Madam’s this summer. And you CANNOT resist THAT! Plus, you get to hang out with cool people (eh hem, excuse me, cough) at a very cool place.

Madam’s is donating $1 from every drink and 20% of food sales directly to RAINN’s programs, including the National Sexual Assault Hotline.

The next happy hour will be from 5 to 9 pm on Thursday, July 20, which is (eh hem) TOMORROW.

There's one more on August 17, FYI.

Going out anyway? Go out for a great cause.

See you there. Don't be a loser. ;)

More info about RAINN can be found at www.rainn.org.

More info about Madam’s Organ can be found at www.madamsorgan.com.

Madam's Organ
2461 18th Street, NW
Washington, DC 20009

Being Real

Don't you wish sometimes that people would just be real? Just completely and utterly honest. Not so much with actual facts, but more on the emotional side of things. I do. And I'm not saying that I'm the perfect model of honesty. I tend to withdraw, close up, become emotionally removed. But lately, I'm getting better. And in getting better... in seeing things for what they are... I'm opening up. And I'm happier.

So let's talk about what's real.

Today, I made a pact to update this blog more often. At least every other day. That is my goal. And I will do it, by god.

Let's see. What else? Ah, I quit smoking last week. And then, in a somewhat predictable drunken moment, I bought a pack and I smoked. So the reality of that situation is that I haven't completely quit. But I've quit enough to feel better. To breathe better. To focus. And I love that.

And lest we forget the oppressive heat. I know it's not just DC, but it tends to be worse here. There is no breeze. There is no water. Only humidity. And smelly sweaty people.

I ate some pasta tonight that I made over a week ago. If I get sick, I have only myself to blame. But it was still good.

I watched Must Love Dogs on HBO. Great cheesy movie.

And now here I sit, finishing a glass of wine, wondering where my John Cusack is. No. Wait. Strike that. Wondering where my Christopher Plummer is. Christopher Plummer in the early years, of course. This is the first night in a while that I haven't gone out. And I'm enjoying the quiet. I'm thinking about my wonderful friends, my family and my sister. Boon, the will power I have at this very moment not to have a cigarette is for you.

Here's to being real.