I’m on vacation. You know what that means: NO PANTS! More so than usual, even! I packed for PAX last night, and only added a pair of emergency jeans as an afterthought. Since I won’t be on my scooter all weekend, I am not going to wear any pants and I’m going to put things in my hair. Look for me on the exhibition floor – I’ll the the one either totally-not-cosplaying as Ramona Flowers, or without pants and covered in merit badges.
Excited! A little ridiculous! Hooray!
i know of it
This was in my shoe this morning:
this is somewhat unusual, even for me
Yeah, I don’t know either.
So. On Monday, I went to the dentist (again – I should just move in) to deal with the last of my cavities. While I was there, I asked if something could be done about the shards of tooth that were causing me untold grief – they didn’t necessarily hurt, but I couldn’t stop poking at them and it was cutting my mouth up pretty badly. I was hoping they could either file the pointy bits down, or yank them out until we dealt with the whole thing.
My dentist is much more ambitious than I would have thought. He decided that the tooth needed to come out, and it needed to come out now – so we’d be taking care of that while we did the fillings. I had virtually no time to psyche myself up for this, but it was too late to turn back: a tooth would be coming out, whether I was fully on board with the idea or not. Bring on the Novocain!
And, they did. Nine shots of it. It might have been more; I actually lost count of how many times they jabbed me with that goddamn needle. It took a considerable amount of time, effort and horrible nightmare-inducing implements of torture to yank the offending tooth out of my head, and I bled into soggy gauze for about 6 hours afterward. I was woozy as hell and completely frozen on the left side of my head – that much Novocain might SOUND fun, but I’m pretty sure it held all my logic and reasoning abilities hostage because it sounded like a REALLY GOOD idea to buy some lottery tickets and send my banking information to that nice Nigerian prince who will give me a large sum of money in exchange for my help.
The dentist helpfully gave me a prescription for some T3s, and I toddled off towards the office so I could collect my gear and go home. There, I passed out until Ed arrived, and he went to collect my drugs for me. I slept some more, exchange the disgusting gauze for some more, and woke up in a considerable amount of pain: something about having my face fucked by surprise dental surgery and being propped open for two hours while people diddled inside my mouth for fun.
It’s been two days since the extraction, and it’s both better and worse than I feared. The good: I’m not in agonizing pain; it’s just tender and sore and I can’t open my mouth fully. The bad: It still hurts (but I won’t take the T3s unless it’s bedtime), and it feels GROSS – the spot where my tooth used to be feels like an overripe melon and it’s horrible. I’m not supposed to be poking at it, but every time my tongue wanders over in that area I shudder a little. I’m trying to avoid having a grand old time because it hurts a little to laugh and smile, but I assume that’ll get better soon. Advil helps; as does ice cream (but mostly because it’s delicious).
In conclusion, I do not recommend breaking a tooth to such a degree that it requires an emergency extraction and I am ready for my mouth to stop hurting now.
I never received “The Talk” from my parents. I mean, I did, but I was 22 at the time and had been Doing It for 6 years at that point, and had gotten pretty good at it. You don’t learn about sex from a Penthouse magazine without learning a thing or two, especially as a curious and precocious 8 year old who was often grounded and banished to the basement where all the smut was hidden.
Maybe it’s just me, but it seems that sex has gotten more complicated over the years. It used to be so simple – come home from school, take off clothes, wait for boyfriend to come over. Now there’s rules and taboos and diseases and toys and other people, and it’s so hard to remember all the nuances. There ought to be .. a guide, or something. A walkthrough, or a flow chart (flow charts fix everything). Or a manual! Yeah, that’s it – a manual, maybe written by a technical writer? One with a dirty mind and too much time on her hands? One who just had an emergency tooth extraction and is currently wasted on T3s?
T-minus three days until I’m on VACATION!
We’re leaving for PAX sometime on Thursday, and it will be Good Times. I’m looking forward to seeing Ali and family too; we should be able to get in some good visiting time with them amidst the nerd orgies (both figurative and literal). It’s a long weekend thanks to Labour Day, and I have all of next week off for No Good Reason – I’ve long been envious of Heather’s random vacation time, so I’m taking a week off for myself. I might go to Victoria, I might sleep the entire time, I might start crafting for December’s Got Craft .. I might do NOTHING. My options are endless! How delightful for me!
zzzzzzz
I had an unusually busy weekend that I’m still reveling in; the (shortened) workweek be damned. We had our company picnic on Friday, which was a lot of fun if exhausting – I was on the organizing committee, and spent much of the day running around and eating shrimp. Afterwards, I was stuck with the leftover cake – about 15 pounds of it – so I demanded that the gang come over and eat cake, which they did. They did not eat nearly enough; there’s STILL a terrifying amount of cake in my fridge – but a small dent was made, which I’ll have to live with. Note to self: find more ravenous friends; current crew has dainty, lady-like appetites for free cake.
gastowns!
On Saturday I was up at the asscrack of dawn – I had a SECRET DATE. I spent the morning wandering Granville Island with some awesome people before I had to return them to their place of origin all too soon. It was barely 1pm at that point, leaving me with three hours to kill before my haircut – time for a nap! I didn’t get nearly as much sleep as my body wanted, so I crashed out the instant I came home. Waking up to be on time for my appointment was brutally hard, but I managed to drag my woozy ass over there and got myself neatened up for September. A group dinner at La Casita finished out the Saturday, and Ed and I spent a quiet evening doing gobs of nothing. It was nice, even if we both had cranky headaches.
delicious juice?
On Sunday, Shan, Miranda and I wandered Chinatown and Gastown. We stopped in at the Blim Monthly Market, bought some Chinese bakery goodies, and hopped on a Big Bus for a Groupon tour with Stephanie. It was fun to be in a giant convertible bus, even if the guided tour portion was a little questionable – too much focus on shopping, and they skipped a lot of important Vancouver knowledge. Still, it was a nice way to spend a sunny afternoon and after the tour we ended up at Rogue Wet Bar for a late lunch. It was a busy afternoon, but at the end we were all exhausted so it was off to retire/do laundry/watch tv/prepare for the week ahead. And here we are. Goooo Monday!
I have another dentist appointment at 3 today, and it really can’t come fast enough: my broken tooth keeps breaking more, and shards of pointy ouchy things are sticking out and hurting me in places. The appointment is to deal with the last of my cavities/toxic fillings, but I’m really hoping he can just yank the shards out of my mouth already and be done with it. I’m still not decided on the route to take with my missing tooth, but I want the extraction done as soon as fucking possible because this kind of sucks all over. Tooth chunks are gross.
Vacation!
no YOU'RE weird
I’ve never been one for cosplay – let’s face it, there’s a reason video game characters don’t look like me – but that doesn’t mean I will do everything in my power to acknowledge my hardcore inner nerd at every opportunity. When you go to something like Comic-Con or PAX, I’ve always found it helpful to spell out your nerd flavour. I don’t want to be cornered and made to talk about WoW, but I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to conversations with nerds of a similar nature – so I try to make it clear just what kind of nerd I am. Last year I had an assortment of nods to my favourite video games on me, which was pretty nerdy but not nerdy enough. This year, I’m making it obvious:
i have a delicious nerd flavour
Bring it, bitches.
Some of these you’ve seen before, but as you can see I’ve found new and exciting sources for nerdy merit badge goodness and I aim to HAVE THEM ALL.
The outermost badges are from Fan Boy Scouts (top to bottom, left to right):
The bottom five badges are Brooklyn Badges from Etsy:
And just in case you’ve forgotten how awesome the Nerd Merit Badges are (inner rows, top to bottom left to right):
I have two more badges on the way from Etsy: Black Mesa and Aperture Science. Plus, not all of my badges are on the bag – they don’t all fit. I still need to find a place for three more Foursquare badges (Gym Rat, Socialite, Douchebag), my “I Love Oregon” badge, and my Commando Nerd Patch.
Phew!
I am QUEEN NERD! If you’re going to PAX next week, find me and say hello!
Man, I love me some merit badges.
i am very pleased with my bag.
You’re gonna love my nuts.
After Josh had his accident, our entire motley crew realized that things like that can (and statistically will) happen to anyone, no matter how good a rider you are. Even more sobering was the knowledge that had Josh not been wearing his gear, his injuries could have been a LOT worse – and in fact, the only reason he was hurt at all was because he wasn’t wearing all his gear as usual. It made us all hyper aware of the importance of owning good gear and actually WEARING it; something I am horribly guilty of not going. Since then, we’ve all been on a mission to get our asses as safe as possible, regardless of what we ride. It’s something we should have all done years ago, but it was just so easy to think that we’d never get hurt so why bother gearing up – I’m only going down the street/to work/for a quick ride; what could possibly happen? Heh.
Between the six of us, we’ve purchased 3 new armoured jackets (likely soon to be 5), two pairs of armoured pants, four new helmets, and a new motorcycle. Our group motto should likely be “Safety Eventually!”, but at least we’re now protected. I got my new jacket yesterday afternoon, and it’s impossibly awesome – my biggest complaint about armour has always been the incredible discomfort and the fact that women’s armour is not built for us zaftig dames. The two jackets I owned were basically men’s gear in girlie colours, sized up for fatties. Our bodies don’t work that way, and most manufacturers don’t care enough to figure out what we need because lol fatties put down the fork am I right (hint: no). Until now!
Enter Arlene Battishill, founder of GoGo Gear – protective riding clothes made for women who don’t want to have to choose between safety and not looking like crap. I first heard about her line a couple years ago, and was eagerly awaiting the day when I could try her stuff out for realz – while it’s not available locally yet (get on it, Vancouver), the website now has a store for internet buying times. After Josh’s accident, I realized I needed to get some protection that I would actually WEAR, unlike the two armoured jackets sitting in my closet collecting cat hair and dirty looks – so I opted to order myself up a little something something. It arrived ridiculously quickly, and holy crap it is FULL OF AWESOME.
I ended up with the black trench coat (my first option, the Military Jacket, isn’t in stock in my size), and it’s a perfect fit. It looks great, is shiny and reflective in all the right places, is LONG enough so I don’t feel like a goddamn sausage, and will be completely perfect to wear in Vancouver during the fall and winter riding season. Seriously, I’m totally thrilled with this coat – Arlene managed to do exactly as promised, and delivers a fantastic armoured jacket made to fit real women and just happens to be a joy to wear (while riding – I’m quickly learning that I need to disrobe when done, or I will MELT INTO SWEAT because it’s still summer).
The armoured trench will serve me well in the upcoming months, but I plan on getting the lighter Cafe Jacket for spring and summer riding. It’s an investment in my own ass – I’ve been riding for years without gear because it’s uncomfortable/too hot/I’m in a hurry/I don’t wanna, but it’s time to wake up and smell the fact that I can’t control what other drivers do so maybe I should protect myself any way possible. I can be smart (eventually) when I have to, and besides – what would the internet do without me?
The good news: I am really, really good at breaking things.
The bad news: I utterly destroyed the tooth, and it can’t be fixed. I need an extraction, and to choose between the following: getting (a) dentures, or having a titanium screw inserted into my head and a fake toothy implant installed.
HOORAY!
It’s like choosing between a nightly kick in the junk or being shot in the knee. Dentures are expensive and annoying – I’d have to take it out each night and soak it in old-people solution like both my parents did for years and years. Since the destroyed tooth is in the worst possible spot, I’d basically be fisting myself in the mouth twice a day to shove a piece of plastic and metal up in my gums so I can chew hard things on my left side. That sounds horrible, not to mention depressing as hell – dentures are for OLD PEOPLE.
So, what about the implant? It’d be a long term solution, and since it’s an implant I would be part cyborg. It would also be a long and arduous procedure, because I’d need an extraction, then the installation of the screw and a firmware upgrade, then six months later (after everything heals) they’d make me a bionic tooth out of science and technology and an amalgamation of 200 notorious criminal personalities and I would totally be a cyborg that hopefully doesn’t look like Russell Crowe. Sounds great, right? Who *wouldn’t* want to not be Russell Crowe?
It gets better: Substitute Dentist Man said it’s very likely that implants are NOT covered by my benefits, and oh by the way the whole thing would cost around $3500. Hahah!
There’s no guarantee that the denture solution, clocking in around $1200, would be covered either. Whee!
And I need to make my decision SOON, before things get any worse. Yay!
The one small bit of good news in all of this (other than I am awesome at breaking stuff) is that my dental benefits jumped from $500 to $2000 – turns out someone forgot to bump me from “new employee” to “regular employee” status at work. Assuming Ed’s HR people stop fucking with his spousal coverage, I should be able to merge our two plans to form MEGA COVERAGE and stop paying out of pocket for my appointments (and get most of the $550 I paid last week when I supposedly maxed out my coverage back).
This all really sucks, though. I don’t recommend breaking a tooth in such a spectacular fashion, because it will be a giant pain in the ass to deal with and it will hurt both the mouth and the pocket book. I don’t WANT oral surgery. I don’t want surgery of any kind! I am Not Good with anesthesia OR pain! Boooooo. Poor me.
I got to keep my gross horrible tooth, though. It’s so gross!
Ed is suggesting that I get the extraction and leave it at that, making me a toothless hobo forever. I don’t much like that plan – I enjoy chewing – but I am at a loss as to what the fuck to do.
People today are inordinately concerned with my ability to transport myself and my various things to and fro on Lola. You can tell that these people a) do not ride things with two wheels and b) do not have any sort of imagination, because it’s incredibly easy to carry a wide variety of things on a scooter. Both windows in the drive thru this morning expressed outlandish, repeated concern about how I was going to carry my muffin and drink – it’s not hard, people. I do it several times a week. See, there’s this thing – I call it a “bag” – and a hook, and I have this all planned out, and just give me my damn Diet Coke already.
All it takes is a little imagination and some basic Tetris skills and you can carry pretty much anything: a huge lamp, untold amounts of groceries, flattened moving boxes (I don’t really recommend this one, but it’s doable), a garbage bag filled with cilantro and Swiss chard, an entire set of golf clubs like the guy on the BWS this morning. Carrying a drink is not a challenge. Carrying three 2L bottles and two 12-packs of Diet Coke? THAT is a challenge (one that I passed, thank you very much).
I think I like it better when the drive thru ladies scold me for not coming by often enough, because at least they’re happy to see me and not FULL OF DOUBT about my awesomeness.
I have a dentist appointment at noon today to deal with my tooth, and I can’t wait. I would have made the appointment sooner, but I actually lost the tooth a second time and had to turn my house upside down to find it (it was in a pocket). I emailed the dentist office and asked them what I should do about the gaping hole in my gums, to which they responded “um, you should probably come in” with the implication that I was dumb for emailing instead of calling (I hate the phone, ok). I didn’t really care too much about the missing tooth (except for my initial terror that I was 23 short steps away from being a scary toothless old woman offering gummers for $5) as it didn’t hurt – but it’s really starting to bug me now because I can’t stop poking at it with my tongue. I can feel the posty things up there, and they’re sharp and sticking out of weird places. I don’t know what the dentist is planning on doing, but I don’t think I’m going to like the outcome – for starters, I don’t know that I want the tooth to be put back. It’s kind of extremely disgusting, and it might wig me out to know that it’s in my mouth. Seriously, it’s gross. I’d show you, but it’s horrible and embarrassing. I would rather believe that everything inside of me is awesome, even the things I can’t see.
Ohh, I need a haircut.
Here is my cat cuddling with a spoon.
cheddar wishes she could quit spoon
I know, I know – it’s never lupus .. EXCEPT FOR WHEN IT IS.
There’s a series of commercials running on TV in which an assortment of women talk about their completely unrelated and seemingly benign symptoms, all ending up in a doctor’s office asking “could I have lupus?”. I think pop culture has really done a number on lupus; so much so that they’re running a campaign to remind people that YES GODDAMNIT IT COULD TOTALLY BE LUPUS. So, naturally, now I think I have lupus. Lupus could totally be responsible for the gaping hole in my mouth (I miss my tooth) and my weird observatory back pain, right? Noooo! Lupus!
In other news, there isn’t any. Nothing is going on. I need some Fun Times, and I need them soon or I just don’t know what will happen. It won’t be pretty, I know that much. I am .. frustrated. In several ways. Luckily, I got a dinosaur in the mail so everything should eventually be okay.
what does it mean
