Monday & miscellaneous oddments

I feel tardy announcing it now, but I shall anyways: I have considered the matter and decidedly concluded that the finest “Monday” song to kick off your Monday is “Blue Monday”. I think most prefer the original by New Order and that is a fine, fine song, however, I prefer the Orgy remake from the late 90s (mostly because I think the original’s a smidge too lengthy). It may have been previously reported by other sources that the Bangles’ “Manic Monday” is the best Monday song, but this is erroneous. Firstly, I feel that they are kind of misusing the word “manic” for the sake of alliteration, but that is just a minor gripe. My main issue with the song is just that I find it tiresome. Don’t get me wrong—I like a lot of Bangles’ songs. I love “In Your Room” and I particularly delight in belting out “Eternal Flame” (even though I do so abominably) So no one could rightfully accuse me of being anti-Bangle. Indeed, if there was to be a Mt Rushmore of Girl Groups made, I would lobby mightily for Susannah Hoffs to get her mug up there.

Ok, the other contenders (I wasn’t going to keep going on about it, but in the interests of thoroughness..) Boomtown Rats’ “I Don’t Like Mondays” was inspired by this awfulness, so that kinda ruins the tune for me. And “Monday, Monday” by the Mamas & the Pappas has a kinda sllloowwwwww pace and low energy that might lull me into slumber (not ideal for your commute in to work on Monday a.m.)

So, as it happens, I did listen to “Blue Monday” on my way in to work yesterday. And it just popped on in my iPod shuffle by happenstance, so that makes my hearing it all the more terrif. (that little dash of serendipity adds so much) And I was wearing a new outfit. Wearing a new outfit on a Monday can make Monday incrementally less foul.

I got outta work early yesterday to go to the dentist and get a temporary crown put in my head. Which is a good thing..in my book. If anything gets me out of work early, I’m all for it (with the exception of an airstrike or trip to the cooter doc).

The crown procedure was WAAAY more uncomfortable than the root canal, in my experience. I thought the root canal –by reputation—was supposed to be the innermost ring of dentistry Hell, but it was really not so bad. This temp crown install was a bit ouchy.
Well, first off, I had a new dentist, and of course he had to be good looking. No, it’s not a good thing. I picture meself with my mouth open like that, I imagine I’m showing more chins than the Chinatown phone book. Maybe not, but it’s not a pretty picture either way. Add to this, the fact that I have some sort of small blemish just northwest of the leftside corner of my maw. Now this is scabbed over, and then plastered over with about 50 swaths of foundation, but when I crack my jaw open to an angle of 180 degrees…guess what else cracks? And bleeds. Oy. “Let’s dab some petroleum jelly on that so’s you don’t bleed all over the handsome doctor”. Ok, so the hygienist chick didn’t say that, but I did, in fact, get dabbed. All petty embarrassments aside, the worst thing was the 2 sets of hands in my mouth, and the end part of tamping the crown down into my gums that was a bit painful.

Oh and this office has little TVs appended to the patients chair, which initially I thought was SO rad. (listening to the no-nonsense wisdom of Judge Joe Brown is just the thing to divert me from 4 hands and varied power tools in my mouth) But after Punk’d came on, it seemed to me that the hygienist wasn’t quite giving me her 100% undivided. This made me question the wisdom of the dental chair tellies.

All in all, it was still better than being stuck in the office.

I’ll be stunned if this crown lasts until June 1 (when I’m scheduled to get the permanent ) It seems like I must favor the left side of my mouth when chewing. I never thought I favored a particular side, but now that I am instructed to favor the *right* side, and it’s proving to be such a colossal effort…well, it seems like I must’ve always been a left side chewer.. Also I can’t stop licking the crown and tapping it with my tongue. I don’t, rationally,think that’s wise but as the French expression goes, oh, ‘ow you say…uhh…the tongue wants what it wants, eh? (ha haa ha) Just kidding there--- to the best of my knowledge the French have no sayings regarding wanton tongues. But seriously, I could use one of those white cone collars they put on dogs after dog surgery…but a tiny one…for my tongue. Sure it might hamper eating and speech, but it would safeguard my crown plus it might help me drop some lbs and gain an aura of mystery ( theory being that decreased chatter= mystery….can you imagine the buzz about me? “Hey Dave…check out that girl with the big conical collar around her tongue…I dunno if it’s her wanton tongue or her powerful aura of mystery, but I’m finding her most alluring!!”)

Then last night I went for a walk around the block with my sister. It was a nice walk, and it smelled good—like lilacs and lawn clippings and campfires. I used this opportunity to break in my new sneaks. I had a sort of vexing experience trying on clothes @ Kohls on Friday night, so that put me in the perfect frame of mind to buy running sneaks. (of the mindset that a sure way to cement yourself to an initiative—for instance, an initiative to get more exercise—is to invest a li’l $$ into it) I always gripe that I can never find any good deals on shoes at Kohls, but I suppose that’s because I was always looking at the heels. These Nike that I just got… they’re $70 shoes but I got ‘em at $33. Sa-WEEEEET!

In other shoe news, I have the cutest new sandals on today. Lest you think I’m going on some gratuitous shoe-acquisition binge, I feel I should point out that Target had these on clearance for $3.24 (Target is mighty fond of using $3.24 as a clearance price—have y’all noticed that??) So, let the record show: it’s only because I’m finding these terrific bargains that I’m so damn shoe mad. I like staring down at them as I walk around. This seems like a recipe for calamity but calamity has yet to strike. These hot sandals (specifically they are shimmering, silver, snake skin esque Gladiator style sandles—sans the pesky lacing up the ankles part that generally makes me hate Gladiator style sandals) might move me to post my first ever self portrait on the blog. Just of my feet (but that’s somethin’). I have my camera on hand…whether I actually go thru with this or not depends on if I can find a private enough venue for the photo shoot. I don’t wanna have to explain myself when someone invariably sez “What THE HELL are you doing???”