Dear dental hygienist who cleans my teeth: During almost our entire, dreaded time together, my mouth is wedged open and your big meaty paws are stuffed deep inside it, along with 10 or 12 various picks, hatchets, kickstands, hoses and other tools of your distasteful trade. So STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS!!! No, I don't have any exciting plans for the summer, No I didn't go anywhere out of town over Christmas, No there's nothing new going on with me, NO NO NO! I understand you are one of those babbling fools who feels the need to fill every second of peaceful quiet with your inane chatter...fine. But why barrage me with questions that I would, by human design, need my mouth available to me in order to answer? And while we're at it, get some new questions. You've been reading off the same script of questions for 6 freaking years now.
Dear coworker who likes to tell me stories: I'm glad you find your life so fascinating; I am. I wish everyone were as thrilled with the minutiae of their daily lives as you are. But for the love of God, please do not try to draw me into your boring little circus. Oh my God, what's that? Your cat clawed your favorite sweater? FASCINATING! You were a total hottie in high school and all the girls wanted you? FASCINATING! You've been getting more buff now that you're spending more time in the gym? FASCINATING! Tell me more! No wait--don't. Tell me less--much, much less. Did you ever wonder why I suddenly race off to the bathroom every time you amble over to my desk with that "hey buddy, let's chat" air about you? You must think I have a bladder infection or a coke habit, but no, I'm just trying to avoid you. I will spend my entire 8-hour shift hiding in the bathroom like a prison escapee if that's what's necessary to avoid hearing one more anecdote about your creepy sex life.
Dear pothead friend of mine: You are so witty and interesting and great to be around--until 2.5 seconds after you get stoned. Then you are the intellectual equivalent of a burrito. While my very funny jokes suddenly sail over your fluffy, empty head, your own "jokes, " which make no sense at all, send you into giggle fits that go on so long a bystander would think you were having an extended seizure. Perhaps there are some potheads out there who can get stoned and still comport themselves as normal, functioning citizens, but you are not one of them. You look like a homeless middle-aged man and act like a 2rd grader who just discovered potty humor. I'd say I've decided to only hang out with you when you're clear-headed, except that it's too hard to speed over to your house before that 15-minute window of time ends.
Dear husband of mine: I adore you. I have no complaints about you.
Dear goofball customer #1: Have I told you how incredibly odd it is that you've written a poem to your dead cat, thanking him for "all the good times?" And that you're going to read it at his memorial service? Do I really have to tell you that's odd?
Dear goofball customer #2: Yes, you're in luck! I have all day to spend with you, listening to every last detail of your life. Go ahead, start from the story of your birth and continue on through to the present day, and don't leave anything out! Tell me all about your boring family, your kitty cat, the time you got overcharged for a purchase at the mall, and the strict diet your doctor has put you on. Don't even give a thought to the knot of other customers angrily shifting from foot to foot and tapping their toes, or to the towering stack of work next to me, about to topple over and crush me to death. I've actually been waiting all day for someone as interesting and talkative as you to come in and entertain me. Go ahead, describe that persistent back pain to me again.
I think the least the hygenist could do is limit the questions to the type that can be answered by "Mmmhuh" or "Nuuhuh..."
Thanks so much for the kind words on my blog. I was serious when I said that your brain terrifies me. If the blogosphere really is the realization of that "Give a million monkeys typewriters" thing, then you are...
Well I guess you're the funniest monkey.
Truly truly funny. Seriously. Keep writing and I'll keep reading.
"kickstand" ho ho
You're very good, Ms. Babble. Nice piece.
...so I see you really have no intention of kicking your habit of thinking sarcastic comments about other people.
And to that... I'd like to say, BRAVO!
ps - I should tell you that I share your blog with Mark and he is still laughing about "My Kid Fits in Things"
My dentist does to that me all the time! I was in the chair and he was preparing to give me seven fillings, when suddenly he said to me: "Maja, you're a geologist, so tell me, what's the deal with plate tectonics? How does that work?" He actually took his hands and instruments out of my mouth to let me answer, but you don't just explain plate tectonics in one sentence or even one paragraph. I was in pure shock and could only splutter. Dentists are WEIRD.
I love you.
Another gem!!! I dig the "boring little circus" line. I am going to use that every chance I get...However,you did make me a little self conscious about my conversations with my co-workers...THANKS A LOT!!!! Kidding!!
I can't wait for volume three.
It is all I can do from starting up a "Dear Jackass" session on my own blog!
Do people still conisder imitation the highest form of flattery, or is it just considered irritably lazy?
Every single time, EVERY SINGLE TIME, I go to my hygenist she tells my why I should become a hygenist. You know, the hours are great, the pay is good, and she can tell I care about my teeth, so I totally MUST want to be a hygenist like her. And, what am I really going to do but nod in agreement? She has that sharp scraper thing in my mouth, it's not like I am going to disagree.
i hate to go to the dentist. as soon as he sticks some thing in my mouth then i get extremely thirsty.
they really do that don't they? Hygienists that is...maybe it's a perk, it can't be that much fun cleaning the detritus of people's life style off thier teeth first thing in the morning?
a) re the Q&A, you're too kind. I wish there were an opportunity to get my own back, I would fit you up with some real Trolls
b) your relationship is doomed, uless you start hurling teacups immediately
c) don't you love Mondays? Toffee has decided to gnaw off his onw foot, he's currently under the desk wearing an outsize rubber glove until we can get to the vet
Brilliant! I too use the bathroom trick at least twice a day to get myself out of unbearable situations. I've found the most effective way to get people to leave is the "slow clap". You just clap about every 30 seconds. Works every time. I think it breaks up their speech rhythm, and no one ever asks why I just clapped. try it out.
Gosh, you're just so cynical...and I just wish I could vent my cynicism as hysterically as you!!! You started my morning with a "yeah, right, you know? GOD i hate that" kind of attitude and a huge smile! Thanks, Karla. YOU ROCK! Keep making us laugh!
I'd swear we have the same set of friends and co-workers if only you didn't live 2 thousand miles from me!
My hygenist chats when my mouth is empty but it is blissful silence the rest of the time and I love her for it!
I so agree with the dental hygienist part. Why in the world do these people ask all these stupid questions while you have g*d knows what types of different devices coming out of your mouth?!?? WTF?
Oh and the customers telling you about their whole life. I have to listen to the folgies tell me about all their surgeries and what's wrong with them now...blah blah blah
I only had time to read "goofball customer # 2" and the "Dentist" posts........... And, 2 words:
That's freaking hilarious! I found you on noodleburgoo, (my sisters site). Can I do the interveiw? satansfarts.blogspot.com
Most of those people just need to get a blog.
Karla sporting the combat boots on this post. Hmmmm... you'd probably look pretty good in them come to think of it.
NINteresting blog you have here TX Gurl.
Go slow joe.
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