Ball Beeotch

Holla! So, apparently I took a break from this thing. But, boy, do I have a story for you. It's so good that I'm still fuming about it nearly 6 weeks later.
I was at the gym working on my bod a while back (laughs). I had been using one of those giant exercise balls for some dumbbell flyes in the main part of the gym--you know, where all the beefcakes grunt and make me feel uncomfortable. Said ball "belongs" on a homemade PVC pipe shelf at the complete opposite corner of the gym. I'm sure the set-up is very similar to your friendly, neighborhood gym. So, you get the idea...
Now, before you read on, please understand one thing about me: I pick up after myself. And I never expect other people to do so--unless you are my husband. But you are not. So, don't even worry about it. So, I started to walk the ball back to its "home" when a thought came to mind: "I should just leave this here. There are always people bringing these things to and fro and/or looking for one" (I happen to be one of those people). So, when I finished with my set, I tucked the silver bouncy ball in the corner of the gym away from anyone or anything, but in plain sight so that those other gym patrons could use it at will.
BIG. MISTAKE.
About 15 minutes later, I see this woman approaching me--but for the record, she looked like a man--and yes, it makes me feel better to put other people down. I've seen her a million times before. She brings her two daughters and screams at them the whole time to lift more, run faster, and be better. They always have looks on their faces that scream "Help me." It's no surprise that both girls are incredibly obese (And the Mother of the Year Award goes to...).
Anyway, I recognized this lady from a specific incident months before where she rammed right into my legs while I was doing sits-ups. She just looked at me when it happened. She didn't apologize, smile, or even fake a wince like "I'm sorry." I got the feeling it was intentional. A real winner, she is.
As she approached me, I didn't quite know what to expect. I tore my ear buds out of my head and heard the following:
BB: "Are you done with that silver ball over there?" (It was more like a statement. Not a question).
Me: "You mean the one on the other side of the gym?" (I genuinely wanted to know. I figured she was asking if I was done with it so that she could use it).
BB: "Yes."
Me: "Yea. I'm done."
BB: "You need to put it away."
Me: Blinking. Stares. More blinking. Was she the Equipment Police? Seriously. Who put her up to this?
BB (sensing the conversation wasn't going as she anticipated): "It's proper gym etiquette."
Me: More blinking. More incredulous stares. I can't believe this lady. Rage starts to boil up in my blood. And then she follows it up with one of these...
BB: "I'm just trying to be nice" as she throws her hands up in the air as if to say, "I'm doing nothing wrong her. It's YOU that has the problem."
Me: With the nastiest glare I think that's ever shot from my two eyeballs, I cock my head to the side and hiss "Thanks for informing me." I know! SO hardcore, right? Geez (I thought of SO many other things to say later that night...hate that!).
BB then gets mad when she realizes I'm not going to listen to her because a) she's not my mother b) she's not my mother and c) she's not my mother. And seriously? Who was I hurting by putting that stupid ball in the corner of a room? I can see it if it was rolling around, begging for someone to trip on it. But it wasn't. With her hands on her hips she tears across the gym in a huff, picks up the ball and brings it all the way over and places it on the PVC pipe shelf. She refuses to speak, look or make eye contact with me. That's right. Step off.
And. here. we. go:
Really? Really, lady? Did you really watch me (creepily) for the past 20 minutes to see if I was going to put a bouncy ball away? What's it like in your world? It must be nice being able to do whatever you feel like without stopping and thinking about what comes out of your mouth or how you will be perceived. What do (or don't) you have going on in your life that you feel compelled to control complete strangers? You have a sickness. I am sure of it.
Hey, lady. If I would have had it my way (and acted on impulse like you seem to think is appropriate), I would have slapped you right on the cheek with an open fist and told you in a very loud tone, "No! That's rude! You don't talk to people that way. If you have a problem, get an employee to intervene. It's not your dang job to monitor the equipment at the gym!"
And for the record, I am well aware of proper gym etiquette. Like when you're done using a bench or mat, it's typically understood that you wipe your nasty pool of sweat from the leather so the next big bum can use it. That's funny. Were you not aware of that? Because I've watched you abandon ship on several occasions and leave your bodily fluids for other people to discover. Why don't you take that giant ball and shove it. OK, lady? And the next time you need to talk to me, don't. Stay away. Stay far, far away.
And when you run into people, you should say you're sorry.
Oh, and hey, "I'm just trying to be nice."
Jerks.
I feel better now. You?

You Know What Bugs Me?

1. People who don't pull through to the next pump at the gas station.
2. People who don't hold the door open when you're clearly headed in right after them.
3. People who almost T-Bone you because they were cutting across the parking lot and driving entirely too fast.
4. People who don't brush their teeth, but expect me to clean up after their garbage mouth. I'm a hygienist! Not a maid.
5. People who stand in the middle of the aisle with their grocery cart (they usually are doing one of two things: talking on their cell phone or taking WAY too long to decide what it is they want). Move your stupid cart! You're not the only one in the world!
6. People who drive in the fast lane while talking on their cell phone. This translates to slow driving in the fast lane. Get out the way! Get out the way!
7. People who you think are your friends, but then aren't. That always stings a little.

What I'm saying is, people bug me. Until next time ;)

Top 10 Dental Do's and Don'ts

*Disclaimer: This post is directed to the morons of the world. Not my lovely and respectful readers :)

1. Never EVER grab your hygienist's hand as he or she is working in your mouth. Let me tell you why.

a) Remember...you're not the one holding sharp instruments. And I'll bet if you tick your hygienist off, he or she could "accidentally" end up nicking your lips, teeth, cheek or tongue--or worse, all of the above (not really...well, OK. Maybe). Don't push us, people! We're uptight enough as it is!

b) It's flat out rude. You might as well say, "I don't believe you're doing a competent job, so I'm going to take it from here. Your years of training and knowledge mean nothing to me." Seriously, forget the gritty water in your mouth. You will NOT die if you can't have it suctioned immediately. Trust me. Your hygienist is working on getting your mouth cleared of every single speck of grit, got it?

c) It's just demeaning and unnecessary. Period. I had a patient grab my wrist today and yank it to her mouth. My gut reaction(s) was to scream, cry, and gasp all at the same time. I can't explain it. It's just how you feel when some one unexpectedly and forcefully grabs you. She's lucky I didn't sock her.

2. Swallow your spit. You will not die if you swallow a smidgen of the saliva that pools in your mouth as we are cleaning your teeth. You swallow roughly 2 liters of the stuff ever day. Just because you're lying back in a dental chair does not automatically mean your brain to gullet mechanism is severed and that you need our assistance in helping you rid yourself of your own body fluids. We do all we can to make you comfortable, but we are not going to swallow the junk for you. Oh, and none of this pointing frantically to your mouth with a look of utter disgust on your face. We're gettin' there. I assure you, we are well on our way with "Mr. Thirsty Straw." Give us .5 seconds. Puh-leeze.

3. When we take your blood pressure, don't say things like, "Oh, well it's never been that high. It's your cuff. It must be broken. Those things are never very accurate." I assure you. It is not the cuff. It is you. It is your blood pressure. We are trying to do you a service by screening you from a potential silent death. Throw us a bone and at least pretend to be concerned.

4. Stay wide open. Try as best as you can to stay open wide. The mouth is the world's tiniest cave with lots of nooks and crannies to navigate. The wider your mouth stays open, the more we are able to see, the less pain we are likely to inflict, no? And resist the temptation to move your lips around while you're being rinsed, as well. If we need you to move any part of your mouth, we'll tell you so.

5. Although well-intentioned, try not to assist us in our efforts to floss your teeth by pushing your lips around. Truth be told, the tongue and lips can be very strong. After all, they are made up of muscles (creepy and a little weird). But we know what we're doing when it comes to flossing your teeth. If you're trying to help us out by pushing the floss out, it ends up being a battle for us to get it to where it needs to go. Just play dead. That is the best way.

6. This is a biggie: Don't look at us in the eyes when we're cleaning your teeth. This sounds like common sense, but you would not BELIEVE the amount of time I spend avoiding people's soul-searching stares. Ew. Please. I'm begging you, avoid eye contact when we're inches from your mouth.

7. For the love of heaven, brush and floss before you come to your appointment. Yes, floss. As in the white stringy stuff you stick between your teeth?!

8. When we say, "Turn toward me" or "Turn away from me" we mean "Turn toward me" and "Turn away from me." Not "Turn 1/32 inch toward me" or "Turn 1/32 inch away from me." Don't be shy. Turn that head of yours! All 14 lbs. of it. A good rule of thumb? When the hygienist says, "Turn toward me," make like you're going to lie on your ear that is closest to him or her and then tilt your chin up in the air. And as always, open wide.

9. Three words: Please & Thank You

10. Be honest. Your swollen, bleeding gums is a dead giveaway to the fact that you're not flossing. Don't insult me by telling me you are, in fact, flossing. In doing so you are forcing me to tiptoe around the fact that I don't believe you. Capeesh? (Thank you, Uncle Jesse).

Love,

Your Friendly (But Slightly Peeved) Dental Hygienist

Now. Who wants me to clean their teeth? Ha. Ha. I'm betting I'm not going to get many takers...Until next time ;)

Quote of the Day

Patient: "Are we almost done?"
Me: "Yes. We are almost done." But what I REALLY wanted to say was this: "Yes. We are almost done, but you can't be seriously asking me that as a 26-year-old operating room technician and grown woman. You assist surgeons through hours and hours of surgeries at the hospital (many of them probably very goopy and gorey operations, no less) and you are seriously going to throw the "Are we almost done?" line at me? Sheesh. Lady, you're making me lose my gusto for my job, for dentistry, for life. I feel myself caving in to the low expectations I refused to have for people--at least up until now. I have concluded that the lower my expections are for my fellow man and/or woman, the better off I am. You just aren't disappointed as easily, no? Expected the unexpected, I say! But what really sealed the deal and made me want to use my shoe to boot her bum out of my chair is when she said this:
Patient: "If you can't tell, I hate the dentist. It makes me nauseous."
Me: "Yeah. I get that a lot." And then I thought about the four hour "blood clot" surgery she assisted with. To each his (or her) own. Until next time...;)

Ticket to Ride

The following is a "ticket" my mom received after parking at Green Bluff this past weekend (a very busy, and very crowded venue with little to no parking). Mind you, this is not a real ticket left by a legitimate authority figure. No, no. This ticket was left by some moron who felt that my mom had parked inappropriately (she wasn't, she took pictures with her cell phone and we all agreed she commited no parking crime). What really amazes me is that someone out there in the universe took the time and thought to draft this thing up, and has the nerve to leave it whenever, wherever he/she feels like it. They carry these things around with them! Then again, I am taking the time to blog about it. So, the question is, who is the one that needs to get a life? Don't answer that...Anywho, enjoy the verbage of this unbelievable gesture captured in paper form. It pretty much speaks for itself--loud and clear, no less:

Rectifying Birds

They tried to warn me. At the staff meeting this morning. Yup. They tried. About what, you ask? Oh, that my ten o' clock patient was a real doozy. I believe the exact word used was: "Crotchety." Awesome. Those crotchety people are my absolute fave. In fact, I prefer them. NOT. I used to fret and stew over difficult patients--you know, the ones with a reputation in the dental office. The ones that only require a mere mention of their name and the whole office shudders and then gives a collective, unspoken nod of understanding. I would anxiously watch the clock until the dreaded hour came when I would have to see Mrs. Stuck Up or Mr. Jerkypants. It was like a ticking time bomb. Dread. Absolute dread. I've now learned that there is nothing I can do from stopping these people from coming through that front door and into my operatory. It's like Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds." They'll find you--anywhere. And when they do, they pick and peck apart your sanity. It. Is. Painful. Today, he found me. And I'd even been warned.

I brought said "doozy, crotchety" patient back to review his medical history in a separate consultation room. First, he told me I had the wrong patient pulled up on the screen. Hmm. I doubt that there is another patient by your first and last name, sir. What? Is there another patient in this office who just happens to be taking the EXACT list of medications you claim to take? Does that patient miraculously have the same birthday and physical ailments you do, too, including (but not limited to): an appendectomy at the age of 14, a hernia, glaucoma, high blood pressure, hives/rash, gout, arthritis, and difficulty breathing, sir? I sincerely doubt it. I really do. But, if so, then that would be a freakin' miracle, wouldn't it, sir? So, let me just pretend to check to make sure I have the right "John Doe" when I am 110% positive that I do. You know how I know this? Because I'm not an invalid.
It gets better. Mid-sentence he interrupts me and as if I have earmuffs on he yells: "I'M HERE FOR A CLEANING."

I paused. I blinked. I looked him in the eye. And then I punched him in the face. OK. I didn't do that. But you better believe my fist thought about it real hard. Nothing would have given me more satisfaction than to have knocked number 9 from his maxilla (the only front tooth left dangling--and I do mean"dangling"). But instead of throwing down, I smiled, warmly (emphasis added), and simply stated, "Right. That's what we have you down for" (&*%^$@).

After we made it through our FIRST 3 MINUTES of the appointment, I escorted him back to my operatory, or as I like to call it, The Serenity Room. That's a story for another day and time, but let's just say there is a giant picture of a beautiful island oasis and I pretend I am there with Edward Cullen (I mean, my sweet Jason) most days instead of scraping "sugar bugs" and sucking spit from people's rotten teeth. As I was pathetically attempting (and failing) to make conversation with my favorite patient in the whole wide world, he looks at me, and again, spits out another interruption: "You talk too fast."

Again. The trembling fist. I jammed it into my pocket. I've worked TOO hard to lose my license now! He will NOT take this from me!

Me: "Yeah. And I mumble, too. My husband tells me all the time."

And here it is, the line of the day, quote of the year, word of my lifetime. You ready?

Mr. Crotchety: "You need to rectify that problem."

More blinking. And then do you know what I did? I laughed. Out loud. I laughed for two reasons: 1) Because I haven't heard the word "Rectify" for at least 2 years and had forgotten completely that it existed and 2) because that's what people do when they are in shock. Their comprehension drains from their head to their toes and then sputters out in the form of laughter. Un-freakin-believable. My response?

"Oh. Right. I'll add that to my list of things I need to do to improve myself. There's just SO many."

Does it go without mention that he had one of the nastiest mouths I've ever seen? That he doesn't floss and brushes maybe once a day? Do I really need to tell you that he acted shocked when I told him his teeth were loose and that they were going to fall out of his head? And that I literally had to hold them stable with my fingertip while I scaled them? Does it? Well. Now you know.

After he left, my front office manager came back to talk to me. I thought, "Oh, no. Here it comes. I'm going to get it." But do you know what she said to me: "YOU, young lady, have a huge fan!"

What?! NOOOO! I NEVER want to see him again! Ever (that's why I scheduled him with the other hygienist who happens to be in Hawaii for his next cleaning. You snooze, you lose!). That's right. Mr. Crotchety wants to see me next time. What have I done? I should have punched him. I should have! But like I said earlier, he would have found me anyway. I'm a magnet for those kind of people. It's the Lord trying to teach me patience and me just not getting it. Or blatantly refusing to. Birds. They're everywhere. I'm going for the right hook next time. It's my only defense.

Illiterate

My cousin, Brad, took this picture with his cell phone. It's not great quality. But this is what it says: "Non-Fiction Picture Books." Hmmm. I had no idea that "Where the Wild Things Are" and Dr. Seuss is now considered non-fiction. I guess you learn something new every day!