Here In the Real World

Okay, work has slowed down, but personal things have not so I have been suffering from blog neglect, one of the dreaded blog diseases. The real world has a way of intervening, even with the best of intentions.

For starters, my brother and sister in law insisted that they take me out for a belated birthday dinner. That was really nice of them. They took me to Mimi's Cafe. I highly recommend this restaurant if it's in your area. I had Tuscan chicken sauteed in olive oil with fresh vegetables including zucchini, squash, broccoli, mushrooms, tomatoes and artichoke hearts. Served with rice pilaf and a salad. Very yummy. Add to that a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay and I was in heaven.

The best part was that they didn't sing or do anything stupid announcing to the restaurant that it was my XX birthday. However, my brother and sister were disappointed. They did bring me a piece of chocolate silk pie. Also, very yummy.

We jumped back to my brother's house where I ended up staying the weekend (even though they only live 15 mins from my house). They had several movies and my brother had several new video games he had bought from E-bay.

We watched "The Incredibles" this weekend. I have to say, it was a pretty good movie. I even recommend it for adults. Like Shrek and a few other movies of that sort I could name, some of the content had just enough adult innuendo to keep it interesting.

Then we played "Def Jam Vendetta - Take back New York" or something like that. This is not a video game for children. Not just because of the obvious violence, but because the language is more than "risque". Most of it is humorous, though. One of the characters main lines is, "I'm going to rip out your tongue and lick my a$$ with it."

Ahem...and that was a milder one. Definitely not something to even have kids in a near by room or conscious when playing.

The premise of the game was that you are a street fighter that rescues an underground fight club boss while he is on his way to jail. He's on his way to jail because, in the first Def Jam Vendetta, he holds your girlfriend hostage (the protaganist character is a man) and tries to beat the dog out of you with his coterie of fighters. In this version, you are the "suspect" who helps him get away after ramming the police car. He takes you in and the police try to give a description of the suspect (you). This is where you build your own character with height, weight, body build and basic skills. Additional skills, health, power, clothes and jewelry you have to earn as you fight your way through a rival fight club boss's fighters. You also open up other fighters and venues as you go along. This is for single or multi-player fights (up to four people).

Let me say that we played the $%^&& thing for 10 hours straight on Saturday and I woke up Sunday with a giant blister on my left thumb from the joy stick. I also learned some new and colorful curses which I later repeated while playing the game. My sister in law was worried that we were too "in" to the game when we started referring to the computer characters as "dirty sons of $%^&&" and a few other words as they proceeded to beat my character black and blue. The best part about the game was actually that my brother has a 52" flat screen television and I didn't need my contacts in to play it.

Sunday was for the nephews and niece. We played Aggravation and Operation, which actually should be called "aggravation" or "frustration". Have you ever tried to play "operation"? With a 12 year old and a 11 year old? There are at least two pieces in that game that are rigged not to come out: the charlie horse and the wishbone. And the lord forbid they get pushed back inside the little slots on the "patient". I think I was cursing more during that game (under my breath) then when playing the video game.

You know, kids do say the darnedest things. Friday evening, after we came back from dinner, I was sitting in the recliner waiting for everyone to get "arranged" for the movie and my oldest nephew comes out of the bathroom, walks over to me and says, "Aunt Kat, aunt Kat! Ihavehairsgrowingonmypenis!"

I was watching the news at that point, he was a little over excited and I didn't quite catch it the first time so I foolishly said, "What?" and clicked the mute button.

He repeated just as fast and near unintelligible, "Ihavehairsgrowingonmypenis!" I could only make out the last word "penis". He had a shocked look on his face and seemed a little weirded out. I said, "slow down and tell me that again," as my brother walked into the room.

"I-have-hairs-growing-on-my-penis!"

My bro looked a little red in the face. I think he couldn't believe Nephew #1 was telling me, a girl, about this phenomenom and using the word "penis". Of course, I didn't want to ratchet it up into a full blown "episode" which I could see brewing from bro's face, "Welllll, nephew #1, that is perfectly natural. All boys grow up and get hair there, on their face and under their arms. Do you have hair under your arms?"

"Yes." He replied, chilling out a little.

Me again, "See, that's why you have to take showers regularly and use the deodorant your dad bought you. Otherwise, you'd stink and we couldn't take you out in public. Okay?" Twelve year old boys are notoriously bad with their hygiene and the nephews are no exception. It seems like it's a fight every morning to get them up early enough to get a shower before school and they are ever forgetful about the deodorant.

"Okay." He replied looking quite a bit calmer.

"I think your dad will be explaining more stuff to you about it soon," I told him, giving bro the 'raised eyebrow'.

Bro added, "Yes. They have a health and hygiene class on Monday. We'll be talking after that."

Ahh...just in time to save bro from horribly embarrassing discussions.

"Okay then, give me five and then run downstairs and see where your brother is so we can start this movie." I held out my hand and he smacked it before running downstairs.

Later that same evening, my three year old niece came up for the third time with a different outfit on. She insisted that we look as she twirled around, holding her little dress out. "I cute (koot)," she said and it wasn't a question. I agreed with her that she was very "koot" and she ran back downstairs. My sister in law said that "aunt Becky" (my sister in law's aunt who has no grandchildren yet) had taken her several times and they played "dress up". My little niece is going to be a girly-girl unlike all the other Tom Boy girls in the family.

Then, Sunday while we were watching "Space Cowboys", I heard my sister in law yelling in the bedroom. My niece ran out, slammed the door and yelled, "No!" then came stomping into the living room. Mind you, she is only three, but she is a mouthy little three year old. She can put together some sentences and thoughts. She stomped into the living room and I could hear my sister in law calling the niece's name with that long drawn out last vowel that mother's use when you are in deep dog doo doo.

My niece ignored her and kept stomping into the living room, throwing herself on the couch and crossing her arms. I asked, "What's wrong?" and she replied in her little girl slightly lisping voice, "I'm mad!" and she let out a long suffering sigh that blew her bangs up out of her face.

I, of course, was attempting not to laugh already, "Why are you mad?"

She looked at me with her little lower lip sticking out and said, "Because mommy's going, 'Yarablahblahrahrblahrahr'!" She shouted the last part out sounding just like my sister in law's words she was yelling when filtered out by the walls. She waived her arms around in a pretty good imitation of my sister in law when giving the kids hell. I almost spit out my out my tea it was so funny.

Of course, I said, "What did Mommy say?"

And niece gave me an exasperated look before repeating loudly with the hand movements, "Mommy's going, 'Yarablahblahrahrblahrar'!"

"Ohhhhhh," I nodded my head as if in understanding, "I get it." I wanted to laugh so hard. Even now I have a little grin on my face (which is painful; I'll explain in a minute). So I tol my niece to wait right there and went to get my sister in law and brother. They were coming down the hall anyway looking for my niece. It seems it was time for bed and she was refusing. Hense, the yelling.

"Koot Niece, please explain to mommy why you are angry," and she did, again.

Sister in law did not find it as amusing as me and bro, who, also, nearly spit out his soda.

Kid's do say the darnedest things.


We also played outside since it was so nice. After all that we watched "Space Cowboys". Oldest Nephew insisted he wanted to be an astronaut. I explained he had to apply himself at school and get better grades then go to college for several years. He then informed me that he was not planning to go to college. As soon as school was "over" he was going to work at McDonald's like his mom (who is a Manager there, but still) because it was cool and they had good food.

We all laughed at first, but he was perfectly serious. My brother then proceeded to lecture him about the evils of working at McDonald's the rest of his life, but I don't think the nephew quite understood what he was talking about. Let's hope he grows out of that stage and goes back to wanting to be an astronaut.

He did talk about joining the army some day. He knows his uncle, my other brother, is in the military and he thinks that he is really "cool". We talked about all the cool things that they did in the army like helping people, driving cool vehicles and an abstract discussion about "values" like honor, duty, country, responsibility, etc. I think the responsibility part put him off a little, but he is only twelve. What actually concerned him was that, in the army, you might get shot and killed. That was not cool.

I think the nightly news is a little too realistic for the kids these days. What I find humorous about the people who are insisting on some sort of FEC standards and ratings for television, movies, music and video games is that the nightly news is much more disturbing and is not limited to "after prime time" hours.

But, I digress. Let me explain the part of the last few days that has been the most "fun": Monday. Last week, I lost a filling out of a molar. The filling had been there for almost 20 years. It came out while I was eating a burger for lunch at work. What hurt the most right that second was biting down on the stupid filling. So, I made an appointment to see the dentist. Not last week of course because I had to make my ill fated trip to Indianapolis so I put it off for a week. it wasn't really hurting except if I drank cold water or ate on that side, so I figured I could make it.

Wrong. Very wrong. Friday morning it was hurting a little down in the gum. You know, like when you accidenty bite on a potato chip the wrong way and it stabs you in the gum? That's what it felt like. Not horrible, bearable, but still a pain in the rump.

In December, a piece of that tooth had broken off and I had the dentist grind it down a bit, but he told me I had to come back and get the tooth "rebuilt". Unfortunately, it was Christmas time, I was way too busy and I did not want to spend the holiday unable to enjoy Christmas dinner and all the good snacks we would have so I put it off. And off. And off. Until it completely fell apart.

So, I make my appointment with my dentist. You probably know about him. I believe he learned his trade during the last Inquisition. Yours, too? You ever had your teeth x-rayed? If they are just doing one part, they put this hulking square, stiff plastic "film" board in your mouth and tell you to bite down on it. It's square and thin so, of course, the corners dig into the the bottom and roof of your mouth. They insist that you bite down hard to hold it in place.

The assistant puts this metal mouth stretcher in your mouth that holds it open at an improbable width before he, the dentist, begins poking at your tooth and gums with a sharp pointy object followed shortly by the inevitable question that you are supposed to answer, "So, are you still working at the same company?" (The last time I was in we had a short conversation while the assistant was developing the x-rays).

I just want to know why any dentist thinks you can really answer these questions, leaned back in the torture chair with a spot light in your face, your mouth held open to five inches beyond its normal state and a sharp pointy object in your mouth. I mean, you can't move your tongue or lips enough to articulate and you sure as hell don't want to nod or shake your head in reply. I just gave him a look and grunted. He seemed to come back to his senses, "Oh, yes, right." He proceeded to finish poking around, explaining what he saw, "Your teeth are in really good shape except this one. You have a giant cavity that goes all the way down to the root which is exposed. The filling must have been hiding it on the last x-ray. I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. You'll have to go to the oral surgeon and get it extracted."

My eyes probably got as big as the spot light over me. He wanted me to go see the great great grand son of the Marquis de Sade. Today. Immediately if they could squeeze me in. Okay, not really the Marquis de Sade, but there has to be something seriously sadistic about people who go into oral surgery. I mean, what else can explain a guy that offers you laughing gas just before he rips out your tooth which will start giving you the most excrutiating pain you've every felt in your life in about an hour or so when the novacaine or lidocaine wears off?

I mean, that is just plain evil, isn't it?

The worst part, after the assistant shoots me up and I'm drooling buckets of saliva down my chin, the doctor comes in and he is an extremely good looking single man. His build was a little on the square side with a little bit of chunk going on, but still very good looking. He introduces himself and shakes my hand. And, just like the other dentist, he starts in his inquisition expecting answers: does it hurt all the time? No? When I drink cold water or hot beverages? Was I numb enough yet? I should feel numbness all the way to the middle of my bottom lip, is it numb? No? Tingling? Okay then, we'll give you one more shot.

In which case, he sticks the needle in a couple of times. On the second round, he stuck me somewhere and I had a feeling I had never had before. Get your minds out of the gutter. He called it a "zinger". He stabbed me in a nerve and I just about came out of the chair while he still had the needle in my face. It felt like somebody had given me an electrical shock. Not the friction kind you get when you don't pick up your feet, but like I was connected to a car battery. It hurt.

Finally, we get down to business. He has me bite down on a thick rubber place holder that is, again, many inches wider than my normal size. He asks me once again if I want laughing gas or to be knocked out. I hate that feeling so I avoid it if at all possible. I much rather be aware. He then proceeds to stick an ice pick looking tool in my face and taps it ever so gentley (not that gentle really) to break the tooth apart for easier extraction. Next come the forceps. He grabs the tooth and warns me that I will feel some pulling and shoulr resist moving with it as much as possible. I can hear the crackling and grinding of the tooth as he begins to rip it out of my mouth.

At this point, I am wondering why I didn't at least ask for an Ativan or maybe I should have asked to be knocked out, but, honestly, it didn't hurt at that point so there was no reason to be knocked out. It was more about the anxiety level until it's done.

The forceps go in several times and come back out with pieces of tooth which the assitant takes quickly in the hand that is not holding the suction device for the physician. She had a big piece of guaze ready for it. The doctor moves so fast, I can't even see what it looks like.

He asks for another sharp pointy object and digs around looking for additional pieces of tooth. Now, I can hear him scraping the bone. I can't feel it, yet, but I know I will later.

Fortunately, the Marquis de Sade was finished relatively quickly. All told, after sitting in the lobby for over 2 hours hoping to be "fit in", dreading it, and sitting in the chair for 15 minutes until he walks in, stressing out a little more only to have him complete his torture in less tan 5 minutes.

I now have a big hole in my teether. The doctor gave me some nice drugs which made me quite sleepy. I finally woke up again because the pain was coming back and it was time to take another pain pill. In which case, I couldn't go back to sleep immediately so here I am writing a little about the last few days.

If there are any obvious and egregious spelling or grammar. As a matter of fact, I feel myself nodding off at the keyboard. The pain meds have kicked in and it's time to say goodbye to all my firends.

That has been my last three days in the real world.

Kids say the darndest things.

Ilearned several new curse words and phrases from a video game.

The Spanish Inquisition Revisited.

Darvoset kicking in and I just woke up with a jerk, my forehead about two inches from the keyboard.

time for sleep.