Clareified

Where does the good go

Archive for August, 2005

EXHAUSTION MEANS DRUGS!

Thursday, August 18th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


EXHAUSTION MEANS DRUGS!

Eminem enters rehab.

Clareified, all about information and education.

SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN ON THAT MIDNIGHT TRAIN

Thursday, August 18th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN ON THAT MIDNIGHT TRAIN

That’s in Georgia, right?

I FORGET…IS THAT CODE FOR DRUGS OR CRAZY?

Wednesday, August 17th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

I FORGET…IS THAT CODE FOR DRUGS OR CRAZY?

Eminem cancels European tour citing ‘exhaustion.’

VICODIN… VRINN VRINN VRINN

Wednesday, August 17th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

VICODIN… VRINN VRINN VRINN

The last coherent sentence I uttered was: “I am allergic to pain.”

It was followed by Doogie Howser, DDS squeaking “Penicillin? You’re allergic to penicillin?

“No, PAIN. I am allergic to pain.”

Oh.

Did he just giggle?

No one who giggles and looks like they’re twelve is going anywhere near my mouth with power tools.

Alas, it was all too late. Before I knew it, he was shoving fourteen inch long needles into the four sides surrounding “Tooth 20A.”

“We call it 20A because even though it’s an extra tooth, it’s right next to tooth 20.”

Yah. Figured that out guy. Thanks. I think they handle that in tenth or eleventh grade, just wait, you’ll see.

With each searing razor blade slash into my gums, he would then utter some ridiculous

“Oh, I know that hurts. Shhhh….it’ll be fine. Just three more,” as I not so subtly flipped him off.

Stop.Trying.To.Soothe.Me.

Dentists know what they’re doing with the putting you in the long recliner chairs that swallow your legs. Goodness knows, if I could have accidentally kicked him in the shins I would’ve. Frankly, if I could have accidentally stuck a knife in his belly and gutted him like a fish, I woulda done that too.

After enduring the most irritating countdown of all time: “Shhhh….it’ll be fine. Just two more….Shhhh….it’ll be fine. Just one more.”

He leaves the room, while his assistant hands me a “consent form.”

Yeah, cause after all that, I am going to decline the procedure and go home with a mouthful of needle sticks and numb jaw.

Despite intentionally not reading the form, I did catch key phrases to set my mind at ease: “jaw fractures,” “bruising,” “excessive bleeding.”

Terrrrrif.

Dr. Howser returned.

“You may hear a sound,” he said right before knocking the instruments off the tray.

“Ooops. Not that sound.”

giggle, giggle.

His assistant audibly sighed as she went to retrieve new instruments for the extraction.

A few moments later, the drill was whirring away. Why can’t they make a dental drill that plays Lite FM? I heard cracking and felt my jaw rattle as he tugged away at the little tooth that shouldn’t.

“There. All done. I’ll put in a couple of stitches and we’ll be finished.”

The assistant brought over the needle and thread.

He started sewing.

“Hmmm…alright, a few more stitches and you’ll be done.”

“OK, just a couple more.”

“Umm…ok, this one should do it.”

Is he making me new gums using needlepoint? Martha would be proud.

After he left I went to collect my tooth.

“Umm, we’re not supposed to let you have that,” his assistant said.

Look lady, I came in here with this tooth, I’m leaving with it.

“RRRAWWRR, MAH, GARGGLE, SLURP, DROOL, MAAHHH GGRRR.”

“Alright. Let me get you an envelope for it.”

Out in the hall Dr. Howser was waiting for me with prescriptions.

Motrin, Vicodin, and antibiotics. He handed me the prescriptions and at the top, the pre-printed doctors name and address had been crossed out in pen and he had added his name and ID number below.

Dear lord, the boy doesn’t even have his own prescription pad yet.

I am so getting gangrene and my mouth is gonna fall off.

I dropped off my makeshift prescriptions at the pharmacy. It would be a forty minute wait. Since my mom worked across the street, I decided to go over there for some sympathy befitting one who had had her essence removed my drill and pliers.

“Stop drooling!” She said when I finally found her in the exam room hunched over a stack of medical charts.

She handed me a box of tissues and a fistful of gauze.

“And wipe your shirt.”

This was not at all how I had imagined this.

I showed her the envelope with my still bloodied tooth — there was even a bit of my gums still hanging from the root — certainly that’d provoked the mothering instinct!

“Gross,” she said recoiling a few inches in horror.

Hmmmphhh. Well, I never.

I went back to the pharmacy to wait for my medicine. About twenty pages of ‘The Nanny Diaries’ later, I heard a familiar voice.

“You’re still waiting here?”

It was my mother.

“YAHS”

She went to the counter.

“Excuse me, my daughter has been waiting here for twenty minutes. She just had dental surgery and is in A LOT of pain.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away, we didn’t know.”

She came over to feel my face, which was actually still pretty numb. I think that dentist injected my eye sockets.

“It looks swollen. Put ice on that when you get home. You want money for a cab?”

Now, we’re talking. That’s the kind of fawning I expect from the woman that raised a thirty year old who still lives at home.

Turns out I got the bum’s rush because the clinic doesn’t really visitors anymore, but my mommy still loooooves me.

Well, I’m all hepped up on pain killers now, so I am going to sleep.

LIKE A BLACK CRACK WHORE OR AN ITALIAN MOBSTER

Wednesday, August 17th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

LIKE A BLACK CRACK WHORE OR AN ITALIAN MOBSTER

I saw a well-dressed Hasidic man, complete with three piece black suit, side curls and a top hat, picking up Metrocards from the subway station floor and swiping them, one by one, at the turnstile looking for one with money left on it.

Duuuuude, your people’s reputation is worth more than two dollars.

What are you doooooing???

AMERICA! #@%$ YEAH!

Wednesday, August 17th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

AMERICA! #@%$ YEAH!

I got up early this morning, basically to stuff as much food as possible into my body before my essence is removed. I turned on Good Morning America at 7:01 a.m.

Charlie Gibson and Robin Roberts were giving a preview of the days’ news. Gaza evacuation, deadliest day in Baghdad, Gossip is Good for you, Cindy Sheehan: Day 9.

Robin kicked it over to the news desk where that fake George Stephanopolous guy began his report on “the heart wrenching images from Gaza.” The tape began to roll of a screaming Israeli woman holding up a baby to Israeli soldiers and pleading.

Suddenly, the tape broke away.

The familiar: Breaking News alert flashed.

I was certain there was an explosion, crash, assassination…NOPE! SPEED CHASE!!

A stolen Jeep Liberty SUV was tearing through Newark’s city streets.

TEN COP CARS IN PURSUIT.

The Channel 7 Chopper was flying after the Jeep as it tore down one way streets going the wrong way, flipped donuts across lawns to evade the six police car blockade up ahead.

He sped through an underground parking garage as he eluded two police cars behind him
and made it to the highway.

When it looked like the cops might have him cornered, he took an exit and headed down the industrial section of east orange.

We saw two pedestrians dive onto the sidewalk as he went screaming down the streets. He jumped the curb to avoid hitting a vehicle in the turning lane.

At one point the news anchor breathlessly said “Of course, we don’t want to glorify this guy…but Man, he is making some AMAZING moves out there!”

Take that OJ.

In the end, the car thieves drove to a huge state park, jumped out OF THE MOVING VEHICLE and ran into the park.

The chopper followed the driver as the police tackled him to the ground, handcuffed him behind his back and…wait for it…kicked him in the ribs while he was down.

Why coppers go that one extra step from definitely good guys to ‘what? did he just kick that guy on the ground?’ I’ll never know.

The traffic reporter, who I guess is from Jersey, added the legal analysis:

“Man, this guy was all over the place, Newark, East Orange, South Orange, back to Newark…”

“Yeah, well, from the prosecutor’s standpoint, this guy made it very easy. He stayed in Bergen county.”

The whole “Breaking News” report took half an hour.

I love this country.

Umm…so…what’s going on in Gaza?

RANDOM THOUGHT #178, 546

Tuesday, August 16th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


RANDOM THOUGHT #178, 546

I wonder how Ally McBeal is doing? Is she married yet? Has her kid become anorexic? I she still practicing law in micro minis?

Random Thought #178, 545

Tuesday, August 16th, 2005 by Dawn Summers


Random Thought #178, 545

Whoa that was a completely random number.

I’M HAVING SURGERY TOMORROW

Tuesday, August 16th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

I’M HAVING SURGERY TOMORROW

About two years ago, an x-ray turned up an abnormality in my bottom jaw.

An extra tooth.

The dentist had quote never seen anything like it unquote.

Could be a baby tooth that never emerged or a third set of permanent teeth.

Which was perfectly fine, since at the time, it was all shadowy theory…

That was then.

About a year ago, the theoretical tooth began to emerge as a real enamel presence protruding from the middle of my lower gums. Which again, would be perfectly fine, if it wasn’t trying to displace an already existing tooth.

A veritable civil war rages now as the tooth, about half-way out, now demands its own place in the mouth.

The center cannot hold, and tomorrow, it will be displaced by force.

As I sit, on the eve of the surgery to remove a tooth that should never have been, my mind can’t help but turn to the philosophical.

Is this tooth somehow the key to my very Dawn-ness? A la Chandler’s third nipple?

Will its removal result in damage to my personality, my core?

Will the laughing gas really make me laugh?

Should I keep the tooth on a string around my neck?

Will the tooth fairy give me a dollar, if I put it under my pillow?

A CAUTIONARY TALE…

Tuesday, August 16th, 2005 by Dawn Summers

A CAUTIONARY TALE…

About combining your personal cellphone with your professional PDA device.

When you leave, they will disconnect your phone from the network on which all your contacts, e-mail messages and calendar dates are saved. Now, they will do this despite the promise that such disconnection will not happen until September.

This is because they are assholes.

Nevertheless, here you will be, with a phone — with no phone numbers and five weeks off, with no record of the things you had made appointments to do.

Funnily enough, Karol recently gave me the perfect way to handle this situation:

A guy, who lost his phone during a drunken brawl, posted the sorted story about losing his cell on his blog and then added the note that his friends should “e-mail their contact information, or take this opportunity to wrap-up the friendship.”

Seems about right.

So I look forward to your emails (firstnamelastname@gmail.com or click the link on the top left) otherwise, great knowing you, take care.