Sunday, January 09, 2011

Pimping out the Big Guy. Or, Not Everyone Gets Propofol.

Today I bought a container of cheese balls the size of an end table.

The cats have been supplementing their diet with a Taco Bell -inspired "Fourth Meal", only instead of getting drive-through tacos they just wait until everyone in the house goes to bed and then throw themselves repeatedly at their food bag until it opens. Then they eat until their eyes bulge and vomit the excess right outside my bedroom door.

Which is why I bought the cheese balls.  For the container, not the balls. It was cheaper and way bigger than the kitchen containers I found, and it buys us some time until the cats figure out the screw-on lid.

My intention was to empty the cheese balls directly into the trash when I got home, because they are an affront to nature, but they were discovered too quickly, and now the male half of the household is wearing a glazed expression and a coating of fine orange dust.

Once they've eaten until their eyes bulge, I anticipate they'll just vomit the excess outside my bedroom door.

Also while I was at Target I picked up some other essentials, such as a little felt purse shaped like a barn, and some farm animals to go with it.  Also, two Styrofoam swords, six pairs of novelty socks, and an infinity scarf.

All of these things seemed like a must-have when I put them into the cart, which is the genius of Target, but now I am home with the cheese balls and the farm animals, and the swords, and thinking maybe toilet paper and shampoo would have been good too.

Clearly things need to change around here. We need to economize. Make a list and stick to it! Say no to
impulse buys.  Even a three year old can resist a felt barn purse, so why can't I?  I know this because after I exclaimed, "Oh, look!  It's a little BARN!", a woman behind me stopped her cart to get one too.  She handed it to her daughter, who promptly threw it on the floor and sobbed, "I don't LIKE a barn!"

So.  Frugality is going to be my new watchword.

Either that or find a sugar daddy.

Which reminds me to ask you - does anyone know how much an oral surgeon makes? This is relevant.

Two days ago I drove my husband to the oral surgeon's office to get a a dental implant. After the procedure the white-haired nurse called me to the back.

"He did very well!" she said, patting him on the head affectionately. "The doctor gave him propofol! Not everyone gets propofol!"

Then the doctor bounded into the room like a rat terrier in a bandanna and scrubs.  "Hey there!" he said to my husband, who gave him a stoned grin and an eyeball roll from his recovery lounge chair.

Dr. Oral Surgeon turned reluctantly in my direction.

"You must be his driver," he said. Then he turned his back on me.

"So!" he continued brightly, looking into my husband's unfocused eyes. "It went great!" He paused, and his tone grew more intimate, more....playful.  "I nearly sewed your beard to your gums, Big Guy! Ha Ha!"

No response from the lounge chair.

The doctor moved in a little closer.  "I have to tell you," he continued, " I got to use my biggest implant today.  I don't get to do THAT very often.  You could take it, because you are quite the big guy, aren't you?  That jaw bone had plenty of room to seat that implant.  Impressive!"

Then he leaned over and put his hand on my husband's arm.  My husband looked confused, but pleasant.

I cleared my throat, and the doctor stood upright again, suddenly all business as he ran through the instructions. Then Big Guy was loaded into a wheelchair clutching his gauze and complimentary chapstick, and we were on our way.

I thought it was a harmless flirtation until two hours later, when the florist showed up at our front door with flowers for my husband.  From Dr. Oral Surgeon.

I have to tell you, I was kind of excited.  Maybe, if we worked something out, an open arrangement of some kind, the good doctor could help me support my felt barn habit.  All the Big Guy had to do was play along.

But then the husband saw the flowers and muttered, "So that's where my co-pay went," and I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

I think if the surgeon had sent my husband an ice axe, or a polishing chamois, the outcome may have been different.

I'm pinning my hopes on the follow-up appointment on Thursday.  My barn needs a litter of piglets.


Gaston Studio said...

Oh my goodness... ROFLMAO... you're back, for sure!

Venom said...

Slip the Big Guy a rufie, and tell the Dr. that he really needs to check him out THOROUGHLY, and that you'll be gone for an HOUR.
Looking right at the dr., take something, maybe one of those models of the inside of a tooth and put it into your barn purse, patting it as you close the catch. Then say, "You've got him for an hour - don't leave marks."

This could be the start of something profitable.

Chelle said...


I saw an oral surgeon last year. The drugs were so wonderful that I'm thinking of ripping out some of my back teeth so that I can revisit.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

We should get your barn purse together with my peanut butter and jelly sandwich purse, for a play date. I DON'T LIKE A SANDWICH!! *throws purse down on the floor*

Miss Yvonne said...

My life will not be complete until I buy one of those barn purses.

p.s. My cats did the same thing with their food bag, so I washed out one of those giant Tidy Cats litter boxes and use that. It keeps them out and gives me hours of entertainment watching them try to open it. Ha! No opposable thumbs, jerks!

Blissed-Out Grandma said...

Sounds like the oral surgeon tried a favorite drug of his own.

Megs said...

I firmly believe Target practices some sort of black magic that makes it seem imperative to spend a minimum of $50 inside their stores, even when I only needed toilet paper. I have been unsuccesful in obtaining proof of this theory.

Also, you have to earn propofol? Send tips. Also, also I'm very frightened of your oral surgeon.

Logical Libby said...

Oh, dear god. That's what he meant by "biggest implant"?

Well, as long as no one remembers it...

Eric said...

With the barn purse and the oral surgeon, I'm sure there is a pun in there somewhere for 'looking a gift horse in the mouth', but it's to early and decaffeinated to figure it out.

Eric said...

Oops, 'too' early...

You're Lucky I Don't Have a Gun... said...

i worked in a dental office for 2.5 years. i'm going to go out on a limb* and say all oral surgeons are cuckoo.

also, target definitely has some crazy black magic going on. everytime my bff goes in there, she has to make a poop, stat. her theory: it's in the fluorescent lighting.

*not really going out on a limb

Ed said...

Nothing says love like pimping out your husband for farm animals.

Vic said...

@gaston--it's good to see you!

@venom--hmm. That sounded so professional the way you outlined that - I think we could do seminars...after I field test the technique, of course.

@chelle--did the surgeon send you flowers?

@steamy - we definitely should, but it'll have to be quick, before all the farm animals get chewed. Already the lamb has teeth marks in it.
Does the sandwich have a handle? I'm going to have to go look again.

@MissY--I never thought about the litter box! Is it food safe? For animals that lick their butts?
Go to Target right now before the barns are gone!

@Blissed - he loves the little blue pills...

@megs- I'm dying to know their voodoo secrets -- I'm not sure what you have do to get the good stuff, but I'm willing to bet if I were the patient, I wouldn't get the propofol. *pout*

@Libby- What happens in surgery, STAYs in surgery..

@eric -- you are allowed to remove the 'o's from any word you like here. It is a spelling-nazi free zone. (I'm working on the pun right far I got nothin.)

@You'reLUcky --- Hey! Nice to have you here! (I liked your pictures on your blog!)
I never had the fluorescent light/poop issue, but I've seen enough people dash into the Target restroom that I think you're friend is on to something.

@Ed -- what can I say? I'm a romantic. (And clearly you have no concept of just how incredible a barn YOU CAN CARRY WITH YOU is.)
Also, you made me laugh.

I'm sure my husband sees

Wow, that was awkward said...

I will add homo erotic creepiness to my list of why I hate dentists.

erin said...

Jeremiah has a huge man crush on his dentist!

After his last appt. he actually called friends and advised them to start seeing his new bestie instead of their usual dentists.

It was strange. It only lasted a day or two though. Now he can't even remember the dentist by name.

Cat said...

I'm planning a replay of The Month of No Spending for February. Cover your ears, there will be screeching. You could join me and make the torture bi-coastal. Except I'm in the midwest, but if you're in the south it could work. Bi-unprotected border-al.

Also, yay for your domain name. That's kick-ass.

aerocline said...

FLOWERS??? Jesus Christ. Did your husband check his nono hole for signs of, um, impaction?

nova said... What?

I have this friend who is the best at impersonating a cat throwing up. It never fails to crack me up!

Chelle said...

He didn't, but I remember seeing flowers along the receptionist's desk indicating that patients send THEM flowers on top of the thousands of dollars.

I really need to be a dentist.

Also, my oral surgeon looked like that plastic surgeon on extreme makeover... the one who might be 30, but might be 70 and might be made of plasticine. Might be Brad Pitt, might be Mickey Rourke. You can't tell.

Or I was high. One of those things.

Kurt said...

I took "My barn needs a litter of piglets" to mean something dirty and then I was winking and looking around and then I remembered I was alone and not even sure what "My barn needs a litter of piglets" might mean other then maybe I need to get back to the therapist soon.

Rosie said...

I have a battery operated angel doll that sings Whitney Houston somgs if you like? that was my last impulse buy. I made a nice grusome film with it. i think you are very wise to buy farm animals. They could be useful.