The journey between here and there

I swear every time I go book a dentist appointment he probably runs to his wife and excitedly exclaims, “Joanne’s coming in! Joanne’s coming in! Book a trip to the Bahama’s here comes the money! Or we can add this money to our big money vault or I’ll just bring it home and we can roll in it! She’s coming, go buy yourself something pretty honey!”

I always have to shell out gobs of cash every time I go. I went and got a teeth cleaning, then found out that I needed a root canal (figured, cuz my teeth hurt) and I’ve got to get my wisdom teeth out because they are putting pressure on the rest. *sigh* Thankfully insurance will cover 80%, but still. I hate the fact that I have soft teeth. I swear I’m going to get dentures by the time I’m 40.

The hygienist was about to clean my teeth, but before I opened my mouth to let her dig around in there I said, “OK, I’m telling you this now, I don’t floss. I do sometimes, but on the whole I don’t. I just read that if you floss you can add 7 years to your life. I DON’T want to add 7 years to my life! I’ve already got longevity in my family. I don’t want to live an extra 7 years being Alzheimery, Schizophrenic, senile and all gribley old in some old folks home! Sheesh! Thanks, but no thanks, I’d rather just die thank you. Yes, next part of the journey please. I don’t want the extended 7 year ride for sitting in a wheel chair, staring out the window, drooling at the TV screen that plays Tyra Banks (who’ll probably take over for Oprah.) This world is going down hill as it is. I don’t want to stick around for it to turn into hell, cuz it’s quickly going that way.”

The hygienist laughed, “You’re funny.”

“Funny to you, but I’m serious.”

Cuz I am! I mean really! I hope to die a quick and painless death. ooooohhhhh or if I can get my sh*t together maybe be transfigured or something… now that would be cool, but I’ve gotta get a lot of sh*t in order first, like stop swearing for one. *sigh* I’m prolly gonna end up in the underworld with Satan kicking my ass all over hell. Great, now there’s something to look forward to. Better start working on being lovey n’ all that jazz.

I’m just disgruntled cuz I didn’t marry a dentist. I wish Ryan would become a dentist. When we were 18 I kept telling him to go to school to be a dentist or a surgeon. He can be so anal retentive about being exact about carving a chicken or following a recipe.

I don’t have the patience. I knew a long time ago, I couldn’t do anything that required precision. I’d be sitting in the operation table and be like, “Ya, I’m tired and I’m sick of standing here for 5 hours, let’s just quickly wrap this up and get outta here.” Patience is not my virtue when I’m bored or sick of something.

I want Ryan to go back to school to be a dentist or surgeon so we can have horse money. Horse money would be nice. Right now I don’t even have dog or cat money. Horse money would be nice, although giraffe money would be even better. Right now we have earthworm money.

I suppose I should explain these terms. I got the term “giraffe money” from the Ellen show when she was talking about Denzel Washington. Denzel has giraffe money. He gets paid in the millions and has gobs of cash. When you have so much money you can afford to buy a giraffe, that’s giraffe money. So then I changed and added on. Horse money, so rich you are able to buy a horse. Dog money, etc. So yes, I’ve gotta figure out a way to get me some giraffe money. I sure can’t depend on Ryan to do it for me.

I wonder if I could get into organized crime somewhere? They seem to make lots of money. I think I’d make a good henchwoman or a bounty hunter or an assassin. That would be a fun job. But where do you look for jobs in organized crime? It’s not like it’s advertised in the paper. If they were, they’d obviously be stupid. Then again, maybe Bill Gates (nice pic Billy) is in OC and Microsoft is just a cover? Hmmm… you never know, you never know. Now Billy boy has giraffe money, hell, he could buy up the whole damn zoo if he wanted to.

Maybe I could just be my own crime boss. Hire my own lil’ Soprano’s type thugs to go pillage and kill. My slogan would be, “People, we kill’em and rototill’em!” Heh. Catchy. I could set up a website: www.chill.com. On the surface it would be an ice cream store, but when you clicked on a certain cone it would bring you to the underground site with kill rates n’ stuff. Ryan tells me I’m too sadistic. I blame it on my father Darth Vader, he’s such a badass.

However, I suppose if I did get into OC I’d end up in outer darkness for sure. *sigh* Ya just can’t win. Ya just can’t win.