Today, I actually got my recommended allowance of sleep. I dropped That Cunt off at the commuter lot, picked Dirk up, went home, and slept until 10.
We got up, made food, showered, took another nap, then finally dragged our butts out of the house at about...4. Dirk dropped off his application at Hechinger's (well, it was time to face facts: if 7-11 hasn't called him back or returned his calls by now, they never will), I picked up a course guide for college, and I went to the Dentist.
Now, I'm not all that great about taking care of my teeth, I fully admit to this. And the braces I wore for four years did not correct my overbite, because I refused to wear those rubber bands. They hurt like fuck, and I'd take them out in my sleep. The dentist seemed to have a huge problem with my overbite. He mentioned it every 15 seconds, when he said anything at all.
The dentist was an asshole.
He was about 3 years older than me, if even that, and had an overbite that was at least as bad as mine. He didn't tell me what he was going to be doing, and he did something nasty with that hook/scraper thing they all have. I don't know what he thought he was doing, but it hurt worse than a million paper cuts, made my gums bleed, and lasted for 3 minutes. It took all of my self-possession not to hop out of the chair and strangle him and his stupidly cheerful assistant. He was trying to force that goddamn hook think between my teeth. I could have told him it wouldn't fit there. My teeth are simply too close together. He tried anyway. Asshole
I have a cavity (something else I could have told him, had he not been too busy clucking about my overbite), it'll cost $32 dollars to get filled. I could save 30 dollars and just put tile grout in there myself with a toothpick. At least I wouldn't have to deal with that dentist again.
The problem with my HMO is that there's a shortage of dentists in it...the ones that are there are all assholes who need to die.
After this torture, with much cleaner teeth, I went up to Madigan's Grill with Dirk. Astoundingly, we'd never been there, partly because it's only recently opened. That was a whole new nightmare.
It was apparently Open Gay Mike Night. There was a "band" playing or, rather, a duo. They were so completely lacking in talent, I could have been persuaded that they'd just finished the "learn the instrument in 12 easy videos" series. The melodies were banal, the guitar playing was marginal, and it was just horribly dull. And that was when they were playing originals.
When they played covers, a whole new realm of terror was opened up. First, there was the fact that most of the covers were of songs regularly played on WGAY, "Washington's relaxing station." Terminal. Then, as a change, they played, get this: Rocky Raccoon. (See a trend in my life yet?). I don't know how you can make a Beatles song sound more nauseating, but they managed. Somehow.
Dirk and I spent our entire meal making up lyrics to the original songs, to make them more vulgar. The food was marginal...I ordered the calzone. They had no idea what they were doing with this thing. The outside was badly burned enough in some places that it strongly resembled tree bark. I made Dirk eat most of it.
We went home, surfed for a while, then Dirk went home. After Dirk left, I updated my part of Diarist.net, mostly out of boredom.
Katie, Chris, Dirk and I are supposed to go to see that Cindarella-type movie tomorrow night. I forget what it's called.