Yesterday I surprised the kids by taking the day off work so I could take them to the pool. It was perfect since the weather was finally not as hot and sticky as Satan’s balls (not an exaggeration, or at least I’m guessing not). Bonus that it was cloudy since we’re all really fucking pale. Just thinking about the sun can induce severe sunburn. I know all the treatments – bathtub filled with milk, steep teabags and apply soaked cloths to burn, aloe, jumping in a vat of ice water, chugging down liquor until you pass out – all of them (guess which one is my favorite). Luckily, we’ve only had to use the aloe, the liquor was purely for fun and refreshment.
The kids wanted me take the swim test so I could join them in the deep end and go on the diving board. Let’s just say that after years of neglecting my body, not having great balance, possessing a fear of even miniscule heights, and bathing suits not designed for anyone over a “C” cup, this was a recipe for disaster. But oh well, I’ll do the swim test so the bored teenager can tie a green string on my wrist and I make a pinky-promise I won’t drown on his watch.
It only took me three turns on the diving board to remember I haven’t dived in years, and that I am at that age where my ass really shouldn’t go over my head. Nobody wants to see that. At least I impressed my kids with my ability to hold my breath for long periods of time. I should have told them changing their stinky diapers for years gave me plenty of practice. (Oh, word of advice, NEVER EVER EVER give your baby/toddler veal. Trust me on this. Just typing that makes me gag at the memory.)
So, that was the fun. Today, I got to spend two hours in the dentist chair in preparation for my upcoming coronation. When the dentist asked what color I wanted my crown to be, I told him silver with diamonds and sapphires, but nothing too flashy. I’m not that kind of girl. Luckily, Dr. Jim has a sense of humor. He might also be a little afraid of me since he once hit a nerve doing a filling and, out of reflex, I almost punched him. Almost. He hasn’t added wrist restraints to the chair yet, so I guess I’m not threatening enough.
For anyone who’s had to have a crown, you know. There’s impressions and grinding the tooth down, and more grinding, and then another impression that leaves you gagging on your own spit and drooling onto the bib. Fun time. It’s probably a good thing I’m not a dentist because I would totally have a hidden camera for blackmail, or for patients who don’t pay their bill.
Anyway, I’m using today’s torture as an excuse for eating ice cream, because I damn well deserve it! My mouth hurts. And I’m sunburned. And we’re out of vodka.