Kind of like Sling Blade.

I had a dentist appointment earlier this week.  I do not like the dentist.  I remember going as a child and the dentist asking me how my gag reflex was.  Not knowing what he meant, I said, "It's fine." The moment he shoved a wad of cotton in my mouth, I almost vomited after biting his hand off.  You shouldn't expect an eight-year-old to know what gag reflex means.  That wasn't part of Bill Lang's National Geographic Trivia.  Speaking of Bill Lang.  He has the weakest stomach known to man.  One time, sista woke Bill in the middle of the night after she vomited.  Instead of consoling her and holding her hair back, a la Kathy Lang, he ran to the kitchen sink and vomited himself.  When our baby teeth were loose and we wanted to show Dad, he'd quickly look away and request for us to immediately cease what we were doing.  If we mentioned urine at the dinner table, we would hear, "Girls!" As a child, I never understood why he was such a wuss and was grateful he didn't pass that gene on.  However, now that I am an adult, I have discovered that this has changed.  At my dentist cleaning, while the hygienist was poking my gums with that devil instrument, I was gripping the arms of the chair afraid I was going to upchuck all over the poor girl.  My body was hot and my eyes wide open.  She kept apologizing.  It was torture.

Following the cleaning, I had to get a tiny cavity filled. The doctor's assistant, Cheryl, asked how I was and I sighed heavily and told her I was ok. I despise needles and was filled with dread all day knowing I was going to be shot up with Novocaine.  However, as I lay in the chair, Dr. R. said, "I'm not going to numb you."  I said, "Are you crazy? Why not?"  She laughed and told me the cavity was so small that the injection would be more painful.  All I had to do was raise my hand if I wanted her to numb me at any point.  I thought "She is whack," but I decided to trust a bitch.  Things were going well until she lightly touched my nerve with the drill causing me to almost eat it.  This caused Cheryl to drop her suction tool and delayed the process for five minutes.  Cheryl finally collected herself and started talking about a show she watched on TV about Superminds. "These people can remember what they wore and ate for breakfast 17 years ago!"  "Eewee?" I said. "Yeah!" Cheryl exclaimed. It amazes me how dentists understand their patients with all that junk in their mouths.  My friend told me he usually grunts the whole time.  "Like Helen Keller trying to figure out a math problem."  Dr. R. told us she used to remember everything from school, but not so much as she gets older.  Cheryl said, "That's cause you're havin' a baby! Your mind gets fuzzy."  "Eh a oo oo" I asked.  She didn't understand, so I made a motion with my hand of a pregnant stomach.  "Oh! I am due April 20." she said. "People tell me it's called the pot day." I tried to nod as if to tell her, "Yes. It is the pot day." I stopped myself and instead just attempted a laugh.  Cheryl had never heard of 420.  I was shocked as I assumed she was going to go home and smoke some "dope" as Kath would say.  "Is it a day that people don't smoke pot?" Cheryl asked.  Maybe she was playing dumb.  The conversation then moved on to a male doctor who enjoyed his women.  It ended up being my favorite dental experience. 

I can't wait for my checkup in six months.

In other news. My CF took me out for my birthday last week.  The food and wine were great.  The service was, too.  Until our server looked at my CF and said, "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Kirsten Dunst?"  I quickly defended her and said, "No. But she's been told she looks like Catherine Zeta Jones."  He corrected me on my pronunciation of Zeta.  Douche.  My CF said, "That's great, so I look drunk."   

She looks nothing like her.  Kath will be pissed when she finds out.  She gets very defensive when people tell me I look like Katie Holmes.  "You look nothing like her!" she'll snap when I tell her I heard it from a new person. I don't mind.  I just wouldn't want her to play me in a movie.  She's such a bore. I digress. We were walking out of the restaurant and my CF said, "Lately, I have noticed that I move slow.  Kind of like Sling Blade." 



She's something else.  I have to admit, she was moving slow.  Anyway.  I've got a full day of Phyllis comin' up on Saturday.  No better way to celebrate Jesus' birthday.  I hope Gram likes her present.  I am so excited to see my kids, I could cry.  And, the rest of the fam too.  It's been a while.

Feliz Navidad, bitches.

Maybe we'll get wild.

Monday night was a talk on the phone kind of night.  Some nights I ignore all phone calls.  Sorry.  My Catholic guilt usually kicks in though, and I call right back.  Other nights, I reach out and call a bitch.  First I called Gram. "HI HONEY BUNCH! HOW ARE YA?" she yelled.  I told her I was good, a bit busy.  "YOU STILL GOIN' WITH JP?"  I told her I indeed was.  Phyllis informed the both of us on a recent visit that if the bf were to leave me I would be "Boo hooin'".   I thought to myself, "Who would leave this?"  Anyway. Gram asked when I would be home next and I told her I would see her on Christmas Eve.  She asked if I could write her a note and let her know the dates I would be home.  She said. "I know it's hard, honey bunch, but I would really appreciate it."  I told her I would write her a note the next day and she'd get it this week.  Phyllis told me she would try and write me a note as well.  I hope it's on a paper placemat.

Letter to Phyllis:

I like to put in a picture of us so she remembers how cute we are.  Even if I do look a tad Jersey Shore. I put the letter in a pink envelope adorned with hearts and stars and sent it off.  With any luck she received it today.  After Gram, it was Kath's turn.  She informed me she won't tell me stories anymore since they will end up in my blog.  "But, everyone loves you, Mom!"  I whined. I think she should be flattered.  She went on to tell me, "Your blog only has 21 followers."  If that's the case, then only 21 people read about her antics.  That's what I should have said.  Since my blog only has 21 followers, I don't even care that my phone number is in plain sight for the world to see.  If you call, I won't answer anyway.

In other news.  Time to start thinking about your New Year's Resolutions.  Does anyone have any good ones?  I think 2009 was the only year I honored my resolutions.  I don't think I made any last year.  This year I have a few.  I am going to post them on here so I am held accountable.  1.) I need to drink more water. My bladder is the size of an ant's so not only will that be fun, it will be convenient.  I won't drink water when I take the Peter Pan home.  I'm too afraid to leave my backpack and I don't trust strangers.  2.) Kick heroin. Thanks for the support, Ma. 3.) I need to post on this piece more.  4.) Lastly, I must read the news on the regular.  I hadn't a clue what WikiLeaks was until the BZ explained it to me last week.  I assumed classified news was leaked on Wikipedia.com.  Bill Lang and CF are going to kill me.  Less New York Housewives, more New York Times.

To end, I have to comment on the latest celeb split.  If anyone remembers, I wished back in April for this break-up.  ScarJo and Ryan Reynolds are ova.  I sure hope he gives Sandra Bullock a call.  I think Betty White would agree.

Until next time, 

Meredith Elizabeth Lang

"CIAO."

Tis the season for holiday parties. I have two this weekend, three next weekend and then it's Christmas.  My work Christmas party is tonight  After a fancy dinner, we're going to "da club", so I knew I would not be allowed to roll up in my usual homeless attire.  "What, you don't like my XL male hoodie, boss?"  I am not what you would call trendy. I think the last time I wore a skirt was the 90's.  That's not true, but it has been years.  I'm more of a jeans or yoga pants kind of gal.  Anyway.  I knew I had to step it up.  As you all know, I think shopping is for the devil.  I despise it.  It took me three shopping trips to find an outfit to wear.  First trip, I bought a little black dress to wear with leggings and boots.  Looked great at the store.  Then I went home and tried it on.  I looked like I was dressing up as a slutty witch on Halloween.  Kath def would not have approved. Then I tried on a green shirt, again with the leggings and boots.  Initially, I thought, "Oh, cute!"  Then I realized I looked like Peter Pan.  I suppose I have a new outfit for the bus.

My last resort was a fetch little store in the North End.  Normally when a retail employee asks me if I need help, I avoid eye contact and say, "I'm all set, just looking!"  This time, when the lady asked if there was anything specific I was looking for, I replied, "Yes! Something for my work party that goes with leggings and boots.  And it has to cover my ass." She immediately went to work.  She found a few items and I said I would start with those.  She also suggested a belt to wear, but I politely declined.  I love the Kardashian's, but I would look like an ass dressing like one.  I only tried on one item and it met the criteria above.  Sold.

In other news.  Still haven't done too much Christmas shopping.  However, that is because I have a personal shopper.  Thanks, sista friend!  Thanksgiving was lovely.  It was wonderful spending an entire day with Phyllis.  She looked marvelous.  And, I was not too hung over like last year.  My brother-in-law's (hey, cognato!) grandmother from Italy moved to the states recently and was also in attendance.  Phyllis was glad to have someone close to her age to talk to, even though Bisnonna does not speak English.  At one point, Gram yelled across the table, "NOW. JUST SAY YES OR NO.  DO YOU LIKE LIVING IN THE UNITED STATES?"  That's almost like the time I met Vinnie's cousin from Italy.  I was introduced to his cousin and I said, "CIAO."  He looked at me a little strangely and said "Ciao" back.  Only later when he was speaking perfect English did I realize it was his cousin from East Longmeadow, Massachusetts.  Phyll and I make a great team.  We are great with the I-talians.

I am getting closer to my 30s.  Wonderful.  My sister was a sketch and told me she would drive me back to Boston as a birthday present.  I thought, OK.  The plan was to get Indian takeout for my family birthday bash.  Kath does not eat any food other than traditional grilled chicken sandwiches, "MayoonthesidenotomatocanIhavecoleslawinsteadoffriesIdon'tknowifIlikeyourfriessoIdon'twanttochanceitOHand canIhaveaDietCokewithjustalittlebitoficeactuallycanyouputtheiceinaseparateglassthanksmarie"  So, I thought we each could eat what we wanted in the comfort of my sista's home.  Mom could have a Diet Coke and not worry about the amount of ice and I could get some chicken masala.  I napped while waiting for the food.  I was exhausted from waking up at 3:17 a.m. for the Black Friday excursion.  I didn't even bother showering that day.  What.  Meaghan asked if I could get the door for delivery.  I hate when she does that.  I don't like talking to strangers.  We fight over who has to call for takeout constantly.  I grabbed the money from the counter and opened the door. The handsome Indian delivery man said, "Hey."  I looked at him. I said, "Hi" and looked down to count the money.  When I looked back up, I realized it was the bf.  What a guy.  He even had the food.

I don't have any other updates.  My CF and I chatted for two hours and 20 minutes the other night.  We have a wine date next Friday.  I can't wait. I will have to tell her to hold off on watching our latest favorite Bravo show so we can watch together like old times.  Actually, we will probably both have watched it and just want to watch it again.  Anyway.  I'll end by posting this gem of a song.  You're welcome.