No Point, Just Complaining

The dental hygienist asked me if I wanted x-rays taken.

"Beats me", I said. "Do I need them?"**

Christ, if being a dental hygienist means asking the patient how to do their job, then sign me up. She then proceeded to pick and gouge around at my gums until they were a bloody pulpy mess (or at least that's my perception). And that's another thing I think I could probably do.

She also asked me if I drank coffee and/or tea, which is an indirect way (read 'woman speak') of saying,

"Your teeth are stained by coffee and/or tea."

because I'm sure a trained dental hygienist would know whether teeth are stained or not.

I'm sure she was thinking,

"Yeah, I can tell, I just wanted to see if you'd lie to me."

And speaking of lying, she asked me if I floss, which, I don't. I hate flossing more than I hate my garbage man. Incidently enough, it's another question that she should know the answer to without asking. I'm sure it's in my file anyways, because I say the same thing every time.

"No, I don't floss, not once a week, not once a month, never."

Having said that, I bought floss, because she scared me into thinking that gingevitis was going to rot my mouth and make all my teeth fall out.

Finally, because my last experiment was so successful, I've decided to revisit the Crest Whitestrips. That's right, I just took the 'before' picture and in 14 days I'll have a sparkling new smile that will give me all the confidence in the world! Then, with whiter teeth, I can feel more comfortable lying to the hygienist about what I eat and drink.

** I didn't really say that, but as at tribute to James Frey, I'm going to lie a little bit about my experience with the dentist.

STAR WARS SUCKS!!!

(I'm just trying to get a rise out of the traffic I'm getting from Chewy's blog. (which is damn funny if you haven't been there.))

Anyways, I guess that's it.

I hate Oprah

I'll admit it, I bought a book. I even started to read it, but in true Paul's Book Club fashion, I haven't finished it, and I'm not sure I will. I'm not saying it's not good, I just can't read.



Anyways, there seems to be some controversy over some of the details of this book.

Now, this book is all about how he overcame his addiction to drugs and alcohol and blah, blah, blah everyone feels good at the end and maybe we all feel a little more confident in our own abilities to overcome obstacles that seem insurmountable. So someone decides to look into whether or not the author actually spent 3 months in prison at some point in the past and they find out that he didn't. Who fucking cares? It has nothing to do with the main point of the story and I think anyone who feels that the rest of the book is tainted because he said he spent time in prison is, well, a moron.

The author was on Larry King a few weeks back and Oprah called in and was supportive, now she's saying she feels duped and betrayed. Make up your damn mind Oprah!

A sometimes angry, sometimes tearful Winfrey asked Frey why he "felt the need to lie."

He's a fucking drug addict Oprah! He has flaws. One used to be snorting massive amounts of cocaine, now, he lies. It's an improvement, I'd say.

So, in short, the guy wrote a book, maybe embellished a few points and tried to get it published. Someone agreed to publish it as a memoir. What is he going to say? "No? I made up half a page about spending time in prison?" Hell, I'd write just about anything if I thought I was going to get published. Like that time I had sex with Jennifer Aniston and Kate Beckinsale in the same night. They'll deny it, and Oprah will call me a liar, but, my perception of things is that it happened. Or maybe I just masturbated to an episode of Friends right after Pearl Harbour. Either way, that would make for some damn fine reading!

Last post about garbage men, I promise.

Well, those sons of bitches lost the lid to my new garbage can again. Now I have 2 lidless garbage cans which are useless. Well, maybe not totally useless, but I can't use them for garbage because the damn raccoons will just tip it over and make a big mess. I doubt the garbage men would take a half torn up bag of junk. God forbid the garbage man has to pick up garbage.

I called the garbage head office and I talked to an operator who listened to my complaint and she said, "Yeah, we've had lots of complaints." Ummm, I have an idea, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Picking up garbage is not a hard job, and there's nothing worse than someone who thinks they deserve to get paid for doing a job that they don't do well. I hear my supervisor say that all the time.

Are they unionized? If not, I say fire the bum and remind him why he should be fortunate to be able to contribute to society at all. The 'manager', or 'head garbage man' implied that it was the wind and, well, they can't control the wind. He makes a good point. No wait, he doesn't. It's not always windy - unless there's a localized wind following around garbage trucks, in which case, they would, in a way, control the wind and he'd be wrong.

I'm not giving up. I'm going to complain until they fire my garbage man. Or I suppose they could just replace my lid. I'm ok with either.

Bon Jovi's plane crashed!!

Conversation with my sister.



Ok, maybe not "crashed", maybe, "slid off the runway", and maybe "only part way past the end of the runway." Slippery when wet. Ha! Didn't see that one coming.

It's garbage day tomorrow

Any guesses on where my garbage can and lid end up? I predict that the can ends up in the road on its side, and the lid is on the sidewalk next to the neighbour's house.

Videoblogging

Videoblogging thanks to Jen.

This is from Vietnam. It's almost like you're there, except it's not as loud and it doesn't smell like scooter fumes.

Justin Timberlake

As Mitzzee pointed out a couple comments ago, I look like Justin Timberlake - or, I guess, because I'm older, he looks like me. There is an easy way to tell the difference though, you just have to remember, one of us was in love with Britney Spears for a while not too long ago and the other was that homo lead singer of 'NSync.

Now, I found some pictures on the internet and the resemblance is uncanny.

Know which one is me? Of course not! We're twins.

This one is a little easier, but just because Kylie won't let me post those other pictures she let me take of her.




Anyways, as you can see, Justin is basically my clone, and he stole my whole plan of fronting a boy band, making millions of dollars and then sleeping with movie stars. What's the point now? It has been done. He's such an asshole.

Scratch-and-Sniff

Remember the old days when you had scratch-and-sniff stickers? Where you'd have some stupid looking sticker with a strawberry or ice cream cone on it and when you scratched it it smelled like something, but not necessarily what was pictured? Then, after a while it was just a sticker with a picture scratched off that didn't really smell like anything?

Well, I've been working on a little something that I call, "Electronic Scratch-and-Sniff". It's really ingenious and I think I'll make a lot of money from this. Imagine, scratching a picture you see on your monitor and then being able to smell it?

My first successful attempt is pictured below. Due to the technological differences between monitors and laptops (differences that you probably wouldn't understand), it doesn't work on laptops.



Man, I'll be rich! Think of what perfume and food sites will pay me for such technology! Pretty woon it will be all over the internet! I guess the only downside to this is that, sooner or later, the porn sites will pick up on it, and for that, I apologize in advance.

Take that Brad Pitt!

I was waiting in line at the grocery store the other day and I was shocked (and honoured) to see this. Of course I remember the photo shoot, I just didn't know exactly what they were going to do with the pictures. I showed the cashier but she seemed pretty unimpressed. I don't know about you, but sometimes I get the impression that people who work in grocery stores don't really like their jobs.