Smooth and Clean

Well my teeth feel absolutely amazing. Actually, the dentist did very little of the work, but his assitant scraped off all the hard yucky stuff and then polished and flossed. She made it seem so easy. Very gentle and caring. I wonder how much more he made than she did even though she did all the work.

One thing that I was extremely frustrated about (aside from the equity issues) was the previsit questionaire. One of the questions was: "Will you be paying through an health plan/insurance policy?" I asked the receptionist, "What difference does it make." She proceeded to tell me that there are two prices: one with insurance and one without.

How does this work? Have I missed something here? I don't know much about the insurance business except for the fact that it usually screws me over. I'm not to well read on the ways of high finance, the Enrons, the Martha Stewarts, the Eatons. Where I come from charging an insurance company more than you would charge a customer is fraud.

It's no wonder that premiums increase every year. What kills me is the blatant openness of it. They don't try to hide the price differences or what they are doing. I expect that there's a doctoral thesis buried here, or some work for Shiela Fraser.

Is this double pricing common in the dental business? I once owned a candy store and I always joked that I secretly hated my father and opened this business because I wanted to hurt him (this was always strictly a joke as my father and I get along fine). I find the irony of the double charge especially painful since my father's father was an actuary.

I'm confused here, but despite the dubious pricetag, if you have the means, I highly recommend picking up your own visit to the dentist. The problem is that I don't want to eat and screw them up.

The Dentist's Guilt

Got up early this morning for an 8am dentist appointment. I've not been to the dentist since last summer. My father is my dentist. Unfortunately, he lives 3000 km away, and the routine check up becomes a little difficult. Needless to say this is the trip to the dentist before I actually go to the dentist. I've got a year's worth of non-flossing to deal with before I actually have to sit down in the real dentist's chair.

It feels, though, like I'm committing some kind of illicit dental liaison. I'm letting another dentist into my mouth, not to mention a hygenist. It's become a twisted web of lies and deceit. I feel terrible about having someone else's prophy jet blasting off plaque, I just hope he doesn't want to take x-rays. I think that I might break down into tears if he wants to fix the chip in my front tooth.

Even I have my limits. I'll leave this morning gums puffy and bloodied, and the first thing that I'll have to do is wash the dentist office smell off of my clothes. The guilt might be too much to bear. He'll know just like a dog knows when you've been petting other dogs. Appointment in t minus 30 minutes. Am I really willing to do this? If I can do this then what could be next?

George Lucas Why Have You Forsaken me?

I managed to see Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith over the weekend.

I will make absolutely no attempts at original thought during this blog. Though I have read nothing about the film I do know that every nerd with a keyboard has spouted their feelings about the franchise and it's lost purity and all that jazz.

I am of the demographic that grew up on Star Wars. I had all the action figures. I even collected the proofs of purchase in order to get the special mail order only figures (Greedo, and the Emperor come to mind). I had a model Millenium Falcon, and the Carbonite Freezing Chamber, not to mention the giant Darth Vader head carrying case. I had the lunch boxes complete with thermos, bedsheets, and toothbrushes. In short...nerd.

My buddy has a theory that all the great directors have been ruined by their children. All those innovative directors who had once created everything for their own self-interest have now grown up and had children. Upon first report of this theory, my initial response was "well they just got old and couldn't hack it anymore" (see also similar dialogue in Trainspotting regarding rock 'n roll stars) . He extended it a little by suggesting that these directors rather than creating movies for their own tastes are now creating movies that they believe will suit the tastes of their children.

George Lucas, I believe, is now working for his children. This nicely explains the whole Jar-Jar Binks fiasco, and may explain the wretched dialogue which at times sprouted loud laughter during my screening. (Actually, I was impressed that I wasn't the one laughing loudest).

As for the eye candy, kick ass. Yoda is ultra rad. I suspect that Lucas' role in all of this was quite minimal. It would be interesting to see how much of a hand he actually has in the special effects. I cannot comment on that here since I'm ignorant about this and wouldn't feel right further bad mouthing someone when I'm not 100% sure of their fraudulence.

As for the film, watch it, but keep that inner cynic strong. (Let the lawsuits begin.)

May Two-Four

Well all in all an unproductive long weekend. I've got one more day, though. Classes resume on Wednesday. Tomorrow will see a regular day of work though as I've got a lot to get done before then. A few papers, and organizing should keep me busy for the afternoon. I'll spend the evening coaching, but mainly getting eaten alive by mosquitos who seem to be kickin' it these days.

Not too much else to say. I've been sleeping in and napping for the afternoons so I've been very lazy and I don't really mind that. On the plus side, payday is tomorrow.

I'm not even sure if this technically counts as an entry. It's so flimsy that I wonder how much longer I can feasibly keep this thing going. I don't have anything terribly interesting to say and I really am beginning to question whether or not I want the mundane events of my day on public record. I would hate to look back on them in a few months. There's nothing here.

Home, home again. I like to be here when I can.

Ah Pink Floyd, will you ever win?

I made it home finally. It's strange to call this home since in many ways it's the farthest thing from home. I guess it's nice to be at the place where my bed and all my junk is.

Long weekend. I've got four days of doing next to nothing. I'll find some time to mark some papers and plan the last five weeks of school, but other than that, it'll be pretty much nothing. Cleaning the apartment a few more times than is necessary, and checking the old inbox obsessively for signs from the outside world.

Finally picked up The Arcade Fire's Funeral yesterday. I had been listening to it at my computer but decided to take the plunge and part with the fifteen bucks. A beauty as expected. To steal a phrase, the hype nailed it this time.

All Hail Jesse the Body

I suppose that this is the quintessential blog entry. I'm on the road and I've stopped in Grand Rapids, MN in order to take care of some bodily functions. It seems that checking the old email has simply latched itself onto the routine road pitstop. A sign of the modern times, I guess.

I've come into the local library and though they didn't bat an eyelid when I signed up with a Saskatoon address for my library card, I was a little nervous. I checked my mail and write now within the rather nice decor of a Jesse "the Body" Ventura funded facility. Though you couldn't pay me with enough dumptrucks full of gold bullion to live here, this certainly is a nice place to steal an internet connection and to make some kind of contact outside of the four doors of my incredibly practical yet boring Corolla. How old am I anyway buying a Corolla? I'll have to get something flashier next time.

Countdown to the return to the ultimate in cat-urine soaked apartments is approximately 14 hours. I'll try to do it in 10.

Cinco de Mayo was a blast.

A very good cinco de mayo. I have nothing to do with the holiday, but I do understand that it is a celebration for many. Like Bastille day, but unlike St. Patricks Day for us Irish. It has meaning, whereas we just have an excuse for a piss up.

While I did not tie one on yesterday, I did reconnect with many friends via MSN. I've been off MSN for years, finding it just dumb, and too much a part of youth culture as to annoy the hell out of me. I redownloaded and signed on and suddenly all my friends were right there. It was nice. I also talked to someone new, and enjoyed it immensely.

I don't know what it means, but I like it.

I've been listening to Sigur Ros for the past couple of days. Maybe I'm a little behind the times, but things take a long time to get to Saskatchewan, or else I've just had my head up somewhere. I'm one of those people that when they find a song that they like they play it constantly, until it's completely worn out. I've found a trick around this. I have noticed that once I know the words I grow tired of the song more quickly. For instance, Modest Mouse. Most of the time I have now idea what they're saying, so it lasts a lot longer. ONce I give in and read the liner notes or Google the lyrics the song has already begun it's decline. It's like a good suspense film, it's fun until you know what happens.

The beauty of non-English music, is that I have no idea what they're saying and thus I can't grow tired of listening. QED.

Tuesday Morning Freak Out

I had a better night's sleep last night. I rolled over and felt that it was time to get up. My alarm is on the floor and all I could see was that the hour was a stick. For the first time in my whole life, I hoped that it was 7:00 rather than 1:00, so that the dreaded night of coughing and nose blowing every twenty minutes or so would finally be over. Just my luck, one o'clock.

I got up and checked my email and wrote a few, just to pass the time. Things seemed to settle in my chest and I was back in bed by 2:30. I slept well until my 6:30 alarm, so well in fact, that I turned it off and drifted back off to sleep.

At 8:18 I realized my mistake and had to rush rush rush to get to work for 9:00 (with a 20 minute commute). A quick shower and shave, and a blueberry milkshake later I was one the road at 140km. Now I'm in class writing this and even though I'm coughing up big green gobs from my lungs, I am feeling much better.

Monday, Monday, Monday

Every Monday brings with it the dread of a bad night's sleep, an early morning staff meeting and the Tegan and Sarah's song of the same name. Today is no different, except for the sad fact that I actually got up early. This was not planned nor desired, but after being up about three dozen times during the night I was just glad to get that horrid night over with.

I got everything done yesterday that I had wanted to including cleaning the litterbox, marking those damn History essays, and coaching softball practice. The Spring is playing tricks with us and after three weeks of high teens low twenties temperatures (Celcius, of course), Winter put up a last fight and dropped temperatures back down to below freezing. I managed to pick up some halfway decent frostbite during fielding practice, and, like a rookie, as soon as I got into the car put my hands right on the hot air vent. My hands itched and burned all the way home and though it nearly cost me a trip to the ditch I survived.

Though technically, I am well in my rights to ask for a sick day today, I won't do it. It's harder to get a day planned for a substitute than it is to suck it up and do it yourself. I also wouldn't be able to stand another day of doing nothing in the apartment. There is only so much reading and lying around that you can do before the self-loathing sinks in and you realize that you'd rather be at work than all alone.

I expect that today is also the day where the shit hits the proverbial fan at work. I am planning to leave my job and I know that this will devastate many of my students and the community as a whole. The ad for my job was posted in Saturday's paper, and it is without doubt that someone in the small community has seen it and the wildfire has spread throughout the whole town. I am expecting a lot of tough questions, and times when I really don't know what to say. It isn't their fault, but I can't really say that without giving them my entire life story.

Technology Screws Me Again

I made some kind of mistake because the concert got screwed. I've got a few songs, but none that I wanted. It always angers me when people say that the computer made a mistake, because compters don't make mistakes, they only do what you ask them to do. Blaming a computer for something that you did is like blaming a cup for being dropped onto the floor.

So I screwed up somewhere and the concert is gone into the ether of cyberspace and is bouncing through our world on radio waves doing invisible damage to unknown species. I hope they're enjoying "New Slang" and "Gone for Good" because now I never will.