Kismet at the Dentist's Office

Today I had to make an emergency trip to my dentist because I feared my newly installed crown had become infected.  The dentist that had done my crown wasn't available, but the office was able to fit me in with the head honcho for a 3pm appointment.

The assistant explained that she'd be taking a few X-rays so he could review the pictures to determine what was causing my pain.  As I was sitting in the chair after the X-rays were completed, I was listening to the radio and relaxing to the song 'Yellow' by Coldplay.  As the assistant wasn't very talkative, I decided to fill the silence with the this remark:

"Y'know, I always loved this song, but I have no idea what the hell it's supposed to be about."

Immediately a deep voiced man from behind me responded that he completely agreed with me, but wasn't it a a good song?  As he appeared in my line of sight, I was face to face with the head honcho. He didn't take the time to introduce himself at all, but rather got right into his speculation about what he perceived the song was supposed to be about.  I countered with, "I don't know about that, but it just reminds me of meandering on a beach somewhere pondering life and feeling sad."

His eyes widened in mutual  recognition and he exclaimed, "Right? No shit!"

And that was how I met my new dentist.

Our conversation bounced back and forth until we eventually lighted upon the interesting fact that he cheated on his religious exam while a student at Boston University.  I applauded his choice of deception in the one class where ethics might have played a pivotal role and I swear he would have high-fived me had he not been holding the needle containing the Novocaine. Again, our conversation continued about the exam he was cheating on and he asked me if I knew how Buddha was conceived from Queen Maya?  Ummm, no clue.  Obviously.  He explained that the woman was in a garden and was sat upon by an elephant with many seeds and that's how she became pregnant.  'Course I'm paraphrasing here, but all I was thinking about was the logistics of sex with an elephant.  I'm sorry, but that's just where my mind goes. Only later did I learn that the queen had a dream about a six-tusked white elephant coming to find her and then she was pregnant. Regardless, she got knocked up by an elephant and that's what's most interesting about how Buddha came to be.  As Mr. Head Honcho was a Catholic, he still thought the Immaculate Conception was pretty tame compared to the elephant and I would whole-hardheartedly agree with him.

Our chat continued....

and somehow we started talking about the Occult.  I recalled to him that in the 80's, I was a big fan of Hall & Oates and  I had somehow learned that Daryl Hall liked to read Occult books (maybe from TigerBeat?) so I started to take books out at the library to learn about it, too.  I said to him, 'Did you know that I named my two Guinea Pigs after Occult figures Alistair and Lilith?"  This time I didn't get a 'No Shit' out of him, but clearly he was enjoying our conversation because he still hadn't put the needle into my gums.

But eventually we had to get down to business and he began the work of pulling out the stray cement that was causing my inflamed gums all the trouble.  At times he was pushing so hard into my gums that I all I could think about is if he made one small slip, I'd have a very pointy sharp instrument impaled up into the roof of my mouth and lodged into my nasal cavity.  That would not have been good.  So after he was done, I told him of my fears and made sure to compliment him on his deft hand skills.  He thanked me and quickly said that even if he stabbed me through the roof of my mouth, he did have insurance and readily knew the billing code for an impalement.

I mean, how could I not love this guy?

Mr. Head Honcho had a great sense of humor and an easy yet confident manner while he poked and prodded my gums this afternoon. The cement caused an infection, but not an abyss tooth which was music to my ears.   He deftly removed the debris and provided me with a medicated rinse to help with the infection and sent me on my way with no charge for the office visit.

It's a special thing when you meet someone and instantly strike a rapport with them.  I suspect the feeling isn't always reciprocated, but for me it's like my brain lights up.  It reminds me that there are people out there waiting to be discovered and sometimes those encounters happen in the most unusual ways.

Today it started with ColdPlay and ended with a goddess getting knocked up in a sex dream with a white elephant.  What a day.

The Long Goodbye

Yesterday we had to say good-bye to our beagle Minnie. Making the hateful decision to put her to sleep was one of the hardest things we've ever had to commit to-how do you knowingly go about making arrangements to end the life of the thing you love most in this world?

First let me take a step back to tell you that we nearly lost her back on February 13th of last year.  In the middle of the night, we rushed her to Tufts after she collapsed and couldn't breathe. She was diagnosed with Chronic Valvular Disease & Congestive Heart Failure. Her cardiology team couldn't tell us how long she would live, but we were given the vague expectation that it could be anywhere from one to six months depending on how well we could control her symptoms with heart medications.

Ever since last February, we've been living on borrowed time with Minnie. It's been a long year of increasingly sleepless nights and constant worry. Living with a dog who has CHF means listening to persistent coughing, monitoring breaths per minute, maintaining a low-sodium diet and keeping up with ever-changing heart medications.

It's been a delicate dance to keep her as happy and healthy as possible this past year. She continued to enjoy her long walks with Spencer and still eagerly ran to the kitchen every time she heard the refrigerator door open or the turn of the electric can opener. She enjoyed Winter one last time rolling in freshly fallen snow and taking long lazy naps in all her favorite spots of our house. She was happy and content despite her failing heart. We helped her have a good quality of life this past year.  We never gave up on her.

But recently she began fainting as a result of her coughing and seeing her wake-up after a fainting spell struggling to breathe and not knowing if she would recover was unimaginably painful and we just couldn't put her through it anymore.  We loved her too much and knew it was time to say good-bye.

We let her go yesterday - nearly a year to the day when we first discovered her condition - our most loved 11-year old girl.

We were with her till the last beat of her broken heart.

Dear John: A Duran Duran Fan Letter

The above Duran Duran fan letter could have been written by me with one exception - I would have started off my epic fan letter with Dear Simon. 

I have been proud to call myself a Duranie since 1982.  I can't recall that exact pivotal moment when I first laid eyes on my Fab Five, but I do have a very distinctive memory of being down in the basement watching their videos on MTV.   I remember that my best vantage point was to sit as close to the TV screen as possible whenever a video came on and I simply could not get enough of Simon LeBon. I was hopelessly devoted and smitten to that blond-haired pop-star and it was a love that spawned such things as fan fiction that I would pass out to my circle of friends, about a thousand poster push-pin holes in my bedroom and early damage to my vocal cords from high-pitch squealing like a stuck pig whenever the band premiered a new video on MTV.

What's a 12-year old girl with raging hormones to do down in the basement all by herself late at night?  Wait. It's not what you think.  Well, OK, maybe it is.  I would watch the unedited full-length Girls On Film video as many times as possible and and pray that my mom didn't come walking downstairs to see what my young, formative mind was watching on cable TV: bare-breasted models engaging in all sorts of suggestively sexy activity with Sumo Wrestlers in a fighter's ring, girl-on-girl action sequences, massages involving copious amounts of squirting oil, a cowgirl riding a horse (who is actually just a hot guy with a horse head strapped to the side of his face), kiddie pools and apparent disco dancing in the center ring.   And while all this is going on, my boys are dancing around on the sidelines wearing head scarfs and make-up.  Talk about confusing.  Are You There, God? It's me, Kim.  And I don't know what the hell I'm feeling down there.

I'm ashamed to say that my love for Duran Duran once made me take advantage of a boy named Michael who really liked me.  He invited me over to his house to hang out in his parent's basement (again with the basement!) and rented a VHS tape of all the early Duran Duran videos.  Talk about teen cat nip.  I knew he had a crush on me and the only reason why we hung out is because he got that video.  I'm not proud of my actions with him, but back then I would have done just about anything to anyone to get my Simon LeBon fix.  (Does that make me a Mean Girl?)

I have snippets of memory visiting my best friend Lisa on The Cape and being totally psyched that I found Duran Duran's first album on cassette as an import.  It had an extended version of Planet Earth and I played it so much I'm surprised I didn't wear out the tape. (Still have it to this day!)  Back then I fantasized about what it was going to be like when I got my driver's license and could drive in my own car while playing Duran Duran cassettes as loud as possible. 

I remember being insanely pissed off at my mom because she wouldn't let me see the band when they came to the Worcester Centrum on their Seven & The Ragged Tiger tour.  She was afraid the place was going to collapse from all the people stomping their feet and banging on the backs of seats.  I think she heard somebody talking about the building's structure on AM radio one day and it freaked her out. Sadly, my mom was an anxious hot mess even back then.

Those were my early years of fandom. I'm proud to tell you that I've never stopped loving them even through their various side projects, break-ups, reunions and pop-star histrionics.  Duran Duran was and still is the soundtrack to my life.

Below is the actual transcription of the above fan letter in case you had trouble reading it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear John,

I have been waiting 2 long, long years to see you in concert. I think Duran Duran are the best and are the most gorgeous. If you are reading this know that you are the most gorgeous guy in the world, and andy is the cutest guy in the world. You both remind me of adorable Cabbage Patch Kids. You are my favorite Duran man and I love you totally. My best friend also loves you totally. I'm writting this 13 days before the concert, I hope that you'll save it. Oh forget it, throw it out. Just that you know I exist and that you accually read this is enough. I love you forever and ever. I was the person who was screaming the loudest that I love you. Tell Andy I love him to.

Love,
Donna
(a faithful fan)

Happy Birthday!!

I didn't forget. I hope you had the best 25th ever. I listen to Z-100 radio, and tomorrow I will be because today is June 19 and I'll celebrate it.

I LOVE YOU!

DURAN DURAN rule+4ever!!!!!!!

1. Duran Duran are the most gorgeous.
2. But John Taylor is the most gorgeous.
3. Andy Taylor is the cutest.
4. Men who look like Cabbage Patch Dolls are a good thing.
5. Number of times she uses the word love: 7
6. Her best friend loves you, too.
7. I love you.

Source: duranduranboard.proboards.com

March Madness

There's a TON of things happening right now in my world related to my girl crush Justin Timberlake.

First he joined Instagram in early February. His first picture was of a shot of the non-existent traffic on the 101 in LA on his way to perform at The Grammy's.

On February 27th I nearly lost my mind because I couldn't pull the trigger on buying super expensive presale tickets to see his tour when it comes to Boston at Fenway Park in August.  At first I got all excited because Ticketmaster returned results that I had scored tickets, but then my brain kicked in and registered the price was $255/ticket and I simply couldn't justify it.  (Get it? Justify. OK.  We're cool. You got it.)  I kept refreshing the screen, tossing those PC cookies and hoping the results would be different, but in the end I even passed on the lesser tickets priced at $134.50/ticket because I wasn't exactly clear where I'd be parking my ass in Fenway during the performance.

On February 28th, the official sale kicked off at 10 am and I tried again. (I was at work and actually delayed a meeting so I could give it another shot) I got 2 tickets for $134.50 in Section 29.  Ticketmaster threw me into that 15 minutes of suspended time of temporarily holding my tickets and I feverishly tried to locate where I'd be sitting in the park. I Google'd a couple sites where people post pictures from their seats so I could see the view and I still couldn't do it.  I actually got up and asked my co-worker Brian to swing by and validate if my seats were any good.  He was in mid-nod and I was just about to buy the tickets when Michelle triumphantly leaped into my cube to exclaim, "Happy Birthday. I just bought us tickets."  At least, I think that's what she said.  It's still sort of hazy.  I think non-exercise related endorphin kicked into my blood stream because I just remember feeling this moment of sheer joy and happiness.  She ended up scoring tickets in Section 26 and later told me she knew I wasn't going to buy them because I was so upset over the cost.

Oh, Justin.  You're such a tease.

Sometimes you just need a friend to put her arm around you and drag your sorry indecisive ass over the fence.  I was so glad she did because now we're going to see Justin Timberlake and the great Hova. 

Things are progressing nicely in the Land of Crush. Tonight he's hosting Saturday Night Live for the 5th time and then next Monday through Friday he's going to be on Jimmy Fallon every single night as the exclusive musical guest.  The best thing about this is I watch Fallon anyways and I was thinking that at least he'll be visiting the show to promote his CD.  But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he'd be such an unprecedented guest for five consecutive nights.

I'm on vacation the week of March 17th which is perfect because Justin's CD titled The 20/20 Experience is being released on March 19th.  I'll probably be at Target when it opens so I can get the CD with the two exclusive tracks on Tuesday.  Yes, people, this is how I'm spending my vacation.

So with all this excitement going on in the real world, there's still a ton of busy buzz happening online.  Blogs are exploding with all this information because like me, people are just losing their shit that he's back to singing.  Only recently I read a blog where this girl was just so incredibly pissed off about his straightened hair.  She insisted he was using a relaxer to tame his trademark N'Sync curls and didn't have any love for his Rat Pack coiffed hair one bit. I like reading stuff like this because it reminds me that I'm not the only person there that feels so disproportional about Justin Timberlake . These like-minded freaks give me perspective.  

Yesterday I read a really funny post that I had to share with you.  It's from the blog BuzzFeed and it's called The 32 Greatest Justin Timberlake Dance Moves of All Time.   They gathered 32 GIF's of him dancing and then created names for his dance moves to go along with the images.  It's perfectly hilarious. 

Here are just some of my favorites:

• The Look I'm In A Puddle Twirl 
• The Pow Pow Shimmy 
• The Don't Look Now but Madonna Is Behind You Twist
• The Michael Jackson Crotch Thrust
• And the Full On Penis Quake
• The Beyonce Body Sway
• The Full On Shirt Twirl
• The Timberlake Tornado
• The Sass Monster Shoulder Twirl
• The Ultimate Pelvic Plunge

My favorite: The Pow Pow Shimmy

The Timberlake Tornado

Forget the Shamrock Shake coming back for a limited-time only at McDonald's.  March is shaping up to be the best month ever.

Dedicated fans waiting to get inside 30 Rock

Justin Timberlake - Suit & Tie (Official) ft. JAY Z

Directed by David Fincher.

Suit & Tie Lyric Video Review

Now THIS is the way to tease your fans right. 5:27 minutes of pure sexy bliss.

It seems like the new catchy thing to do these days is for an artist to release a lyric video in advance of the official music video for a song. It's like a movie preview only with the words to the song.  Mostly the lyric videos I've watched are like those annoying PowerPoint presentations laden with overly-used animation trickery to keep the audience engaged in a very boring presentation.

Thankfully Justin Timberlake decided not to make a half-assed lyric video for his newly released song Suit & Tie.  Rather my own little Mr. Sexyback put some effort into his officially sanctioned lyric video. It's so good that it should just be the music video.

I've watched it a couple of times now on YouTube and here's my blow by blow:

It starts out with Justin driving around Los Angeles in a classic car wearing a Fedora. (I think it's a rule that guys can't drive a car from the 1960's without wearing head gear, but it's OK because this man can wear the hell out of a hat.) Justin strums his fingers on the steering wheel and is probably pissing off everybody driving behind him 'cause it doesn't look like he's going more than 20 mph. Then it's all about a shave, hair cut and getting dressed up in his suit & tie.  He brushes some presumable dirt off his shoulder with one of those valet brushes and I can't help thinking it's his sly salute to Jay-Z.

The scene shifts to him sitting at a piano smoking a cigarette and tickling the ivy while occasionally standing up to sing into a microphone.  He's finger snapping to sultry Timbaland beats while sporting those sexy nerd glasses and all I can focus on is his wedding band. Oh, right.  He's married now.  Damn.  And just to rub salt in my wounds, there's a brief interlude of him standing with a woman in a satin dress saying something to him to make him laugh & smile as she possessively adjusts his bow tie. Enough Justin.  I get it.  You're taken.

This is a film-noir black & white lyric video, but the only splash of color comes from a glass of scotch Justin is holding as he says, "Get out your seat Hov."  Then Jay-Z is rapping about make-up sex,Tom Ford Tuxedos, Ass Tight denim, Las Vegas and being an excellent son-in-law.  (Granted, that last thing is a guess on my part.)

The night is nearing the end as Justin does sexy bad boy things like smoke cigars, drink martinis and gamble. Phew!  He's getting tired because he starts to lean on stuff like his microphone and then his car. He even does this cute little ankle dance before he gets into the car and starts driving off into the night.

But there's just one more brilliant thing he does before his official lyric video for Suit & Tie closes.

He's standing there watching you read what he's written on a piece of glass with a black Sharpie: The 20/20 Experience Coming

And then WHAM!  He smashes through the words with a freaking hammer and starts walking away as the shards of glass shatter and begin falling down.

The End.

Does anyone have a cigarette?

Happy Birthday to ME!!

Tummy Talk: An Epic Drum Solo

Rough Edges

Like everyone else on the planet today, I've been thinking about all the things I want to do differently in 2013. I've got a laundry list of things that I could tell you about myself that I'd like to focus on improving in the New Year, but some of them are too intimate and I don't really feel like sharing them in case I don't do so good.

But then today I got this letter mailed to me from my friend Jillian.  She attached this Post-It note to a couple of Pom Wonderful pomegranate coupons:

I peeled back the note and checked out the coupons it was attached to and just laughed my ass off. Talk about someone knowing you so well! Of course I was itching to immediately grab my scissors and start neatly trimming around the edges so I could tighten that shit up. In fact, one of the coupons she sent was so badly ripped that the tear went right through the little section where you can see the expiration date of the coupon.  C'Mon!  I was thinking to myself, "How can I even use this at the grocery store? The cashier won't even be able to use it."  And oh how that bothered me.

One of the poorly clipped coupons

But then I paused and thought that getting these coupons couldn't have come at a better time for me because it reminded me that this was one of the things about myself that I wanted to work on in the New Year - my perfectionism which has probably manifested itself into a very mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  (Yes, I am compelled to line up my wallet "stripper ones" so that the faces are all pointing in the same direction - don't you?)

It's this perfectionism that has prevented me from writing more because every word has to be placed just so. It's this perfectionism that won't let me start a project unless I know I'll be able to complete it 100% within weird self-imposed strict guidelines or else I've failed. 

I know I'm sitting here writing this and I'm not happy with how I'm getting my point across, but you know what? I need to be OK with it.  I need to console myself and say that at least I'm writing something rather than just thinking of all the things I want to write.  I'm performing an action.

In 2013, one of my resolutions is to embrace the rough edges that come my way and learn to maneuver around them. After all, it's not always about the straight line and sometimes you just can't find those damn scissors.

What She Order..

Kanye and Kim ordering Fish Filet from McDonalds? via Deerpong

Furry Essentials

Joann giving her signature Eskimo kiss!

Our Beagle Minnie's groomer Furry Essentials won the 2012 Best of Worcester Reader Poll  in the pet groomer category!

I'm sad to say that I didn't even know about this poll because I don't actually subscribe to a print newspaper and found out about it on Facebook this afternoon, but I'm psyched for them and they deserve it.

Joann treats Minnie like a princess. Joann loves to get right down onto the floor to greet Minnie when we walk through the door. Minnie's typical response is to get all submissive and roll over onto her side letting that fat round belly of hers hang all out in all its glory.  After much cooing and fussing, we chat for a while and I always know I'm leaving Minnie in excellent hands.

We've been taking Minnie to Furry Essentials for over five years. At first it was Joann and June, our dynamic duo.  But then June moved down South and Joann's daughter-in-law Michelle starting working there and I loved her instantly.  We became Facebook friends and she was introduced to my love of Hello Kitty.  She started texting me  pictures of Hello Kitty stuff she'd see in stores which eventually morphed into buying me little Hello Kitty presents.  Now every appointment begins with her busting out some amazing little toy or trinket to give to me.    Sometimes she'll text me a picture she's taken of Minnie in a doggie dress which cracks me up because Minnie is SO not that kind of dog, but she endures it with her usual Zen-like calmness knowing this too shall pass.

When it's time to pick Minnie up, Joann also has this nice little touch that she does with the invoice that I really love:  she attaches a little personalized note telling me how Minnie behaved during her visit.  She'd write things like "I was such a princess" or " Five Paw Star" and I grew to look forward to seeing what phrase she'd come up with next to describe Minnie's very ordinary behavior.  (Trust me, I know I'm lucky that Minnie isn't the sort of dog that would tear things up while in the care of somebody else.  She's more the kind of dog who is content to stay in one spot and nap hard.)

I was so happy for them when they were able to expand their business by moving to their new location. The shop is beautiful and taking Minnie there feels like she's going to Doggy Daycare because she gets to be surrounded with all the other dogs that have their grooming appointments.  I swear they should charge admission just so people can walk into their work area, sit down on the clean floor and be instantly surrounded by 5-10 dogs of various sizes and natures.  It's instant love, adoration and a guaranteed drop in blood pressure.

You should see Minnie when she's with the other doggies and there is a treat to be had.  She definitely embraces that whole 'survival of the fittest' mentality and will do just about anything to wiggle her way closest to Joann's hand to be in first place for a Scooby snack. She doesn't believe in missed opportunities and she's got the grand belly to show for it.

If you're looking for a groomer that will treat your dog like it's their own, then by all means visit Furry Essentials.  They've been my best kept secret for years.

(If you're interested in the other winners of the 2012 Best of Worcester Reader Poll, you can check them out  here.)

Deli (en)Counters

Dear Deli Counter,

I'm writing to let you know all the things wrong with you in the hopes that you'll shape up and embrace changes after all these years of sameness.  It's time...

Lose the  Take-A-Ticket concept. It doesn't work.  Don't you know by now that ordinary folk can't follow direction?  Probably 5% of deli customers see the ticket machine, get the ticket and wait politely waiting for their number to be called so they can place their deli order.  The rest of the 95% ignore what you're supposed to do and just press themselves as close to the glass display case as possible trying to get the person's attention like their ordering a drink from a bar.  If you want people to use the ticket machine, the person behind the counter needs to actually follow the process themselves.  You wait on a customer and then advance the little digital number to indicate the next customer in the que.  What doesn't work is me walking up to the counter, pulling number 15 and the digital display says 4.  Use the technology you've been given! Oh, and get rid of that stupid plastic wicker basket on the counter for people to deposit their tickets into after they're all set with their deli order.  Most people just throw the tickets on the floor and walk away. I know...people suck.

Learn from the DMV. Now that's a system that works for stupid people.  If someone wants to order from the deli, line up benches in front of the counter so people can sit, relax and wait their goddamned turn. NOW you can use your silly take-a-ticket machine to dispense numbers.  If you do that, customers will have time to reflect on exactly what they want to order at the deli before they actually approach the counter.  No more, "Hmmmm.....let's see....do you have any Boars Head Spicy Elephant Ears?"  They'll just approach the counter and order their damn meat.

Stop Playing Games. When I ask you to slice it thicker, do you slice it exactly the same way and see if I notice any difference?  'Cause I fall for it every single time.  How am I supposed to see if you've added a 1/16" more depth to my cheese slice? I'm all the way over there behind the glass with the stacks of bulkie rolls.  I can't see that far.  I say, "Yes, much better. Thank you very much." because I have their weird need to please you, but then I get home and have to perform surgery on my pound of American Cheese with my best knife because I can't separate the slices because they've been sliced too thin. I just want a normal cheese slice.  Can you talk to your pals in The American Association of Meat Processors and get a quorum on the width of deli cheese? Thanks.

No More Free Slices. Stop letting customers con you into asking for a slice to try before they buy it. I stand there silently hating you for prolonging the deli transaction because I've got to wait around for some annoying customer to decide if the ham is too salty for their delicate palate.  Enough with the taste test. Here's another piece of free advice: don't be fooled into thinking if you give a toddler a slice of cheese they'll shut up...because they won't.  They'll just reach out their grubby little hands for more. Or throw it on the floor.

Take A Lesson From Wegmans.  I think you'll agree that you get a lot of deli traffic crowding up your counters.  I know that's not a bad thing, but it's got to be annoying when so many customers are just ordering your basics like cheese, ham, salami, bologna, etc. How many times are you unwrapping and wrapping up the Polish Ham? Isn't that exhausting?  Wegmans, my favored grocer, actually has a little refrigerated area adjacent to their deli counter and they have all the deli meat staples wrapped in half-pound packages so customers can just grab and go.  No need to clog up the deli counter at all. It's the ultimate drive-by.

Deli Counter - I know you've got a tough job to do managing all those meats, cheeses and over-sized pickles for your customers.   I know the elderly can be annoying with their quarter-pound meat requests.  And I can certainly appreciate that the safety training can be tiresome just so you can guarantee that you're people go home at the end of their shift with their ten fingers, but you've got to do a better job.

Because if you don't, I might just have to go all Vegan on your ass. And trust me, if that happens, you'll lose your best over-sized pickle customer.

My First Heimlich

Photo: Heimlich Heimlich Hippos via Shirtoid.com

You never forget your first time.

Spencer and I went out to lunch today.  I just happened to look up from my delicious Chicken Oscar and noticed that a waitress was performing the Heimlich maneuver on a fellow diner.

It happened so fast.

At first it just looked odd that the waitress was hugging this guy and then it dawned on my slow brain that I was seeing a medical emergency in progress.

I stopped chewing and probably exclaimed 'Cool' or something like that to Spencer. Then a chunk of food came flying out of the guy's mouth and it was over as suddenly as it probably began.

The waitress was smiling at the man who clearly knew his life had just been saved by her.  He sheepishly inserted himself back into the booth and I could see the waitress reaching back into her apron to pull out her pen and pad to presumably take the rest of their order.

A few moments later, I noticed our waitress had slapped on her plastic gloves and had a spray bottle of cleaning stuff ready to presumably wipe up the mess the poor guy made on the table when the mysterious chunk of food stuff flew out of his windpipe.

Just another reason for me to recommend having a meal at Not Your Average Joe's in Westborough, MA. Excellent food, outstanding service and you just might have your life saved while you're there.

Introducing The Wrong Kim Perry

I'd say for the past 6-8 months, my Gmail account has been mistakenly tangled up with at least 3 different Kim Perry's, but probably more. Apparently I've been quite busy doing the following:

1. Apartment hunting on Rent.com in Alpharetta, GA. 
2. Reviewing my CanaDuct Cleaning experience via Homestars.com.
3. Being Chief of Emergency Medicine.
4. Writing cautionary emails to my co-workers about the state of the ladies bathroom (a personal favorite topic of the ACTUAL Kim Perry)
5. Attending various Little League games
6. Travel to Cancun

All of these emails have been clogging up my inbox so I decided to use the labels feature in Gmail to help me organize all this noise. I created the label "Wrong Kim Perry" and began creating filters for the daily emails I would inevitably receive in the hopes that someday I would actually be able contact these "others' to explain that I've been receiving all of their emails and eventually pass along all this information that was really meant for them. And trust me, I have tried to contact these other Kim's explaining that their emails have been reaching me in error. To date, zero success.

But this latest batch of emails that I've begun receiving from a property management company alerting me to dry cleaning being picked up and packages delivered to my apartment in New York city got me thinking that it might be interesting to occasionally document all this crazy shit that I just can't seem to rid myself of every time I check my personal email.

Just in case readers of this blog are interested in the double, triple and quadruple lives that I've been apparently living, I'll be sure to keep you updated going forward.

Don't Worry, Bee Happy

Lately I've been learning everything there is to know about replacing a roof and all the things to look for when hiring a roofer.  It's been a month-long journey of meeting with various contractors and navigating the professional jargon:  drip edges, soffit ventilation, felt paper, fascias, flashing, sheathing, architectural shingles, ridge vents, etc.  But the one thing I never expected to learn about with this whole project is that our home has been under attack by Carpenter Bees.

The fascia board, which is the wooden boards nailed to the end of our roof all around our house, was riddled with all these dime-sized holes which I just attributed to the work of our neighborhood woodpecker. It was unsightly, but I never gave it much more thought other than someday thinking I'd have a carpenter replace the wood because it looked ugly.

I had this really over-priced roofer quote our roof and he happened to notice the fascia boards.  He told me I had a Carpenter Bee problem.  I was really surprised because we don't have any issues with bees in the house, but he told me that these Carpenter Bees are pretty notorious for boring holes in wood and laying their eggs.  I told him I've seen these big, fat bumble-bees buzzing around up there, but I never saw them go into the attic.  Well, it turns out they were Carpenter Bees which resemble Bumble Bees.

The female Carpenter Bee lays her eggs in the holes and the male sort of flies around the holes protecting it. These bees are harmless except that they ruin wood because of their nesting habits and like any number of pests - you don't want them in or around your house.  Mi casa is not their casa.

I ended up calling Colonial Pest Control of Worcester to come out today to get rid of our bees. The exterminator who took care of me walked around the house and confirmed that I had a whole lot of bees. His reaction was priceless when he looked up on the left side of the house and simply declared, "Holy Shit!" Apparently the Carpenter Bees have been silent tenants at Miami Street for years and it was time to evict them.

But here's the cool thing - I started asking the exterminator how he ever got into the profession in the first place because I'm fascinated that someone makes their living working in the insect industry.  He started talking about his past and mentioned how he ran a couple Abdow's Big Boys restaurants - namely the one at Lincoln Plaza.  Now it was my turn to exclaim, "Holy Shit!"  I loved that place as a kid and just couldn't believe I was talking to this guy who actually worked there back in the day.

It turned out that he actually grew up on Wayside Avenue back in the early 70's.  He was 4 years younger than me, but was an old neighborhood kid.  I threw out a couple of names and it was so amazing that he recognized every one of them.  We ended up standing there reminiscing about the infamous Great Brook Valley riot and sledding down White Ave in the Winter.  He fondly remembered our neighborhood before the new construction in the back of my house and all the unpaved roads.

I could have talked to him all day, but there were bees to murder and I was mindful that I wasn't his only customer that day.

He ended up spraying around the house and promised me that neither our Beagle Minnie nor the little birds nest up near the corner of the house would be affected by the chemicals.  

I got a six month guarantee on the bees and now I'm ready to have our roof ripped off and replaced.