Yesterday was berserk.
I had an early dentist appointment, just for my cleaning, and my poor hygienist came out with no hair. I’d had to scream over there with absolutely wet hair, and was planning to apologize for that, but instead I kept my mouth fucking shut.
As my hair dried against the back of a dentist chair, which always results in bouncing curls, which again I did not mention, my mouth got prodded. You know that little test where they poke at your gums and say, “Three, three, two”? I like it when they say, “three two three” because that’s my area code.
“Hmmm,” she said, which is never what you want to hear. “You’ve got fours in your gums, which is a lot different from last time we checked.”
Let me tell you what. Back in the ’90s, I’m gonna say, and really I’m gonna write, they told me that all the time, and they asked if I flossed, which annoyed me because I always did. Then I got a Sonicare and they not only stopped asking, they also started telling me I had 2s and 3s up in there. And that was cool but I kinda forgot about associating that with the Sonicare.
In January of this year, which is also the month when my last exam was, my pink Sonicare broke, and no, Sonicare is not paying me to write this, would that they were. I replaced it with a stupid electric tooth-whitening brush from Ulta. And look what’s happened. All gum hell has broken loose. Bought a Sonicare right there at dentist. Now I hafta go back in three damn months for another look.
Also I need a crown. We all knew that.
Also also too, if you read yesterday, the free toothbrush they gave me was pink. (!!!) Gray skies are gonna clear up! Put on a happy faaaaace. Put on a 4-gums faaaace.
Then, at lunch, I had to mail some pale blue heels at the post office. I have never worn them, as they were too big, so I finally sold ’em on eBay. The person who bought them said, “Is it okay if I pay on Tuesday?” and I said yes and then on Wednesday was all, “No rush, but when will you ship those shoes?”
I GAVE HER THREE DAYS TO PAY BUT OHHHHH! Ship immediately. Because that annoyed me so much I said that due to “the holiday” I’d ship Monday.
I probably shouldn’t be a saleswoman at eBay, what with my great love of folks.
Mercifully, it was empty-ish in the post office. It was the one in my neighborhood and I honestly thought I was getting preferential treatment for being white and it made me feel like a dick. “I believe this man was here first,” I even said, because I’m Motherfucking Teresa.
Do you think anyone called her Terry, ever? Like, was anyone that close with her? “Hey, Terry! Whatchu planning to wear to the club tonight? Oh, your long dress and the hood? …Yeah, no, that’s always …cute on you, Terry.”
It’s not a hood, is it? What’s that thing called?
And because no one can figure out why I have such bad karma, there was some sort of snafu with my new license plate and old license plate and so I had to go to the relaxing DMV and figure it out. Let me tell you who’d be driven to scream, “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE” at the DMV: Mother Terry of the Cloth, that’s who.
There was one very well-dressed woman at one window, in a dress and a summer cardigan and very high heels. The woman had those things on. The window didn’t.
She had cropped hair like Halle Berry and she was lovely. But for some reason, she was at that window almost the entire time I stood in line, which was 40 motherteresa minutes. I grew resentful of her, and then annoyed with her, and by the end I wanted to punch her in her high-cheekboned face. And we all know it wasn’t her fault. It was probably Obama’s. Why can’t the government fix the DMV? But I couldn’t see the yahoo waiting on her, so I had no choice but to direct my white-hot hate over to Halle of Greensboro and her 40-minute DMV issue.
I also, during my work hours, and Dear My Boss: Do not fire me. I had to do it before 5:00 and I swear I hadn’t gotten those direct mails to copy edit yet. Love, June.
Anyway, during work hours, I had to call my car-payment place because get this: I finally got my payment coupons, on July 6. “PAY BY JULY 1” read my coupons. So I had to call to yell at them about that.
So what I’m saying to you was yesterday was relaxing.
The good news is, I got to go to my old movie theater at night and see Some Like it Hot and have you ever noticed that Marilyn Monroe is awfully sexy? Also, every dress they put her in she looked naked. Also, how are her bosoms that perky when they’re also so gigantic? Also, I may be the first person to observe these things about Marilyn Monroe, and welcome to my Deep Observations Paragraph by June.
Anyway, I have to go and get in the shower. I woke with a headache today and why? After all that relaxing I did yesterday.
…I just looked at my phone to see if I took any photos yesterday, and the only one I did take that wasn’t related to dental screenshots or DMV facts was this:
When I got home from work last night, the whole caring for the kittens, doing Edsel care-exercise-feed-pill-brush things, and feeding the regular cats thing, it was almost time for me to go to the movie. But Eds and I were outside fetching Blu for a moment and when we were, the woman next door said, “You may notice that Pretty Kitty isn’t eating a lot.” That’s what she calls Milhous: Pretty Kitty. I feel like he’d be down with that if he knew. He doesn’t seem all that cis.
Anyway, turns out, Pretty Kitty has been not only leaping the fence to join my neighbor’s kitten Sissy in play, he’s also dining with her on their deck, a thing I’d feel terrible about except the woman next door seems absolutely charmed by it. I HAD noticed him not eating with his usual vigor, and figured he’d been sneaking kitten food and also, who wants to eat when it’s 93 degrees out?
So now I’ve thrown a photo in and I’ve got visual appeal and all in all this is a perfect post so goodbye.