I may have mentioned it before, but I’m not the best with mornings. Given the time I went to bed last night, coupled with the typical anxiety I experience during any morning alarm, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when I say that I got absolutely zero sleep last night.
On top of waking up every hour throughout the night in a complete panic thinking I was going to oversleep, I also convinced myself that my alarm had gone off and that I needed to get out of bed at 5 a.m. Why I thought this, I do not know, as I had set three alarms for 6 a.m.
Nonetheless, I jumped out of bed like a crazy person, made my lunch, and cleaned my apartment in complete darkness. The sun hadn’t even risen yet. This killed me, as you know I have a personal rule against being vertical before sunrise. The rule used to be 10 a.m., but then I became poor and needed to find employment, so I had to make some adjustments.
Anyway, it wasn’t until I was in the shower and my three alarms started going off that I realized I was an hour ahead of schedule. When I wake up that early, I tend to feel physically ill. This morning was no exception. My stomach was all out of whack. I also felt bitchier than usual. Once I had done a few more chores to occupy my extra hour – I was afraid to nap in case I didn’t wake up again – I went into work and did my thing.
I had about 30 minutes in the office without Big Bird this morning. That half hour was glorious. Of course, once she flew in, all was shot to shit. Big Bird just kept talking, and talking, and the fruit flies in our office were totally out of control. Big Bird leaves her food everywhere. This morning – I am not even kidding – I spotted 16 flies on the wall. And that was just Big Bird’s wall! Girl, get it together. We share a space. You can’t keep expired food in your drawers! I cringe when I think about how many bugs are swarming around me every shift I work at The Clubhouse. As Mariah Carey would say, “It’s like going to work in Hell with Satan every day.”
I overheard a conversation Big Bird was having with Connie, The Clubhouse’s accountant. It turned out that Big Bird was stung by a wasp this past weekend and had a bad allergic reaction. I overheard this because the conversation was happening about one foot away from my face, but it made me realize that perhaps Big Bird wasn’t mad about me missing Saturday’s meeting after all. Maybe yesterday’s moodiness was just the residual grog from all of the Benadryl. Who knows.
I paid a visit to the front desk this morning and saw Niall. When he asked how my weekend was, I apologized for my absence at the meeting. Niall couldn’t have cared less that I missed it. Big Bird is bat shit crazy for the way she handled that situation on Saturday. For the sake of an hour and a half of useless information, she should have just let me fucking be. Jesus. Dan was right, that was psychotic.
The morning continued. I got a decent amount of work done, and then it came to light that Big Bird had to leave around 10:30 a.m. for a doctor’s appointment. Bonus! I was leaving at 12 p.m. for my dental appointment, so this was fantastic. Big Bird left, I continued the little work I had left to do, stole breakfast from the staff meal plan and had a feast in my office with the fruit flies, and then Mom was around the corner waiting to pick me up. Gorgeous.
After swiping some more food and toilet paper, I ran out of the building and jumped in the car. As Mom and I drove to the dentist in Aurora, we talked for a little bit before I eventually fell asleep. I woke up just as we were pulling into the parking lot, with a huge pool of drool streaming from my mouth onto my shoulder. What a great look.
Then, the dentist happened. It wasn’t long before I was in a chair and on my back with an open mouth. Except, this time, instead of a dick poking around inside my orifice, it was a Dr. Brenner. He shot some incredibly painful needles into my gums to numb the area, and then the work began.
I had my mouth open for about an hour and a half. When I was seated back up to take a look in the mirror, it was extremely traumatic. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning who had opened a gift they didn’t want, but knew they still had to fake their happiness and appreciation. Dr. Brenner had just fit me into a schedule that was booking into November, so I thanked him and silently walked into the lobby where Mom paid the $550 bill.
I was fairly quiet through all of this. When Mom and I got in the car, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I was so unhappy with what my mouth looked like. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to my physical self. “Traumatic experience” is a complete understatement.
I am so upset about this. I look at my mouth – no. I don’t even have to look. All I have to do is feel my teeth with my tongue, and I breakdown in tears. I cried the entire drive home. Mom kept telling me that everything looked great, but I wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t. Mom didn’t know. I spent so many years working on my teeth, and now this had happened. My teeth were my favorite part about myself. Now, they’re completely ruined.
Before we left the dentist’s office, I stood at the desk in a daze, unable to feel half of my face because of the freezing. I listened to the receptionist and hygienist tell me about how the sensitivity is going to last for months, how I can’t use my teeth to bite into anything hard, and that I’m going to either have to cut up all of my food into small pieces and/or chew entirely on the other side of my mouth.
This was a complete disaster. Not to mention the fact that the bottom ridge of my new “teeth” isn’t level. Given that one of the orthodontists Mom called on Saturday recalled that I was, “very particular,” about my teeth, I don’t think it’s an understatement to say that I was upset.
I feel like a monster. I have these awful caps on my teeth. A foreign substance bonded to what was once my best quality. My teeth aren’t mine anymore. I had one thing about myself that was totally mine. My teeth were completely perfect. Everyone noticed them. Now, I don’t even want to smile.
When we arrived at Casa Z, I immediately ran up to my room. I stayed there for a while, trying to deal with what had just happened and attempting to compose myself. Eventually, I came back downstairs and had something to eat, shooing away Dad and Phillip when they came to my side and asked me to smile.
I don’t want anyone looking at my teeth ever again. I can’t believe all of this happened in one split second. I suppose that’s how accidents happen. What a stupid fucking accident, though. You fucking idiot. You stupid fucking fool.
Tonight was the Toronto Blue Jays baseball game I’d purchased tickets to as a part of the family’s joint birthday gift. The four of us piled into the car and drove downtown together. Before we even got on the highway, I had passed out in the back seat because of the Xanax I took after buckling up.
We had dinner at The Home of the Brave before the game. When we sat down in our booth, everyone seemed either mad or extremely tired. It was a weird vibe. Fortunately, after some food and a lot of alcohol, we all seemed to perk up. Phillip and I were fine, by the way. No awkwardness at all. Dinner was really great, actually. Mom left before the check came to bring the car around.
After wrapping up a conversation with Dad and Phillip about the War on Drugs, somehow our conversation switched to my teeth. This was likely because I looked like a meth addict myself up until a few hours prior. Barely even a few sentences into answering a question Dad and Phillip had about my teeth, I started crying. I had to put my sunglasses on and escape to the bathroom.
In an attempt to forget about everything that had happened today, I was drinking a lot tonight. You idiot. A great coping mechanism, I know. After everything I’ve been writing about wanting to be better with these things, alcohol is still the first thing I turn to. I was going to chow down on the remaining chocolate weed in the fridge at Casa Z, but figured I should probably be alert for the baseball game in case there was a stray ball. I didn’t want to end up like Geena Davis in Simon Birch and take hit to the head.
When I cried at dinner, I was upset for the same reasons as before. My perfect teeth are ruined. These caps aren’t even going to last forever. I’m going to have to go through this again and again, every time they chip or break off. The nightmare is not only a reality, it’s a recurring one, too. I took a deep breath in the bathroom, cleaned up my face, threw my sunglasses back on, and walked out of the restaurant with the others to meet Mom at the car.
Once at the SkyDome, Dad bought Phillip and I some beers – which was now my fifth of the night – and we took our seats. Now settled into the nosebleed section, we mostly just talked with one another. Phillip and I caught up for a while, and then I took him with me to load up on concessions from every stand in the arena. We returned to Mom and Dad with four drinks, popcorn, ice cream, and nachos, and had a family feast while we (barely) watched the rest of the game.
Now on my sixth drink of the night, I had loosened up. I even talked to Phillip about PW, admitting to what a traumatic experience that was for me and how I couldn’t believe the way he treated me. Phillip didn’t respond with much, but did say that he found it weird how PW was behaving. Whatever. I definitely wasn’t about to bring up the whole birthday debacle again. At this point, I don’t really want to be a part of Phillip’s social life anymore. One on one with my brother is fine. However, I don’t want to deal with Phillip’s shitty friends or even make an effort anymore. I’m over it. At least things were fine with Phillip tonight. That’s all that matters, really.
We ended up leaving before the last inning – whatever the fuck that means – and walked back to the car. The family dropped me off at the Witch Cave on their way home to Casa Z. We had a really great evening together. I was afraid it was going to be rocky, given everyone’s lethargic demeanor at the beginning of the night, but things turned out very well. I even forgot about my teeth for a brief moment, which was nice.
Everyone was really appreciative of night I facilitated. Obviously, Mom was in heaven. Family time is all she ever wants. It’s what I want, too. We don’t get to spend much time together as a family these days. As I get older, I’m realizing more and more how special these moments are. I think this will become a tradition for many birthdays to come. I do it for everyone, but mostly for Mom. I know how much it means to her.
I’m at the Witch Cave now, writing this entry before I rub one out and go to bed.
I think the boys are starting to creep their way back into my life. I really need to be careful. RX was an exception, but a Ghost of Grindr’s Past wants to take me out on Thursday for drinks. I also made the drunken mistake of messaging a guy on Snapchat tonight, who I know has a crush on me. His name is Stefan. We matched on Tinder a while back. Now, it’s been two hours since that first message and we are still exchanging Snapchats. Oddly enough, Stefan is coming by The Clubhouse on Thursday for a site visit. Naturally, that’s the day I’m going to be stuck in front desk hell. I told Stefan I was “covering” for someone and would likely see him. I am so fucking embarrassed to work at the desk that I have to lie about it to people I don’t even know. Goddamn it. I need another job.
I also need sleep. I have to pack in a ton of hours this week. Fortunately, it’s The Clubhouse’s bi-monthly Open House social event for new members tomorrow night. Big Bird will not be attending, so it’s going to be a party! After that, I’ll go to the gym and sweat it all out, thus making up for tonight’s debauchery.
I’m sure I’m still experiencing a little bit of my beers right now, which is nice because it’s helping me stay calm in light of my fucked-up mouth. I hope I get over this. I still can’t believe it happened. I don’t know if I need a Xanax, a lobotomy, a time machine, or rehab. For now, I’ll settle with Tumblr porn.
Goodnight xo
Very much my mood today. I love this picture. The Clubhouse, Toronto
The only thing I know about baseball is that there’s no crying in it. SkyDome, Toronto
Thirsty. SkyDome, Toronto
A league of my own. SkyDome, Toronto
Let’s go Blue Jays! SkyDome, Toronto
My new “teeth.” Witch Cave, Toronto