1. Eric Clapton wasn't in the band, Bread...but rather in the band, Cream
2. Oh...I have a dentist appointment today
I promise you when I blurt, blog, status update, speak, tweet things that are supposed to be true and there is any inkling that I may be incorrect...my brain agonized over it overnight and the answer is revealed in the morning. This holds true for thought number 1 on the list above. I had sourdough toast with my dinner, last night, and thought about how much I love bread and decided to rank various types of "bread," references of all sorts, via Twitter. I mentioned the band, which was correct...but associated Eric Clapton, which is incorrect.
Caring about this sort of thing is dumb, however, I think I must've grown up around people correcting me and/or having some hangup about being right. I'm going with a hybrid of both. When it comes to music, especially, I feel very vulnerable because I sing in a band, for one, and I love music, for another. I used to recommend bands, much more than I do now, and be able to recognize the record label and/or resume per musician. I'm slacking a little bit there but, for the most part, it is because my interests and priorities have shifted (somewhat) I don't expect to ever truly give up my love for music because it is in my DNA and denying that is just...well I'm sure it violates my genetic code. I think I'm getting better, however, about being wrong. Not that I would be the best person to validate that...Not every word has to be spelled correctly (in fact, all the hipster kids spell things all sorts of messed up purposely anyway...and pluralize things for no reason, and I'm supporting this movement and also participating....) I'm into making up my own words anyway because I do believe that, often, real words found in the English dictionary don't always perfectly describe thoughts, feelings, music...or food. I usually care about correctly defining a word as well. The reason for this is just being able to know and to be smarter. It is a way to learn and another form of validation. When I write songs and the word comes across my mind, I write it down and/or look up the word to make sure I know what I'm singing about...Not that I would get called out for that but, I would call out myself...later, down the road, when the album is out and think...ooh golly, not only does it not make sense in this context but its not even supposed to rhyme like that...
The dentist appointment thing is one of those fleeting thoughts that may or may not arrive on schedule. When you do something once every 6 months, why would it? Also, the office I go to calls the day before to remind you of your appointment the next day. To me, this isn't enough of an advanced warning. I'm usually very shocked each and every day-before warning. Lately, as well, the receptions is pushing the limits of casual with her reminders. I think, this time, she said, "Dr. Blahschma's Office, tomorrow, 2pm" ((click.)) Surprised she didn't end with "Be there or be square" and/or "Smell you later!" (for some reason the signoffs must be retro, no idea why...must be more comedic.)
I did remember, upon stepping into the shower, it was a Dentist day, indeed. I was able to send all the necessary notifications (call Scotland Yard, etc.) and make this thing happen. Extra forms to fill out upon arrival, dislike...this greatly detracts me from playing with my iPhone and making obtuse remarks about waiting for the dentist, plan foiled. Still, I did wait for a few minutes and during that time a lady walks in...she has many, many chairs and couches to choose from as to where to sit, however, she choses the one seat next to me, personal space violated, dislike. And, I was called in, at the precipice of getting miffed and wasn't able to post it anywhere...hence including it in today's blog entry. Yes! So, I was called in and went through the regular teeth cleaning ritual: 1. Scrapy thing 2. Fluoridey thing 3. Flossy thing (with the occasional rinse and suck thing that happens in between each of the aforementioned steps...) All is clear, I'm leaning back in the chair wishing I could nap and hear the awesome sound of a new toothbrush. I am, however, a little disappointed that, as an "adult," I don't get to choose what kind of toothbrush I want...but, over that. My dentist comes in, he's really very awesome and I like chatting with him, however brief our chats are...still enjoyable. He and I have the same alma mater...which I think about each visit (which equals every six months and why not it isn't something I share with just anyone ...or many other people, really...) He tells me I'm looking great and I make my appointment for the next six months, which I will likely forget and get the day-before apathetic reminder that makes me slightly grumpy.
And, yes, I have made it a post-medical profession appointment situation ...for me to treat myself when all is said and done. Not having cavities is motivation, however, I don't think it would matter and either way, I would get something yummy. This time I noticed the Baskin-Robbins across the street and decided to try something new...they had this picture of the flavor-of-the-month which happens to be Chocolate Caramel Malt. I pointed to the picture and said, "I want that." It was really very good and, even though the medium size could probably feed a small family, I went with it anyway and justified this visit as being commemorative of an event that only happens every 6 months. I like this logic.
So, now I'm here. my new hula hoop is bruising me all around my waist. I'm thinking of calling it a stay-in kind of evening...
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