I'm Sorry, Taylor Swift

My dentist's office is harassing me. Not the office itself. It stays put like a good little office and its cement walls speak not a word. The employees are a different story.

As I mentioned before, a few days before Christmas I had my root canal tooth pulled, as it took over a year and a half for the root canal to be completed due in fault to another dentist. It had issues, an infection that didn't want to leave, and we weren't friends anymore, so it had to depart. That day when I got home there was a card from the dentist's office reminding me that I was due for a teeth cleaning come January first. To be honest, I saw it and disregarded it, momentarily figuring there was surely no way it would be good to get my teeth professionally and deep cleaned that soon after getting a tooth pulled, especially when the dentist told me to forgo brushing with my electric toothbrush for at least a month to six weeks so that it could heal. I figured they understood this and already had the notice in the mail prior to me coming in to have the root canal tooth pulled. I also figured it was up to me to call them for an appointment. I was wrong, so, so wrong.

The first Monday in January, the dentist's office started calling me to make an appointment to get my teeth cleaned. I've never had a dentist's office call me regarding this, especially after sending out a notice. It was cool, though, because we told them that I'd schedule an appointment later, after my root canal tooth healed more, because I wasn't comfortable getting my teeth cleaned yet when the area was still so tender. The calls never stopped. Two and three times a week for the next few weeks, they continued to call me. We, again, told them to stop, but they didn't. I finally made an appointment with them, which I later had to cancel. When I did so, I told them I would call them when I was ready to come in. The calls didn't stop, still two and three a week. With the medical issues I've been having, I ignored the calls, having told them three separate times that I would call them when I was ready to make the appointment. I couldn't deal with them on top of my actual medical problems, and my gums were still healing.

When they called today again, that was the last domino. They were all lying tenderly on the floor, freaking Mr. Monk out from the whole way across the country. It's been nearly a month of them calling two or three times a week, and I've already been over this with them...I will call them when I am ready to come in. I'm not sure what's so difficult to understand about that. I called them, I reiterated the former to them, went into a rant about my health problems, and told them not to call me again because, as I told them before, I would call them when I was ready. They said they promised not to call me. Who wants to bet I hear from them before the end of the week?

Any ideas on how to make this stop? I'm afraid that the next time they call I'm going to tell them that I don't let anyone ride me that close unless they buy me dinner first. (I kid, I kid. Dinner doesn't do it for me. I'm not easy. But I would tell them that in hopes that it would freak them out.) I promise I am going to go there to get my teeth cleaned, but for goodness sake, it needs to be when I can get in there, and I happen to think my medical problems are more important than getting my teeth cleaned at the moment. This has made me consider going to another dentist, but as I've mentioned before, decent dentists here are very few and far between. I'd like to stay with him, but not if they're going to harass me. Maybe I'm panicking, but I'm starting to worry that if I look behind me, I'm going to see the blonde girl who works at the office standing there, cleaning equipment in hand, with a crazy grin on her face.

Speaking of places of fail, have any of you ever seen the commercial for America's Best Eyeglasses, where they advertise two pairs of glasses for $69.95? Every time I see that commercial, I think that there has to be some kind of crazy catch. Today, I decided to look up reviews on them to get to the bottom of what was really going on over there. I wasn't interested in going to them, I just wanted to know. Squirrel Monkeys, I seriously have no life. This head issue; not helping. I fell over three times today just while trying to make my bed because of it. I'm better sitting. When I sit, I have to amuse the hell out of myself or I get bored and start singing songs about farting unicorns. It's disgraceful.

As I'm looking through the reviews for America's Best, I realize they are nicknamed America's Worst, and why. Apparently, the lowest price anyone in over one hundred reviews had been charged was $211. The most was $507. Most people didn't take the glasses after the total came up. The store claimed an ass load of reasons that all contradicted each other from store to store for the up charge, but basically, it's a lie.

But that's not why I'm writing this. The truth is, I like to look up reviews on places. The things people say crack me up, and about three percent of the fails are done by the consumers that have no idea they were the idiot party. Also, there's tons of reviews with zero punctuation and most words are spelled incorrectly, so I disregard those usually. However, today I read them anyway and I found the best epic customer fail ever, and the person was angry and oblivious. I had to share, but with my own words, because if I were to copy and paste their review, it would take you reading it at least ten times to realize what in the crap they're talking about. I'm saving you the trouble of deciphering moron.

Essentially, this person admits up front that they had a five o'clock appointment with America's Best. They then go on to tell you that they were late. When they got there, the staff were getting into their cars to leave. This is, of course, a travesty. Said late person proceeded to admit they angrily approached the staff and started yelling at them about how they couldn't leave. They had an appointment and they had a forty five minute drive. The staff told them that they were late, they thought they weren't coming, so they closed up. How awful of them! This has to be reported! This is poor business that someone won't sit there and wait for them after closing time, because they had a forty five minute drive and were really, really late! They turned them into the Better Business Bureau and were calling the news!

Seriously, people? Seriously? They took no responsibility. They were angry and blamed the place for closing after they admitted they were late. Honey, I wouldn't stay open for you, either. If you can't show up within a reasonable amount of time after your appointment, I, too, would assume you weren't coming and close up shop on your ass. Ever heard of a phone? It may have prevented this.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Demons I get, people are crazy. If you're going to react so absurdly, at least lie and say you were on time. If these people were to ever become criminals, they would surely win The Darwin Award.

Greta is on her forty millionth nickname. Every three to six months, I come up with a brand new stupid nickname for her. I feel bad for her, I do, but then I can't help myself. Her current nickname has been Snoonarrifica, or Snoon for short. Today I began to call her Bunny-Hop. I mostly call her Greta Hayley, but occasionally the pet-name will slip out, no pun intended. By the looks I get from her, I'm pretty sure she thinks this is a form of animal abuse. If the animals cops arrest me, you'll know why.

There is a Taylor Swift song called "Sparks Fly." It is a cutesy, wootsy little love song filled with bubble gum, happy face clouds and pink hearts. It's just the most adorable little song and I love it. Therefore, I find myself singing this song all the time and driving others crazy. And by others I mean my animals. I'm not sorry. Today, while drying my hair, I was singing this song. All of a sudden, something sounded funny. I paused, thought about what I just sang, and then busted out laughing. The song goes "kiss me on the sidewalk." I sang "kick me off the sidewalk." I'm sorry, Taylor, for making your song about violence.