The Members Lounge

Meg decided last year she could not longer stand her dentist, as this dentist copped an attitude with her when she had to reschedule a cleaning twice in a month.

Meg gave the office plenty of notice, and things happened, like the nice people at Lowe’s wanted to deliver a new washer that day. Which completely took precedence over a cleaning, as laundry had not been done in 9 days.

Miss Dentist was all like, WELL, didn’t you reschedule this once already? And Meg thinks, why are YOU answering the phone, has yet another receptionist left your employ, Dr. Murphy Brown?

Time was of the essence so Meg kept her rescheduled cleaning appointment, whereupon the dentist told her that sensitive tooth thing was all in her head, and then kept repeating, there nothing wrong with that tooth! It’s healthy tissue! OK, then it’s healthy, throbbing sensitive tissue then, b**ch.

The other day Meg forgot the dentist nicely scheduled a 6 month cleaning. Meg left a message saying simply, “I won’t be making that appointment.”

The next morning, the office called Meg’s house, but didn’t leave a message, Instead, they slammed their phone down in an apparent fit of dental hygiene rage. It made Meg incredibly happy that she was there to hear that wayward phone hangup, and she’s now seeking a new person to torture her.

Meg has also decided to fire her eye doctor, who’s name is IMTOOCHEAPTOHIREARECEPTIONIST. In this case, Dr. Cheap decided it was more important to answer a phone call from UPS, and left Meg with screwed up bi-focal vision that she absolutely could not see with. In a scientific experiment, Meg opened a box of her more powerful right lenses, and placed one in her left eye. Guess what? Meg now has perfectly clear and balanced vision! She isn’t wearing reading glasses anymore, because she can freaking see again!

Today’s blog was brought to you by Twisted Susan. Thanks for letting me channel you, Susan. I feel much better.

Stay tuned to see who Meg will fire next week.

Tags: firing a dentist, firing a doctor

Last week, some folks were in town visiting, and wanted to have dinner. A flurry of phone calls ensued; dinner was set, and reservations were secured.

Several hours before the dinner, a nephew was tracked down by the visiting party and asked to join us. Which meant we were squarely in charge of rearranging the event, as well as being responsible for the nephew, a generally sweet but absent minded individual. Shall we proceed with our story?

Since arranging this whole thing was like being on a game show, I decided we’ll play CONCENTRATION, because that’s a show about MATCHING AND PUZZLES, and most reminiscent of the evening.

Having trouble with this? Let me explain. You see, it took approximately 8 phone calls to coordinate the dinner. The land line next to the cell phone represents US, in that our nephew couldn’t remember our phone number, so he had to call his aunt, who had to call us, so she could relay our address (which he had forgotten) so he could plug that information into his GPS, and God help me, make it to the house.  The 9th call represents the newly arranged dinner reservation.

Still with me?

So the dear nephew arrives, but he doesn’t have a coat, because hey, it’s ONLY FEBRUARY IN BOSTON! And he’ll be fine. In the meantime, he remembered his Justin Timberlake pork pie hat, because he thought that would provide the most needed warmth and protection. The boat shoes are what he almost left the house without, until I reminded him they would help out across snow covered cobblestone streets.

Lastly, we have a successful conclusion of dinner, and a half hour wait for pastry in the arctic wind.

And a delightful evening was had, even if I don’t understand teenagers and how they actually survive. What would they do without texting, cellphones, and GPS? Could they read a map or a road sign? And what is it with the coat thing and not wearing them?

To cap the evening off, he thanked us and told us he would say hi to Mama Bear and Papa Bear. I DID figure out he meant his parents. But does anyone else but me think we need some Rosetta Stone software, the teen speak language edition?

Tags: dining with teenagers, teen lingo, teenagers and GPS

Well, I never, said Scarlett O’Hara:

Yesterday’s Health Care Summit.

The only time you might want three jacks is when you are playing cards. Yesterday brought the JACKS together in a friendly bi-partisan setup discussion of the health care bill. See them stamp their feet! Feel their false outrage! Look at the giant health care bill perched precariously in front of Eric Cantor! Would you like to engage in meaningful dialogue on this subject, or shall I just bring you a stunt periscope to peer over your carefully stacked bill?

Crap. The agony of defeat.

Dear Julia,

You see, Lindsay Vonn didn’t really want to crash and break her finger, inadvertently stopping your ski run. Sadly, I think the officials bungled that, but you Twittered and Facebooked about it in the most unbecoming way, blaming your teammate. Not exactly a show of Olympic spirit, Julia. I’m going to have to ask you to turn that tiara in for good.

Kirstie’s getting her freak on again during her appearance on Oprah.

Actually, this picture makes a factual case that women over 50 should not get hair extensions halfway down their backs. Because you are GOING to pout if they look as bad as these do.

Enough with you pouty people! Like February, I’m leaving you in the dust. Or a snowbank.

Because we need to smile going into the weekend, I leave you with my favorite funnyman, who never fails to bring a laugh:

Tags: Health Care Summit, Jon Stewart, Julia Mancuso, Kirstie Alley

Have you ever played Insomnia Jeopardy? Check out my handy chart, which may be similar to your sleep chart, with minor category substitutions.

Lately, I can’t complain on sleep front. The Olympics have apparently brought fresh air and exercise into my living room, which translates into me thinking I am participating in Nordic events, thus sending me off to a peaceful night of sleep. And yes, I think we all think we can do those tricks with a little practice. The athletic dream never dies, does it?

Speaking of dreams, I read this article in the science section of the Boston Globe, in which a neuroscience professor at Brown claims he’s found a sound that can put you to sleep. REALLY? Sign me up!

Seth Horowitz has teamed with a composer to market various sounds to cure an array of things, including insomnia. I’m not sure if the guy is onto something, but he wrote a piece called Vertigo, in which audience members toppled over, and another threw up. I think that performance must be been a mixed bag of success and audience participation gone awry.

So I went to the website, but alas, there is no sample download of the sleep music, which, I kind of think for $20 bucks they might want to put a sample music track out there as an incentive to spend and buy the CD.

Marketing Tip to Ivy League Neuroscientist’s: Take a page from Amazon, and put some some 30 second clips up on your site instead of sounds that make me want to throw up!

There are a few testaments on the site that the CD works like a charm for babies and small children, so that $20 bucks might be worth it for some harried, sleepless, parents. And, its possible that a guy who wrote a grant proposal titled “Bats with Frickin Laser Beams on Their Heads” might be a secret genius for curing insomnia after all.

Sweet dreams people, however you get it done!

Tags: Insomnia, music for insomniacs

This month, my book club is reading the classic Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte.

I’m not sure how we picked the longest book for the shortest month of the year, but that’s how the fates lined up. Two weeks ago, I glanced at the calendar and looked at the book club date, and realized I could be in a bit of trouble. In fact, as I thumbed through the book, and saw both Volume I and II equaled the length of most books I read these days, and I started to panic. How can I finish this and watch Olympic snowboarding too?

One thought was, (and I hate the fact that it crossed my mind) should I use Cliffs Notes? I’m proud to say the egregious black and gold never has crossed a desk of mine.

I did, however find myself slogging along and thinking, Charlotte Bronte’s style can be so overwrought with emotion. So embellished with flowery Victorian language. I got the the point where Mr. Rochester is uncovered as a bigamist, and I was like:

All right already! Flee to the cold moors and be done with it! Let’s get on with the story, Jane!

I know, I know, that is supposed to be the beauty of reading literature of another time, and the very thing that hopefully sparks discussion at book club. And here I’m being all 21st century impatient with it. Could I possibly chalk that up to a pre-menopausal moment?

Well, I had angst about the Cliffs Notes, but then I found this on-line:

Shmoop is a beta site that is kind of like Cliffs Notes, but it has a couple of advantages. One, it has a sense of humor. There is a part in the book where Jane Eyre is sitting on a bench with Mr. Rochester, and they hear a nightingale sing. Shmoop chimes in with “well that means Significant with a capital S“. It’s fun because you feel like you can nod your head (or roll your eyes like I did) in agreement. One chapter had notes that told me “don’t pay a whole lot of attention to these characters, they are extraneous to the story”. Which Blanche Dumont and her freaky friends were. Glad I dissed them by reading the Chapter Summary, and went on a better part of the book.

The other great thing about Shmoop was this:

Sister Mercy, you can download the notes onto your Kindle and pair them with the book! Sweet Baby Jesus of Bethlehem (thanks for that line, Zadge!) my life is saved!

I have to say, I am REALLY reading the book, but the notes are making it fun and streamlining the reading for me, too. I will be able to meet my book club goal, and drink lots of wine contribute deeply meaningful observations when we meet this coming week.

I still feel strange about my high tech reading – reading on a Kindle, and using Shmoop notes. I just want you to know that there’s still a houseful of books and bookcases I love, and plan to crack open for many years to come.

This week’s Olympics have been chock full of personality with a touch of flamboyance. Let’s go to the slopes of Vancouver for a little recap of what’s been going on!

Oh wait, that’s my backyard, which sadly could have more snow than the mountains of British Columbia. Enough about the weather, onto the athletes!

Shaun White got himself a gold medal last night, but I can’t help being reminded of this Fast Times at Ridgemont High cast member:

Dudes, I love it!

Men’s figure skating was seriously the most exciting event. The jumps, the spins, the COSTUMES. It’s like Mardi Gras meets a gayest Halloween parade ever! Who can resist?

A touching tribute to Jethro Bodine. The Clampetts are speechless.

And in the free skate, he may become a vampire.

Can someone page a stylist for the Russian skater other than Rasputin?

Johnny Weir, I’m sure you are going to piss the PETA people off again by wearing fur, but just keep blowing those kisses on the ice! GO JOHNNY GO!

Well, I must get prepped for tonight’s events:

Remember, the Olympics can be a whole lot more than just sports! It’s a fashion show, a costume party and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one! Meet you along the parade route tonight!

Tags: Johnny Weir, men's figure skating costumes, Sean Penn, Sean White