Monday, 14 March 2011

When you can never have too much pain, stick with the 3 C's: call-in's, cleanings, and cramps (not that kind)...


And a good evening to you from across the globe after another GREAT DAY in the Lion City. Team Taylor is now back from a WONDERFUL break in Indonesia, but that story's gonna have to keep until tomorrow, otherwise you'll have another "I ate a pineapple" evening (Shogun - you've created a new term - take a bow).

So I arrived at work today, fired up the laptop, and started work the way I always do (and NO, it's not "check Skyscanner for cheap flights") - checking email. And in true "Monday" fashion, I found out that 3 people were off sick. Now normally in a team of 10+, this isn't a disaster, but it is rather unfortunately when they are the primary, secondary, and tertiary cover of a geographic region. Again, with Payroll cutoff WAY behind us, I wasn't concerned. That was, at least, until the first "ASAP: TRUE EMERGENCY!!!! NEED TODAY!!!!!" email came through. AWESOME.

As it turned out, it was NOT a true emergency, but it WAS one of FOUR emails I received with basically the exact same subject line. Hitman - you would have KILLED someone for these injustices. But me being the pacifist that I am, I just taught the folks in the cubes around me the meaning of "NTAC" and went about my business.

Things rolled on through until noon, at which point I went for my first dental cleaning in 16 MONTHS. Now I know, I know - this is the part where you all chide me for not going every six months and Jenny's chimes in about how chubby hubby doesn't floss. But I felt I was fine in Britain, as a) alcohol kills all germs, I so assumed that it was killing plaque as well, and b) well, British teeth. I mean really - do I need to say anything more? I felt I was safer at home (Sorry O-vino - you have very lovely teeth - the Welsh bloodlines are strong).

The featured spot for the cleaning was "Dental on the Bay," and I must say that it was a unique experience. Some key points:

1. I made the appointment LAST WEEK. That's right, sports fans - no 6 month wait in this place. When I scheduled, they said, "Is this afternoon good for you?" After I picked my jaw off the floor and said no, they said, "How about tomorrow morning then? Or evening? We're open until 7:30." Really? REALLY?

2. When I told them what I needed, there was SILENCE on the phone. You see, apparently (as I discovered from checking the web after making the appointment) "Dental on the Bay" specializes in "cosmetics and lifestyle design choices for the busy" (whatever the @#$# that means). They had 10 items on their "featured menu," including Invisalign, braces, whitening, etc. What they did NOT have was stuff like "fillings, cleanings, check-ups, etc." DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!!!

3. The place bills itself as "a spa like experience, both inside your mouth and out." Seriously - tell me that isn't code for "Happy Ending." I showed up at this place thinking it was going to end up like the movie "Hostel."

4. I rocked into the cleaning room, and the dentist was ACTUALLY THERE FOR THE ENTIRE PROCEEDING. He was the dude that did the cleaning, and LET ME TELL YOU - I AM NOW CLEANER THAN THE SING. It was a SURREAL experience.

Step 1: Put HUGE glasses over your face like you're about to weld the hull of a FREIGHTER together.

Step 2: A light that could have been used to spotlight PLUTO is put about 2 millimeters from your face. Good thing you've got the glasses that could repel a Supernova.

Step 3: The dentist puts a mirror and a MASSIVE scraper in your well as ALL his fingers.

Step 4: Ezmerelda, his evil mistress and hygiene assistant, puts a FIRE HOSE OF WATER and a suction cup that could swallow your intestines in your well as all HER fingers.

Step 5: For the next 15 minutes, your gums are ripped to shreds whilst you choke on the 16,000 gallons of water that are poured into you. You wet your pants 37 times just to get rid of all the excess fluid.

Step 6: The doctor covers your in enough flouride so that you could go spelunking until 2018 and never require a flashlight.

Step 7: Still in a daze, blinded, and in pain, you are shown to reception, where they give you a hot towel and try to convince you that you're on Sing Air in Business Class.

Step 8: You try to smile, realize your face muscles don't work anymore, and mumble, "See you in six months!" Good times...

But hey, I got a good lunch with Muffin Puffin at Modesto's (Italian, but T-Rowe, their Carbonara had nuthin' on Schottie), and we were fueled up for this evening's track practice. And THAT, dear reader, is where the wheels truly fell off the bus.

On-time arrival? Check. Plenty of stretching? Check. Speedwork on the docket? Check. 2 warm-up laps? Check. Strides to loosen up? Nooooooooot quite.

So I take off on the first 25 yard jog, and I notice this BIZARRE pain in my right quad. I do another quick stretch, walk it off, and then go for #2. The pain is worse, and I pull up just before finishing. On #3, I make it about 3 steps before I have to walk off, and I can't even do the last two. And when the actual practice starts, I make it about 40 meters before I'm pretty sure someone's planted a bomb in my leg that's in process of erupting. So YES - I was PISSED.

However, Hop-a-long didn't quite, and I stayed to the outside of the track to do my own thing. I ended up logging 5 miles, and the leg did loosen up enough so that I could do some speed work towards the end. Only problem was that, at that point, I was DEAD TO THE WORLD. Oh well - I'm currently icing it with a bottle of Absolut Raspberri (our newest Duty Free purchase), and that's helping (even if it's cryogenically freezing my leg hair). Next week I'll be BACK, and BETTER than ever!

Muffin ended up getting hurt as well, and she's currently icing her left hamstring. I hate to ask it, but are we getting too old for this? NOT A CHANCE, BABY!!!! BRING 'DA PAIN!!!!!!

Okay, that's all the news that's fit to print. Chat tomorrow!


Hop-a-long Sammy and Blitzkrieg Striker Jenny

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