I'm just back after a visit to my dentist. And I'm happy because this time it was painless and straightforward. I thought I needed a filling, and I did, but not through rotting or something. Just wear and tear. And that makes me feel old. Wear and tear, geeze, I have to say that again, wear and tear. It doesn't sound nice. But then, anything that comes with dentist cannot be very nice. Dentists are the world's biggest sadistic people. They must be. Otherwise why choose a profession like that? They like to probe in holes with hooks... hmmmm and that is innocently said, although it's bordering on the XXX-rated. They also like to grind and call is polishing. Another thing, at one point you feel your teeth are almost falling out. And they call it a scaling. Scaling for God's sake, such an innocent word for all that. It sounds so familiar, scaling... scales... oh no, now I know what's wrong. Because scales never ever made a musician happy did they? So why should a scaling make any patient happy? Now it all makes sense. But it all still doesn't make sense either. What makes any man (or woman) want to stand proud and watch their gleaming polished macabre tools every day? Why would anybody want to deal with fillings, extractions, wincing patients, sometimes fainting patients... all in a day's work? It beats me. Or perhaps it doesn't. Perhaps the world of bondage, domination and sado-masochism includes wider spheres. Perhaps it includes dentistry.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Some holistic Arani Issa!
I am getting crazy. Very seriously crazy, I'm not so sure if it's the kind which makes people laugh or cry. Me... it makes me laugh but then wonder if there really is a mad gene in my system. And then I find there is probably not just one but plenty. Take your pick they're going all for free because of the credit crunch.
So it was my second day playing out the role of examination assistant. This time it was a Malti exam. Pretty cute exam paper, really one designed for kids. Nice one Education Department. Of course no trouble with the kids inside. But with one kid outside. And no, I don't call these little people because they don't deserve the title. So after some two hours reading and reading and dying for a smoke, time was up and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I have to smoke, it is something which will probably kill me because of course I will die smoking. Bad, filthy habit, trust me to enjoy something like that and not something more widely acceptable such as a glass of red wine. Well, it's each to his own I say. So... I get out of the building, rummage in my bag which seriously contains half of the house and finally light up. I do not see or hear anything, all I want is a drag of nicotine. Once my system gets that, my eyes see a girl kid, tiny, pointing and trying to get the attention of her mum, who was... well, old, and unattractive, and I guess a bit tired and regretting the night she copulated with whoever to make her. But that's how life it, you lie on the bed you make. But heyyyy I didn't lie on her bed (God forbid) so I shouldn't pay the consequence should I? And I see this little kid tugging at her mum and mouthing the word fat. Yet another time. I don't think I was thinking, or maybe I was a little bit or I'd have crushed this tiny kid to nothingness in a second. But I did the unthinkable in 5 seconds max. I remember I had a microphone in my bag, an Arani Issa Mic, and the next minutes were going to be really an Arani Issa. I just pulled it out, and went over saying I was doing 'research'! Lovely word this research, it makes appropriate anything which isn't. And as many people do when they see a mic (which doesn't make sense since a mum should have seen something of its shape when she made the kid anyway), she froze. I lied and lied and lied and probably have booked the next twenty years in hell. But I was so cool, I told them that a lot of complaints were being made about fat people being bullied, so, how did they feel? Mum just stared, I don't know if she spoke my language. Kiddo said that it's wrong! So I asked why the pointing and why the fat word... she said it wasn't true. But I said I had her on tape and there was nothing she could do about it. Kiddo being trashy kiddo exploded in tears, stupid mum she never even said anything about the Private Protection Data, and I said something-Arani-something-Issa-something else, and she finally beamed at me and told me that she was a regular watcher. That was it. I left kiddo crying (Yeah!!!!) and me gloating. I didn't know if I was going to make it to the car and not explode in laughter. But I did, started the engine, drove 200 metres and had to stop. My fat insides were splitting! I just had to laugh and kiss my mic and my bag for its ability to hold the correct things needed at the most inopportune moment. I know some will call me cruel and callous. I really feel triumphant. Some will say oh poor kiddo. I say... if kiddo had the audacity to point and laugh and mouth fat... then no poor kiddo. She just learnt the you-lie-on-the-bed-you-make lesson early in life. If anything I should be applauded and given a medal. Kiddos like this one just have to learn, and I never ever touched her. But I'm sure she will remember. Kiddo didn't cry because a microphone was dangerously put in her face, she cried because she instantly didn't want herself being nasty seen on TV. Because some things cannot be learnt through books, that's why they call it holistic education. That's why they tell us to catch them young. That's why they also tell us to watch what we're saying in the presence of kiddos because kiddos have kiddo ears. I did just that. If it's my fault for being big or fat, then I pay for it. I don't expect to have some kiddo in the equation. After all I didn't make it. But then, my kiddos will be caring little people who would never do the same would they?
So it was my second day playing out the role of examination assistant. This time it was a Malti exam. Pretty cute exam paper, really one designed for kids. Nice one Education Department. Of course no trouble with the kids inside. But with one kid outside. And no, I don't call these little people because they don't deserve the title. So after some two hours reading and reading and dying for a smoke, time was up and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I have to smoke, it is something which will probably kill me because of course I will die smoking. Bad, filthy habit, trust me to enjoy something like that and not something more widely acceptable such as a glass of red wine. Well, it's each to his own I say. So... I get out of the building, rummage in my bag which seriously contains half of the house and finally light up. I do not see or hear anything, all I want is a drag of nicotine. Once my system gets that, my eyes see a girl kid, tiny, pointing and trying to get the attention of her mum, who was... well, old, and unattractive, and I guess a bit tired and regretting the night she copulated with whoever to make her. But that's how life it, you lie on the bed you make. But heyyyy I didn't lie on her bed (God forbid) so I shouldn't pay the consequence should I? And I see this little kid tugging at her mum and mouthing the word fat. Yet another time. I don't think I was thinking, or maybe I was a little bit or I'd have crushed this tiny kid to nothingness in a second. But I did the unthinkable in 5 seconds max. I remember I had a microphone in my bag, an Arani Issa Mic, and the next minutes were going to be really an Arani Issa. I just pulled it out, and went over saying I was doing 'research'! Lovely word this research, it makes appropriate anything which isn't. And as many people do when they see a mic (which doesn't make sense since a mum should have seen something of its shape when she made the kid anyway), she froze. I lied and lied and lied and probably have booked the next twenty years in hell. But I was so cool, I told them that a lot of complaints were being made about fat people being bullied, so, how did they feel? Mum just stared, I don't know if she spoke my language. Kiddo said that it's wrong! So I asked why the pointing and why the fat word... she said it wasn't true. But I said I had her on tape and there was nothing she could do about it. Kiddo being trashy kiddo exploded in tears, stupid mum she never even said anything about the Private Protection Data, and I said something-Arani-something-Issa-something else, and she finally beamed at me and told me that she was a regular watcher. That was it. I left kiddo crying (Yeah!!!!) and me gloating. I didn't know if I was going to make it to the car and not explode in laughter. But I did, started the engine, drove 200 metres and had to stop. My fat insides were splitting! I just had to laugh and kiss my mic and my bag for its ability to hold the correct things needed at the most inopportune moment. I know some will call me cruel and callous. I really feel triumphant. Some will say oh poor kiddo. I say... if kiddo had the audacity to point and laugh and mouth fat... then no poor kiddo. She just learnt the you-lie-on-the-bed-you-make lesson early in life. If anything I should be applauded and given a medal. Kiddos like this one just have to learn, and I never ever touched her. But I'm sure she will remember. Kiddo didn't cry because a microphone was dangerously put in her face, she cried because she instantly didn't want herself being nasty seen on TV. Because some things cannot be learnt through books, that's why they call it holistic education. That's why they tell us to catch them young. That's why they also tell us to watch what we're saying in the presence of kiddos because kiddos have kiddo ears. I did just that. If it's my fault for being big or fat, then I pay for it. I don't expect to have some kiddo in the equation. After all I didn't make it. But then, my kiddos will be caring little people who would never do the same would they?
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