Various. Also, Sundry

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Been there, done them.

I think the long nightmare of my Bone Hole TM saga may be drawing to a close. If you were lucky enough to miss my whining about this, my Bone Hole TM is an actual hole in my jaw bone that led to an absolutely baroque series of dental procedures up to and including pulling the stupid tooth above it. Since the tooth next to it had been removed years ago for a crown, I wound up with a sizable gap in that neighborhood. Last week, I got a “removable partial” to deal with that and, please baby jeebus, finish up with the whole sorry mess.

I hadn’t realized when discussing this with my dentist that the “partial” in “removable partial” is short for “partial denture.” A denture. Yes, one more entry in our exciting If You Don’t Die, You Get Old sitcom. I also hadn’t realized how massive this bitch would turn out. I lost another tooth 40 years ago on the other side of my mouth. You couldn’t see it, it was the tiny tooth behind the canine so I just ignored it all these years, but my current dentist decided he would include a replacement for it as an anchor for the new partial. That means the structure reaches across my mouth behind my lower incisors and is enormous. Even I, who am fairly casual about sticking big things in my maw, am intimidated by it. When I manage to wrestle it in, it feels a lot like I had taken a whim to swallow a car’s dashboard but gotten stuck on the turn signal.

Of course, it helps a lot in chewing, but comfort is not a big part of its profile. I decided early on I would just put up with it when I’m eating, but I keep forgetting to put it in, so it spends most of the time lurking in the cabinet, silently rebuking me. Since I get enough of that from Saki, I’m considering a life of pudding and cottage cheese.

Changing gears, I’d like to address the plague of the all white room. I spend a fair chunk of time idly scrolling through Tumblr, mostly harvesting pictures of attractive, if scantily clothed young men for these posts. Perhaps you’ve noticed.

Who doesn’t love a good tanline?

Lately though, my Tumblr feed has been choked with image after image of these insipid white-on-white-on-white rooms, a design decision that I loathe. It’s nothing particularly new, this is the at least the fourth big go-round it’s had since the 1980s, but just because something won’t die doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.

As far as I can tell, its appeal lies with it being easy to do on the cheap (anyone with access to a bucket of white paint has most of the look nailed down) and that it comforts namby pambies who are afraid of picking colors. I love color in decorating, strong, bright, dramatic hues especially. Here’s a secret: if you don’t like a color, you can change it. I know painting is a hassle, but do you really think trying to live with white floors isn’t?

These rooms are so insipid, so bloodless. I believe their current popularity rises in part from the de-cluttering gospel that writer Marie Kondo has passed on to her cult. Her motto is “Discard anything that doesn’t spark joy” which is fine with me, People cling to too much crap. Got it, and agree with it, but the problem is adhering to passionately to it brings you to these anemic spaces.

This sparks joy for someone? It would be like living in a tidy refrigerator. This type of decorating is committed to an absence of knick knacks, art, books, everything that adds warmth and color and personality to a room. Who would want to live without them?

Speaking of dealing with the gorgeous clutter that a full book case brings:

I’m not sure if they were trying to be ironic, but that image upsets me so much, so fills me with a disturbing rage, I can understand what opponents of pornography must feel when faced with something as beautiful as this

A personal problem, I think.

Lastly:

I loved my garden, but I’m tepid towards house plants. Even if I wasn’t I would still feel strongly against dragging in large, semi-tropical plants like birds of paradise or bananas, such as here to an environment where they will jsut suffer a lingering death. Indoor plants need to be able to tolerate the temperatures we like inside, the arid dryness of our homes and the insufficient light that comes from not being outside, and bananas are not going to do that. Knock it off.

But it’s not all complaints about teeth and bad design decisions around here. California has re-opened from our last round of lockdown, which I honestly expected to last until April, so yay. Because of that, I was able to spend part of this afternoon out on Peet’s cafe’s outside parklette knocking back a latte and a muffin. In these sad times, that’s what constitutes decadence. Also, I have a haircut appointment scheduled whihc is plenty enough to get me in a good mood.

Helping with good moods, our latest selection of mens

My motto. You got a problem with that?

The aptly named Dick Huge.

You know how I love a ginger.

Mike Branson, discovered back in the vaults, from a time when dinosaurs roamed the porn aisle.

Oh, he’s an angel.

Meaty.

I don’t understand how people get their butt do that. And how do you live with it once you do? How do you sit in a chair, or maneuver down the grocery aisle, or pull your fucking pants up? For that matter, how do people behind you in line at Starbucks resist just reaching over and squeezing it to see if it’s real? Anyway, we salute you, Butt Man.

18 responses »

  1. Pic #1: been there, too.

    As for teeth, one wonders just what bit of evolution made them such a weak part of the human body that we face the inevitable destiny of having to drink our food when we get old – unless we happen to be mega-rich and able to get all of them replaced with porcelain, like Miss Ross?!

    Sterile all-white rooms just make me think of Nurse Emerson and The Jefferson Institute! And if ever anyone really thinks that displaying all their books back-to-front on a shelf is somehow a sensible idea, they need their head examined…

    Jx

    PS Lovely dick-fest, as always – but that arse should have stayed with the Kardashian slapper where it belongs.

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  2. I’m so sorry about the mouth hell. I’m just on the
    precipice of two smooth jawbones clattering like castanets.

    I too loathe the all-white, but to do it correctly is quite hard, which is a fitting segue for this post.

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  3. A partial??? Hasn’t your dentist paid off his Bugatti yet?

    White rooms were invented to sell household cleaners. The irritating bookcases are from an IKEA ad. They buy crap books by the yard, then hide the spines so you can’t tell the shelves hold multiple copies of such titles as “The Joy of Grout.”

    Butt Man is from someone’s bad LSD trip.

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  4. Sweetie, I’m so sorry the “denture” part of “partial” escaped you. I say just continue living in oblivion. I’ll still love you.

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    • I shipwrecked a recent Zoom call that was enjoying a lively discussion about the numberless Star Wars epics by asking “Was Picard in that one?” If the discussion had not been remote, I think I would have been lynched.

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  5. Did they really put their books the wrong way round on a book shelf??? Yeah, I’m bothered by that as well.
    I have no idea what is going on in my mouth – whatever it is it isn’t good.
    Sx

    Like

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