“It doesn’t matter if you want it back. You’ve given it away.” – Amanda Palmer
I’m currently overdosing on Amanda Palmer songs, as my best friend has informed me that we are seeing her tomorrow night at a free show (it just so happens to be at the very same place I take music lessons, so everyone wins!).
My current thoughts on Amanda Palmer are that she seems to be an interesting artist/musician/person and talented lyricist, but sometimes she also sounds a little like a dying cat, which she also makes work… I don’t know. I’m going with it for the sake of going with it. Chick is putting on a free show (which she called a ninja show?) so, no complaints.
But why am I writing about Amanda Palmer, when I should be writing about Amanda me and how I really wish that every time any one with any health thing had to go to said health place to get health thing checked out, they AUTOMATICALLY became a millionaire when they walked in, so that they could pay for health thing and then – and only then – they could go back to being “regular people” once they left.
That was a really long sentence. I’m sorry.
I have known for approximately 6 months that I have had some dental work that needed to be done, but… you know. Money. Who has it. So, I go to get a second opinion at a different place yesterday, only to be informed (visually and verbally) that yeah, things are as bad as they seem. It seems my teeth are just, like, tired of being teeth and would instead like to be stupid little fucking enamel pockets who moonlight as warmongers.
I get my teeth cleaned while I am watching Mike Birbiglia on Netflix (here’s where I mention that this place was like a goddamned spa. They offer me “warm neck pillows” and put lip gloss on my lips (really. It was drugs, prob), and the entire room smells of eucalyptus and loveliness. I found it on yelp, but didn’t know that I was walking into the fucking Stepford-land of dentistry). It’s a little awkward, because I want to laugh hysterically, but am also aware that pointy metal objects are scraping the inside of my mouth and…
death. who needs it.
So after, I get the bad news. Apparently silver fillings aren’t “in” anymore; it’s totes not cool to have them. And some of my fillings know this and so they’re like, just… revolting. They want out, man; they’re ready for their white-filling-counterparts. My gums are soooo good though! Amazing gums! (Weird.)
OH! AND THEN SHE SAYS… SHE SAYS… Maybe lay off the coffee a bit.
BITCH YOU DID NOT. I WILL NOT STAND FOR YOU TALKING ABOUT COFFEE THAT WAY.
…How to repair, and still maintain some dignity?
Oh. The answer is $8000.
I specifically mentioned before the teeth cleaning that money was an issue. But because the healthcare community is understanding AND wise, their solution is to offer a medical credit card. You need work done? Great. Sign up here, and also you might want to be homeless for a while. Just as a precaution.
The major work costs $5000, they tell me, and I can do a credit card payment plan. The 6-month option of paying it off is *only* the low, low cost of your soul. And maybe your first-born.
I explain that… yeah. Can’t pay that. Can’t even easily do the 18-month payments. But I’ll look it over, try to work something out.
So. In the meantime. I went full-hippy and attempted oil pulling today. Because when $8000 is staring you in the face, you try anything. Not that my teeth will be restored, but maybe they’ll be a little bit less warmonger-y.
(In case you were curious, it was weird.)
I’m gonna spend the rest of the night chilling at home, and smiling in the mirror to make sure that my teeth are still there.
Have a good night, everyone. Be kind to yourselves.