I went to the dentist yesterday.

He replaced three fillings that I got last year and were never any good, because that side of my mouth has been sensitive as hell ever since. He wants to do six more.

It wasn't bad at all, though. I have a very high resistance to Novocaine and always need bunches of shots, but they gave me some really strong stuff because it took in two shots and I never felt a thing.

I swear though, he drilled so much that at one point I asked him if he was digging to China.

He's a really wonderful dentist, is Dr. Berman, but the patient before me was a little kid having his first filling who was screaming like he was enduring the tortures of the damned, and the dentist kept saying "Will you be quiet!" in an irritated fashion.

Just goes to show, you've got to take kids to a children's dentist, not anyone will do.

So The Candyman rang yesterday.

I was right, I knew that he couldn't not invite me to his show, but he mentioned that two other women were coming up from the city and maybe I'd like to come with them--one being a woman who told me flat out that she was after him with both barrels (she didn't know how I felt when she said that) and the other being the woman who all but got down on her knees sucked his dick for him when we were all at the bar.

One thinks not.

I'll see if I can get up there on the other day. But if he won't pick me up at the train station, that ain't happening. It would be much more convenient to come up with them in the car, but honestly I'd rather scoop out my eyeballs with a soup spoon.

Yesterday was Veteran's Day here, Remembrance Day in Canada.

It's all but ignored here, but I read some very moving things on some Canadian pages, (especially on Mark Price's page) and it made me sad that no Americans said anything.

It put me in mind of this poem, one of my favourites:

In Flanders Field by Lieut. Col. John McCrae In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe; To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. One year ago today: It's November. Shouldn't all of the mosquitos be dead? * Yesterday / Index / This Month / Tomorrow * E-Mail Logo and some graphics by Lucy Huntzinger Background and some graphics by Ace of Space This page was written by hand. My hand. Only pussies use HTML editors. Last Updated Sat 27 June 19:37:09 1998