Pornography and Dental Surgery
I just had my wisdom teeth removed and the first thing I did afterwards was go to the corner store and buy ice cream (naturally). I love this corner store. It is small, unorganized, and run by a sweet little old man who works every shift, every day. I've never seen anyone else behind the counter. He knows me and remembers what I'm up to. He always asks after my puppies and how my renovations are going. The store would have all the trappings of an adorable local corner store if it were not for one thing. There are six shelves of porn and no other magazines. Right next to the drink cooler and across from the chips there are rows of thickly stacked magazines. "Tit Bits", "Plus Forty", and "Barely Legal" are all there for the taking, neatly wrapped in plastic packages.
Who is buying from these six shelves of magazines? I live in the oldest residential neighbourhood in Victoria. Horse drawn carriages regularly pass through every fifteen minutes, and most of the residents are fairly conservative. I can even think of four retirement homes within a four block radius of this tiny store. Do all the seniors in my neighbourhood go in for a litre of milk, and come out with a stack of "Asian Babes" and "Live Young Girls"? It makes me very suspicious of my neighbours. Who's buying? The man who walks his dog after dinner? The woman who waters her flowers every morning at eight o'clock rain or shine? The gardener from the Emily Carr House? I would think that with a neighbourhood like mine people would stop in for a box of crackers and maybe an "Economist", as opposed to the special edition issue of "Naughty Neighbours" displayed at children's eye level (horrors!). Anyway, as wrong as it may be to give more shelf space to porn than say, dairy products, I find it oddly enduring, and make a point of stopping by the store at least once a week.
This time though, I had an awful time making myself understood. My entire face was frozen and what parts weren't frozen were in pain. I also had the beginnings of two matching bruises on both sides of my face like sickly green butterfly wings. After I left the store I wished I had brought a pad of paper and a pen but, then I remembered how confusing writing notes to a stranger after dental surgery can be. It happened to me during my three week career as a 7-eleven sales associate. A man came in and began writing me a note on a piece of paper.
"I would like a pack of King Size Marlboro lights and a 6-49 ticket"
I assumed he was deaf and wrote back "Sure, I'll grab that for you. Can I get you anything else?"
"Yes. actually I think I'd like a hot dog" he wrote
"Would you like cheese on that" I wrote, mouthing the words the whole time so he could read my lips.
"No thank you"
He paid and wrote "Thank you. Good Bye"
so I wrote "Bye, have a good day"
and then he wrote "I'm not deaf. I just had four teeth removed"
Very funny, dental surgery man, and don't you know that cigarettes and hot dogs are no nos after any kind of oral surgery? Right, so I haven't been carrying around a pen. I just gesture at my swollen face and say things like "Ah'll tack da wed Wonnnn" and then show up at home with something like this:
When Kevin asks about it, implying that he thought I was just going to the corner store. I say "I doh-nnne know, Ah'M tacking alot of dwugs" which is God's honest truth.
Who is buying from these six shelves of magazines? I live in the oldest residential neighbourhood in Victoria. Horse drawn carriages regularly pass through every fifteen minutes, and most of the residents are fairly conservative. I can even think of four retirement homes within a four block radius of this tiny store. Do all the seniors in my neighbourhood go in for a litre of milk, and come out with a stack of "Asian Babes" and "Live Young Girls"? It makes me very suspicious of my neighbours. Who's buying? The man who walks his dog after dinner? The woman who waters her flowers every morning at eight o'clock rain or shine? The gardener from the Emily Carr House? I would think that with a neighbourhood like mine people would stop in for a box of crackers and maybe an "Economist", as opposed to the special edition issue of "Naughty Neighbours" displayed at children's eye level (horrors!). Anyway, as wrong as it may be to give more shelf space to porn than say, dairy products, I find it oddly enduring, and make a point of stopping by the store at least once a week.
This time though, I had an awful time making myself understood. My entire face was frozen and what parts weren't frozen were in pain. I also had the beginnings of two matching bruises on both sides of my face like sickly green butterfly wings. After I left the store I wished I had brought a pad of paper and a pen but, then I remembered how confusing writing notes to a stranger after dental surgery can be. It happened to me during my three week career as a 7-eleven sales associate. A man came in and began writing me a note on a piece of paper.
"I would like a pack of King Size Marlboro lights and a 6-49 ticket"
I assumed he was deaf and wrote back "Sure, I'll grab that for you. Can I get you anything else?"
"Yes. actually I think I'd like a hot dog" he wrote
"Would you like cheese on that" I wrote, mouthing the words the whole time so he could read my lips.
"No thank you"
He paid and wrote "Thank you. Good Bye"
so I wrote "Bye, have a good day"
and then he wrote "I'm not deaf. I just had four teeth removed"
Very funny, dental surgery man, and don't you know that cigarettes and hot dogs are no nos after any kind of oral surgery? Right, so I haven't been carrying around a pen. I just gesture at my swollen face and say things like "Ah'll tack da wed Wonnnn" and then show up at home with something like this:
When Kevin asks about it, implying that he thought I was just going to the corner store. I say "I doh-nnne know, Ah'M tacking alot of dwugs" which is God's honest truth.