I HATE OWEN CAN'TPUTHISREALLASTNAMEFORLEGALREASONS

(I had to edit a few things on this blog so I don't get into any legal trouble. If you left a comment, it is now gone...but please leave another!!! It makes me feel warm and cozy inside knowing you like to read the crap I write!)

Hi. I'm pissy. Well, no, I'm just bugged by my day so I'm going to use this blog as a therapeutic medium tonight. Quite a few things have happened lately..but I'm so mentally consumed by today's RIDICULOUSNESS that I can't function. GRR.

BUT, before I get to that, an announcement:

...I got a job :)

I'm pretty excited about it. The office is sooooo busy they need to add another hygienist (that's where I come in). They're going to start with just Mondays and Tuesdays (I'm still at "the spa" .../hell on Wed/Thurs) and then they'll eventually add Weds and so on. It's apparently "my dream office," (a friend of a friend of a sister's brother's uncle's cousin's blah (the actual explanation is even longer so just go with me on this) is one of the hygienists there and she loves the office/atmosphere/Dr.) so I'm hoping this is my new-longterm "hygiene home." (As Jess reminded me, this will be my third office in two years...which I'm not too excited about but, you've gotta move around until you find something that fits right, ...right? Thanks Jess. 'Preciate'cha)

So lots of job interviews and job applying and what not has been going on, but a bit of fun too.

I've started doing that stupid P90X thing (not that THAT is any fun, ...and no, you'll NEVER see before/after pics or what not), mostly to see if I can complete it...not really trying to become a body builder here. I'm now...almost done with my 3rd week and if I can ever figure out how, I'll post an awesome video of Jess performing some of the more difficult/technical movements that I took on my phone (she's meant to do exercise videos for a living, I can just tell).

My singles ward sucks (/is a bunch of people I went to high school with...or awkwardly enough, used to babysit---I'm getting old) so a friend and I decided to ward-hop this past Sunday. We went up to the Red Rock singles ward in Summerlin and...it was QUITE a blustery day (oh. and the ward wasn't anything to write home about), but I do want to take a quick second to issue a formal apology (I know there's not an ice cube's chance in hell that any of the innocent bystanders/victims involved in the incident read this blog, but I want to put the apology out in to the universe because...I believe in Karma and...I feel bad):

As much as I'd like to believe the event mirrored something to the effect of this photo, I believe it went something a little more like this:

So. ... :\ Sorry residents of Summerlin/members of the family ward letting out as I was walking from the car to the church. I promise to pick something much less flowey when the wind is blowing 1,000mph.

Blah.

Live and learn.

Moving on.

Okay, so I have magic hands. They're soooooo soft and people comment on their softness quite frequently. BUT, they also possess "the magic touch." As many of my family members can attest, I give a dang good shoulder/back rub, "face fluff," and "head twirk." Not a well known fact because...I hate doing all of these things.

Anywho. The other night, Spence and I were watching some show and he usually NEVER lets ANYONE touch his bieber-'do, so I thought I'd test him out and started massaging his scalp. ...He didn't hit me! (He's insane.) I expected a slap on my arm and a possible shove at the very least...but instead, when I went to pull my hand away, he (with catlike reflexes) vice gripped my wrist and kept moving my limp hand all over his hand (mimicking the movements I had been doing previous)...

The brat wouldn't let go!

After 15 solid minutes of "head-twirking," his death-grip loosened, indicating he was either falling asleep or just relaxed enough to allow my escape. I snapped the above pic with my free hand first to use as proof to all of those people out there that he WILL allow you to touch his famed tresses, ...so long as you have the right touch! :P

I was off this past Tuesday (totally random. who's off on tuesdays?!), so I decided it was going to be a lazy day. I woke up really late, made an awesome breakfast, watched some music videos and then read a bit...then received a text that #6 needed a ride home from school. I hadn't exactly anticipated the text...and being that it was my "lazy tuesday," I...was still in pajamas.

I had sense enough to snap a pic of my outfit because...I'm usually pretty put-together (outside of the house. my poor family is accustomed to a very homely version of me behind closed doors), and wanted to share one of my more accomplished and colorful ensembles:

Tah daaaah.

Talent, right?

Beat that, suckers!

This next pic I will entitle, "Sunday Afternoons"

Dad is usually watching a game, mom is usually napping...so I like to play games with these guys. Here's one of the more innocent moments from this particular day (there was an intense battle over clear and green gummy bears that closely followed the taking of this picture resulting in bits of Clue being strewn about my room...but this was too lovely a brady-bunch moment to not share with the masses).

Here we go...

Owen. Freaking. Can'tputhisreallastnameforlegalreasons.:

Okay. This slime of a human being came in to get a cleaning on the Wednesday before St. Patrick's day. He was your typical Napoleon-complexed fat balding guy...and actually looked very much like:

him. but with less hair on his head.

So I seat him and introduce myself. He kinda creepily/lingeringly (you know what I'm talking about) shakes my hand and gives me a good visual "once over." Whatever. I clean his teeth, am perfectly pleasant, but...speedy. Once finished scaling I tell him my asst would be right in to polish and get his exam with the doctor done....to which he replied, "you're leaving so soon? Nooo! I love being in your presence.." ...to which I replied ...by standing up and walking out of the room. I didn't think too much of it, and went on to clean my next patient.

For whatever reason, by the time I had finished my next patient and gotten up to switch places with my assistant, "the creep" still hadn't had his exam with the doctor. So, to facilitate maximum efficiency (and because it only made sense that I did), I went in and did the exam with the doctor. Once the doctor was done, I sat him up and he said (doing this weird eye twitch/neck roll thing), "So we meet again..." (which made me think of that repulsive chase-lounge/jason alexander pic above) I just said "yep" and finished up some notes in the chart. He then asked if I was single, I said yes (from now on, I'm married. ...unless you're cute.), then he asked if he could have my number. Now this is where the situation apparently got cloudy with him, so let me be specific:

Owen. Freaking. Can'tputhisreallastnameforlegalreasons. (O.F.C.): I would LOVE to have your number...

Me: I can give you my business card.

O.F.C.: Does it have your personal number on it?

Me: No. But it has the office's number and address if there's anything you need. Let me see if the front office is ready for you at "Check-Out."

Then, I went and let the front office girl know that he was done, that he had asked for my number and for her to NOT give it to him.

I then went and started on my next patient. Kinda weird, I'm not going to pretend like every patient asks me out, but it wasn't the first time, so I really didn't dwell on it too long. At the end of the day, the front office let me know that he waited in the waiting room for 15 minutes after his appointment and when they asked what he was waiting for he told them, "Rebecca is going to bring me her card with her number on it." They told him I was busy with patients but that we had his contact number on file if, for any reason, I needed to get a hold of him. I laughed a bit, shrugged it off and moved on.

So, the next day, Saint Patrick's day, I'm about halfway through my morning, RIGHT in the middle of cleaning a patient, when the receptionist goes over the intercom (we have little walkie-talkies so we can communicate to one another if there are changes in the schedule, whatever) and says,

"Becca, the husband of your future children has sent you a gift!"

Because I was in the middle of cleaning a patient, I didn't say anything, but I'm going to be honest...my immediate thought had NOTHING to do with Owen Can'tputhisreallastnameforlegalreasons. The love of my life (Joe S., a patient/my dream guy) was who I thought of first...and then I filtered through a couple of long-shot possibilities (a few guys from church... Johnny Depp? David Beckham...?) But yeah. NOT Owen Can'tputhisreallastnameforlegalreasons.

So, you can imagine my TOTAL disappointment when I walk out of the operatory and see a box from "Edible Arrangements" with the following note:

kill me.

Icing on the cake? (/strawberries):

White Chocolate.

Op. Nope, white chocolate died MINT GREEN covered strawberries.

Those who know me well will understand how completely I abhor every part of that "gift." (yeah, I HATE strawberries....unless you give me a package of biore strips to use on them...and I don't recognize "white chocolate" as an edible substance and though green is my favorite color, mint green can go die)

So yeah. I didn't appreciate the disgusting white-chocolate covered strawberries that the creep sent to my office....so I didn't call and thank him. Sure, maybe I'm rude, but I thought I was clear in my anti-dating-you message, and fully felt that had I called him, I'd have been less than professional, so I didn't.

Well, later in the day Owen called the office asking if I had received my "gift." He asked the girl he was speaking with if "she thought it was a good idea that he sent them." She told him that "it's always nice when patients send us gifts!" But that wasn't good enough for him, so he asked if he could speak with me. She told him I was busy and wouldn't be able to take phone calls for the rest of the day (good lookin' out, right?). He was upset, but fine, I guess.

I went home that night, kind of bugged at this guy, a little flattered, but more annoyed than anything.

Monday (remember, I'm only working at "the dental spa" on Wed and Thurs), I received a call at the end of the day that Owen had called and was IRATE because I hadn't called and thanked him/returned the favor (WHAT?!). Apparently, I COMPLETELY RUINED his weekend and "his friends think I don't deserve him!" He demanded that the office manager "reprimand me" and wanted her to call him when "the situation" had been dealt with. Just to give you an idea of howspineless management is in my office, she apparently agreed to "speak with me regarding the issue" and told him that I would be getting in touch with him sometime soon. I told her I refused to call him, that I felt I was in NO WAY in the wrong and that I shouldn't even have to waste my breath on an apology letter.

She dropped it, but I was pretty sure I hadn't heard the last of it...

Well, today, I was called into "the manager's office" because the owner of the practice and "office manager" needed to address this issue formally with me (seriously.). They told me that Owen had now called 4 times, and that, because he is such a "loyal and longstanding patient" (3-4years, max), I needed to make things right with him so we didn't "lose his business."

I was || <- this close to quitting.

Way to stand up for me guys! Way to allow this D.B./HEAVILY complexed individual to continue to walk all over anyone that doesn't cater to him the way he wants them to...

Whatever. So, I spent 30 seconds drafting a stupid 3 sentence apology letter...and the rest of the day stewing over what I WISH I could say to him...

So. Screw St. Patrick's day...

But happy Shamrock Shake!