Saturday, April 21, 2007

Are all Dentists Sadists?

You'd have to have an ounce of joy in finding other people's suffering... at least slightly pleasurable...otherwise there is no point in doing the job that you do, right? I wonder if that applies to dentists. Having said that, I had one of my wisdom teeth removed today- and I feel only slightly less, well...wise.





Currently, I am hopped up on some sort of painkillers...and have guzzled down almosta litre of Seven Eleven's Slushee- my best friend and long time companion in times like these. While watching 1964 Goldfinger (I have a sick obsession with Bond films, and although I watch them too much and too often, I always find myself hating the plot, unable to suspend my disbelief etc...it's peculiar why I even bother with these films...) I decided that I must do some important things in order to perhaps, be able to fit into the high society some day, and beat them at their own game. I am tired of the classic communist syndrome, I must be proactive. Here's a brief list:



  • Learn to play golf.

  • Learn to play tennist.

  • Learn to ride (horses).

  • Learn to operate guns (ok, this knowledge is pretty much universal...in the 21st century, however, I believe this desire was subconsicously inspired by the Bond film playing in the background...and Pussy Galore screaming "more, more, more!!!").

  • Perfect my French.

  • Buy/Sell stocks and shares.

  • Learn about different types of wines (time to move on from teas).

  • Learn proper etiquette.

  • Learn to fly an aircraft (I should probably put this one off until I can manage to get my driver's license, and take a left hand turn without having my car totaled).


Seems like I have a plan for the summer. That makes me feel moderately well. Knowledge is key. It would be nice to know a lot of things. I don't have enough money for it, but, I suppose, knowledge cannot always be bought. Well, it can't be bought...but an opportunity for acquiring can be available if one has a certain amout of mula just sitting around.

If Morrissey could do it, so can I. My times as a stereotypical proletariat are over. Maaaaark my worddddd

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