April Is The Cruelest Month

I know T.S. Eliot meant by that quote that I have co-opted as a title that April teases you, going back and forth with the weather, making it chilly one day and beautiful another, never letting you get your bearings or let your gaurd down. Maybe that's why it's been a particularly difficult week. Or maybe it would be a bad week even if it weren't April.

It's going to be a painful week. It has been already. I've not gotten enough sleep, forgotten my wallet, sat in traffic (more miserable than listening to Bush speak), been more broke than I care to think about and scheduled 2 doctor's appointments for the week, on top of all the rest.

I had a dentist's appointment on Monday, and I have a laaaaady doctor's appointment on Friday. What a good way to start and end a week (And is it just me, or did you totally do the Little Britain 'ladies' voice in your head right then?). Someone told me I should do a pro & con list to decide which one is worse. But I don't think I can. They're both pretty awful. But for very different reasons.

I hadn't been to the dentist for awhile, thanks to my dad's tangled mess of an insurance problem, and I think the dentist decided to take it out on me because I told her I have good teeth so I didn't really worry about missing the dentist. My teeth were hurting for the rest of the day. Not just twinging, like they usually do, but hurting so that I was afraid to eat solid foods, hurting so much I thought one of them might be a little loose. Then of course, there's the pleasant polishing of the teeth, and the rinse and spit flouride treatment that keeps you from eating for half the day. And the lady doctor, who will make me feel uncomfortable and ask all sorts of questions so that I will not only feel physically uncomfortable, but mentally too. Maybe I should take the rest of the day off.

Last night I went to a comedy club open mic night in a Best Western. I probably don't have to set the stage for you any more than that. You can probably picture exactly what this club was like, and you're probably thinking 'Don't do it! You're going to regret it! Why would you put yourself through that? You, a person who has never seen Meet the Parents all the way through because it's too painfully embarassing!' It's true. I haven't ever seen it all the way through, because I feel so bad for Ben Stiller's character, when all he wants to do is impress the parents and marry the girl. If I can't watch a scripted, pre-recorded movie full of embarassment, where the actors signed up for the task, how could I go to a live open mic night comedy club where people embarass themselves without meaning to?

When comedians don't have anything actually funny to say but have to think of something they usually resort to sex jokes. I quickly learned that there is a limit to how many jokes about sex I care to hear. It is a very low limit. After that night I pretty much don't care to ever hear about sex again. Or ever hear a security gaurd in his late 50s talk about how good sex with a parapalegic can be. I don't need to know. I need a shower, is what I need. And I don't want to know about a skater kid's money making schemes using the one thing he's got going for himself-- endless amounts of time and lotion. I went to the bathroom twice to give my ears a break.
The MC, a very funny man, who happens to be dating the friend that convinced me to go, came over and said, 'Please come back, don't let the awfulness of tonight frighten you away, it's usually better than this. And it is FREE. REMEMBER THAT.' I guess I can't complain. Or ask for my money back. Stabbing myself might have been more enjoyable than the comedy last night. But, because this week hasn't been painful enough, and I feel like dragging it out, I'll probably be back next week for more.