I went and got the other half of my dental work done, and it was both better and worse than last time. It seemed to go faster, and in fact it was only an hour rather than an hour and a half. But the gas seemed less effective, as I was able to concentrate on things like the SCRAPING! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, THE SCRAPING!

It also has been hurting more this time, as the novocaine has worn off. (I think they shot me up more, too. When I went to work, almost two hours after the dentist, I still couldn't feel my left nostril, my tongue, or my left eye.)

Yeah, so I had to go to work, with my half-numb mouth. I scowled at customers instead of smiling at them, and drooled into the lattes. It was sexy.

Historically, Vicodin makes me laugh like a lunatic (which I almost spelled loonatic) at absolutely nothing, and then pass out. I decided to take a half of one instead of a whole one. I've been taking half a Vicodin every two hours, as opposed to a whole Vicodin every two hours. I'm in mild pain, but at least I haven't passed out yet. And I only broke into a hysterical fit of laughter once!

Our customers have never been more in love with me than they were today. I have never been so chipper in my life, and I am naturally very chipper. I was joking with everybody, about everything. I don't remember half the stuff I was saying, but it was gold, Jerry, gold!

One guy was especially in love with me. He hung out in the store for hours and hours, engaging me in conversation every time I was free to talk, and "working" on his laptop when I was busy.

(I know he was fake-working because at one point six Russian women came in with their nineteen Russian babies. Three of the babies were screaming. They sat at the same table as my chatty friend, and at all the tables surrounding him. He continued "working" all the while-- doing, of all things, Japanese translation. Nobody can do Japanese translation in the midst of a mob of screaming Russian babies. I mean, that's a well-known scientific fact.)

Work was fun, but there is an undercurrent of unhappiness there at the moment. Many of my favorite people have left or are leaving. Just today, one of my friends at work got a teaching job (teaching fourth and fifth graders) and she's abruptly leaving. While I was on vacation, my other other friend got a full time job and left. Everyone's fulfilling their dreams, and moving on. I'm happy for them, but sad for me, me, me.

Not only does this mean less fun at work, but it also means fewer people who know what they're doing. We're left with a lot of brand new, untrained, not-up-to-speed, and in a few cases downright lazy, baristas. There is dread gathering in my soul.

I hope we can hire some solid people. We have a pretty good track record, so maybe we'll be fine. And I can use my role as one of the store leaders to help set a positive tone and attract positive people, and keep the work environment fun. That's important to me and Janis, and I know we can make it happen.

The only thing is, the worst day of the year is coming up for us. There's this stupid sodding street festival every year, and there are no words to describe how much it sucks for us. All we do is make Frappuccinos, all day long, and there are seven thousand people in our store, and it's a disastrous mess, and everyone is cranky and aggro, and nobody tips us, and it's a day we collectively dread. This year, we are going to face the day with a whole bunch of people who potentially won't be up to speed on what needs to be done or the fastest way to do it.

I think that's also "bring-your-Vicodin-to-work day." In fact, I'm almost sure of it.

I found out yesterday that I have spent the summer as the unwitting protagonist in a bad Kate Hudson movie. I liked a boy, but didn't think he liked me. He liked me, but didn't think I liked him. We had an anti-Cupid in our midst, feeding him misinformation. "She's such a flirt. I'm sure she's not serious." Everything that once confused me now makes perfect sense, in this context.

If it was, indeed, a bad Kate Hudson movie, I would get in my car, drive to his doorstep and say, "You idiot! Of course I like you. I liked you all along!" and then I would kiss him before he could get a word in edgewise.

But this is the real world, and that probably won't happen.

Unless he agrees to the idea of my visiting him in September.

Then it might.

In conclusion, here is an email from my father:

Hi monique,are you back in the routine again? Wel tomorrow morning I wil be doing my breadrun again [I have no idea what his "breadrun" is.] and mom wil be going to the swimclass.We are still hot here 90 orso I saw you are doing better 70's,wel tonite the rest of everybody who were in holland are returning.We invited everybodywho were in holland for a barbeque to talk about there experiances. [They invited everybody in Holland? That's a lot of hot dogs!] One thing we have to get used to is so early dark in L-A compare to Holland.YOu looked very good so keep upp the good work ,like riding your bike. Hearing from Caroline you guys had a good time in London but very expansive, [Yeah, that too.] anyway don't let us wait that long for your next E_mail .Thursday is still your day off?????? [Thursday has never been my day off.] Wel keep in touch with the dutch Love Mom and Dad!!!!!!!

No matter how much Vicodin I take, I can't compete with this.