Photographic Evidence That The Cat Wears Black Lipstick (FINALLY!)

Boys Are Gross. It's True.

It started out of necessity, but quickly turned to a preference. For a while now Alexis has been accompanying me on client photo shoots. She makes THE BEST photography assistant. For reals.

From carrying equipment to holding reflectors, she does it all. Without complaining. Without questioning. She just does it. Sometimes bribery is involved, but usually she just plain enjoys helping me.

But, even more so, she enjoys charming little kids. Especially boys.

It's almost a guarantee that if there is a little boy involved in the photos, Alexis will have him fawning over her in no time. She casts a magical spell over them that leaves them grinning and happy and HELLO! Smiling for the camera! I swear to you that child has saved me hours just by yelling "Boo!" and giggling herself. It's her foolproof way of breaking the ice and making kids younger than her laugh.

I can get laughs and smiles without her, but I get them much faster with her.

But not if the kids are older than her. Especially the boys.

I don't know what it is, but Alexis is very not interested in attention from boys who are seven or older. There are exceptions (for example, she nearly died from happy when Ginny's son hugged her the other day), but for the most part, older boys better not make eye contact.

And that is why she has lost SO much sleep recently.

There is a boy in our neighborhood who knows where Alexis lives. She doesn't know where he lives, but they go to the same school and are in the same grade. But, he's SEVEN. OMG. THAT'S SO OLD.

One night last week, he showed up at our door. With a knock and a hello, he asked if Alexis could play outside. Of course the answer was yes, but at that moment, she really wanted to hear "no." She didn't want to go outside and play and she didn't want to look at the little boy and she didn't want any part of anything. GO AWAY.

I wasn't home, but the husband made her go outside. The kids played Tag for a while, but Alexis spent the entire time with a sour look on her face. When I returned home, she spent a good hour telling me all about how horrible it all was.

"Why?" I asked.

"Moooooom! He's SEVEN. And he's a BOY. He's gross!" she replied.

Alrighty then. Let's just stick with that theory, mmkay? I'd be perfectly OK if Alexis stayed very not-interested in older men for a very long time.

Waaaaah Waaaaah Waaaaah

I think a sufficient amount of time has finally passed so that I can whine about this, AND WHINE I WILL.

Prepare yourself.

Three weeks ago, I finally had no choice but to show up for a dentists appointment. I had already cancelled two appointments because of legitimate scheduling conflicts, but the jig was up. It was time to say goodbye to two of my beloved wisdom teeth.

It was really very unfair that we didn't get to spend more time together. One of them had really never done anything to me. The other was crumbling apart, so it would have kicked itself to the curb eventually. But, alas, my dentist needed to pay for college tuition for his kid, so he ripped those suckers out right after he finished two root canals.

Oh, yes. All in one day. Two root canals and two wisdom teeth. THAT is how much I hate myself, apparently.

The thing is that it turned out to be a very good thing I did it all at once. I very barely survived those three hours in the dentist's chair so there's no way I would have gone back for another appointment.

The jerk dentist apparently ENJOYS ripping teeth out of people's faces because he kept smirking. When he disappeared for ten minutes, I was sure he was in the back room ordering the new car he was going to buy with the profits from torturing me.

My "favorite" moment of the appointment was when he tried to warn me about what was about to happen. "You might hear some weird noises," he told me.

"The hell I will," I replied as I slammed my earbuds in and cranked the volume on my iPod. "WHAT'S THAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

The problem, however, is that it wasn't that you hear the weird noises with your ears when at the dentist. You hear them with your brain because the sound is coming from your brain. Nightmares, people. Nightmares.

For the record, the appointment did not come complete with happy drugs. "You can take Advil," he said. "If it gets really bad, you can call me," he continued.

I wanted to demand some percocet, but how do you do that? "I'M NOT LEAVING UNTIL I HAVE PERCOCET!" At that point it would have come out as "OHM MM MMN  MMMIM HH MM HHMM!" He probably would have interpreted that as "Go ahead and tip yourself 50%!"

So, the appointment sucked (UNDERSTATEMENT), my dentist is an evil man, and BY THE WAY, I TOTALLY WOUND UP WITH AN INFECTION.

And then a dry socket.

Everything that you're thinking right now is exactly right. It did suck in a very special sort of way that can't quite be expressed with words.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make my kid brush her teeth about ten more times. Nobody should have to endure the torture that comes from tooth decay.