Maybe I'm new to this old blogging thang. Well, it's been more than a year and I just kicked in the Google analytics tool three days ago. In those three days I have tracked 35 whopping Absolute Unique Visitors! I think I can identify about 34 of you, but who is the mysterious 35th visitor? Come on, out with it.
I know it is you, Shuffles. I can just see you hunched over a dusty laptop with stained keyboard, sipping a cup of Chamomile tea purchased in the Stop 'n' Shop bargains aisle. A withered cat is twining around your unshaved ankles, and the smell of burnt broccoli is in the air. The bills are piling up in the broken-down oven, and I believe those are old love letters crowding the dishrack. You might want to check your porch, too. There's a package there containing a creepy owl-eyed doll that you got for a steal on eBay. (I would recommend returning said doll, because there is a curse attached. Don't say I didn't warn you, Shuffles.)
Also housed on your laptop is the unfinished novel, all 46 pages of it, about love, love, love. Love that you made. Love that you spurned. About your love of an old collie dog named Shep, who died peacefully one night by the fire in your childhood home. And your rather unconventional love of socks, and your never-ending quest to find the perfect sock that doesn't sag and bunch around your unshaved ankles. I think you have ankles that are quite fine, Shuffles, and they should never be encased in socks. Never! Some women have frightful ankles, but yours are nothing of which to be ashamed. I too have decent ankles, even during pregnancy. In that we are kin.
Shuffles, come clean. I know that you are reading my blog. You are Unique Visitor # 35. Please give me some comment love, Shuffles. I won't turn it aside, like that poltroon Tommy McBiggers did back in high school. I won't toss the processed tater tots at you like the rotten Heathers did in the lunchroom on that long-ago day when you were a mere Freshman with pie-crust teeth just begging for braces to tame them. Nolan Krinick, the evil dentist, fixed all that, didn't he? And then you entered your "roller coaster of slutdom" phase. Oh, but we won't discuss that further. Unless the comments are not forthcoming. Yes, I can be cruel.
When I drag my garbage to the street tonight, I will think of you. Maybe you will be watching from your porch, wondering if I ever used all of the Saffron. I did not. I have extra. I have enough for the whole durned block! Watch me make a cous-cous that will knock your socks off, revealing your unshaved (but well-defined) ankles.
Oh Shuffles, when the snow falls, will you still be there watching, even though we have departed? Just one comment and I will know that Unique Visitor # 35 is not but a hiccup in the Google Analytics architecture.
Showing posts with label nolan krinick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nolan krinick. Show all posts
Monday, August 11, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
The Evil Dentist
This is a cautionary tale for those of you who are looking for a good dentist in the New Rochelle area.
When my little boys needed their first dental visit, I got a few names from Met Life and scheduled an appointment for both of them with Dr. Nolan Krinick of New Rochelle. He was close and convenient, and claimed to be a pediatric dentist.
We arrived and noticed that the office stank of cigar smoke. This was a bad sign, but maybe Dr. Krinick's fellow tenant in the building was responsible? There were also no child-friendly items in the waiting room, but maybe Dr. Krinick was just all about teeth and no frills. The place was kind of dingy, too, and the receptionist was a crummy-looking old bird.
The boys were clearly terrified but we told them it was OK, the dentist was just going to look at their teeth. Dentists are nice guys! When he came in, he looked annoyed to see children in his office. In fact, hatred and disdain for children dripped from the man's countenance. If he had snarled and a a bead of saliva had dripped from one unnaturally-sharpened fang, I would not have been surprised.
He glared at them impatiently and barked out: "Who's first?" We tried the older boy in the chair first, but he was so struck with terror that we decided to put the little one in the chair instead. The dentist tried without avail to open the boy's mouth, and then turned to us with a gesture of complete impatience. "I can't conduct the exam if he won't cooperate!" he muttered. "Open the kid's mouth!"
How? "Hang him upside down," said Doctor Krinick. "That gets them to open their mouths."
Invoking a spirit of fun sort of thing, we actually tried--for about two seconds. (How horrid to admit.) Our little boy screamed, his mouth opened, and the dentist peeked inside. He muttered that the frenum--a little flap of skin/muscle--between our boy's upper gum and upper lip needed to be clipped or he'd have hideous dental problems later. "I'll do it right now, if you want," he said. He practically chortled.
No, thanks. We fled his horrible office, reciting things to the boys such as "Not all people are bad." We later found a nice dentist, Doctor Allen Greenberg, who remarked that the "clipping of the frenum" comment was a load of horseshit. "Whoever said that is an idiot," he added.
Now, whenever we drive past Krinick's office, the boys make evil noises. "Not all dentists are bad!" my boys chirp from the back. "But some dentists are very bad!"
Postscript 1: A while back, we decided to go and view a house in New Rochelle. We arrived and noticed that the house stank of cigar smoke. While touring the place (which was dreadful), my husband rounded a corner and came upon the owner...who else but...Doctor Nolan Krinick!
Postscript 2: A while back my boys were playing doctor, which always involves making calls on a telephone.
Younger: Who is this?
Elder: The doctor!
Younger: Can you fix my tummy pain?
Elder: Oh no, I can't do that.
Mommy: I thought you were a doctor.
Elder: Actually, I am an evil dentist. I am Doctor Krinick!
When my little boys needed their first dental visit, I got a few names from Met Life and scheduled an appointment for both of them with Dr. Nolan Krinick of New Rochelle. He was close and convenient, and claimed to be a pediatric dentist.
We arrived and noticed that the office stank of cigar smoke. This was a bad sign, but maybe Dr. Krinick's fellow tenant in the building was responsible? There were also no child-friendly items in the waiting room, but maybe Dr. Krinick was just all about teeth and no frills. The place was kind of dingy, too, and the receptionist was a crummy-looking old bird.
The boys were clearly terrified but we told them it was OK, the dentist was just going to look at their teeth. Dentists are nice guys! When he came in, he looked annoyed to see children in his office. In fact, hatred and disdain for children dripped from the man's countenance. If he had snarled and a a bead of saliva had dripped from one unnaturally-sharpened fang, I would not have been surprised.
He glared at them impatiently and barked out: "Who's first?" We tried the older boy in the chair first, but he was so struck with terror that we decided to put the little one in the chair instead. The dentist tried without avail to open the boy's mouth, and then turned to us with a gesture of complete impatience. "I can't conduct the exam if he won't cooperate!" he muttered. "Open the kid's mouth!"
How? "Hang him upside down," said Doctor Krinick. "That gets them to open their mouths."
Invoking a spirit of fun sort of thing, we actually tried--for about two seconds. (How horrid to admit.) Our little boy screamed, his mouth opened, and the dentist peeked inside. He muttered that the frenum--a little flap of skin/muscle--between our boy's upper gum and upper lip needed to be clipped or he'd have hideous dental problems later. "I'll do it right now, if you want," he said. He practically chortled.
No, thanks. We fled his horrible office, reciting things to the boys such as "Not all people are bad." We later found a nice dentist, Doctor Allen Greenberg, who remarked that the "clipping of the frenum" comment was a load of horseshit. "Whoever said that is an idiot," he added.
Now, whenever we drive past Krinick's office, the boys make evil noises. "Not all dentists are bad!" my boys chirp from the back. "But some dentists are very bad!"
Postscript 1: A while back, we decided to go and view a house in New Rochelle. We arrived and noticed that the house stank of cigar smoke. While touring the place (which was dreadful), my husband rounded a corner and came upon the owner...who else but...Doctor Nolan Krinick!
Postscript 2: A while back my boys were playing doctor, which always involves making calls on a telephone.
Younger: Who is this?
Elder: The doctor!
Younger: Can you fix my tummy pain?
Elder: Oh no, I can't do that.
Mommy: I thought you were a doctor.
Elder: Actually, I am an evil dentist. I am Doctor Krinick!
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