Thanks Vonlipi and Pompoms for the good wishes for my dental visit. Although I've been flossing like crazy for the past two days, no floss has passed betwixt my teeth the other 118 days or so since my last appointment, giver or take those evenings when I've had lamb chops for dinner. When asked if I floss regularly, I said, "Some nights I forget, but I do my best." I'm sure they know who's fibbing.
Anyway, I've had a case of uncontrollable giggles for the past two days. Can you believe it? I mean, we all laugh at inappropriate things every now and then. It lasts for a few minutes and it then passes. No, not me. Here I am, on the brink of 40 and I almost crashed my bike today when I got the giggles again. I think giggling to yourself is worse than drinking alone. At least if you're drinking, you can use inebriation as an excuse for irrational behaviour. When you're peddling through your neighbourhood laughing, people just think you're a kook.
It all started yesterday in my reading course. We had an equity workshop. The topic was equity to literacy. I'm all about equity and I've been to many equity workshops in my school board before on my own volition. The equity rep seemed like a decent man, but very, very earnest. Towards the end, he began talking about an academic. I thought he said her name was Ginny the Gay. My jaw almost dropped as I scrambled to make sense of how an equity person could use such a monicker to describe someone. As he kept repeating her name, I began wondering if this woman was some sort of radical who gave herself a counter culture nickname. Later, he passed around an article written by this woman. Her name? Geneva Gay. I snorted and bit my lip hoping that somehow the pain would make me stop laughing. It didn't. I spent the rest of the class pinching different body parts to keep from losing it. It wasn't even funny, but my ignorance was. In my defense, I've never heard the name "Geneva" used outside of Switzerland.
From that moment on, the slightest thing would trigger the giggles. We've been watching the Tour de France and every wacky bearded spectator dressed as a nun, or flabby French man in a Speedo who decides to "run with the cyclists" at the summit of the Pyrenees, just made me crack up. Today, the woman who sits beside me in class began crunching on celery shortly after a fellow student read a picture book about elephants dying in a Japanese zoo during WWII. Of course, with each loud crunch, I laughed until tears were running down my cheeks.
Make it stop! Perhaps I'll survive until tomorrow...
