note to self: never trust a dentist with bad teeth

this sunday was the one year anniversary of the death of slobodan milošević. (don't ask how i managed to put those crazy accents in there. let's just say i am a blogger genius. or i copied and pasted from wikipedia. six of one). to commemorate this event, i have decided to share one of my favourite stories involving my housemate/homegirl, the indomitable lindsay shofferhoffer. please note that names have been slightly altered to protect the not-quite-innocent, and i have not obtained express written consent to share this story from either party. regardless, methinks they will be honoured to have their 500 words of fame in the blogosphere.

i first met lindsay here in the melb in feb. 06, after being introduced via e-mail (how quaintly dorky) by a mutual friend. she stayed at melbourne uni's graduate house for her first few months in the city, a residential college of sorts for members of the university's postgraduate community who had yet to secure/no desire to secure their own housing. the g-house rent was ridiculously high, but for your money you received two meals each day and a healthy dose of eccentricity from the incredibly diverse community housed within its walls.

i am sure lindsay could write a novella about the variety of people encountered during this heady time, but for now we will stick to the story at hand. the antagonist: a middle-aged dentist from serbia who (ironically, as lindsay is always quick to point out) has really really bad teeth. obviously this isn't the best advertisement for his skills in dentistry, but perhaps that's why he was furthering his education at melb uni. at any rate, i am ashamed to note that i actually have no idea what his real name is. from day one, lindsay & i merely referred to him as "the serbian dentist." maybe it's better that way. let's call him s.d. for short.

the morning of 11 march (actually, considering the time difference it was probably 12 march), as news of slobodan's dubious death reached australia, lindsay strolled down to breakfast and spotted s.d. sitting alone at a table. after gathering some food, she plopped down next to him, gave him a playful nudge, and said,

"hey! bet you're glad ol' milošević is dead, huh? all the war crimes & genocide & stuff. eh?"

s.d. looked up slowly from his breakfast, tears welling in his eyes, and quietly responded,

"he was a great leader."

as he goes back to eating, lindsay proceeds to open her mouth and insert her own foot.


in the interest of full disclosure, i will confess that the tears never happened; i just felt the need to take some dramatic liberties with the story. i also found out (via the dirty seductress that is wikipedia) that apparently s.d. is not alone in his opionions. who knew there was a whole well-organised community of them out there? perhaps s.d. himself is a covert ICDSM member. i suppose we'll never know. what i DO know is that i think saying slobodan was a great leader is a bit like saying the janjaweed are great horsemen and no dentist, serbian or otherwise, will ever change my mind.

at any rate, it makes for a hell of a good story, and one that i will never, ever let shofferhoffer live down.