Ah summer. Bugs, butt-crack sweat, lawn mowing, and whiny, bored kids. Isn't it great? For me, there is another agenda that summer brings: check-ups. Yes folks, summer is the time where I somehow manage to cram all of my yearly check-ups (save one) into a span of three months.
One of these delights is....your favorite and mine....the dentist.
Don't get me wrong. I love my dentist. He's this kindly older guy who doesn't try to sell you a bunch of crap that you don't need. Dr. Farley rules. I highly recommend him.
I....just.....hate....going. I'm not, "Read me my last rites," whiney, but it's not a cure for boredom.
Today, I got a new hygienist. That's fun. I quickly found out how much fun. It seemed to go on and on.
"You're bleeding a lot."
Um...goodie. That's not something you tend to want to hear. She picked away long and hard, searching for the Hope diamond that she was convinced was hidden in my gums. I think enough blood was spilled that it would have made the 300 look like a minor spat.
All the while, KOMA was cheerfully kicking out 80s songs--and by some cosmic joke--they played "What a Feelin'." Somehow I don't think Irene Cara was thinking along the dental line when she sang this. I've got your feelin' right here, honey. It's called pain and irritation.
Then kindly Dr. Farley came in, and while he was bending over me, examining me, I got to be assaulted by Prince's "Little Red Corvette." For those of you familiar with that song, it's pretty dirty. I tried my best not to cringe at my dentist, while Prince happily simpered about "all the jockeys that were there before me." ACK.
So here I am....two hours later and I can STILL taste blood in my mouth. I guess the nice part is, I have a year until the Grim Reaper bearing a mouth pick will beckon me.
One of these delights is....your favorite and mine....the dentist.
Don't get me wrong. I love my dentist. He's this kindly older guy who doesn't try to sell you a bunch of crap that you don't need. Dr. Farley rules. I highly recommend him.
I....just.....hate....going. I'm not, "Read me my last rites," whiney, but it's not a cure for boredom.
Today, I got a new hygienist. That's fun. I quickly found out how much fun. It seemed to go on and on.
"You're bleeding a lot."
Um...goodie. That's not something you tend to want to hear. She picked away long and hard, searching for the Hope diamond that she was convinced was hidden in my gums. I think enough blood was spilled that it would have made the 300 look like a minor spat.
All the while, KOMA was cheerfully kicking out 80s songs--and by some cosmic joke--they played "What a Feelin'." Somehow I don't think Irene Cara was thinking along the dental line when she sang this. I've got your feelin' right here, honey. It's called pain and irritation.
Then kindly Dr. Farley came in, and while he was bending over me, examining me, I got to be assaulted by Prince's "Little Red Corvette." For those of you familiar with that song, it's pretty dirty. I tried my best not to cringe at my dentist, while Prince happily simpered about "all the jockeys that were there before me." ACK.
So here I am....two hours later and I can STILL taste blood in my mouth. I guess the nice part is, I have a year until the Grim Reaper bearing a mouth pick will beckon me.
My awkward dental musical moment--head of the missions committee signing along with Boyz 2 Men as he worked on my mouth..."I'll make love to you..."
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