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Wednesday, August 6, 2008


So I don't know why I like going to the dentist, aside from the fact that he has, on occasion, given me cake and cookies.

I had my regular cleaning today, and after being poked, prodded, x-rayed, scraped, and florinated I actually asked for more. Well, that's not entirely true.

The hygienist found what was thought to be a small cavity. I'd gone down this path before, so I said "is it really small." He said, "yes, but you need to get it filled." So I said, "ok, but no novacaine, I don't want to drool all evening, I have a meeting at 6:30." It turns out, after he started drilling that it was deeper than he thought. So about halfway through I raised my hand and said, "ok, time to numb me and while your at it, what can you do about my crooked tooth?"

So another half hour later and I had my cavity filled (minds out of the gutter...) and the crooked one was bonded into what looks like a perfectly straight tooth. Yey! Now my smile is pretty much symmetrical!

Now who else that you know would actually ask for work to be done?



At 8/07/2008 2:25 AM, Blogger naechstehaltestelle's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

Hmm...depends on whether there'd be Vicodin involved.

At 8/08/2008 12:43 PM, Blogger honeykbee's whiny, bitch-ass comment is...

I've had similar encounters at the obgyn. You don't want to know.


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