Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Because It Was a Dentist's Favorite Time...

So I've basically been avoiding my old dentist for a year now, after he not-so-subtly issued a warning that I'd better have my wisdom teeth out before I saw him again. Since I'm basically terrified to do that whole thing, I figured it would just be easier to find a new dentist. Which I was totally going to get around to. Eventually.

But eventually came yesterday when I busted a tooth on seedless watermelon (nope, you read that right). After weighing the options of leaving it or going to see a dentist, I begrudgingly checked out the insurance Web site to find a guy who could get me in soon-ish.

I rank going to the dentist somewhere just above having my eyelids stapled shut on my list of things I dread, so I was already out of sorts when I went in before work today. After the initial x-rays, exam, small talk, etc., New Dentist tells me the same thing Old Dentist did. Wisdom teeth need to make like a chain and get yanked. He (nicely) helped me set up a date and time with an oral surgeon, patted me on the head and sent me on my way.

I was tweaking about having to go under the knife, or the wrench, or whatever the heck it is that they pull teeth with, so I stopped at my friendly local chain grocer to pick up some comfort food. Keep in mind it is barely 9 a.m., I'm decked out in my not-so-finest sweats and the only make-up I'm wearing is leftover eye smudges from the night before. I select my (albeit soft) sweets, and head to the cashier, who is the real-life twin to the Simpsons' Ned Flanders. I expected a Hi-Diddly-Oh from this guy. But he must have gotten his TV-alter-ego wires crossed, because Faux Flanders had the personality of horny used car salesman.

FF: Hey, I've been waiting all day for a beautiful girl to get in my line.
Me: It's still early, don't give up yet.

I go to punch in my debit card pin, and he notices the rings I'm sporting on good ol' lefty.

FF: Aw, man, why is it that all the hot girls are married?
Me: Maybe because you are a skeevy 50-something Jewel cashier?
Yeah, I wish. Instead, I grabbed my receipt and bolted. Dental pain and skeevy dudes are far too much to handle before 10 a.m.

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