Thursday, October 7, 2010

Day 8 - Drill Sergeant

Do you know what I had to do today? Do you know?! I had to go to the dentist.

Can someone PLEASE explain to me why dentists absolutely insist on having a complex discussion about the state of the economy and the mysteries of life with you the moment they start excavating in your mouth? You sit in the chair, say hello, open up, start flinching from that darn mini-Captain Hook instrument, and then suddenly you find yourself frightened with confusion because this monster face that's bothering you with her Captain Hook thing IN YOUR MOUTH has asked you not a "yes" or "no" question, but one that requires a complex sentence answer.

Or, as mine then moved on to do, she'll start making terribly awkward statements about how difficult life is for her and how when she moved here from Russia she thought everything would get better and that you should feel lucky. And you sit there, still flinching from the pain, with your eyes wide in the bright light (although today I received baller 90s style sunglasses to wear under the light), uttering an embarrassing guttural "uh huh" "mmm" ?!

Well, you do come out with a set of clean teeth and that oddly satisfying rough feeling of the tip of your tongue against the back of your lower front pearlies. Also, when no one else is looking in the waiting room, you can play with that colorful round blocks thingy you remember dearly from your childhood.

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