Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Just A Quickie

This is just a quickie to tide you over until I can come up with the most scathingly brilliant idea ever. Which may not be so quick, so don't hold your breath.

My trip to the dentist brought both good news and bad news. Good, because all he did was put in my crown. Bad, because now I have to worry about those fillings next time I go. Or another crown. They can't make up their mind. Originally, this was supposed to be three fillings and a cleaning. Or the September one was supposed to be a crown and a filling. They can't make up their minds. Methinks they plan the most expensive stuff first. They have to support that giant clown that sits between the waiting area and the torture chairs. Which is a bit disconcerting.

Have I not mentioned the clown before? I believe I spoke of the big ceramic fellow who sits on top of the cabinetry in the first cubicle. I call it a cubicle, but it is actually no more than a chair and the instruments-of-pain-containing cabinets. This whole office is open, like a New York loft, if you will. A New York loft with 6 dentist chairs and accompanying cupboards. So you walk by the other sheep in their stalls. You can hear them right next to you. Perhaps it is to discourage screaming, the likes of which we heard at my children's dentist. Go figure. I go to a kids' dentist, and take them to a regular dentist.

Anyhoo, getting back to the clown business...I would think that a clown perched atop the cabinetry would have a negative effect on business at a children's dentist. Many small fry are a-scared of clowns. Their parents never should have let them watch Stephen King's IT. But that's beside the point.

There is another clown, the giant one by the waiting area. It is as tall as me. It kind of looks like Ronald McDonald, but not in the delicious greasy food way. It is the holder of the nitrous oxide tank, my son tells me. Though why they would have it right there by the front door for someone to snatch and run is beyooooond me. How sad. I depend on gas from a giant clown to drown my dental sorrows. And I didn't even get me none o' that sweet, sweet nitrous today.

Which brings me to my point. Or would. If I had one. My Genius just interrupted me to help him with the problem: Z/0.7 = 4.2 . He did not like my explanation, or the free answer I gave him of 2.94. Fie on him. He's a time-sucker, that boy. He is going to make me miss some quality time with my new crown and the TV.

That boy needs to straighten up. And I'm NOT clownin' around!
But I will be if the MegaMillion numbers Mabel gave me pan out tonight.

5 comments:

Queen Of Cheese said...

Now you know why I go to the dentist at the Indian Clinic, they don't do anything they don't have to! I hate going to a certain dentist in town because he always asks how your credit is instead of how you are. It's just wrong to have to have a credit check BEFORE your teeth are checked!

Mean Teacher said...

Dentists are scary. I had braces for 5 years, and by the time that was over I thought I could never be afraid of a dentist again. I was so very wrong. I've had a bunch of them to supposedly turn on the nitrous, but I couldn't feel it. Or to give me novocaine, but I COULD feel it.

Right now I have a tooth in the back of my mouth that a big hunk broke off of. That happened in December. At the moment, I didn't have insurance. Since then I've realized that it wasn't the lack of insurance keeping me from getting it looked at. It's the fear of being tortured. Tortured and overcharged, that is.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Queenie,
Yeah. They're kind of like mechanics.

Meanie,
Funny thing...they did that to me once. That stuff wasn't working at all. They kept pretending to turn up the gas, but what did I know, I was standing on my head and that gas cannister that they took out of the giant clown was not in my line of vision. I know they were ripping me off. They kept saying how it was running low. I didn't catch even the slightest buzz off of it, and was nervous as a gigolo at a paternity hearing.

Oh, and my dentist says they don't use novocaine, they use lidocaine, to which I have a sensitivity, and my blood pressure shoots up, so I have to take a pill 30 minutes before and tell them NOT to use the lidocaine, but its weaker sister, mepivacaine, who does not linger as long, only half the time of lidocaine, which at least encourages the dentist to work faster. Oh, and I caught him one time aiming that harpoon-looking syringe thingy into my mouth, and I said, "Mepivacaine, right?" And he said, "Oops. Cindy, get me the mepivacaine." They need to quit clownin' around in that office.

Redneck Diva said...

I'm with QoC! I go to the indians because you can darn well bet they aren't going to do one iota more than they have to!

And no clowns. Definitely no clowns. Omg, no clowns. If the pain and torture wasn't enough, the clowns would keep me away for eternity. I'd be a toothless ol' redneck by the age of 39 if there were clowns.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Diva,
Laws, yes! Clowns and dentists should not be in cahoots.