I’m thorry, did you thay thomething?

It’s been a really long time since I’ve had a cavity, but today was the beginning of the end of that party. As a result, for the next several hours this computer will be the only place I can talk without slurring my speech as a result of the tranquilizer dart Novocain. Much like all mundane tasks in my life, I did not endure this experience without observation. As one who has admitted to wearing decade old underwear and once upon a time memorizing all of Lionel Richie’s songs, you should know I wouldn’t lie to you. Plus, I appreciate knowing that you can’t personally witness the drooling from where you sit.

First, a little advice. I highly recommend that anyone who is about to commit to an hour in a dentist’s chair take a quick inventory of the amount of fluids already consumed that morning. In fact, just to be safe I suggest a quick visit to the little girl’s room before surrendering your vocal orifice as the dentist’s playground. This is even better advice when the restroom for this office is not actually located in their office, but down the hall. Otherwise you may discover 20 minutes later that your bowels are filled with anything but mercy, but figuring that you were already this far into the procedure you tell yourself you can hold it, which you do. For another 20 minutes. But he is still drilling, only now you have cotton and wires sticking out, and you are praying to the God of Public Humiliation that if he loves you he will help prevent you from being the first grown adult to urinate in the dentist’s chair. Finally, you may become so desperate that you try to cover it up with humor and ask your dentist if he can see your back teeth floating in there, which you will follow up with nervous laughter until he gets the message and takes out the most obtrusive foreign objects and sets you free. And yes, I really did ask him about the floating teeth.

Second, a word about drilling. If R2D2 were on Jerry Springer and was told by his momma that his brother was sleeping with his fiancé, and that she wasn’t even sure about his real daddy because he was actually a bastard robot from a seedy one night stand she indulged in while visiting the Death Star, I think he would get angry and yell several consecutive robot curses and derogatory proclamations at the top of his radio frequency voice.
And I think it would sound a lot like the drilling on my teeth.

Third, a question. Where exactly are you supposed to focus your eyes when another human being is staring at you from three inches away for over an hour? There’s only so long that I can stare at the brand name printed on the overhead light. Just once I think it would be amusing to stare into their eyes the entire time.

Fourth, a lesson learned. I will never be comfortable with another person being that close to my face wielding sharp objects. And finally, there’s just something about feeling a needle in your gums, seeing smoke wafting up from your mouth, and feeling your lips inflate like Lisa Rinna's after a collagen injection for the rest of the day that inspires you to reconsider your commitment to flossing. I think it’s time I take it seriously.