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dribble, dribble, drool
Friday, 21 October 2005 02:20 pmNo, it's not another hopeless fangirl moment: it's the result of a somewhat unpleasant hour at the dentist this morning. On the downside, he had to replace a filling and file off bits of cracked teeth. On the upside, he's pretty much the Ideal Dentist: soft-spoken, gentle, very concerned not to cause pain, and tends to keep up a rambling monologue telling you exactly what he's doing at any one moment, which I deeply appreciate in a health professional. On the downside, half of my face is still numb, causing me to drool and dribble tea down my front.
What is it with dentists' equipment? The injection is the least of it - a moment's pain, and then blissful numbness. But, pain aside, the rest of the experience is possibly worse. If I wanted a swarm of giant demented robot bees inside my skull, I could arrange it for myself, thank you very much. The vibration puts my teeth on edge, and I spend a lot of the time trying desperately to make the Basso Profundo Mosquito Whine harmonise with the Mosquito Whine On Nitrous Oxide, which it doesn't. Then there's the Miniature Pavement-Pounder, the Miniature High-suction Vacuum, and the Thing That Buzzes On The Precise Frequency That Puts My Teeth On Edge. Besides, I have a horribly sensitive upper palate, and tend to gag on dentists without provocation. And I have to more or less continuously fight to stop myself from exploring all this weird metallic stuff in my mouth, with my tongue. Dentists. Pshaw.
The ground troops of the Army of Reconstruction have taken to leaving their lunch-time soft drink cans all over the lawn. There Will Be A Reckoning.
And, it occurs to me I'm overdue for a Things You Might Not Have Known About Me, #9. One of my secret vices is playing loud rock piano, often cheesy 80s hits, badly, by ear, when no-one's around to listen. Unless my Evil Landlord has annoyed me, in which case I play at him. Heh.
What is it with dentists' equipment? The injection is the least of it - a moment's pain, and then blissful numbness. But, pain aside, the rest of the experience is possibly worse. If I wanted a swarm of giant demented robot bees inside my skull, I could arrange it for myself, thank you very much. The vibration puts my teeth on edge, and I spend a lot of the time trying desperately to make the Basso Profundo Mosquito Whine harmonise with the Mosquito Whine On Nitrous Oxide, which it doesn't. Then there's the Miniature Pavement-Pounder, the Miniature High-suction Vacuum, and the Thing That Buzzes On The Precise Frequency That Puts My Teeth On Edge. Besides, I have a horribly sensitive upper palate, and tend to gag on dentists without provocation. And I have to more or less continuously fight to stop myself from exploring all this weird metallic stuff in my mouth, with my tongue. Dentists. Pshaw.
The ground troops of the Army of Reconstruction have taken to leaving their lunch-time soft drink cans all over the lawn. There Will Be A Reckoning.
And, it occurs to me I'm overdue for a Things You Might Not Have Known About Me, #9. One of my secret vices is playing loud rock piano, often cheesy 80s hits, badly, by ear, when no-one's around to listen. Unless my Evil Landlord has annoyed me, in which case I play at him. Heh.
