novacaine for the soul

Went to the dentist today for a crown prep.  Isn’t it sad when you start looking forward to major dental work because of the nitrous?  And the potential to get a script for Vicodin? 

“Karen, we’re going to need to put a crown on that tooth.”

“Great!  How soon can we do it?”

I love having the opportuninty to sit in a chair for two hours, thinking nitrous oxide thoughts and spinning stories in my head, while someone drills my tooth down to a stump.   Back in my 20s, I used to enjoy that same floating feeling after smoking some really good pot and sitting in front of a blaring stereo.

Some people hate the dentist.  I do not understand this, myself.  After the novacaine shots, you can’t feel anything anyway.  Those people hovering above me with their strange, midieval-looking instruments could be removing all my teeth and replacing them with colored beads; I could care less as long as they keep the gas coming. 

I’m back at work now and am more or less coherent.  When I talk I sound like a stroke victim or a person with Down’s.  This has been very entertaining for my work mates.  I’m so glad I can provide that kind of quality entertainment for them.

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