I had to go to the dentist today.
I've put it off long enough- too long, actually. I was afraid he'd declare my teeth a total loss and offer me $20 for the salvage... OK, it wasn't really that bad, but I did have three teeth on one side that really needed work.
The dentist is a good guy, a retired Navy officer. His assistant is not a retired Navy officer. She is a pretty redhead with green eyes, who thinks Velvet is the cutest thing she's ever seen. It occurred to me that a dental assistant is like a magician's assistant- just a distraction; and my dentist must read Conservative Cave, because he clearly knew to distract me with a pretty redhead. No bacon, though.
But no matter how pleasant the dentist, or how pretty his assistant, there was no way to make the experience pleasant. It made me remember Marathon Man and Little Shop of Horrors. And that's all I have to say about that </Forrest Gump voice>
After leaving his torture chamber office, I stopped at the store to get some soft food. To hell with it, I wanted some carbohydrates. Chocolate brownies sounded good, but the bakery only had them with walnuts. I bought a chocolate pudding cake- for medicinal purposes, of course.
By the time I got home, the left side of my face was swelled up, and I was drooling like a DUmmy at the thought of a disability check. With the local worn off, my mouth feels like I tried to eat a beer bottle, and mostly succeeded.
It's been a good evening for sitting at home alone, drinking bourbon and eating chocolate pudding cake, and not watching King Putt open our borders to every disease-ridden fence jumper and tunnel rat who can get his sorry ass across the River Jordan to the Promised Land.
To summarize: going to the dentist sucks, bourbon goes pretty damn well with chocolate pudding cake, and I don't know how to say "Welcome to America, assholes" in Spanish.
