Well, turns out kids these days are not only born with a mouse in one hand and like, a motherboard a 401 (k) and a Frappiccinno � in the other � but apparently many of them will go through life without ever having to suffer through sitting in a dentists chair with the Whiiiiiiirrrrrzzzzz----zzzzz---whirrrr---zzzZZZZZZZZ of a drill boring a hole through a cavity.
Apparently, these days, there are so many coatings and coverings and space aged shellac-type things available to coat the youngins� teeth like � nothing short of a small atomic explosion will begin to corrode them.
Buggers barely even have to brush! They just need to go in for cleanings and things everyonceinawhile.
I learned a lot about The Kids These Days during a one-on-one with the hygienist this past Monday.
I was nervous about the new dentist but it turns out he was a very nice older Italian fellow. Probably in the business of altering people�s dental records for various dubious activities. But who am I to judge? He was nice to me (so far) and that�s all that matters for now.
And the hygienist (who I spent most of my time with) � very nice lady. Older. In the biz of scraping tartar and dealing with fraidy cats like me for 33 years.
And she�s seen it all.
Be careful what you ask. No. Really. Because after 33 years � you know this woman has seen things.
She was scraping away at my teeth and I started to laugh.
Certain my teeth are on the brink of rotting away to nothing (even though I find out they are not) I say:
�My god, the things you must see.�
There was a little exchange. She was laughing, too. Continues her work.
Then she started out in full on belly laughter and had to stop what she was doing.
She asked �what is it you do again?�
�For like, work?�
�I umm, write. I write things.�
More laughter. �Oh yeah? Well what�s you inspiration, kid? You�ve got a bright green spot on your molar.�
I�m all, now why is that funny? That sounds awful. Why is she laughing? Are my teeth ganged green like in my dream? (No, they are not � for the record).
I�ll tell you why it�s funny, people. Turns out this jovial lady is privy to who all the dope smoking kiddies are in town are. Turns out a bright green spot on your molar is a sure sign you�re all shaking hands and feeling up Mary Jane in the basement rumpus room while your parents are getting all liquored up during cocktail hour upstairs.
Well, almost a sure sign.
Not that I would care if my dentist knew I liked to smoke The Pot, but truth be told I haven�t smoked it in years. Not since I shared a bowl with my former alcoholic roommate�s tripped out psycho-pseudo-poet brother a few days before a birthday and caught like, this wicked case of strep-fucking-throat bronchitis type sickness that turned me into the typhoid new years baby years ago.
Not that she believed me. But it�s true.
So, she kept cleaning like �suuuuure you haven�t� and I�m thinking, �eh, what do I care?�
But I do feel bad for the 14 year old kid who goes in for a routing cleaning and like, his parents are in the waiting room reading outdated copies of Good House Keeping and all they hear are screams coming from the dentist�s office.
And I don�t mean screams like �Ahhh! It hurts! It hurts!� but more like, �Bahhh! I eat a lot of spinach! I swear! The green spots are from Spinach!�
At any rate, we actually laughed a lot. And she also told me about a few other things she finds in kids� mouths these days, but it�s just really too gross to share.
No. I mean, gross.
You don�t want to know. Really.
But I will say this - just a few words to the teens out there: floss like a motherfucker before your next visit to the dentist.
No, really. F-L-O-S-S.
A lot. You will thank me.
You never know what you are telling people even when you are not speaking.
Teeth. Who knew?
p.s. thanks thanks thanks to all the lovely people who emailed me to wish me, the fraidy cat good luck with my root canal. The bad news is all that worry was for nothing. For that day. They only looked me over to assess the damage � I go in for the actual root canal on the 25th when I get back from Atlanta. Pray for me, people. Or have a drink for me. Either is acceptable and appreciated!