Fear Factor

Today I faced my second greatest fear. I went to the dentist. There is only one thing I like about the dentist, the potential to have a needle stuck in me. For some reason I really enjoy needles. Other than that, I could do without the scraping and poking and drilling. It really kills all of your senses. I don't like the smell, taste, sound, sight or feeling of the dentist. And it doesn't matter how much you brush and floss, you are still going to get the royal treatment there. It's not like anybody has ever sat down in that chair and had the hygienist say, "Everything looks perfect! It looks so good that I don't have to scrape anything. I'm going to take an early lunch now. Thank you." And no matter what, I end up with chapped lips as a result. They have a tool to suck out all the liquid from your mouth. And they yank your lips like they are in some sort of cartoon. Needless to say, I am not a big fan of going to the dentist.

To add insult to injury my wife works at the dental office(and decided to take pictures). It was one of those ohbytheways. You know, the things that get mentioned after you have already fallen in love. Like, "Oh by the way, I have an extra toe and webbed feet." It's too late to abandon the human duck, you have already fallen in love. So it was with Mrs. Mustachio. I don't remember exactly how she broke the news to me that she worked for a dentist, but I do remember wondering what other horrible secrets she was keeping from me. How could she keep such vital information from me until after I fell in love? So, now I end up at the dentist at least twice a year.

I seem to be straying from my main point (I also feel the need to state that my wife has the correct number of toes and, as far as I know, no webs. I could start talking about my foot phobia, but will spare myself the thought). As I was sitting in the chair, squeezing my hands until they went numb, my mind started to wander. I now have a new dentist theory. I believe that ventriloquism was invented because of a dentist. Everybody's dentist tries to carry on a conversation with you as they are sticking their hands and tools in your mouth. How can you even respond? I think they just strike up conversation to drown out the elevator music that gets pumped into the room. So one day I'm guessing that some dude with no friends and a desire to have a conversation with another human being figured out a way to talk without moving their mouth. Then they wouldn't brush their teeth and they would schedule dental appointments every month. Still in need of some sort of interaction, they made a dummy and carried on conversations with it until their next appointment. I've done absolutely no research on this theory, but based on my past theories I'm pretty confident in my correctness. So, thanks a lot dentists. Now I have another reason to dislike you.