Now THIS is The Place of Eternal Torment

There are few people I dislike more than those who pokes his/her fingers and sharp instruments around my mouth for a living. Especially if that someone tells me some news that I am not particularly fond of. For example that I have several cavities that all need to be fixed within the near future or else I will need several root canals and that I have several others on “watch”.

If you haven't already made the assumption, I went to the dentist today. A place that has left me mentally scarred for years to come. I do not enjoy the drilling, the molding, the poking, the prying, nor am I particularly fond of the needles. Every time I step into the office, and smell the various odorous dental fumes, I can't help but start laughing a nervous, psychotic giggle in remembrance of Bill Cosby. I swear, every time I sit in the chair I smell smoke.

Since the last time I sat in a dentist chair, it had been about two and a half years. Not even a cleaning. I didn't even brush my teeth very often. Some how, we had lost my other dentist and I had nowhere to turn, which was perfectly fine with me. However, when I did finally find a dentist, he made me want to punch at a wall.

The last dentist I had been to, and I hate to give titles, was an idiot, and it was only a few months ago I went to him too, but he didn’t do anything. He was poking around painfuly and when I tried to tell him, he would completely ignore me. I guess he thought that anyone under the age of thirty couldn’t think for themselves or know when or when not they were feeling pain.

After using an ultrasonic picker-thing-y and throughly rattling my brains, I decided to express my thoughts on my pain the most professional way I knew how, and before you judge, keep in mind that the truth comes from the mouths of babes. And I, as it is, am a babe.

“That was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my natural born life.”

His reply? “O-open wide.”

As a matter of fact, that was his reply to most of my utterances and inquires. When asked as to wether the random numbers and letters he had spewed out were cavities, the only good teeth or he was simply making small talk with the hygienist he responded with an “O-open wide.” and then began poking a sharp metal thing in my molars. As I clutched my hand to my chest and waved the other franticly in the air, to explain to him that I was in a something less than comfortable predicament, and whatever he was doing was causing me a certain amount of pain, apparently my mouth began to close, for his response was again; “O-open wide.”

His receptionist constantly called me Dane-er too.

Having been therowly irked, I expressed my discontent to my father on the car ride home (in tones that nearly cracked the car windows) and *we* decided that it might be a good idea to find someone else.

And we did; a dentist office only twenty minutes away, and they don't hurt as bad. I do not, nevertheless, enjoy the news he gave me. Due to radioactive evidence (x-rays taken by professionals) and a considerable amount of pain, I was deemed unclean with a total of seven cavities. This I am not happy about, because I have to go now, in rapid succession, to five different dentist appointments, where I will walk out looking considerably like I've had a stroke sometime in the immediate past. In fact, I will have so much numbing drugs on board in such a short period of time, That I will wonder if it is humanly possible to get high off a combination of anesthetic, Novocain and ibuprofen. This is exactly why I don’t like to go to the dentist. They tell me the truth, and in this case the truth hurts like a bad tooth ache.

Oh, and just a quick thought about the painting above. I really like this painting that I just kind of stumbled on. Its done by Kenneth T. Murphy, though I find most of his art something close to disturbing, a lot the majority are really quite good. You can find more here.

First Entry (woopie!)

Hi Everyone! (assuming that at least more than one person besides my mother is reading this) This is a new blog of mine that I decided to try out. I've never had one before, and thought it would be a fun thing to do. Writing being a passion of mine, as well as life, fashion and art, I've decided to keep that as a theme. The options are endless, so day after day things will be different and I will try to be funny as much as I can, although I'm not sure if other people will laugh with me. I suppose if they don't I'll have to close this down and go suck my thumb in a nearby dark closet.

I have two dogs, two cats and eight chickens that will make appearances from time to time, staying really only long enough to dirty the carpets in this virtual world and eat the virtual cookies and cake (I am having a virtual party, you know). My mother will do a piece of writing from time to time, being a writer herself, and my father... well... he might pop in too. In the distant future. Way distant.

Anyway, I'll have funny stories, past experiences and if I get to a goodwill, thrift shop or Wall -Mart, I'll have some cloths bashing too. And I can bash. Wherever "bash" came from anyway. (It is a funny word come to think of it...hm...). During summer, I'll have tails of vacation trips gone wrong and my family going through some disastrous tail of woe that we'll all laugh about in forty years. Assuming that we'll all be alive then.

I know this really isn't beginning with a bang, but please tell your family, freinds, pets, children, spouses, creepy hobo that lives in front of the postoffice, anyone. It doesn't really matter. If you like it, spread the word, if you don't, let me know. Or you could just stop reading. Just not reading it would be good too. You really don't have to, but you know... thats always good too. Like to keep your options open.

If you are reading this, please comment and say hi. I really don't get out much, so even virtual consent is good. Let me know if you have any suggestions, and once I figure out how to work this, you can send me any types of Art, Fashion, Writing you ether loved or made you laugh until your sides hurt. If you have anything you've done yourself, send it as well. That is if I figure out how to work this.

Do you have any clue what I'm about to write? Good, nether do I. See ya. (virtually)

PS Remember to comment!