I went today for my Wisdom Teeth extraction consultation and, once I found the darn place (stupid piece of sh- shoddy circuitry GPS, Gross Piece of -uh- Crap) I walked up to the sunny receptionist and noticed that her desk - was plywood.
This can mean one of two things.
1. The oral surgeon undercharges which means YAY for my wallet
2. The oral surgeon's attention to detail is not very - uh - detailed. Which frightens me and my "sockets."
"We're on an hour wait time..." the woman said apologetically and, as all smiling people tend to do, she won me over.
I settled into an uncomfortable seat, pulled out my wonderful book "Love Walked In" (No, really - it's great - you'll love it - go get it! The rhetoric alone will make you love words like you've never loved them before! Ahem...) and started to read.
And that's when the Patients from Hell entered. Straight from the movie "Idiocrasy" a large woman in unfortunate jean shorts and Nike's from 1989 loudly entered the area and was followed by a tiny girl and a matching tiny boy. A small child blathered between them and I started a bit when I noticed that oh my heavens that was their daughter. Yup, the youngin's had sprouted a youngin. I doubted that their combined ages could have compared to my 25+5 years.
I decided to ignore them for dwindling on the unfairness selection of life and the unfortunate dying out of Natural Selection was too much to bear witness to in the waiting area of an Oral Surgeon.
Uh - apparently I would be called to witness after all..
"Hey you!" The jean-shorted lady wiggled a dirty (ew.) tissue in my direction to get my attention. I looked up at her and said, "Yes?"
"Who you here to see?" she rolled in her seat so that she was leaning in my direction. I tried not to stare at her oddly tinged hair or the balloon tattoo that snaked up her ankle that bore at least ten names. Coldness washed over me as I realized that the balloons, the fleshy, multi-colored balloons, bore the name of her offspring and that this woman, this woman of unfortunate dress and manners was single-handedly (well- almost) trying repopulate the earth. Or WV at least.
"Dr. Gonnapullmyteefers," I said.
"Yeah. He just left for lunch," she said and then she sat back and waited.
I'm not sure for what.
I guess I was supposed to have some sort of violent reaction but all I could think was "Man's gotta eat."
I blinked at her and she went on to assault the woman to her left. "MAN! This weather does a number on my sinuses. My whole body really." And damned if she didn't run a reddened hand down the front of her to caress her frontal regions.
An hour and a half later I'm finally in the big dental chair.
"Thank you for waiting," my tall dark-skinned doctor said to me in a soft and kind voice.
"No problem," I said. "And I expect a discount," I added in my head.
After the exam and his decision to only remove one of the three useless teeth that grew in my mouth, we talked about birthdays and it turns out he was also born on September 11th.
"I can't really celebrate my birthday on September 11th," he said with his middle-eastern tinged voice and with a small smile on his face. "People see me walking around, smiling, on September 11th and think 'TERRORIST!'"
I didn't want to laugh - but it was pretty damn funny and after being accosted in the waiting room by a tatooed earth re-populator I was overdue for a laugh.
So - good news: I only have to have 1 wisdom tooth out of the three removed.
Bad news: I have to have 1 wisdom tooth out of the three removed.
Young Holly is not happy about upcoming oral surgery...