Shocker of the century: I'm a talker. Why oh why do hygenists feel the need to make small talk? I'm not getting my nails done or my hair did. (Which, by the way, I really enjoy talking during those sessions.) In any case, there I am inhaling this gas, thinking all sorts of random things about mouth cleanliness and prostitution, when the friendly woman with the sharp instruments scrape-scrape-scrapes my enamel making it shiny and new. She proceeds to tell me about her life and such, which, again, I don't mind. I like hearing life stories. But then she feels the need to ask me questions, and my replies come out like a garbled gurgles mess. I then resort to hard blinks of yes and no, but I don't think she speaks my eye language.
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I can't wait to get my permanent crown, because this eating on one side of my mouth is awful!
2 comments:
um - OUCHIE! I hate the dentist. When do you have to go back for your permanent crown?
I love laughing gas. Har Har!!
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