In which I rant, and almost swear, but didn't bite....at least, not today.

There is a person in my life. 

Actually, there are 5 people like this in my life...at some stage of the game.

I really really really don't like this person.

I don't want to be around this person.  At all.

I don't want to be touched, talked to, nudged...NOTHING by this person.

And every year, I end up seeing this person multiple times.

I've put forth a galliant effort to avoid this person at all costs.

Everyone encourages me to see this person.

I hate that.

It's a conspiracy.....he's got everyone on his side.

If I don't, I'm risking a social issue.

I really, really, really don't like this person.

And to top it all off....

I flippin' pay this person to see me.

These archaic, horrible, barbaric things done to me in their presence...

...are flippin' PAID for!!!

And they're expensive too!

Who is this person, you ask?

Who is this awful, horrible, needs-to-fall-off-the-face-of-the-Earth person?

The dentist.

(shudder)

Even writing it makes me feel all kinds of yuck.

It started when I was young. 

My first dentist was about 80 years old, and I had horrible nightmares about him after I saw "Nightmare on Elm Street" for the first time. 

The second one tried magic to ease my nerves, but it was too late.  I was already on to them.  I waited at every appointment for them to haul out their leather gloves donning sharpened knives.  I swear he wore a red striped sweater under his coat every time I was there.

The third.  Yeah.  He liked to drill the "oh, just a little cavity" without Novocaine.  Which kind of makes me think that perhaps there wasn't a real cavity there and he just needed to bill someone.

I bit him.  He kept drilling after I told him to stop.  Actually, it came out like "ooopppp!!  oooowwww!  ooooooo!"  He didn't stop, so I bit him.  Then he got mad at me, so I swore at him.  Yes, I did.  See?  They bring out the worst in me!!!

The fourth, well, he work Hawaiian shirts.  Which was nice.  But he still had a freak load of picks and machinery from the turn of the century waiting for the screamers in the back room.

I threw up on him.  He got me all worked up, and I threw up.  Another time, the hygienist was picking and picking at the same spot.  I asked her (kindly) to move on and she didn't.  So, I pushed her (gently) out of my mouth, announced that the appointment was over and dropped the alligator clips at the front desk on my way out.  There was a purple star on my chart in this office.

And that brings us to the one I saw today.  The one that filled my mouth with numb-er, shots, drills, composite material....blech.

This one made me leave looking like a stroke victim.  And since I was in a post adrenaline-rush stupor, I thought it was fitting to go to Kohl's to spend my Kohl's cash.  Yes, cause I make the best decisions after a trauma like that.  (Yes, trauma)

And of all people, I wouldn't run into my sister in law and niece and nephew there...slurping up my drool.  Nope.  So, when my husband asks me why I debited the $14.86 today, I am going to tell him that the fricking dentist made me do it, and to take it up with him.

His appointment is next week.