After a good cleaning…

Dear Hygienist:

You’re lovely.  Really you are.  But am I really the first person to tell you that when my mouth is cranked open and you have both hands and several scaling tools rooting around in there, I cannot answer your questions.  I’m not even sure why you ask them.  I mean, I know you’re just being nice and being pleasant and friendly and all, and I appreciate that, but I’d be just fine if we just wait until you’re done in there before we catch up.

p.s. – Quit mentioning how it’s been over a year since I’ve been for a check up.  I know that and it’s really annoying.  I’m here now; what more do you want from me?

***

Dear Strange Substitute Dentist:

A) Asking me if “anything memorable” happened to me today is weird.  Don’t do that.

B) You smell like garlic.  Given your profession, I feel strange having to remind you to brush your teeth after you lunch.

C) Don’t you DARE try to tell me how to brush my teeth.  I am 30 years old and have been brushing for probably 28 years.  I guess you didn’t read the note on my file where it says that I have impeccable oral hygiene.  All that is required from you is to tell me how beautiful my teeth look.

D) Please don’t grab my bottom lip and tug it like it comes off.  And by “please don’t…”, I mean “do that again and I’m going to go ahead a Roshambo your family jewels, alright?

E) Yeah, I have my wisdom teeth.  Yes, there are only three of them.  That’s how many I got.  Yup, they’re in there straight.  I’ve seen them before.  And I know how to care for them.  Notice how they’re nice and shiny and clean and free from cavities, plaque and tartar?  I’ve got this.

***

Dear Pen At The Front Counter:

You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you.  What with your comically tiny size?  Yeah, I hate you.  First of all, I have giant hands and wee pens are stupid.  Second, you think you’re too good to open like a normal sized pen?  You have to be all smart and pull open instead?  What self respecting pen pulls open?  Quit being a douche.