Sunday's drive up your blog… with Ramblin' Rooster

The official blog of

Posts Tagged ‘dentist

Dentists In the Afternoon

leave a comment »

Dentists in the Afternoon… I hate that song!

 I hate the dentist, like unnatural discomfort, as in probable phobia. I could make a list of things, horrible things, that I’d rather do than go the dentist that if rolled out would circle the earth eleven times. I’m not talkin’ icky things like “eat scorpions” or “stick my hand in a toilet at a Mexican restaurant”, (although those are numbers 16 and 11,289 respectively). No, I’m talking about things so disgusting that even I can’t say them to myself.


One good thing about the dentist is that I can always get an afternoon appointment, which in turn means that I don’t have to go back to work, i.e. I get to have a mini-vacation every six months. That’s pretty cool I guess, but it doesn’t mean that I think any better of going to the dentist, it just means I like using my sick leave as vacation.


I find that of all the medical professions, dentistry is still a very medieval practice. There doesn’t seem to be very much “modern marvel”. They still use metal hooks to scrape and poke you for crying in the night. It’s downright savage.


I like the “napkin” they place on you with roach clips. That’s classy and sophisticated. Every time they put it on me, I always say, “Oh boy, are we having ribs?” It’s never gotten a laugh. I don’t expect it to get belly rolls, but it’s never even gotten a smile. I guess hygienists are just very solemn people. My guess is that it related to having to smell and see people’s teeth after lunch. “I brushed my teeth at work in the bathroom. I thought they were clean.” Whatever…


Besides the prehistoric, caveman tools, lack of humor and general anxiety attacks, the things that always gets me about the dentist is the gloves in my mouth. I’ve had a technician or two stick the powdery ones in my mouth before. Talk about disgusting. Why don’t they make flavored latex gloves? Everything else in that damn office is mint flavored, why not the latex? What’s that? They do? Oh… I hate my dentist.


Not only for that, but because I am no longer offered a dip in the treasure chest on my way out. I think the Porsche in the parking lot can allow me a two cent prize.


Egg On!
Ramblin’ Rooster


Written by Ramblin' Rooster

May 1, 2009 at 4:04 am

Laughing On Laughing Gas Makes Me Feel Guilty

leave a comment »

When “meth” started taking over the news and famous people who weren’t suppose to be drug addicts started coming out of the woodwork, the world started changing. Suddenly you couldn’t buy cold medicine anymore without showing a driver’s licence and somewhere there’s a list of how often all these people have bought it and where. Can you say, “Big Brother is watching”? So naturally my paranoia grew.

There were a couple of times at the doctor’s office, where the subject of pain medication came up and I had a moment of feeling like I was faking, (even though I wasn’t) just to get a pill prescription, but those stories are kind of boring and I’ve already told you the point/meaning you would extract if I told you the whole story. Where the real weirdness comes in, is at the dentist.

Before we get into it, I need to say I’m borderline phobic of dentists. I equate dentistry to pain and I don’t like to go in for visits.

For some reason, dentists still use “laughing gas” or nitrous oxide. You’d think by now they would have invented some bubble gum flavored laser that could zap away the pain.

The first time I “got the gas” I was pretty young, but I remember telling the doctor I could still feel him working and if he could “turn it up”. He replied, “I’ve got it as high as it can go, which I’ve never done for a patient before.” Wow, I guess that makes me special.

The second time wasn’t that long ago, so I have a much better recollection of it. The nurse turned it on, told me to “breath deep” and left the room. I started “huffing” on it. Time alone doing nothing feels like forever, so I don’t know how much time passed before I started thinking, “It’s not doing anything.” I started to “huff” harder. Then I started to feel warm and fuzzy. Next the urge to start to giggling began. At first I try to fight it, but alas it’s futile. In the end a always let out a little “stoner’s” laugh. No matter what, I feel incredible guilty laughing on “laughing gas”. I guess I think that it shouldn’t be enjoyable, or maybe that I’ll get in trouble and they’ll take it away. Which ever is the case, I try to stifle the laughing, but it always makes me laugh more. To make matters worse, the chair at the dentist never faces where they come into the room. For all I know the doctor and the nurse could be standing just outside watching me and talking about what an idiot I am. It’d be pretty cool to be a dentist.

FYI – I don’t know if I’ll be able to write tomorrow’s blog. I need to look into becoming a dentist to get me a “nitrous tank” of my own, as to avoid the guilt of laughing.

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

October 19, 2008 at 5:41 am