What is "Little Shop of Horrors," Alex? And the song? "Dentist," sung by the exquisitely weird Steve Martin.
Yes! You win the prize! An all expense paid trip to the dentist. Which is where I went yesterday. I LOVE the dentist. Okay, no I don't. But my dentist is good, as oraldentifiers go. He's even got HD TV screens embedded in his ceiling to make the whole open-mouthed-ordeal bearable.
I had two crowns put in and an old filling replaced. Sounds simple. Took 3 hours. Tasted abominably horrible and I'm pretty sure I'll get taste-bud cancer now because of whatevertheheck they stuck in my mouth during the whole process. Plus, the needles they used to administer 3 major doses of anesthetic were not only six inches long and one inch thick, but they reached clear down into my spine, because I felt it there. I'm not kidding.
There was so much anesthesia in my face that everything below my eyeballs was totally numb, except my top lip. Felt like it was resting on someone's arm. And the bottom lip was the size of a barn. Seriously. The thing was sticking out from my face like an hors d'oeuvre platter. Could have served drinks off of it. Trying to moisten my mouth was equally absurd. Like licking someone else's lips using someone else's tongue. And there was drool, and failed attempts at eating. *sigh*
But the best part? Trying to talk. Oh that was grand. I found out who my friends are. And they ain't my husband and kid, I can tell you. I called my husband (he was eating lunch with our daughter) to let him know the whole procedure was going to be more expensive than I thought, and this is what I got:
Him: "Hello?"
Me: "Hey"
Him: "How'd it go?"
Me: "Oh, fibe. I'b goob. I bean, I ca't fee by bouf, bu' oberwibe I'b doi' okay."
Him: "*snort*"
Me: "Wha'?"
Him: "Um. Just a second. Lizz wants to hear you, I mean talk to you."
Me: "Wai'. Wha'? She wa'd do hear be? I do' thibk that'th bery nibe, you dnow"
Lizz: "Hi mom! How are you doing?"
Me: *huge sigh in preparation for impending mockery* "I'b fibe, Libb. How ah you?"
Lizz: "*snort*" "Um. I'm . . . *snort*"
Me: "Yeah. Thab grea'. Make fub ob be. Go aheab anb labb! I gabe buff to you, you doe. Biff. Beerrrrrffff. You cabe ou' ob by boby–body–you doe. I habe swesh mawks becaub ob you."
Lizz: "*snort* What? I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Could you say that again?"
Me: "Yeah. Wu'evah. Swesh mawks, swesh mawks, swesh mawks! Okay? You habby ndow?"
Lizz: "I'm . . . I'm sorry, Mom. I don't mean to . . . hahahahahahahahahahaha!!"
Me: "Yeah, tha'b gwea'. Cab I talk thoo yo fathah dow?"
Lizz: "Yes. Here he is. Sorry Mom. Hahahahah!"
Him: "Um. Hi."
Me: "Our fwendhip ib ober."
Yeah. Endlessly supportive peeps. That's what I got.
But I lub them. Don't lub the dentist. Even though he's just doing his job. If my teeth would just do theirs, everyone would be happy. But hey, I'm grateful. I've still GOT teeth. And now I can chew and talk, so it's all good.
:]> (That's me with my one remaining tooth)
Swesh mawks!!
That's zigactly what I said.