a) I am on Spring Break
b) I am bored out of my mind
c) I am in pain
d) I just want to and it's my blog so I'll do what I want
Today I went to the dentist. I hate the dentist. Not so much in a "strawberry milk....not my favorite" kind of way, but more of like a "Renee Zellwegger in anything...slit my wrists and do push-ups" kind of a way. That much plus about 12. Because of my emotional allergies to all things dentistry, and my dislove of things that go "bzzweeeeeeeeyyyeee
aaaaakkkkkiieeeeebzzaaahhhhhhhhhhkkkaaaaaayyyyaaahhhaaaaaahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!!!!!!!!!!!".... a few years ago I devised a strategem which enables me to make it through an appointment with no deaths involved...my own or of evil (but nonetheless innocent...sort of) hygenisists...or as I call them, Satan's minions of darkness.
I don't know how many of you are fans of Alias, but I for one certainly am. Being such has schooled me in the ways and means of torture. It's sad, but it's true. I know torture. And when it comes to such circumstances, if you are to be Sydney Anne Bristow, the best agent in the CIA, the cream of the crop, the creme de la creme, you must be fearless. You must not show your anxiety when they send in the masked and gloved interrigators! You must prevail!
As I am lead to the dungeon, I keep an expression of stone upon my face. I am not afraid, I will not speak. We enter the room...a single chair stands solitary in the center. The enemy's tools are layed out an orderly fashion...no doubt a tactical ploy to evoke fear in the hearts of the less Bristow-ish. I am seated and a bib of sorts is strapped around my neck...I can only imagine to catch the blood.
"Okay, Open up" a minion cackles.
"I won't tell you anything! Do you hear me?! I'm not speaking!"
She whirls on some sort of spinning, screaming contraption.
"You'll have to kill me first! Die! Gaaghh!!"
Suddenly, I wake up and realize I have been gassed! How dare they! Did I speak? What did I tell them? Have they used Veritaserum? Am I cross-fantasizing here? And more importantly....what flavor did they use? The anger settles in...one cannot prove their bravery if gas masked! Oooohhhh the injustice.
Okay, so maybe they never gassed me, and maybe all the screaming occurred only in my head...but it DID occur, and that's my point. It works people... and if you happen to get a little carried away, your dentist might hate you and ban you, but you'll feel way more bad and rad, and better than all those narcissists who chose to inflict pain on lesser souls for a living.
c) I am in pain
d) I just want to and it's my blog so I'll do what I want
Today I went to the dentist. I hate the dentist. Not so much in a "strawberry milk....not my favorite" kind of way, but more of like a "Renee Zellwegger in anything...slit my wrists and do push-ups" kind of a way. That much plus about 12. Because of my emotional allergies to all things dentistry, and my dislove of things that go "bzzweeeeeeeeyyyeee
aaaaakkkkkiieeeeebzzaaahhhhhhhhhhkkkaaaaaayyyyaaahhhaaaaaahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!!!!!!!!!!!".... a few years ago I devised a strategem which enables me to make it through an appointment with no deaths involved...my own or of evil (but nonetheless innocent...sort of) hygenisists...or as I call them, Satan's minions of darkness.
I don't know how many of you are fans of Alias, but I for one certainly am. Being such has schooled me in the ways and means of torture. It's sad, but it's true. I know torture. And when it comes to such circumstances, if you are to be Sydney Anne Bristow, the best agent in the CIA, the cream of the crop, the creme de la creme, you must be fearless. You must not show your anxiety when they send in the masked and gloved interrigators! You must prevail!
As I am lead to the dungeon, I keep an expression of stone upon my face. I am not afraid, I will not speak. We enter the room...a single chair stands solitary in the center. The enemy's tools are layed out an orderly fashion...no doubt a tactical ploy to evoke fear in the hearts of the less Bristow-ish. I am seated and a bib of sorts is strapped around my neck...I can only imagine to catch the blood.
"Okay, Open up" a minion cackles.
"I won't tell you anything! Do you hear me?! I'm not speaking!"
She whirls on some sort of spinning, screaming contraption.
"You'll have to kill me first! Die! Gaaghh!!"
Suddenly, I wake up and realize I have been gassed! How dare they! Did I speak? What did I tell them? Have they used Veritaserum? Am I cross-fantasizing here? And more importantly....what flavor did they use? The anger settles in...one cannot prove their bravery if gas masked! Oooohhhh the injustice.
Okay, so maybe they never gassed me, and maybe all the screaming occurred only in my head...but it DID occur, and that's my point. It works people... and if you happen to get a little carried away, your dentist might hate you and ban you, but you'll feel way more bad and rad, and better than all those narcissists who chose to inflict pain on lesser souls for a living.
2 comments:
oh dear, i have to go to the dentist this week and i am already feeling the compound fear coming my way...
Oh Kristen, I haven't laughed that hard in a long long time. I think the "Satan's minions" thing put it over the edge! Hilerious. I've never known someone who hates the dentist like you do! Kinda reminds me of your sheer hatred for rubber gloves...
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