No. No no no no. I object. Strenuously! Someone please make note of my objection to this whole "holidays be over get your ass up and get back to work" bullshit.
I had a dentist appointment this morning, just to kick off the New Year right, all healthy and proactive-wise. (Translation: I made the appointment five million years ago and took the first appointment date and time they offered me without thinking about it, then was too scared of the phone to call and cancel.) I really...dislike going to the dentist, a fact which I realize makes me 1) an incredibly unique special snowflake, and 2) a big baby.
I am such a big baby, in fact, that whenever I am offered numbing anesthetic, gas or mind-altering substances of any kind, I take them. Happily! And then I zone out and try not to picture my hypocritical ass hauling my kids to the dentist, where I still sometimes I have to pin their arms down with my knees once the promise of a 5-cent bouncy ball prize has lost its motivation appeal.
Today I accepted some topical anesthetic for my gums, which kind of spread to the underside of my tongue and my lips, which meant I spent the entire cleaning ATTEMPTING to follow the hygenist's instructions, but mostly failing. "Open wide! Now close, but open slighly. No, just slightly. Move your tongue. No, the other way. Relax your bottom lip. No, YOUR BOTTOM LIP."
And then I would have to stop and think about my bottom lip, which I could not feel, but was aware it was still somewhat connected to my jaw (as opposed to in my lap, like Bill Cosby's, at least) so maybe if I just did...something...with that general area...that would? Yes? Is it relaxed? Am I relaxed? I feel like I am relaxed because there's some kind of liquid running down my neck and into my hair that I hope is not my own drool. Or am I imagining that? Phantom dental leakage? Numbing gel to brain transfer? Am I high right now? What is lip? Who is dog?
The exam rooms at my dentist's office all have the ceilings decorated with dozens and dozens of buttons — the pieces of flair kind, that is, jammed into the acoustic tile — and so you can spend your appointment squinting at old political campaign sayings, yellowed 1970s anthropomorphic rainbows telling you to dream/smile/keep on trucking, etc., and a collection of Broadway-themed buttons that always give me a terrible flashback to junior high, when I neatly decorated my backpack with buttons representing the entire show catalog of one Andrew Lloyd Webber.
But most of the buttons appear to be pharmaceutical conference swag, which never fails to amuse me once that sweet-ass numbing gel kicks in, because I can't stop picturing some executive being like, I know! We'll give away buttons! Everybody loves buttons! Especially buttons about blood pressure medication and Acuvue lenses. And thus some PR or marketing assistant was sent off to price up how much it will cost to rush-order 1,000 buttons with a bad pun about plantar warts printed on them, wondering how the hell it ever came to this.
(My favorite button simply says "100% PURE CANOLA OIL." That's it. Just...yes. So delightfully random and I love it. I want to raise the exam chair as high as it goes, steal that button and put it on a backpack.)
Anyway, I need a crown on one of my back molars. So that'll be fun. Or horrific? I've never had a crown before. Do they give you good drugs? Do you get to pick a prize afterwards? Maybe a button with some kind of dental-related pun? You tell me, I don't know the drill.
(WAIT FOR IT)
(I WROTE THIS ENTIRE POST JUST TO MAKE THAT TERRIBLE JOKE, YES)