Karen Goes to the Dentist

Follow-up to last post: The mystery mover was Dan. It was all just one big misunderstanding. Unless I spooked the new neighbor so badly that he decided to immediately move out that night, which... is understandable.

This entry is going to focus mainly on my past trip to the dentist, but before I continue with this long-winded story, I wanted to let you know that these past two weeks have given me the opportunity to view and read a lot of things.

I was in Delaware last weekend, and the Thursday before, I picked up Tina Fey's new book, Bossypants. Now, this book gets a lot of flack since the cover is terrifying. But after giving it a good look maybe five times, it became less scary and more endearing. It was kind of similar to how I fought my fear of Ernie and Bert from Sesame Street. While in high school.

Anyway! I like Tina Fey. It definitely took me awhile to get used to her on SNL, but after my initial jealousy of her then-daily exposure to Jimmy Fallon wore off, I realized she's insanely talented. Even though 30 Rock has been growing incredibly weaker with age, I still think Liz Lemon symbolizes a cartoonish version of everything I've finally grown to appreciate about myself. (If anyone is tumblr-savvy enough to help me make that site look cool, let me know.)

The book took me 3 days to read. And after day 1, I really didn't want to put it down. "Should I bring this to work?" I thought, while running late to work one day. Then reality set in. "OF COURSE I SHOULDN'T." While in DE, I finished up the last chapter and actually felt bad about it. I wanted more book!

On Facebook, I noted that this was an incredible feat, as the last book I read was in the Mr. Men series. Oddly enough, I also read a book about someone I could relate to this weekend in that exact series. Her name is Little Miss Whoops, and she's the younger sister of Mr. Bump - One of the Mr. Manliest of Mr. Men, in my opinion. Little Miss Whoops did awesome things, like spill stuff everywhere. She also went on the wrong boat and train, and it took her like, a week to get that shit straightened out.

While in Delaware, I also caught a mess of movies. On DVD, I saw Due Date and Tron. In theaters, I saw Arthur. Here are a few sentences on all of those!

Due Date. Okay, I wanted to see this movie when I came out, since I am a Galifan-akis (copyright: me, right now) and Robert Downey Jr. is usually a hit. Then it got shitty reviews, and was out of theaters. I figured that most people expected The Hangover 2 (soon, you guys! Just not now!) and didn't quite get that. Well.


It wasn't bad. It was light, moderately funny, and although it had a few plotholes, I'd watch it again. What do you guys expect? SERIOUSLY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS EXPECT.

Tron. I spent most of this film making fun of the film. We didn't see it in 3D. However, being that I ate a half pound of Gummy Lobsters during the movie, I can't really justify my overall opinion. I think it was a theater-movie, not a "sit at home and eat so much gummy candy that you consider calling an ambulance" movie.

Arthur. Man, did this movie get panned. Pans were seriously just being thrown at Russell Brand. But let me honestly tell you, this film was not bad.

I admitted before that I really think Russell Brand is oddly charming. Also, I didn't see the original. People who hate remakes shouldn't see this film, since they'll be pissed off from the get-go. People who think Brand is a lanky, high-pitched, knotty mess shouldn't see this film either.

That aside, it was funny. I didn't think my $8 was a rip-off. What was a rip-off was the bottle of water I bought for $3.25. We all know Aquafina is toilet water anyway, you guys. I felt like Brand mixed with Helen Mirren was somewhat genius. And despite the fact that I have yet to watch Mirren on last week's SNL (since I was too busy reading Bossypants and damning the gummy lobsters that betrayed me), I most definitely will.

I guess mentioning the gummy lobsters is a perfect segue to my dentist story.

So, I finally went to get my dental cleaning. I left work about 20 minutes early and set off, despite the looming thunderstorms and other weather conditions that scare me a whole lot.

My dentist is also my new dentist. My last dentist was in NJ, and the last time I got a cleaning (roughly 4 years ago) I felt awkward since the guy (who was new to the practice/possibly interning? I forget) doing the cleaning was kind of cute. Latoya, who happened to see the same exact guy, shared my opinions. There's nothing more sensual than a hot dentist scraping all the nicotine stains from your teeth, in my opinion.

So, my new dentist is in PA. I went to get my X-rays done last week (aka "Let me stick this wire with a plate on it in your mouth, and try not to move! NO, MOVE YOUR TONGUE UP. Wait. This isn't going to work") and I was impressed with the facility. They offered coffee, which I thought was counterproductive, and had a nice selection of Dental Magazines that I did not read. Plus, they seemed nice enough.

I hate to admit that at the age of 27, I still chose "Cookie Dough" for my polish flavor of choice. "Have you had any comments on the cookie dough?" I embarrassingly asked the woman. "No, but if you hate it, I can switch over," she said. I can just imagine, mid-cleaning, me freaking out over the cookie dough and DEMANDING the mint, which anyone else in my age range should have chosen to begin with. Then suffering a mix of Cookie Dough Mint, which only Ben and Jerry's could possibly make tolerable after numerous years of research.

Then came the tooth imprints. See, being a new patient, I'm eligible for a free whitening. However, it's not done in-house as I thought. It's done out-house. They make the tray that fits my jank teeth perfectly, and I fuck up the process royally by myself.

To take imprints, they take a big metal plate and fill it with what looks to be color changing sidewalk cement. They bond your teeth, and voila!

"I must warn you," I said. "I have a very narrow mouth." The woman, who I'll call Cecilia, laughed. Sure I did. What did I think I was, special?

Cecilia proceeded to fit EVERY SINGLE ONE of the trays in my mouth, to see which ones adequately held my teeth. None of them did. Cecilia started to panic. "This has never happened before," she bemoaned. "I just don't know what to do." "I'M SCRAPING YOUR TEETH, I KNOW IT!"

And I did what I do best. I totally laughed in her face. "TOLD YOU SO," I exclaimed, before angrily tossing all the failed plates out the window, pushed down the exam chair, and ran out of there like a cookie dough champion.

No. That didn't happen. But I did laugh, since I'm so used to this. I'm a dentist's nightmare. And I also have veins that won't appear for blood tests. I've frustrated many medical professionals before. My reign of frustration started right out of the womb, when I decided I wanted to be born 10 weeks before average. It's just who I am.

Every time Cecilia tried to get a proper imprint, she held my plated-jaw like I was a dog she was about to put to sleep. "It's okay, she calmly told me." "Am I pinching your jaw? I feel like I am. I'm so sorry. I hope this works. Are you in any pain?"

Muffled Karen Response, While Drooling: MNOO

I kind of wish someone took a picture of me, at that exact moment, since it'd make for a killer default image. It'd tell the world "Yes, this happened. This is me. This is my life."

Cecilia finally found a kids tray, which worked. A KIDS TRAY. So, let's keep tally of this:

1. I asked for cookie dough polish
2. The only tray in the whole dentist that would encase a good number of my teeth was made for age-range 4-6.

Another thing to keep in mind. Every time the imprint failed, I was left with caky, plaster flakes all over my face, so I looked like a fat 12 year old who wouldn't control himself at a birthday party. That plaster lasted on my face until I got home, traumatized. Despite trying to wash it off at the dentists office, there was only so much you could do with tissues and a sink without looking overly dramatic.

Upon check-out, Cecilia and I had a good laugh with the other front desk workers about how I was a pain in the ass. One of them, the office manager, told me I should play the tuba, since her husband has a narrow mouth and is good at the tuba. I told her with a laugh that I suck at all musical instruments sans tambourine, and that spit valves are disgusting, and most likely the sole reason I quit marching band, since people emptied them in the stadium and it was disgusting.

Then I mistakenly reminded them that I already received the discount during the last visit, and was most likely overcharged. They then scheduled me for an appointment to get my disastrous trays fitted, and a 6-month check up I am 98% sure I'm going to ditch. What fun!

In Summary, Lessons Learned:

1. I am not an adult.
2. My teeth are a problem for the world.
3. Free teeth whitening is more trouble than it's worth. Will anyone like me better since I've upped a shade?

In final news! Greg and I are looking to move to a new apartment.

For all of those who have been reading since the beginning, yes. This is technically my 87th move. And yes, I was really against the concept of packing up and moving again, but we're both tired of living in a beautiful market that wasn't supposed to be an apartment. And I'm tired of having every piece of debris fall between the cracks of two wooden floor planks. I seriously think I've spotted multiple Advil gelcaps in there.

And also? (Full circle closure!) ... We totally miss Dan.