Don't Get: Wanting to be a Dentist

Yes, I get why we need to have dentists. No, I don't get why anyone in their right mind would want to be a dentist! Why would you ever want to fish around in someone else's mouth scraping away tartar and using words like absess, bicuspid, plaque, gingivitis, and molar? OK, "molar" isn't so bad, but the only dental-related word that even has the slightest positive connotation to it is "oral"!

So, let's review the possible reasons why you would want to be a dentist:

Money. This is the first thing that came to my mind. All doctors are rich, right? And dentists are a kind of doctor, right? Well, if you think that an annual salary of $116k makes you rich, then you just go right ahead and deal with bleeding gums all the way to the bank, my friend. (I got that number from salary.com - a painfully simple name for a website that deals with salaries.) Suppose you see 10 orally-hygeine-challenged people a day. Five days a week. Forty-eight weeks a year (because just like "real" doctors, it seems like dentists are always on vacation). That would be 2400 nasty mouths that you have to look into each year! Good God, that's only $48 per pie-hole! Even if I'm off by 100%, that's still less than a C-note to be getting up to your elbows in someone's face! You ain't going to be knocking Bill Gates off his perch that way.

You dig Fixing Teeth. Dude, if you get off on this stuff, I don't want you near my choppers because obviously you are not right in the head! There is no way in the world that anyone can enjoy this job. Maybe someone is holding your family hostage and the only way they will live to see their next Christmas (or Hannkah, if you prefer) is if you go to dental school for a bunch of years, open up your own practice, build a regular clientele, attend the laugh-a-minute dentist conventions and proceed to work on people's mouths. Only after buying your first boat with money generated from root canals will your family be returned to you. That is the only reason why you might actually like wielding those instruments of death. If you say you enjoy it because you want to help people return their choppers to good working order, you're just a lying sack of shit.

Addicted to Heroin-Laced Mocha Lattes. Possible, but might be a stretch.

Chicks. There have been a few cases where dentists have been, how you say, "inappropriate" with their female patients. Probably a few male patients too - especially from the guys who couldn't quite make it as Catholic priests. I can just picture those first heady days of dental school:

Dentist Wannabe #1: "I can't wait to be a dentist so I can get lots of chicks!"
Dentist Wannabe #2: "Really? Dentists get lots of chicks?"
DW #1: "Sure, my brother! Get the babes horizontal in these sweet chairs with a little laughing gas and you're good to go!"
DW #2: "Uh, isn't that kind of illegal?"
DW #1: "Illegal, schmillegal! Bring on the sedated chicks with dental issues!"

This theory is flawed in that, just like hookers, you can only be so selective in who you choose as customers. You can wait for Pam Anderson to bring her dental business to your little practice but it gets hard to make the payments on your nifty dental chair without working on a few people who look like the female Phys Ed. teacher in Porky's. Sure, you can always use the laughing gas angle, but the authorities kind of frown on that.


As you can plainly see, there is no logical reason to become a dentist. Next time you are in The Chair (note the capital letters), ask old Dr. Dentures why he got into the field. I'll bet you dimes to doughnuts that there was some sort of head trauma involved. At the same time, remember that Dustin Hoffman wasn't being tortured by a podiatrist in Marathon Man. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Dig: Venti Non-Fat, No-Whip Mocha Latte from Starbuck's

Sweet baby Jesus, that stuff is wicked good! I never used to drink coffee - and I still don't consider myself a coffee drinker. What I am is completely addicted to the friggin' VentiNon-FatNoWhipMocha (you have to say it like that - kind of like JudgeLanceIto back in the days of the OJ murder trial). Don't ask me if I want coffee because I don't drink coffee - I drink VentiNonfatNowhipMocha. I don't even know the ingredients of this thing except that there has to be herion in it so that anyone who comes within 10 feet of it gets addicted to it. Damn those people at Starbuck's for making such chocolately goodness!

Yes, I realize that there are approximately 12.8 coffee joints per capita in the US and I have punch cards from the 12.8 assigned to me to prove it. However, Starbuck's - ubiquitous, corporate Starbucks - is the monkey I choose to have on my back. Every morning, my monkey and I get in the car and drive to one of FOUR Starbuck's on my way to work. (Yes, I always put the seat belt on the monkey - I'm addicted, not irresponsible!!) Sometimes I go through the drive-thru where Sarah gives me my daily fix. Other times, I go into the grocery store to see my other source. Mr. Mocha (the monkey) hops on my back wearing his little Starbuck's hat and t-shirt and off we go to get our VentiNonfatNowhipMocha.

I do have one decision to make every day regarding my morning mocha: to save a few minutes by going through the drive-thru and NOT receive a punch or take the extra couple of minutes and go in the grocery store to take another step closer to a freebie by receiving that coveted star-shaped punch in my card. Let's just say that no one at work has said anything about being three or four minutes late most days....

I am more than happy to part with my $3.76 every day to feed my habit - except when my punch card is full. What a happy day that is! Free herion?! Yes, sir! Sign me up! Not only am I an addict, I'm a cheap addict and when I can get my "shit" for free, it ranks right up there with the birth of my kids as the happiest moments of my life.

Do NOT come between me and my VentiNonfatNowhipMocha! Picture a mama bear and her cubs. Now picture a hunter-guy wearing flannel camo coming between the two. Now picture lots of blood and guts with pieces of flannel camo mixed into it. Same thing with me, except I'm not all hairy like a bear.

For the love of God, people, if you don't want your life to go into a downward spiral, stay away from this devil-juice! Besides, that leaves more for me....

Starting with something I hate sets such a tone....

.... and yet, I find myself hating more things than I dig/don't get. So, let's begin, shall we?

Today's hate is brought to you by the people who like to stop and chat in the middle of the aisle in the grocery store, mall, etc. Hate that. Meijer's (my local grocery store) is not the place to hang out and chat with your little friends. You go in, get your damn cart, load up your damn food and you get out, dammit. You need to stay out of my way while I am doing same! Keep to the right except to pass and sure as hell don't stand in the middle of the aisle talking about Junior's upcoming birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's or anything else unless it can somehow benefit me.

Sunday after church is a big time for this.
"Hey look, honey, it's the VanSomethingorothers."
"We haven't seen them since our fondue party in 1979"
"Let's discuss what our families have been doing since then."
"Great idea. I have the Powerpoint slides right here in my purse."
"Super! This display of 2-ply toilet paper will make a great backdrop to show our kids' resume's"
Meanwhile, I have to use that last little piece of TP that is actually glued to the roll to take care of my needs because these dolts WON'T GET OUT OF MY WAY!!!!

I don't mean to stray too far into the Things I Don't Get category, but I don't get the whole idea of standing in the middle of the aisle completely oblivious to being in other people's way. Hello?! Don't you see us giving you dirty looks? "Accidentally" running our carts up the back of your ankle? Giving you a little hip check as we pass by? This little act falls under a broader heading of hate that I like to call "Being Inconsiderate of Me" (the rest of you are on your own) and bugs the tar out of me.

And that's really where I'm coming from here, folks. I don't really enjoy being at Meijer's. It's a pain. Don't make it more painful for me by prolonging my shopping experience. Mind you, if there were girls in bikinis standing next to you in the aisle handing out chocolate chip cookies and CD's of my favorite bands, I might actually find great pleasure in waiting for you to get out of my way. However, Meijer's has to keep their overhead low so the only girls they could afford to hire to dole out treats are girls that I wouldn't really want to receive treats from (sorry about that preposition at the end there)!

You being in my way benefits me not. You being in my way discussing a hot stock tip or how you accidentally left $10,000 behind the third oak tree from the left benefits me much. So that's the only way I'll cut you any slack on this issue. You want to make me push my stupid cart around you while I debate over Cap'n Crunch and Lucky Charms? You'd better make it worth my while by helping a brother out in some way. Otherwise, get thee out of the aisle!

And now I'm all pissed off!!!