|
|
Friday, January 23, 2004
In case you've somehow avoided the overwhelming desire to own an iPod Mini, I offer you this:
iPod Mini Cutout
Mmmm, consumerism...
iPod Mini Cutout
Mmmm, consumerism...
Thursday, January 22, 2004
As you've no doubt deduced from the continued lack of New York pictures on my site, I am a lazy, lazy bastard. Nothing could possibly communicate this more clearly than the fact that I went to the dentist yesterday for the first time in over eight years.
That's right - eight years. I believe that I went towards the end of college - current anthropological evidence indicates that the exact date may have been sometime in the summer of 1995 - but I dropped the ball when I moved to Seattle six months later. Summer turned to winter, the 1990s turned into the 2000s, and here I am.
So why did I go now? I think it started with the look on N—'s face when I told her I don't generally floss my teeth.
"What?" she said. Her incredulity was a palpable presence in the room. "Doesn't your dentist get mad at you?"
"I don't really go to the dentist," I replied sheepishly, looking off into the distance to avoid eye contact.
"What?" she repeated. "How long has it been?"
I told her.
"What?" she said again. Her eyes were as big as dinner plates, and her mouth was twisted in disbelief.
She was right to react that way, of course. It wasn't until that moment, when I was forced to admit it to someone else, that I realized how ridiculous it was. It's not like I'm afraid of the dentist. It's not like I don't have insurance. I'm just lazy. Teeth can't be replaced. Why wasn't I taking care of mine?
"You have to go," she said firmly. "You can go to my dentist."
"You're right. I'll make an appointment."
"Do it now."
"I will."
"Do it now."
I did it. The dentist couldn't see me for a few weeks, so I had a bit of a reprieve to get my mouth in order.
"So tell me again why you don't floss," she said, returning to the original subject.
"I don't know," I lied. "I just never get around to it."
Her eyes narrowed.
"When you go to the dentist they'll show you this video about gum disease. It has all of these horrible pictures of people who don't floss. It's terrible. Your teeth fall out. You end up looking like a pirate. Start flossing."
"My mouth bleeds when I floss," I said, finally confessing the truth. "It hurts."
"Why?"
"I have tight contacts, so the floss slips and—"
"Healthy gums don't bleed."
Uh oh. I could be in trouble here.
My appointment was scheduled for Jan. 21, so I needed to get to work. Step 1 was to start flossing. I wouldn't say I've been doing it every day since then, but I do it regularly. My gums bled a little at first, but they don't so much anymore. I take that as a sign that I'm now a member of the Flossing Club. Woo hoo!
Step 2 was to get a Sonicare toothbrush, on the theory that having expensive tooth-related electronics would serve to demonstrate my renewed committment to dental hygiene. Of course, it doesn't matter how expensive your toothbrush is if you don't know how to use it. It took me a while to get the hang of the Sonicare, specifically the part about how you shouldn't turn it on until the toothbrush part is actually in your mouth.
I learned this the hard way. The first time I used it I took it out of the charger, rinsed off the brush, put the toothpaste on it, and gazed lovingly at the device's high-tech styling. "I want to investigate the supersonic brushing action!" I said to myself, feeling like a true Man of Science. I pushed the On button, and the toothpaste immediately vaporized and sprayed all over the place. It took me a few seconds of being sprayed in the face with ever-decreasing amounts of water to realize that I needed to turn it off. Well done, Copernicus.
I spent the next few weeks concentrating on my brushing and flossing, and finally the day came for the appointment. They showed me the gum disease video, as expected, and it got me a little worried. N— did fail to mention that it featured some fairly hilarious 90's fashions and hair styles. That was entertaining. The rest of it was pretty much as described - a series of stomach-churning photos of teeth with horrible, horrible gum problems. Quite frankly, I find pictures of normal teeth to be pretty disturbing on their own. The person's lips are always cropped out, so it looks like the teeth have been ripped right out of their head, leaving nothing but a crazed grin. Throw in the creeping black goo and dissolving jawbone assocated with periodontal disease, and you've got yourself a horror movie.
I laughed at the video, ostensibly due to the giant wave this one guy had in his hair, but inside I was nervous. My teeth felt fine, but what if my years of neglect had doomed me to a life of gumming oatmeal? The hygienist lowered the chair, got out her tools, and went to work.
The results: My teeth are in great shape, y'all. Even after spending 8 years outside of the watchful eye of dental professionals, my choppers are looking fine. I had no cavities, and there was no sign of gum disease. I had a bit of tartar build-up on two teeth, and that was it. They have this cool digital camera they stick in your mouth to show you pictures of your dental transgressions, but my teeth looked so good that she only bothered to take a couple. "Your mouth is pretty boring," she said approvingly. The hygienist also complimented me by saying that I was "resistant to gum disease". The dentist took it one step further - he declared me "genetically superior".
Did you hear that, everyone? I'm genetically superior. That makes me some kind of superhero, right? I shall call myself The Toothist, and I will dedicate my life to fighting...well, gum disease, I guess. Being genetically superior in the teeth doesn't really lend itself to dispensing justice. Maybe I could figure out a way to make body armor out of my enamel.
At any rate, the dental crisis is over. I've already made my next appointment, so I can now rejoin mainstream dentist-going American society. The fact that I'm also a modern-day superman is just icing on the cake. All hail The Toothist!
That's right - eight years. I believe that I went towards the end of college - current anthropological evidence indicates that the exact date may have been sometime in the summer of 1995 - but I dropped the ball when I moved to Seattle six months later. Summer turned to winter, the 1990s turned into the 2000s, and here I am.
So why did I go now? I think it started with the look on N—'s face when I told her I don't generally floss my teeth.
"What?" she said. Her incredulity was a palpable presence in the room. "Doesn't your dentist get mad at you?"
"I don't really go to the dentist," I replied sheepishly, looking off into the distance to avoid eye contact.
"What?" she repeated. "How long has it been?"
I told her.
"What?" she said again. Her eyes were as big as dinner plates, and her mouth was twisted in disbelief.
She was right to react that way, of course. It wasn't until that moment, when I was forced to admit it to someone else, that I realized how ridiculous it was. It's not like I'm afraid of the dentist. It's not like I don't have insurance. I'm just lazy. Teeth can't be replaced. Why wasn't I taking care of mine?
"You have to go," she said firmly. "You can go to my dentist."
"You're right. I'll make an appointment."
"Do it now."
"I will."
"Do it now."
I did it. The dentist couldn't see me for a few weeks, so I had a bit of a reprieve to get my mouth in order.
"So tell me again why you don't floss," she said, returning to the original subject.
"I don't know," I lied. "I just never get around to it."
Her eyes narrowed.
"When you go to the dentist they'll show you this video about gum disease. It has all of these horrible pictures of people who don't floss. It's terrible. Your teeth fall out. You end up looking like a pirate. Start flossing."
"My mouth bleeds when I floss," I said, finally confessing the truth. "It hurts."
"Why?"
"I have tight contacts, so the floss slips and—"
"Healthy gums don't bleed."
Uh oh. I could be in trouble here.
My appointment was scheduled for Jan. 21, so I needed to get to work. Step 1 was to start flossing. I wouldn't say I've been doing it every day since then, but I do it regularly. My gums bled a little at first, but they don't so much anymore. I take that as a sign that I'm now a member of the Flossing Club. Woo hoo!
Step 2 was to get a Sonicare toothbrush, on the theory that having expensive tooth-related electronics would serve to demonstrate my renewed committment to dental hygiene. Of course, it doesn't matter how expensive your toothbrush is if you don't know how to use it. It took me a while to get the hang of the Sonicare, specifically the part about how you shouldn't turn it on until the toothbrush part is actually in your mouth.
I learned this the hard way. The first time I used it I took it out of the charger, rinsed off the brush, put the toothpaste on it, and gazed lovingly at the device's high-tech styling. "I want to investigate the supersonic brushing action!" I said to myself, feeling like a true Man of Science. I pushed the On button, and the toothpaste immediately vaporized and sprayed all over the place. It took me a few seconds of being sprayed in the face with ever-decreasing amounts of water to realize that I needed to turn it off. Well done, Copernicus.
I spent the next few weeks concentrating on my brushing and flossing, and finally the day came for the appointment. They showed me the gum disease video, as expected, and it got me a little worried. N— did fail to mention that it featured some fairly hilarious 90's fashions and hair styles. That was entertaining. The rest of it was pretty much as described - a series of stomach-churning photos of teeth with horrible, horrible gum problems. Quite frankly, I find pictures of normal teeth to be pretty disturbing on their own. The person's lips are always cropped out, so it looks like the teeth have been ripped right out of their head, leaving nothing but a crazed grin. Throw in the creeping black goo and dissolving jawbone assocated with periodontal disease, and you've got yourself a horror movie.
I laughed at the video, ostensibly due to the giant wave this one guy had in his hair, but inside I was nervous. My teeth felt fine, but what if my years of neglect had doomed me to a life of gumming oatmeal? The hygienist lowered the chair, got out her tools, and went to work.
The results: My teeth are in great shape, y'all. Even after spending 8 years outside of the watchful eye of dental professionals, my choppers are looking fine. I had no cavities, and there was no sign of gum disease. I had a bit of tartar build-up on two teeth, and that was it. They have this cool digital camera they stick in your mouth to show you pictures of your dental transgressions, but my teeth looked so good that she only bothered to take a couple. "Your mouth is pretty boring," she said approvingly. The hygienist also complimented me by saying that I was "resistant to gum disease". The dentist took it one step further - he declared me "genetically superior".
Did you hear that, everyone? I'm genetically superior. That makes me some kind of superhero, right? I shall call myself The Toothist, and I will dedicate my life to fighting...well, gum disease, I guess. Being genetically superior in the teeth doesn't really lend itself to dispensing justice. Maybe I could figure out a way to make body armor out of my enamel.
At any rate, the dental crisis is over. I've already made my next appointment, so I can now rejoin mainstream dentist-going American society. The fact that I'm also a modern-day superman is just icing on the cake. All hail The Toothist!