People speak of their dental appointments in the same respect as they do about their mother-in-law moving in for a month or three. Seeing that my last appointment was back when I was a freshly minted married man (that’s five and half blissful years of looking but not touching for those at home) and had just bought a new house, the wife thought it was time to visit the local ADA approved tooth expert.
So, as soon as I got home yesterday we dressed up Little Drizz to eat at the local Burger King with a super cool mini playground because eating fast food right before a dentist appointment is a sure-fire way to dazzle the hot co-ed assistant with short white skirt, and hint of DD cleavage showing everytime she’d bend down to take another X-ray. After snacking on passable “Chicken Fries” with some surprisingly good honey BBQ sauce, I called for the boy to finish going down the slide one more time because it was time to go.
But on the top tier of the gym he stared blankly back at me after I asked him a second time to come down.
Parents of toddlers may recognize this stare and silence as the Britney Spears or “Oops I Did It Again… in my pants”. After calming telling him it was ok and trying not to make too much a scene for the only other family in the playground area, I took him into the bathroom to assess the damage.
And there was lots of it.
Want to learn humility? A good lesson in humility is spending 10 minutes in a Burger King bathroom cleaning shit that is smeared all over the toilet, then having to manually de-clog the toilet before it overflowed because you used too many wipes and there was no plunger, trying to hurry because you have a dentist appointment, all while trying to clean up a naked toddler before he spreads even more shit throughout the bathroom. I’m sure parents out there reading this have had at least one of these episodes while potty training the little ones, but talk about bad timing. Luckily the wife was prepared and had some spare clothes but that didn’t exactly choke the smell of the newly soiled pants as our car smelt like a Minnesota State Fair port-a-potty that’s next to the chili cheese fries stand. Ok, maybe not that bad but rancid enough to break through my stuffed up nose.
After spending quality time cleaning the King’s throne, we arrived at the non-descript dental office owned by two brothers I guessing they’re brothers since they both had the same last name, they could be cousins for all I know. The waiting room contained two leather couches, a magazine selection that you’d find in the rec room of a nursing home, but thankfully there were some odd lego-like toys to keep Little Drizz busy. The assistant came out to announce it was my turn for torture. She was more Golden Girls then Girls Gone Wild, a minor disappointment but you can’t win them all. Before I laid back in the leather chair that squeaked a little while getting myself comfortable, I was under the assumption that I was just getting my teeth cleaned and would be done in 15 minutes.
40 minutes, a couple of concertos playing in the background, and about 5 billion X-rays later, she finally starts the pick and clean routine that I was hoping for. “We needed to update your records” was the excuse despite my not asking for full service. I went along with it despite knowing I’d have a cranky six month pregnant wife in the waiting room with a be-fouled smelling hyper-toddler who has more energy then the output of your run-of-the-mill nuclear reactor.
Thankfully the rest of the visit was expedient as the dentist came in and said some words about maintaining my oral hygiene and pointed a lot to the X-rays. I tuned him out at this point, because my mind was tuned into getting home to watch “Las Vegas” and lose some money while chasing draws in PLO8. And after receiving the obligatory toothbrush/toothpaste set I was deemed well enough to smile again in public.
After reading Herry and the New Sister (think Sesame Street) to the little one, I kissed the wife good night as she had “Las Vegas” on to some strip club scene where Danny of course needed to go to find some information that only a pole dancer from his past would know. God bless Vegas.
My time on the virtual felt didn’t quite match the fun of the strip club scene. I got quartered on a hand that I made two mistakes. Calling a flop pot bet with only a nut low (I did have counterfeit protection at least), and “value betting” the turn with only the nut low. The river gave me a wheel low plus a six high straight, but I still paid off the obvious flush that got there (with a wheel as well). The hand should have only cost me 10BBs but ending up spearing me for almost half my stack. Bad aggression in the wrong place against a solid player isn’t a good recipe for success at PLO8. That negated a nice nut-nut hand on my other table where I got all of the high and 1/3 of the low against two all-ins that chased with just their A2 lows.
Always. Be. Drawing.
I finished the night by outlasting UpForPoker in a 180-person SnG, bowing out in the 50s due to losing a coin flip QQ vs AK (shock! Horror!), then donking off my chips in a massive 1900+ player $3 MTT on the bubble (since when is the SB allowed to wake up with Aces when you’re on a steal?!!?!?). I could only laugh off my stupidity after that one.
Thanks for dropping by. No sarcastic wit here as my thoughts and prayers are out there for some people in our little community who are having a rough go at it at the moment. Please get well soon BG, Change100, and Falstaff.
Perhaps a joke from my sister-in-law may cheer you up…
An elderly couple was attending church services, about halfway through she leans over and says, "I just let a silent fart what do you think I should do?"
He replies "Put a new battery in your hearing aid."