a talent for causing great pain
I’m at work today. Saturday. I’m sacrificing my sanity for money.
I need money for a few things. Namely: I need new headshots and I need to have a crown put on a tooth. Fun fun fun.
I got a new dentist a year ago and Big Stupid HMO gave me a list of dentists from which to choose, and I, being a massive elitist prick picked the one dentist in Beverly Hills because I figured: shit, Beverly Hills, he’s gotta be good.
Man, this dude sucks.
I’ve only seen him twice and each time he’s acted like a total prick. I wondered why he was so terse and shitty to me specifically when I realized, well yes, not only do dentists have the highest suicide rate of any profession, (you’d think proctologists would be a bit higher), but that just accounts for his general bad mood. The reason he treats me poorly is this: I’m a welfare client. By picking a Beverly Hills dentist, I threw myself into a patient pool where I’m a the very bottom in terms of wealth, status, and power. I don’t know how it works exactly but supposedly they must take on a certain number of HMO clients, off which they make no money except a measly 10 dollar co-payment per visit. So to him, I’m like one of those Sally Struthers babies with the flies and everything fouling his office with my thrift store pants, and my 20 dollar haircut, and combat boots.
So after a terse peering into my mouth, doc says that I need a crown because one of my molars is weak blah blah blah. (Note: I have very good oral hygiene. I floss every night and you should too.) And this crown will cost me, the insured dental patient, 500 dollars.
I asked him if the crown would look best on top of my head or tilted to the side a bit, but he didn’t laugh. At all.
But with this welfare notion running through my head, I said to myself: Ha! He’s just trying to get me to undergo an expensive procedure to fiscally justify my taking up his precious time, during which he could be deciding whether pills, hanging, or auto exhaust would be the best way to go. So I never called to make the appointment. I showed them.
Last month I went back for a cleaning and the nurse showed me the large crack I now had in the middle of that should-have-been-crowned-but-I-was-too-suspicious-of-denists-to-believe-I-really-needed-one tooth of mine. So now I need to get one. I’ve already put it off so long I keep expecting my tooth to split in half and choke me to death.
In other news, I have a show tonight. If I haven’t explained it before, my comedy troupe does movies on stage – deconstructing movies for comic effect. Tonight we’re doing The Big Chill.
Jeremiah was a what?
This is where I let Larry King take over my body for a few minutes.
Henry Weinhard's is pretty bad beer...i went rollerblading again today...rap videos are getting way too fucking complicated....i'm seeing notting hill tomorrow. wish me luck...i'm very tired...