I’ll admit to getting a laugh outa some stuff that just isn’t politically correct. Last week, the chickens apparently came home to roost.
Okay, so I’ll admit to getting a laugh outa some stuff that just isn’t politically correct. And none of it involves The Donald or anyone else being physically injured. Embarrassment, however, is another story. But with that hairdo willingly going on year after year as he outlines his foreign policy, I guess The Donald has some sort of embarrassment immunity. But not me.
So when figure skaters are all dolled-up during competition and catch an edge landing unceremoniously on their posterior, I glance away from any normal folks in the same room…because I don’t wanna let them see me smiling.
And my favorite all time Major League Baseball moment isn’t the Angels winning the 2002 World Series; it’s close but it just doesn’t compare to a fly ball bouncing off Jose Canseco’s steroid-assisted melon and over the centerfield fence for a home run.
Remember Wide World of Sports and the “Agony of defeat?” Once I knew for sure the ski jumper in question had survived and was okay, his weekly agony of defeat became my ecstasy. And I could go on because who could ever get tired of watching Clint Eastwood lecturing a chair that was supposed to be President Obama?
Anyway, up until last Thursday, most of my embarrassing moments had actually been scripted. I mean, wearing a tutu and a UCLA bruin t-shirt all day sounds pretty embarrassing but not so much if it’s for a good cause and you get to wear a tutu. And taking a pie in the face from an employee might upset some overly sensitive types but not if it’s banana cream and you’re raising money for City of Hope. And singing “Friends in Low Places” in front of about 600 people could come back to haunt ya but not so much if the audience is 90% dentists and you have back-up singers and a live band (if you didn’t like the performance, go tell it to the so-called professionals.)
But a few days ago, the chickens apparently came home to roost. And even though this 700-year old saying referenced curses, I’m still wondering about where chickens go when they run away from home.
My 7:30 patient was visiting for an Invisalign consultation; one of my most enjoyable, exciting things I get to do…and that’s when you know you’ve been in the dental game for at least 30-years. My patient was wonderful; she had a smile I could transform into something goddess-like. I confidently proclaimed “I can give you the smile you’ve always wanted!” And it was true.
To make an even better impression and put my polished communication skills on display, I (really) lowered my stool so that we could meet at eye level. And somewhere between putting on my clinical gloves and asking how to properly pronounce my patient’s Vietnamese name (I wasn’t gonna settle for the easy Americanized version) I began the descent onto my stool. The descent was prolonged. As I sat there having launched the stool into the floor-to-ceiling window and having used my Canseco Head to bludgeon the cabinetry supporting the computer, everyone came running to ask me about our exit plan following an attack by a Greyhound bus…or Trump’s 20-foot wall.
As I made myself comfortable on the floor, my next patient asked me if I was cross-eyed; I wasn’t. My 90-pound Invisalign patient first tried to pick me up, then asked if I’d hurt my head…just like her grandfather; almost came back with “yo mama was a figure skater.”
I sprung up, posed like Mary Lou Retton in her prime (after bustin’ some Jacksonesque moves) and asked, “Is there any good reason why we shouldn’t begin Invisalign today?” “I think I need to talk things over with my mom.” “That’s okay; I think I hear my mom calling too.”
Just found out Dental Assistant Extraordinaire Dani ordered some seat belts from Patterson Dental.
Next Wednesday I get to dress up like the Tooth Fairy all day long; the wings are optional.
