Mah-tin Zee Deeentist

Ah, zee dentist.

New job hooked me up with bad-ass dental coverage, and so I cashed in this morning. Choosing a dentist from an insurance company's "network" is like playing Russian roullette with a tooth in the barrel.

That doesn't make sense.

Luckily, I picked a good one. His name's "Mah-tin," because he's Czech and his name's Martin. The dental assistant, Katie, was adorable and had great teeth, but 8 a.m. is too early to flirt, so I just shut up and chomped down on the X-ray film.

Good news and bad news. The good news is, I have good teeth. They're "decay resistant," says Martin. The bad news? Decay-resistant folks tend to slack off on the brushing/flossing/mouthwashing routine, 'cause, "Hey, my teeth LOOK good." This leads to periodontal disease, which I have. Basically, that just means they have to go up on the gum line and scrape all the bad stuff away.

So I'm returning to Mah-tin next week to get the first of two procedures done. First, they clean those bad boys, top to bottom. Then they'll go diving into the gums. Oh boy. Nothing like a freshly cleaned mouth to make a boy wanna kiss something.

(Also, nothing like having nobody to kiss to ensure that a boy is especially kiss-eager.)

I like the dentist. Always kinda have. They play classical music, the hygenists are often adorable, and you get to talk with your mouth stretched open. What's not to enjoy?