…I’m gonna stop saying one of these days.

Jill Sobule is good. As are Skinny Cow ice creams.

I broke a tooth yesterday. I know that to most people this is nothing to write blogs about, but for me it was a fascinating experience. When I was a kid, pulling out my teeth seemed a natural enough phenomenon, and to my adult mind the same feelings resounds. However, when only a piece of the tooth comes out after prodding to remove “what has to be the sharpest popcorn kernel EVER,” it goes against every fiber of my being to not pick and jab at the detritus until nothing remains but smooth, clean (and probably vulnerable) gumline.

Needless to say, my tongue and war-scarred bubble gum now share quite a resemblance from the sharp edges of the now-dangerous molar.

Stranger still, however, is the cry I made after realizing that it was in fact a piece of decayed tooth that came out of my mouth and not, as I had hoped, a fragment of eggshell from a baby chicken someone had thoughtfully decided to incubate there.

“Does anyone know a good dentist?” the words dribbled out of my mouth, charging past my bottom lip like a stumbling fullback. Two co-workers responded and the great benefits debate began. Eventually, through the dirt and shrapnel, I called my friend, the dental student, for his advice and his father (the dentist)’s telephone number. He reminded me of our dear friend’s (my ex-girlfriend’s) father, the dentist, and her stepmother, the dentist.

It would seem I knew several good dentists. As irony would have it, however, I ended up using the first name given to me by a co-worker, as all of my contacts were full up with their spring break referrals. Thursday, 10:20 a.m. will be my first real dental experience, as I’ve only ever had one cavity and it was filled without anesthetic, not to mention without an aesthetic.

Hoo-Ray.