Dentists and UFOs

The best way to get something done is to DO IT.  Had I taken my own advice I would not have the dental issues I have now, and I would not be scrambling to get them taken care of.  

In my defense I must say that I've had some seriously shitty dentists in the past.  I won't even go into it.  Cap that experience (you see what I did there) with getting all four wisdom teeth taken out at once - and then getting 'dry socket' on all four craters! and yeah, I haven't been back for a few years.

I can date this specifically to July 4th of 2016, the date of The Ultimate White Trash 4th of July Celebration up in the foothills of Washington, in a tiny little town that doesn't show up on maps, where we rode on our Harley, and  1. taught small children to use firearms  2. used firearms ourselves, badly, 3. while drunk 4. set off many illegal fireworks 5. while drunk 6. set a sofa on fire, and a pool table,  7. while very drunk 8. drove up and down the street blasting funk and disco music while everyone else partied up on the logging stages all around us 9. while profoundly drunk 10. and I broke an incisor; which I then pulled myself, using a needlenosed pliers, 11. while SOBER.

The broken tooth happened right after I arrived at the party, and I proceeded to make my pioneer forbears proud.  Screw that tooth.  After all the kids had marvelled at it, I threw it into the brush and drank a bunch of vodka. 

That's how much I hate the dentist.

I realize that it's my time; that women my age lose their back teeth and that losing your teeth when you're old happens, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.  This doctor specializes in dental-phobic patients, though, and I'm counting on that.  I will not be dignified and I will not put on a brave showing.  I will wince and freak and possibly cry.  BEFORE the dentist does anything.  This is my way of welcoming a new medical specialist onto my team.  Kind of like their initiation.  And after all, I have good insurance, and times are tough.  They'd BETTER treat me well.  At least, that's the kind of attitude I'm trying to encourage in myself.

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Now look at this picture.

   

This is a picture of the very spot, including the arrow, of the place where my mother was standing when she saw her FIRST flying saucer.  (There were more, believe me.)  Imagine my chubby little mom standing right on that arrow, looking off to the left, up by the bar with the traffic lights on it, watching A Visitor From Space!    

Imagine a real music hall yiddishe mama voice, and you'll have my mothers voice, although she was a New York Cat'lick.  "Aouw my gaaawd, theah it was!  An' I was just standin' theah right by the grass!  An I just looked up!  Right theah, and it was, oh it was hyuge and red and cigah shaped, kind of, oh, and people was just loooookin and looookin, and we all just loooooked..." and this would go on awhile.  

Now this was back in her 'mystical' days, before she had her conversion experience, burned her Ouija Board and all her astrological books and got Jesus the way a racoon gets hit by a truck.  She would trot this story out to anyone who mentioned the subject, and since it was quite a subject around 1968, my mother became, unbeknownst to her, one of the 'cool' moms in the neighborhood because she would not shut her yap about this goddamn flying saucer.  Or cigar.  

I was just going through Google maps, travelling around, and I thought it was really poignant that the arrow and the corner just lined up so perfectly, and that the picture itself could be anyplace in America, any anonymous corner, except for the fact that in 1968, my mother saw a U.F.O as she stood on that very spot!  Remember that the next time you're abducted.  Drop the name 'Helen Hartis' and maybe you'll get to skip that butt probe!  

Unless you were looking forward to the butt probe.  I don't judge.