The Blog I Never Use

Warning: the following content depicts a rather PG (for grossness) nightmare, followed by a shameless personal endorsement for a product. The author has not been compensated for his endorsement, but would like to be.
Conair WJ8 Deluxe Dental Water Jet
alternately titled: My Dental Insurence Plan

I am tooth conscious. It is not that I'm obsessive, it's just that I have nightmares about losing my teeth. Sometimes (like when I was seven) I dream about my teeth getting all soft like pieces of corn. I feel horrified by this but cannot stop myself from pulling them out, one- at- a- time.Other times I dream that one tooth shatters into pieces and I spit them out, but then I bite don again and more of it breaks off into my mouth, I spit those out, but I still have the gritty remains of my tooth in my mouth. I bite down again and the remnants of my decayed and fractured molar, though they were not strong enough to stay together, and unlike Smashing Pumpkins, evidently, (remind me to do my "Don't put 'THE' in front of your band name unless it makes sense," post later), anyway, they are strong enough to break my other teeth, sending cascadeing streams of tooth pieces from my mouth like an enamel rupture from the tooth pipeline. As I vomit the sharp shrapnel of my dental impotentcy, I can feel the juicy pulp of many of my now missing gum friends.

It isn't that I ever lose all of them, I always have more waiting to fall out, it's the shock of losing a piece of yourself. A freudian would tell you that this is a manifestation of my fear of castration, but I suspect that I would have nightmares about actual castration if that were the case. Why do I think that? Because I have not been to a dentist in almost seven years and I am terrified that my dental problems will reach such a state, by the time that I can again afford to visit a blessed master of flouride, that Saint DMD or Saint DDS will have no choice but to declare my permanent mouthware anathema and render the permanent temporary.

In view of this, I have purchased the above water-pick. I thought, "I am rather skeptical (despite what I've heard), but I might as well try. Afterall, I do use flouride rinse, which (according to Dr. Dean Edell) is poison, so I'm pretty desperate." My experience over the last few days has convinced me: Waterpick is a miracle. I brush my teeth soundly with a decent, electrical toothbrush for at least a full minute for each row, but I have this giant cavity, by which I mean hole that takes up 80% of the exposed space in my lower- left wisdom tooth (yeah, my dentist said, "You won't need those pulled," until three weeks before I lost my insurence . . . or should I say six weeks before the first available removal appointment). This hole prompted the actual inadvertant removal of a significant portion of the back ridge of tooth mountain a few years ago.

Anyway, I brush my teeth and then I stick that miniature pressure washer in there and let'er rip. BLAM: out come little pieces of my dinner, and lunch and breakfast, the pulpy remains of the best parts of my day, turned bad (actually they arn't actually bad yet, that takes a few more hours) from the heart of mount 2th Helens. Essentially, my beloved water pick might just keep me from the day of wrath, from being thrown, so- to- speak, into the absess (if I don't already have one, I've read that sometimes, if the nerve dies, you don't know until you detect a giant pocket of infection).