If by juice you mean nitrous oxide, then yes. I’ll have some juice. I’m not kidding you when I tell you that is what my dental hygienist referred to it as this morning. It’s a cocktail in the afternoon, juice in the morning. Have I mentioned how much I love her?

I wasn’t sure if I’d be down with the morning dentist appointment, but I have to say… I kinda liked it. The morning is my favorite time of the day. I’m reeling from fresh endorphins and I feel so inspired once I’ve had my coffee. The day is my oyster, I can make the most of it. So, imagine that feeling accompanied by a two-glasses-of-wine-like buzz and you have total morning euphoria. Not to mention how the easy rock playing in the background only intensifies every happy emotion I’m feeling. I felt like a Carpenter, sittin’ on top of the world, lookin’ down on creation.

After she took my blood pressure and pulse, I was beginning to wonder if I was even still alive or if I was in Heaven. My BP was 83 over 59 and my pulse was 41. It’s no wonder I was freezing. She then gave me a hand-woven wool blanket to snuggle up in. I mean really, does it get any better than this? Who needs a massage or spa treatment when you have the dentist’s office. I always feel so relaxed as if I had spent a day at the Lake Austin Spa. (Dan, you know I’m only kidding… nothing compares to a day at the LAS).

For the most part, it was a smooth ride in the teeth cleaning department. Towards the end, there was a little irritation from flossing (we’ve got a bleeder). When Susan (dental hygienist) paged the dentist to come in, she made mention of the area. I’ll note that this was the first encounter with the dentist since the infamous “protection” procedure and so I prepared myself for the unexpected. He did a little “smoothing” on the tooth and then paged Susan to come back in. I started to get a little alarmed when there are 4 hands in my mouth along with 17 different apparatuses. When the dentist pauses to say something, I breathe in expecting to hear the words “filling”, “cavity” or “procedure”. Perfectly in tune with this unpredictability, he says to Susan, “Did you watch Dancing With The Stars last night?”. I mean really, what is with this guy. They carry on for another 5 minutes discussing the contestants and if were any “natural born leaders” in the competition. I’m not one to care much about DWTS, but I feign interest to keep the conversation going as long as it can so I can wear the nitrous mask a little longer.

Inevitably, the end comes, just as “Looks Like We Made It” starts playing on the radio. I pay my dues, say my adieus and walk out to my car. I’ve got a little of the “juice” still flowing, so I make the most of my car ride to work. My fake number song comes on the radio (867-5309) and I can barely keep focused on driving because my air guitar is rocking out so hard. Once I turn onto 635, Notorious B.I.G. comes on and my air guitar turns into air turntables. Which I think is fitting for the ghetto-ness of highway 635.

I pull into the work parking garage as “When Will I See You Again” comes on the radio. My morning euphoria turns to sadness when I think about going 6 months before seeing the dentist again.