I tend to handle situations immediately. I don't like to procrastinate or run from problems, in fact, I take pride in my ability to have a can do attitude when it comes to daunting horizons. Every once in a while though, I'll be reminded of why I am this way. Because when I ignore situations, life can have a tendency to suck.

I looked in the mirror the other day and flashed myself my award-winning smile. Before I had the chance to bask in my vanity, I noticed something yellow. Perhaps the mirror was stained? No. Maybe, my eyes were adjusting? No. Maybe I was faced with the reality that I had not visited a dentist in about two years? Yes. Yes. Yes. Dammit.

So, in true Shane fashion, did I jump on the phone on make myself an appointment? Um, no. I ran and hid for a while, fully aware that my now chattering teeth were meant to be white, not this Parliament Lights/Folgers brown.

Finally, I made my appointment. Even though I went by myself, I felt like a dog being brought to the veterinarian, tensing my limbs while being dragged by the leash inside. The whole prospect of being under the knife was enough to make me want to urinate on the Dentist, or vet, however you choose to view it. His white coat had nine to one odds to for becoming as yellow as my teeth.

The hygienist greeted me, who I'm convinced has masochistic tendencies. She lives in Maine, where the majority of the chompers she cleans are not in the best shape. Being that they are not tended to, cleaning them can be quite painful for the scheduled victims. This particular fuehrer gets to watch chumps like me writhe in agony all day all by her hand, scraping and scratching my teeth

It is a voodoo ritual: I'm convinced of this. They scrape and scrape, praying to whatever dark lord it is they pray to, until the sacrificial ham (me) spits blood up and nearly faints. This cycle will be repeated until the end of the day, and fear not, the elderly are not excluded. Dentures are merely condoms to protect the gums of the unfortunate who are about to have their naked gums impaled by the sharp metallic penile instruments these psychos wield. No one is safe my friends, no one. The Voodoo hygienist wants a piece of you, while the Dental cowboy waves his floss lasso, preparing to rope in new meat to probe.

Yes, I was thinking about all of this during this particular oral castration, and I wasn't even under the influence of any laughing gas. The other thing I was thinking about while I was having the gums removed from my head was the art of progress. How amazing is it that we can send a man to the moon but a Dentist still has to use a tool from the dark ages to remove plaque? Shouldn't we be able to take shots of jewelry cleaner type stuff and be done with it? No-pick and scrape until it's done. Take X-rays, have electrical reclining, height adjustable chairs, and enter data and appointments into state of the art computers, but when it comes to cleaning teeth, use the most primitive tool that even a caveman would deem passé.

Maybe it's a fraternity of masochistic Dentists and hygienists who have pulled the plug on dental progress, just to get the rush of watching schmucks like me toss and turn in the chair. They don't want improvement, just pain, and blood. Maybe they take all the skin and nine week old bran flakes that were stuck in my bicuspids and make masks out of them, like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. There's a thought-"Dentalface" comes running at me with a chainsaw and an x-ray chart. Hmm. I think I'm going to go brush my teeth.