you know what? you're cute. you, yes you. you're cute when you march into my office and pretend you know what you're talking about, like when you inform me that you have "an exposed nerve." hmmmm, an exposed nerve? sounds serious! what do you figger we should do, doc? sew it back up or what? should i break out the defibrilator? CLEAR!!! we have an exposed nerve! damnit, jim! i'm a doctor not a nervician! sweet lord! an exposed nerve!
it's called recession. and your nerves are inside your tooth. ok? ok.
you're also cute when you quote previous clinicians and the retarded stuff they allegedly told you to do: "my last hygienist told me not to brush by the gums." aha. was she shooting heroin at the time? or giving you a lap dance?
and you're at your absolute most adorable when you lie to my face in spite of obvious evidence: "but i DO brush there. i spend extra time brushing there." hmmmm. i guess someone, presumably the KGB or the CIA, planted the decomposing ex-food in between those molars in order to incriminate you. i buy that. really, i do.
but hey, i am learning! next time i go to the doctor i will walk in and in my most authoritative voice tell her that i am suffering from a lateral cordionisis of the left ventricular scapula, a condition exacerbated by the chronic inflammation of my pancreatic uvula. do i drink? never! unless some bastard spikes my daily morning milk, which is the only logical explanation for the questionable state of my liver. oh, and by the way? my last doctor told me not to exercise - apparently it only makes you cranky and does nothing for the flab.