Joke 945

best dentist cartoon ever (Photo credit: davechiu)

Q: What does the dentist of the year get?

A: A little plaque.

Q: What is a dentist’s office?

A: A filling station.

Q: What did the dentist see at the North Pole?

A: A molar bear.

Q: What did the dentist say to the golfer?

A: “You have a hole in one.”

Q: Why does a dentist seem moody?

A: Because he always looks down in the mouth.

Every member of the family should form the habit of brushing the teeth (Photo credit: Government & Heritage Library, State Library of NC)

Q: What did the werewolf eat after he’d had his teeth taken out?

A: The dentist.

Q: Why do dentists like potatoes?

A: Because they are so filling.

Q: Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused a Novocaine injection during root canal treatment?

A: He wanted to transcend dental medication. 

source: http://www.jokes4us.com/peoplejokes/dentistjokes/dentistonelinersjokes.html

 

A Veneer Of Respectability

Lovely eggs (Photo credit: zhouxuan12345678)

So I was eating a soft-boiled egg yesterday when I felt a tooth fall off. I’ve eaten nothing but soft food for 48 hours, in a bid to keep the tooth in place.  That worked.  Not.

It wasn’t a tooth, thankfully; it was the veneer of the tooth which snapped off on Monday.  The new cement the dentist used has kept the actual tooth in place.  

The veneer must have been a little loose: it has a mind of its own and has made a bid for freedom at least three times before.  The veneer on the right front tooth is more of a homebody and likes to stay stuck to my inside.  Like my children, one gives me many problems; one none at all (they’re going to read this and assume the good one is the reader and the troubled one is the other; my boys will probably do the same).

Do yourself a favour – never get veneers.  Looking back on it, shaving off half my tooth to make it look better is probably not a great idea.  I suspect that has contributed to the whole tooth-snapping-off-in-a-corn-on-the-cob thing.

My dentist’s receptionist squeezed me in again and my dentist used the new cement which has kept the tooth in place to fix the veneer; and promised to squeeze me in once more if she gets a cancellation before my crown appointment.  My dentist and her staff are great.

I wrote a poem for them, a fluffy Thank You.  I did think about taking them some chocolates but that’s what got me into trouble in the first place.  Here’s the poem:

*

Corn On The Cob

For Alison & Stephanie

Corn on the cob
attacked me gob

Me tooth snapped off
which made me sob

No duck apple
for me to bob

Me mouth was robbed
by corn on the cob

*

It had its first airing on Tuesday, at the poetry reading.  Socially Yours is a group which meets every Tuesday in our church, though it is run by an outside agency. It’s a chance to chat, play quizzes and bingo, socialise.  Sometimes they have a guest to entertain them…that was me.

I read in two halves: first, from ancient to modern, like the hymns; and then some of my own poems.  I had fun, though I couldn’t feel my tongue by the time I had finished, my mouth was so dry from nerves: fidgety old ladies are a tough audience.

Talking of poems, here’s something to really make me smile: I’ve just had an email to say that one of my South African poems has been accepted for an anthology by the University of London, on human rights.

Here’s their blurb: 

We are looking for poems that focus on any human rights or social justice issue, national or international, current or historical.  Poems could explore refugee rights, freedom of speech, indigenous peoples’ rights, LGBTI rights, economic rights or environmental justice – the opportunities are endless! 

The Human Rights Consortium is a multidisciplinary collaborative centre for research into human rights and social justice issues. For inspiration, please visit our current project pages (see sidebar). You can follow the Human Rights Consortium on Twitter or like us on Facebook to receive project-related news and updates about human rights. 

The Human Rights Poetry Anthology will be selected, compiled and edited by academics with expertise in human rights and English studies from the School of Advanced Study (University of London); and the Keats House Poets, a collective of young poets supported by the Keats House Museum who actively write and perform poems about human rights issues.

They sound like a barrel of tooth veneers, don’t they? 

We will stick together..smile together..be together… (Photo credit: Thai Jasmine (Smile..smile…Smile..))

Joke 825

ATT00076 Cat joke cartoon (Photo credit: DrJohnBullas)

“Open wider,” requested the dentist, as he began his examination of the patient.

“Good grief!” he said, startled. “You’ve got the biggest cavity I’ve ever seen – the biggest cavity I’ve ever seen…”

“OK Doc!” replied the patient. “I’m scared enough without you saying something like that twice.”

“I didn’t!” said the dentist. “That was the echo.”

*

From dentalaffairs.com

Mona Lisa Smile

I lofe corn on the cob.  Not any more.

Thorry if I theem to be lithping a bit – 2/3 of my front tooth now rethideth in tonigh’th dinner.  It thnapped off.  Jutht thnapped off!  At leatht now I know why the Mona Litha nefer thmiled with her mouth open…gummy as Poth Thpice.

I’m thuppothed to be gifing a poetry reading tomorrow.

Not gonna happen, unleth my dentitht workth a miracle.

 

Smile And You Smile Alone

This is a reblog of a post from October 2010.

mouth (Photo credit: Darwin Bell)

We haven’t talked about my manky teeth for a while.  I have the worst teeth in the world.  When Americans whisper behind their hands about British mouths, it’s me they’re thinking of. 

I had root canal treatment on my front tooth, twenty-odd years ago.  Being dead, it got greyer and greyer until I begged my dentist to help me.  He suggested veneers – in the plural, because one’s front gnashers should match. 

I told my friend Flo about it and she thought it was a great idea until she spoke to her own dentist.  Next time I saw her, I asked her if she was going to have her own teeth done but she fobbed me off.  She didn’t want to upset newly veneered me, or make me feel uncomfortable.  I knew she was fobbing me off by the way she blushed and ran to the other side of the playground every time teeth were mentioned.

I never did learn what horror story her dentist told her about veneers, but I can take a good guess.  First of all, installing them hurts.  My teeth were sanded down to nothing and every time I breathed (which I do a lot of; there’s no getting round it) it felt like a gale force wind was prodding my pearly yellows with a skewer.  Then the cement used to stick the veneers on was so adhesive, it dried before my dentist had time to remove the excess.  My mouth spent weeks looking as if it had been grouted to match my bathroom.

Worst of all, the cement only seems to work on the gaps between the teeth: my veneers have fallen off several times and always have to be glued back on. I was on my way out one night when it happened again.  ‘I don’t know why it does that,’ I said to the Hub as I finished my chewy lollipop.

Smile (Photo credit: Tim Zim)

I don’t go out with a broken mouth.  It’s one of my rules.  My dentist agreed to fix it next morning.  She keeps a spare appointment just for me: I am forever losing crowns, fillings, veneers and bits of old tooth that I don’t use anymore.

I hope my children read this as a cautionary tale: brush your teeth twice a day for three minutes.  If you don’t, I’m warning you: I’m going to smile.

 

Me & My Manky Teeth

I wasn’t joking the other day – if it wasn’t for modern dentistry and our wonderful (absolutely no irony intended here) NHS, I would look like this:

I have always had manky teeth.  I blame the parents.  They didn’t make me brush my teeth as a child, and now I’m reaping the reward.  It has nothing to do with my intimate relationship with chocolate, of course.

I have had five oral infections in about seven years – all leading to horrendous but necessary treatment: teeth pulling, poking around with sharp sticks, and an intermittent speech impediment.  Yet I brush my teeth at least twice a day.

Woot canal tweatment looms on Tuesday, now that the antibiotics I’ve been taking for five days have calmed the infection in my tooth-that-isn’t-a-tooth-so-much-as-a-massive-filling-with-gums.

Don’t worry – it won’t affect my blogging; in fact, it does me a favour – it’s been a while since I shared a horror story with you.  Something to look forward to.

If I had been born over a century ago, I’d probably be dead.  Not because of ancient dentistry: anyone born over a century ago is probably dead by now.  It’s simple mathematics. 

But I would probably have been dead at twenty from my first infection that led to root canal treatment that gave me a dark front tooth that made me look like Posh Spice because I never smiled in photographs.  Even now that the tooth has been veneered – although it tends to come off when I eat toffee lollies – I still smile with my mouth closed for photos.  Check out my old ones and you’ll see.

Tory Boy might have killed me as well.  It wasn’t dentistry that saved me that time, you’ll be disappointed to hear; but Dr Faktor in Park Town, Johannesburg, who saw me the week before my due date and booked me in for a caesarean eight days later.  He saw me again on my due date; told me TB was still breached (breeched?  I’m never sure: either he broke our contract or he came out wearing trousers); to go home; relax; come back tomorrow for the op.  No op = a baby coming out sideways = let’s not go there.

The Hub took me out to eat and to a movie: Look Who’s Talking.  I never give birth now, without thinking of Bruce Willis.

I bet he has good teeth.

Cover of Look Who’s Talking

 

A Tooth Story

teeth (Photo credit: jfraser)

It’s not the first time people have thought a member of my family was being abused.  Here’s a true story from my childhood.

My Dad worked shifts and when he was on nights my little brother would come home from primary school, wake him up, and they would wrestle for a while, as dads and sons do. 

Little brother’s baby teeth were loose and one time when he was wrestling, his two front teeth were knocked, and fell out.  Two days later we had a social worker on our doorstep.  It seems that little brother had gone into school next day and a member of staff had asked him what had happened to his teeth.  Little brother had innocently replied, ‘Oh, my Dad kicked them out.’

Mum had a hard job explaining that away.

No Smoking Unless You Are On Fire

Image by howzey via Flickr

Time for some more searches that found this blog.

Sound Advice

• no smoking unless you are on fire
• life is short smile while you still have teeth

For Those Between Bloggers

• mezzanine levels blogs

People Often Come Here Looking For A Hard-Working Housewife Blog; How Disappointed They Must Be

• pain stripping housewife
• housewife tickle
• a housewifes job are newer done…
• my name is i am a housewife
• how to look like a hard worker
• housewife superhero 

The Search For Tooth

• big dogs with cheesy smiles
• good teeth smile
• homeless people teeth
• ugly person smiling
• tooth bathroom

Ewwwww

• brown stripe on root of wisdom teeth
• granies sex
• pet poo cartoon
• cartoon fart fog

Sigh.  I Totally Get This

• my hubby thinks im ugly poem
• ugly wife blog
• flaky mother

I Totally Don’t Get This

• ugliest yorkshire terrier
• gay socks eating
• temporary poem
• gay socks and fun
• sick clocks
• yoda police
• womanless rotary
• frog facebook

Why So Particular?

• cfs/me in kusadasi

Demonstrating The Value Of Knowing Where The Commas Go

• old fashioned house,wife rules

Demonstrating The Value Of Using The Correct Tense (And Complete Sentences)

• cartoons give birth

Should I Be Worried?

• noah ark 2011
• free porn tube
• knickerless women in the street
• poem for a knickerless lady
• gave my wife to another man

Massive Legs Woman And The Elderly Teeth

Image via Wikipedia

It’s that time again: searches that found me.  If you can make sense of any of them, I’d be grateful to know what.

 

Body Dysmorphia?

• Massive Legs Woman
• please give me a full pic.of somebodys legs
• smiling man with busted teeth
• tooth cry
• mashed up teeth smiles
• smily faces of people who do not have a teeth
• elderly teeth

That Is So Not A Good Idea

• green beans with nik naks

Things We Don’t Care About

• ralphhasawifey

 Again With The Finding Their Way To My Blog For Reasons I Can’t Fathom

• kill husband cartoon

No Kidding

• my family lo0k at me strangely if i randomly start laughing at the mobile:)

 

I Don’t Write Poetry On This Blog No More

• poems for removing guests removing shoes

Huh?

• fish contraception cartoon
• polifolia choirs
• funny barrier contraception cartoons 

How Would I Know?

• is freda funny?
• is shower power safe on granite

 Could This Be True?

• tomato purée stops bulimia
• ugly women gay sex

 That’s Not Much Of A Prize

• psychic sees lottery win cartoons

 Let’s Not

• let’s gonna last 

Why Being A Housewife May Not Be A Good Thing

• housewife forced to sit ups
• leather house wife
• fact about kettles
• laughing washing machine

What Did She Do To That Donkey?

• you’re only as old ass the woman you fell

A Beer-Guzzling Mammal Of The Nocturnal Kind

pic of bud sucking bat of africa

And This One Is Seriously Scary

cut open the “pregnant women” “brick testament”

Mum

Today is the third anniversary of Mum’s death.  What a contrast the weather is to last year, when we couldn’t go to the cemetery because the snow was so thick – glorious sunshine today, though a freezing wind made coats a necessity.

Mum is a teenager in this photo.  Her teeth were lovely then but she got gum disease in her thirties and had them all out.  I always considered that a warning – choose between your smile or your fix.  Also, smoking gives you lots of wrinkles: Spud wouldn’t kiss Mum until he was nine because he was scared of her wrinkly face.  It still makes me laugh.

Mum was not a great housewife compared to me, and I am not a great housewife so that will give you an idea of how bad she was.  In fairness, she had a demanding full-time job – and even had three jobs at one point – so she had more of an excuse than I do; but once she acquired the habit of not cleaning, it never left her, even when she retired.

My Nan called in after church one Sunday morning when I was about eleven, and Mum hadn’t started to clean up, so Nan got stuck in to the kitchen.  Once she had finished washing the dirty cups on the side, she made tea in them.  Fortunately she left straight after, because the tea went down the drain – two of the cups Nan washed were used to hold Mum and Dad’s false teeth.

Writer’s Island: Adventure

Image by tarale via Flickr

A Denture Adventure

A juvenile reaction
to a baby tooth extraction:

£2 – Yeah!

 

A middle-aged reaction
to a wisdom tooth extraction:

 

Quake
Quiver
Sob
Shiver
Cry
Weep
Pills
Sleep
Moan
Groan
Complain
Pain

 

An elderly reaction
to a last-ever extraction:

 

Sigh
Slurp
Burp

*

*

You can see other interpretations of the prompt at http://writersisland.wordpress.com/

The Veneer Of Civilisation

Image via Wikipedia

It’s manky teeth time again.  I have the worst teeth in the world.  When Americans whisper behind their hands about British mouths, it’s me they’re thinking of. 

I had root canal treatment on my front tooth, twenty-odd years ago.  Being dead, it got greyer and greyer until I begged my dentist to help me.  He suggested veneers – in the plural, because one’s front gnashers should match. 

I told my friend Flo about it and she thought it was a great idea until she spoke to her own dentist.  Next time I saw her, I asked her if she was going to have her own teeth done but she fobbed me off.  She didn’t want to upset newly-veneered me, or make me feel uncomfortable.  I knew she was fobbing me off by the way she blushed and ran to the other side of the playground every time teeth were mentioned.

I never did learn what horror story her dentist told her about veneers, but I can take a good guess.  First of all, installing them hurts.  My teeth were sanded down to nothing and every time I breathed (which I do a lot of; there’s no getting round it) it felt like a gale force wind was prodding them with a skewer.  Then the cement used to stick on the veneers was so adhesive, it dried before my dentist had time to remove the excess.  My mouth spent weeks looking as if it had been grouted to match my bathroom.

Worst of all, the cement only seems to work on the gaps between the teeth: my veneers have fallen off several times and had to be glued back on.  Last night it happened again.  ‘I don’t know why it does that,’ I said to the Hub as I finished my chewy lollipop.

 

I had intended to attend the monthly session of Stockport Write Out Loud last night, but I don’t go out with a broken mouth.  It’s one of my rules.  My new dentist has agreed to fix it this morning.  She keeps a spare appointment just for me: I am forever losing crowns, fillings, veneers and bits of old tooth that I don’t use anymore.

I hope my children read this as a cautionary tale: brush your teeth twice a day for three minutes.  If you don’t, I’m warning you: I’m going to smile.

Boys Moan

Spud Bud has left me for another woman: his friend’s mother, who makes edible mashed potatoes that he can stomach, though he can’t stomach mine; and who has gone off to exotic places for a week: Trearddur Bay in Angelsey.  This is the third time they have taken him away and I am very grateful, though they will insist on bringing him back.

I had hoped to have a break from his complaints – he’s fourteen: complain and sleep is all they do – but he had been gone only six hours before the first call came, complaining that I had not provided him with bedding (okay; I never said his complaints were unjustified).  I remembered the toothpaste; what more does he want? 

Phew!

I had to rise from my sick-bed to accommodate the massive sigh of relief I let out at the news that we finally have a new Prime Minister. I must say, the whole thing has been terribly British: discreet talks and lots of waiting around for something to happen.  http://www.shesnotfromyorkshire.com/ was quite amusing about it, remarking that the fact that queues were involved in the ‘scandal’ of people being unable to vote was typically British.

Over the last few days I have been amused by the wonderment of foreign bloggers that we have no written constitution, but it is obvious that our system works fine just as it is – we are, after all, the people who tried having a revolution and then decided we didn’t like it and went back to the old system.  We have had a peaceful, if delayed, transition of power, and can now look forward to a period of co-operation between the Conservatives and Lib Dems.

I hope. This is the first coalition government in the UK since 1945, and no-one knows what to expect.  I am feeling quite optimistic that this is the start of a new era in politics.  I say that from the position of being on the almost-winning side, of course, but the Lib Dems must be enjoying the chance of  being in government after so long being the kid brother your Mum makes you drag along with you when you go out with your mates.

I like some Lib Dem policies, such as no tax on wages under £10,000, so I don’t think the coalition is necessarily a bad thing, as long as all parties concerned are working for our good and not theirs.

I thought David Cameron was gracious towards his predecessor in his speech, and Samantha looked like she was going to burst with pride. I felt proud myself to have voted Conservative when I heard him. He is really growing on me.  I like that he is not afraid to compromise for the good of the country and I am beginning to believe that he genuinely wants to improve ‘our country’, as he is so fond of saying.

I have to say, I have never liked Gordon Brown more!  He looked completely relaxed as he went to the Palace and his smile was unscary for the first time ever; perhaps it was tension that made it so frightening.

*

I say ‘sick bed’ but it’s more like ‘tired couch’. The Migraleve worked its magic yesterday as far as relieving the pain, but the nausea is still hovering and I am still feeling quite drowsy.

My friend Viv sent me an interesting email about a possible cause of the migraines, the gist of which I will share with you, in case you stumbled upon my blog looking for  answers: do you grind your teeth?  Your bite might need adjusting.  You might have a  high filling putting pressure on your jaw joint, linked directly to the nerves in the brain.  A grind of the filling might cure the problem.

I’m almost certain that my own migraines are caused by my being a woman of a certain age and change is a-comin’, but I’d like to thank Viv for sharing such useful information.

*

The Boy Nik (Not The Boy Nick) Knocked And He’s Got Manky Teeth

The Boy Nik has lost the ‘c’ since the last time I saw him and he needs to lose the majority of his teeth as well, as he showed me. Not a pleasant sight, but that’s drug addiction for you. He had the number of an NHS emergency dentist but he wanted me to phone his Mum and give her the number so that she could make an appointment for him and then phone his mobile to tell him the details. He assured me that he wouldn’t be bothering me anymore because he was having a land line installed today and could he wash our car as a thank you? I declined his kind offer but I did appreciate it.

He puts me on the back foot because he always calls early, while I’m still in my dressing gown; and every time he apologises for getting me out of bed, which he never has, but I feel embarrassed just the same. I’m never sure if he is just going out or just coming in, but today he came between last night’s elderly neighbour, Mrs S, who called for her spare key because she had misplaced her own (again); and next door’s Mrs J who is really Mrs F but everyone in the family has a name beginning with J, plus the son-in-law and one grandchild. Only the husband escapes but his name begins with G so he’s almost one of them. Mrs J was looking for the Hub to fix her laptop, which took him ten minutes. She says we can never move because she needs him too much: she is always borrowing his tools and his expertise. She spends a lot of time on her own and she taps away at the walls at all hours of the day and night, doing we know not what. I think she might be building a secret extension into our living room.

It was Coronationside Square in Neighbourhood Central this morning because the phone rang as often as the door bell. At one point I looked like Taz the Tasmanian devil because I was just about to put the recycling in the bins outside the back door when the phone went; I had almost answered it when Nik knocked; and that was when I noticed the dog had upchucked and I wasn’t sure where to turn as I searched for somewhere to put down seven empty bottles, five tins and a partridge in a paper tree. However, rest assured, dear reader, that if there was a screaming baby I’d have seen to him first. Fortunately, the Hub was asleep.