My dentist is cool, but he’s got a horrible name for a doctor to have. Dr. Slaughter. He is a few years younger than me. He loves ska. In fact, he said he went to Flamingo Cantina last weekend to see one of his favorite bands, The Slackers. In Austin he’s known as “the rock ‘n’ roll dentist.”
(Note to self: today my dentist let me know that the black dude with dreads who says “This place is dead anyway” in Swingers is in The Slackers, or one of their affiliated bands. I can’t remember exactly because we had the conversation while I was on the gas.)
I visited Dr. Slaughter at 2:30 p.m. earlier today to get a cavity filled. When the dental assistant made the mistake of asking me if I need more gas, I responded, “I feel it, but you can turn it up a little bit…a little bit more…a little bit more…
“…oh, it’s maxed out. OK…I guess that will do.”
And when I left the dentist’s office, I felt like this kid.
