Fast Track to Dentures

A dentist for those who abhor healthy teeth

I'm walking Otto home from his grooming appointment, minding my own business, which is to say "daydreaming", when a sign assaults my peace of mind. Beneath the name of some Sewickley dentist, just before the words "general dentist", a word insanely sits and smiles at you... "alternative". As in Dr. Sewickley Dentist is both freakin' insane and an alternative general dentist.

Now, I thought the alternative to dentistry was letting your teeth rot and having them fall out, or, alternatively, moving to England.

I peeked in the window to see if a band of lesbians, gays, and bi-sexuals filled the waiting room. Now I can't say definitively that the man and woman living-fossils who were either waiting to see Dr. Alternative (or who may have, in fact, been dead... the funeral home is just a few buildings down, so perhaps it was a misdelivery) were not homo or bi-sexuals, but the dumb-looking couple with two dumber looking kids certainly weren't.

I found myself hoping that Dr. Alternative was simply a big Pearl Jam or Foo Fighters fan, but I suspect that the witchdoctor's 21st century descendant, alternative medicine, has invaded dentistry.

Instead of novacaine, a drill, and proper dental hygiene, one pays for the pleasure of sitting in a chair and having a man in a white coat who tells you that he didn't graduate from college but he has watched a lot of college football games. Perhaps Dr. Alternative received his degree from the same cereal box that most chiropractors do (note: there is a reason that doctors practice medicine in professional buildings, whereas most chiropractors can be found cracking backs next to Giant, Foodland, or Redner's in some strip mall).

Maybe Dr. Alternative manipulates your mandible and massages your maxilla in the belief that poor alignment and stress are the precursors to cavities. Does the alternative orthodontist simply hit your kid in the mouth with a baseball bat? I suspect that the alternative oral surgeon has you repeatedly bite down on jawbreakers to remove your wisdom teeth.

I'm sure Dr. Alternative tells his clients that they may drink all of the sugary sodas that they want, that they needn't worry about time-consuming flossing or brushing, just make sure they talk to each tooth and encourage them not to succomb to the cavity creeps.

Call me old-fashioned, but I'm going to stick to the dentist with a drill and a degree. Sure he makes mistakes and covers them up by saying "rinse", but I prefer this guy who takes x-rays of my teeth, than Dr. Alternative, who I can only imagine walks into his appointments and announces that he's going to scan your teeth with his x-ray vision, just before he puts on Enya and begins chanting "decay decay go away".

Snocaine Habit

Otto's Next Stop... Rehab?

I inquired at work the other day to see if my health care plan covered in-patient treatment for pets with drug problems. Otto does not toke up nor have I found any syringes tucked surreptitiously inside his cage.

I asked this question because it has become apparent over the last couple of days that Otto has a serious snocaine habit. The first time or two, I tried to brush it off as just "recreational" use or experimentation. There's no denying it now though -- he's a hard core snocaine addict.

And before you go blaming me for this, you must understand that I have done my best to drag him along during our morning and evening lemon-snowcone-making adventures, to keep him on the straight and narrow. But alas, every couple of feet, he digs in and buries his snout in a fresh pile of powder and snorts.

I haven't helped. When he pulls free of the snow, I can't help but laugh. He looks for all the world like a team photo of the BYU basketball or football team.

This is a serious matter, I realize. He has all the classic signs of addiction -- excited behavior… frequent urination… defacating in public… it's quite sad. He's just a little over 14 years old (which is 2 in people's years). He has his whole life -- at least 11 more years, I hope -- ahead of him.

For people who think a snocaine habit is glamorous, my spray bottle of Pet Resolve and I can assure you that it is anything but. Oddly enough God did not fashion a dog's digestive system to handle mounds of dirty snow. Horribly bland dog food -- not that I have tried it, but I imagine that it would be -- yes. But not snow.

HR got back to me today to break the bad news -- no coverage. So while men with limp penises can get prescriptions for a temporary fix -- a temporary stiffy, I am left to my own devices to treat a miniature schnauzer with a snocaine habit and an upset stomach.

The Day After

sans the nuclear Holocaust

Either fantasy football has completely warped my perspective and killed my love of the Steelers or I have matured.

Today I woke up not depressed nor suicidal nor wondering about "what might have been". No, I woke up today as I do most days with a 20 pound dog sprawled across my chest, licking my face, and reminding me that life goes on no matter what the score of yesterday's AFC Championship game.

This past Friday night I attended my company's sales awards banquet. Every January, our distributors and direct sales people fly in from the thriving and cramped streets of Bangalore, India and the picturesque Munich hamlet of Otterfing and from just about every other place imaginable across the globe. Many are friends; all are good company -- at least for one night.

In the atrium of the Carnegie Museum of Natural History acknowledgements and thanks are given out like candy on Halloween... and near the end, a few big candy bars are delivered... in the form of the two awards for excellence in sales support (i.e. all of the non-sales people who help in the sales process... or at least that's the theory).

Winning this award, being recognized for excellence in what I do means far more to me than the score of yesterday's Steelers game. So while I was deeply disappointed last night, I woke up warmed by the thought of my Friday night award and something else even more important to me than a 5th Super Bowl victory for my beloved Steelers -- and while I'm sure (at least most of the time) my family, health, and all the usual suspects might be appropriate responses here... after a painful Steelers loss, those, quite frankly, aren't tremendous solace... because, and let's be honest, I have those all year round anyway.

No, last night's loss seemed distant to me this morning as I smiled and thought of what is more lasting and important to me than a trip to Jacksonville.... a nice bonus check to deposit that accompanied my award.

Because as much as I will always be a hardcore Steelers fan at heart, I'm an even harder core capitalist.

Eagles 14-10

Like I said...

You can't give a good team 2nd chances. This time the Eagles gave the Falcons second life with a personal foul - hands to the face (or whatever they called it). 2 plays later -- despite one clean and vicious Brian Dawkins hit -- touchdown Falcons.

End of the 1st

unsuccessful but damn smart

With 1:00 left in the 1st quarter, I kept hoping the Eagles would use a time out to ensure that the Falcons wouldn't have the wind to kick a field goal. With 0:01 left, the Eagles did just that. Forcing the Falcons to go for it. Some may criticize Andy Reid for that call, I thought it was damn smart.

Side note: Even with the wind, I'm not sure Michael Vick will complete more than 10 passes. He looks AWFUL.

7-0 Eagles

Penalties kill

As we have seen time and time again this season, you absolutely cannot give a good team second chances. The Eagles went three and almost out. D'Angelo Hall grabs a face mask, gets called for illegal hands to the face, and the Eagles steamroll over the Falcons with a beautiful delayed trap with Westbrook, a scorcher to L.J. Smith, and old man Dorsey Levens carrying 10 Falcons with him after being initially stopped at the 2 for a touchdown. 7-0 Eagles.

Sidenote: I thought bumping a receiver 15 yards down the field was either interference or illegal contact downfield?

Championship Sunday

A day long diary of events

It's 1 hour before the first of two big games. This is the time when games are won and lost. Hopefully I have done right by the Eagles. I'm wearing jeans, a white turtleneck with a Mr. Yuck green t-shirt overtop. The Eagles are going to make the Falcons sick all day. If the Eagles lose (which isn't going to happen), then I may regret not wearing my green Woodstock t-shirt instead.

My unwashed, pizza-stained Steelers t-shirt is resting up for the 6:30 game. Though no professor has published a study indicating that Tide can leech the remaining bit of luck in a piece of clothing, I'm not taking any chances.

And, oh, when the Steelers and Eagles do meet in 2 weeks. You can be sure that my Mr. Yuck t-shirt will be washed while my Steelers t-shirt will be funky.