MY DENTIST COULD BE WANTED FOR MURDER

After going to him for about 12 years, it dawned on me yesterday that I have no freakin' idea what my dentist looks like.

This man who crams his fists in my mouth twice a year?

I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a lineup.

Every time I've seen him, I've been laying prone in a dentist chair.

He comes in with a mask over the lower part of his face.

He sits in a chair above my head so that when we talk, I see his silver hair and eyes and that's it. I have no idea how tall he is, how much he weighs, if he has a beard, a third arm or a tail.

So yesterday, I decided to end all this.

When he handed me that free toothbrush at the end of my session, I was going to pop out of that chair, stand up and get a good look at this man whom my insurance company refers to as Customer # 329441814-1113.

He handed me the toothbrush.

I rocked myself out of the chair while the hygienist was still raising me to an upright position.

I spun around toward the door.

But he was already gone again, having scurried off to his office.

Curses!!

One of these days...one of these days...

Once again, both the dentist and his assistant had plenty to talk about while they had their hands wrapped firmly around my tonsils.

Naturally, they always want to talk football first because they figure that I'm a large man and my whole life revolves around football.

They know I'm a Tennessee fan. I'll give them credit ... they always remember that they're supposed to ask me about Tennessee and their chances of winning the National title.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to come up with more expressive answers than "Unnngh" and "Huhhahhuh" when they're asking me these questions.

But yesterday, the conversation took an interesting turn.

They both agree whole-heartedly that I need to run for Mayor of this city.

This isn't the first time someone has told me that I need to run for Mayor.

Well ... it's the second time. The first time was my old boss who was pretty wasted when he told me that I needed to be Mayor.

Their reasoning for saying this yesterday is because I'm honest and people like me.

I seriously have no idea where this line of thinking is coming from.

First off, I'm hardly honest. If given the chance, I will lie like a busted four year-old with his hand in the cookie jar to your face. It's my nature.

Second...jeez. These people see me on an average of 90 minutes a year.

During those 90 minutes, as long as there's not several dozen sharp metal instruments shoved in my cheeks, yes ... I am capable of being sociable and somewhat witty.

But I don't have any interest of ever being in politics. I HATE politics. I do like our current Mayor that we have in this city and have more respect for him today after sitting in a meeting with him this past Monday.

But I have no interest in that job.

Other than the money. It pays 90 grand a year.

I wouldn't sneeze at that.

But I think it's presumptuous of people who entertain me with facts about college football teams while I'm not allowed to debate these facts to honestly think that qualifies me to run for public office.

Plus...newsflash.

It's not like I'm going to argue with someone who has a sharp metal hook near my gums and tell them something they don't wanna hear.

Good God...it's not like my Mama raised a TOTAL moron.

It's hard to believe, but we've been in our dream home one entire year next week.

And because I like to wait until the last minute to do anything because I'm lazy and stupid ... we called the guy who painted our house to come touch up the paint in our house.

When we moved in, the builder of the house told us that the painter would come back and touch up the paint ONE TIME in the first year.

My train of thought says, "Call the painter after 51 weeks in the house".

That's logic...right?

So I call the painter.

The painter says he has no idea what I'm talking about. He never comes out to the houses to touch up paint. Sorry...that ain't in the contract.

Okay.

So I call the builder who told me this in the first place and tell him that the painter's being difficult.

The builder says the painter is right. Nobody ever told me that they'd come back to touch up the paint in the first year.

I tell the builder that HE told me this and that both my wife and I remember him saying this.

He basically calls me a liar without using the exact word.

I get out our contract.

Right there in black and white: "The paint is not warrantied: The painter will provide touch up one time during the first year."

So I call the builder back.

"It's right here in the contract," I say.

"No it's not," the builder says.

I'M STARING STRAIGHT THE HELL AT IT, DUDE!

Okay.

Time to pull the rabbit out of the hat.

I hang up with the builder and call the owner of the company that built my house.

The guy that the company is named after.

Yes, he foolishly gave me his cell phone number when the house was being built and told me to call him whenever I had a problem.

I don't think he meant for me to call him a year after we had moved in.

I took him by surprise.

I explained that this was in my contract that they had devised.

He said he believed me but that it should have been crossed off the contract because they don't do that anymore.

Maybe not.

But they were doing it in full force a year ago.

Bottom line ... the painter is coming out here tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. to touch up the house.

And I'm never buying another house from these jackasses again.