''This room looks like that one spaceship where I was probed.''

This morning I had to drag myself out into the rain and go to the dentist. And unlike in this week's Glee, I did not close my eyes to find me serenading myself with Britney tunes nor did my dentist resemble the lovely John Stamos.  I am generally quite tolerant of unpleasant things.  But dental drills all up in my grill...my attitude borders on that of an upset eight year old. It all began when she turned the bright light on in my face. From then on it was quite clear that I wanted to be anywhere but there.  I'm surprised she didn't laugh outloud at the absurd and extreme grimaces I made while she was doing her thing. I was clenching my entire body so tensely that when I would actually take a second to breath (when I knew there were no drills for a second) I would realize that I was shaking. This seems a bit silly.  At the end, the nurse looked at me in my disgruntled state and actually congratulated me on my completion, saying that I did a good job. Thanks, lady. I realize I'm too old to handle this so poorly. But I'm taking your praise home with me because, quite honestly, I'm proud of myself that I didn't punch the dentist in the face.  Worst of all, I have to go back in a couple of weeks.  I'm not sure I can handle that.  She suggested I bring an iPod. I wanted to suggest that she put me under.  Perhaps I'll just blast Britney tunes into my ears.