Shitty dentists and an awesome cat.

It's been tough for me to think of something interesting to write about as I'm mentally preparing myself for reconstructive shoulder surgery on Tuesday. I've never undergone any sort of surgery and I've only been put under twice in my life (both times for dental procedures), that I can remember. I don't like being put under, probably for the same reasons that I've never really bothered with drugs -- I'm not all that fond of losing control of my body and becoming a drooling, incoherent (even moreso than usual) mess.

The very first time I remember being put under, it was at the dentist's office, and I couldn't have been more than eleven years old. The dentist strapped the mask to my face, turned on the gas, and then stepped away to join a couple of nurses on the other side of the room. As the gas started to take effect, I felt a sneeze coming on. I didn't want to cover the inside of the mask with my snot and spit, so I tried to get the dentist's attention by pointing at my face and shouting, but my voice was muffled. As the dentist turned to address me, I noticed that he was holding a mirror covered in some sort of powder. "Now's not a good time, Justin," was the last thing he said to me before I finally went to sleep. I didn't really think much of it when I later came to, and it wasn't until years later that I realized that the dentist and his nurses were doing coke right there in the room while I was off in the corner, inhaling sleeping gas. Even worse, the implication is that they were just as high as I was while they were working on me.

Unfortunately my poor luck with dentists has continued to this day, though he was the only one ballsy enough to openly do drugs in front of me.

And here's an awesome cat: