Dylan Bolin

*This is dedicated to the hygienist and Dr. Taito, DDS who were worried that I might use this experience in one of my “bits.”  I am.

First, some exposition:  For over a month I’ve had a wicked pain on the left side of my head.  Various doctors have prescribed antibiotics and pain killers to temporary results, but the pain always returned.  Then I thought the source of the pain might be an un-erupted wisdom tooth that, by laying low, avoided the fate of the other three which, after they were pulled, I turned into buttons for a rather Gothic cardigan. 

That suspicion took me to my wife’s dentist.  In a matter of moments he diagnosed the pain that had plagued me for weeks.  “Well, I don’t think it’s the wisdom tooth,” he said, “I think the problem is that you have an enormous cavity in that tooth right there.”  He pointed to the X-ray and a convex area of black among my mouth’s ghostly white, picket fence.  It was tooth #19; the “Robin Yount Tooth.”  He knelt down beside the chair.  “I think this is going to require a root canal.” 

My first cavity ever, and it required a root canal.

Now if you’re anything like me, just the term “root canal” is enough to make you break into a cold sweat.  I know it does me, despite the fact that I’ve never had one.  I considered asking if for another option like perhaps two .38 slugs to the back of the head, but the doctor assured me that he knew a great Endodontist (root canal specialist).

Two days later and one day before the most celebrated mouth holiday there is, I was to receive a root canal.

Here’s what it would look like if my mouth was a cartoon:

Anyway, on the day of the big procedure, I shaved my body smooth, and anointed it with goat’s milk and Lavender.  Then, I kissed my wife goodbye and drove to Dr. Taito’s office singing I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith.

When I arrived at the office, I checked in at reception.  I gave them my name and the staff became very furtive, like they were trying to get a look at me without looking like they were looking.  I felt a bit like Harry Potter when he first arrived at Hogwarts. 

Later, talking to the hygienist, I learned that some of the staff knew my name from WKLH and wondered if I was the same guy.  This is actually pretty common when people put a face to a radio voice.  (The strangest comment I ever received was:  “I thought you would be blond.”  How do you sound blond?)

When Dr. Taito came in, he informed me that he had done a Google search on me, and he seemed impressed by my prolific on-line presence.  Now, you’d think this would be a good thing, being recognized and all, but I immediately thought:  “Crap.  Now I can’t be a wuss.”

I mean, who wants to later be a character in the doctor’s story:

“So get this.  You know that Dylan guy from WKLH?”

“Yeah?”

“Total wimp.  Cried like a kitten.  We ran out of Novocaine; had to borrow more from another office.”

So every time they asked me if I was okay, I tried to wink like John Wayne…despite the fact that it would cause a single tear to roll into my ear.

Anyway, turns out that Dr. Taito and Advanced Dental Specialists are pretty incredible.  His chair-side manner was a lot like I imagine Oprah’s Dr. Oz.

So I’m finally on the mend.  For the first time in weeks, and on Thanksgiving Eve, I couldn’t be more thankful that I’m now pain-free.  Of course that could be because of the meds.  But I prefer to think that it’s because I’m spooning a unicorn in a chocolate hammock.

Did you know unicorns could purr?  Me neither.

-Dylan

As mentioned in an earlier post, I’m something of a word nerd, which is why I was a little confused when I came across a colonial recipe for Thanksgiving turkey in a coffee table book.  It said:

“Behead the foul ‘ere you pluck a feather…”

Now, I had heard the term “behead” before, but, for some reason, reading it, it struck me as strange.  I couldn’t put my finger on why for the longest time, and then I saw a commercial for the BeDazzler, the item that will make a plain old denim jacket look like a fishing lure for just $19.95.

Surely the prefix “be-” couldn’t be correct for both, could it?  It’s commonly accepted that to behead something means to remove its head, yet in the case of the BeDazzler it means to add…dazzle.  So I looked it up and, sure enough, the prefix “be-” means: 

“1.  Completely; thoroughly; excessively.  Used as an intensive:  Bemuse”

By this definition, to behead a turkey would mean a) to make sure the turkey has plenty of heads, or b) to kill it via several sharp head butts, which, let’s face it, would be a hilarious way to kill a turkey.

But if “behead” does mean “to remove the head,” what happens to someone who is “beloved?”  Do you remove their love?  Are all those Valentine’s Day cards really meant as aggressive threats?

So I say we “dehead” our turkeys, and by all means DeDazzle your denim jacket; for God’s sake, you look like a Lumberjack Disco Ball.

-Dylan

Hello again, friends.  It would appear that I have fallen victim to the “Creeping Crud” that’s been plaguing many of you.  That’s right; I’m sick.  I am, however, determined not to let it affect these Blogs because, you see, writing unsolicited essays for your consumption is not only presumptuous and arrogant on my part, but it’s also incredibly brave.  Despite the fact that my body is focusing nearly every spare resource on producing mucus, I must soldier on with these correspondences that you didn’t ask for.  No need to not thank me; that’s not why I don’t do it.  I think I might have accidentally taken the NyQuil instead of the DayQuil, so forgive me if I lakhsglhasodioasdgohonvos

Sorry about that.  It appears that I passed out on the keyboard and it’s now early evening.  Either that or, based on the time that I’ve lost and can’t seem to recall, I was abducted by aliens. 

I hope you all had a pleasant Thanksgiving.  In honor of this most American of holidays, I’ve assembled some trivia that you may not have known.  For instance, did you know that turkey was not likely on the menu during the first Thanksgiving back in 1621?  It’s true.  A Native American named Squanto taught the Plymouth Colony Pilgrims how to grow corn…and catch EEL.  Eel for crying out loud!  No white meat, no dark meat, just eel meat!  And no wishbone to break in order to wish for something other than eel.

And apparently, all that eel meat made the Pilgrims crazy because just 70 years later, they thought it would be a great idea to cook something aside from eel, namely their women.  Not all their women of course, just the ones that didn’t act normal.  The folks that brought us Thanksgiving were the same folks that later gave us The Salem Witch Trials.  Thankfully, today we don’t burn outspoken women at the stake; instead we put them on The View.  But back then, it was a very different story. 

Very few records of that time have survived to modern day but, today, I present to you a transcript of an actual copyrighted conversation between two Pilgrims.

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David:  Brother Ethan, these two women have been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft and are hereby sentenced to be burned at the stake.  Witch One will be burned at the stake tonight, and Witch Two will be burned at the stake tomorrow.  Is this understood?

Ethan:  Yes, Brother David.  I have but one question:  Which One will be burned tonight?

David:  That is correct.  Now what is your question?

Ethan:  That was my question.

David:  Witch One will be burned tonight?

Ethan:  Yes.

David:  Yes.

Ethan:  Which?

David:  Which what?

Ethan:  Which Witch?

David:  Witch One.

Ethan:  Which one is Witch One?

David:  Of course she is.

Ethan:  Which?

David:  Yes. 

Ethan:  Brother David:  I am to burn a witch tonight.

David:  Yes.

Ethan:  And the witch I tie to the stake atop the tinder will be which one?

David:  Exactly.

Ethan:  Okay, let’s try this:  Brother David, which one is Witch Two?

David:  No.

Ethan:  What do you mean “no?”

David:  No, Brother Ethan, Witch One is Witch One.

Ethan:  THAT’S WHAT I’M ASKING YOU!

(Muted Trombone)  Wah-Wah-Wah-Waaaaaaaah.

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-Dylan