... I hate my dentist's assistant. Truly.

Going to the dentist every six months means that he rarely has to drill, but each and every time one of his assistants is instructed to scale my teeth, she does her very best to abrade half of my gums, too.

When I get home and see in the mirror that all the spaces between my teeth are full of congealed blood, I want to scream bloody murder (pun intended).

Somehow I seem to remember that my old dentist's assistant was either more competent, had a steadier hand or was less blind. Gah.