Root Canals=Re-Watching "Love Actually"

First they put on a shitty movie, typically you have three choices: Documentary, Corny Old Film, or Disney Classic. If you pick the documentary, you're a douche, picking the corny old film would make you an asshole, and if you pick the Disney classic-- lets just not go into that(You Cant Fucking Win) . Then they proceed to jab a needle into your gum. Then they do it again and again and again. After its firmly inserted into your tender tissue they wiggle it, and push extra hard, just to make sure you as uncomfortable as possible. Then they leave you...this is the part where you're probably thinking that you would have been better off taking lethal doses of Advil for the rest of your miserable life.
Right as you're about to make a mad dash for the window, the doctor enters. He oozes bullshit, you can see it dribble out of his pores and onto the floor. He then says you name, shakes your hand and proceeds to word-vomit all over your face about how fun the ensuing procedure will be! You know hes lying but some slow, pathetic part of you cerebrum wants to believe its true. Then he takes out a large plastic thing and clamps it onto your mouth, the situation is rapidly devolving into that torture scene from Dune. Then he takes out the needles, those terribly symmetrical beasts. At two inches long and less then a mm wide they look like something that the Terminator would use to eviscerate your fucking eye.
The next part is unpleasant. Very unpleasant. The abridged version: As the needles get longer, the amount of blood pooled up in your mouth increases. After dangling the impaled pulpy inside of you tooth in front of you for nearly an hour he asks if you're O.K. Why did he do that? I will never know, it seems not to occur to people in dentistry that when you have a 6 inch piece of plastic that bears a strange resemblance to the car gasket in your mouth, speaking becomes difficult.
Finally you get up, half you face is bloated and you feel like shit. You try to smile but some drool escapes the left side of you mouth and plops into the floor. You want nothing more than to take the big sucky tube and jam it up the dentist ass, but that is impossible in your current narcotic induced state of mind. Instead you give another goofy smile to the receptionist and as you stumble out the door she reminds you that you shouldn't even think about eating for the next 6 hours or else you'll bite you tongue off.