by Eva Watson

Notable people are not of this earth; they are quintessentially, superhero-perfect in every way.  From their sparkly, alien eyes to their effervescent way they secretly speak to us through television, film, books and music, their aura of mesmerizing personalities and fan-stalking abilities truly places them on a much higher plane of being.  They are alluring.  They are special.

And most would not give me the time of day.

But I must be able to touch the divine; I must know about their teeth.

William Jablonsky, professor of English at Loras College and author of The Indestructible Man (Livingston Press) and his most recent novel, The Clockwork Man (Medallion Press), granted me permission to briefly ask about his oral health regimen and his thoughts on electric toothbrushes.

DB: Why is oral health important to you?

WJ: Primarily because I don’t want to look like a stereotypical Englishman, nor to have breath that can peel the chrome off a trailer.

DB: If you had to choose between flossing in the morning or night which would you choose and why?

WJ: I feel fortunate that I do not have to choose, but if I did, the morning, simply because that’s when I’d actually be thinking about it.

DB: What would be the ultimate feature of an electric toothbrush?

WJ: One that has a built-in Taser. I prefer my methods of self-defense to be non-lethal.

DB: What would be the best tasting toothpaste ever?

WJ: Chicken tikka masala-flavored toothpaste. No one would buy it but me, but I’d buy all of it.

Why the toothpaste industry hasn’t begun to develop alternative-flavored toothpaste is a mystery to me, but clearly, huge changes are needed to meet the demand for those who desire the dentifrice, taste sensation that is meat.

by Eva Watson

I act dumb. Full stop. I’m a grown woman who acts like an immature twit. I’m constantly making fun of everything. When I noticed crunchy, dried-up boogers sticking to the wall next to my three-year-old’s bed, I said, “Syd? Santa thinks that’s disgusting. Now you’re on his disgusting list. Great.” So cruel. I can’t even write maturely. I once wrote an article on

recommendations for thwarting raccoon thievery of my summer garden strawberries; the segment was titled, ‘Raccoon Smasher Garden Patrol’… (snort) See? Tasteless. I can’t help myself. Life gets stupid. But it doesn’t stop there. My adolescent humor even seeps into my care of patients.

A young guy was in my operatory chair. He hadn’t had a professional scaling in four years. I was about to begin his SRP when he said, “I might be a big baby when you get in there.” I laughed and said, “That’s what I tell my OB/Gyn.” Later, when the guy asked to see another hygienist, I said to myself, “I’m so retarded.”

Another patient attempted to describe what sounded like floss threaders. She went on for more than five minutes trying to describe what floss threaders looked like. I finally said, “You mean those furry, tampon-y thingies with the long string attached? Yeah, I have those.” After the patient rolled her eyes and asked to speak with the dentist privately, I thought to myself, “I’m so juvenile. Why do I do that?”

With the influx of dental products out there, I wish there was a device to zap me with low-voltage electrical currents when I misbehave; like a TENS unit but angrier. As soon as I unleash a nasty one—zzzzt! Owie. Everything would be fine after that, but I’d have to explain to patients why my hair has a static electricity boner. I suppose it doesn’t have to be a dental product, per se. It could be manufactured by a urologist for what it’s worth. They could call it The Electrical Nerve Punisher.

I don’t know. Perhaps it’s not a good idea after all.

Since art is subjective, I won’t go there. These photos are mostly cakes collected from all over the web, and were just worth sharing. Enjoy!

Delicious dentin, savory enamel, and yum, PULP CHAMBER!

I’d like a slice of interproximal decay, please.

Mrs. Toof had herself a bunch of babies. But some of them don’t look like Mr. Toof.

George needs perio treatment and a few implants. Wait, you’re in London? Nevermind, these are good British teeth.

A cake with a busted lip? Naw, just the 35th anniversary of Rocky Horror, time-warped next week especially for Glee fans.

Too much CSI on TV these days.

Really creepy and not something I would want to eat or stick my hand into. Fortunately you can click on the photo above and see that this ended up being really artistic.

Minimalism at its Halloween coolest.

I can just imagine the staff arguing about who gets to chew on the dentist.

Annoying Orange, meet your nemesis.

If you know of any other tasty dental endeavors, feel free to link them below in the Comments, especially if you’re creating them for Halloween. Just don’t make me look at another puking pumpkin carving. Why not, you ask? It’s the smell. It reeks even though it’s only a picture.