It was a restless night, about three in the morning. I tried like hell but nothing was working to put me to sleep. Not a medication nor a meditation. I gave up and sat in my living room, grumbling, watching the wastelands of late night TV. That’s when the ad came on, that eerily seemed to fit my exact emotions at the moment. “Are you tired of being tired? Is the zip from your life gone? Do you need a new hobby?” the bombastic announcer said. This was followed by “Sign up for the new hobby that’s taking the world by storm, recreational dentistry!”
My ears perked up, this was not the first time I had heard of the new hobby. A friend of mine had suggested I try recreational dentistry a few weeks prior, they were over for dinner and began to choke. I shoved a fork into their mouth to help, but inadvertently scrapped all the plaque from their teeth. When they recovered in the hospital three days later, they told me I should considering recreational dentistry as a hobby.
The ad on TV offered a chance for a brochure about the hobby, I sent along 15 cents to the address they gave, along with a self-addressed, stamped envelope. The information-packed brochure arrived about a week later. The brochure answered all my questions about the hobby, plus it showed me just how affordable the hobby could be. I was worried I’d be spending thousands of dollars on equipment but turns out The National Lobby for Recreational Dentistry offers a starter kit for only $250. Everything you need minus a chair—which they say isn’t a biggie, any recliner you own will work.
I thought “why not?” I took a chance and sent off my information along with a cheque for $250 and six weeks later I received my starter kit, In addition to tools and fancy brushes, it included a handy book to tell me all I needed to know, as well as a DVD with many visual aids to help me troubleshoot my new hobby. I was surprised when none of my friends were interested in helping with the hobby by letting me clean their teeth.
Luckily, the friend who suggested I get into the hobby after I jabbed at their esophagus with a fork was more than happy to help me with my new hobby. “My teeth were never cleaner!” he said with great excitement, after telling me he’s almost fully healed from his hospital stay. I led my friend out into my backyard and into a shed where I had everything set up. I read about this in a recent issue of the magazine Squalor.
“I see you got yourself a toothin’ shed,” said my friend. “Indeed” I replied. “I want to keep my house free of the clutter that can come with recreational dentistry.” I had watched the instructional DVD several times before I went poking around in my buddy’s mouth. To be honest, I found that recreational dentistry was not my forte. I thought it would be a zippy 45 minutes cleaning the mouth of a trusted friend, but it turned into a four-hour ordeal.
My friend left, teeth clean, with only minor bleeding. He told me he was going to the hospital again, and we began discussing some way to figure out how to make our friendship work without him needing constant hospital visits after seeing me. Soon I realized that one of the biggest flaws with the hobby was finding friends who were willing to let you clean their teeth. Luckily the National Lobby for Recreational Dentistry also sells for $250 a robotic dummy mouth you can work on which makes play dough type plaque—plus it has Alexa built in so I can say “Alexa, play my teeth cleaning mix.”
The hobby has afforded me all of ten hours of enjoyment and drained my bank account by $500. In the end, I sold off my equipment to a farm school, I have no clue what they wanted with it, and I turned my “toothin’ shed” into a meditation shed. Now if you’ll pardon me, I gotta go and clean up the essential oils spill out there before the EPA gets after me. See you next week.