The guy that's in charge of creating caps for my wonky molars and injecting my gums with sweet, sweet novocaine when I roll into his office about two years late for a checkup complaining of jaw pain is playing The Back Fence (Bleeker @ Thompson) this Saturday night (assuming the alleged snow storm doesn't close the whole Northeast down like the TV newsteams are praying for).
Dr. Bob Clapcich plays an interesting mix of classic rock-ish tunes, and though I've not seen him yet, his sassy Dental Assistant, Erica, tells me he's pretty good. He is, in fact, the first medical practitioner I've ever had that has called me in his office to show me his recent guitar purchase.
He also tells great dirty jokes, which can really screw you up when you are loaded on the pain junk and have a mouth full of metal, cotton, and drying porcelain.
And The Back Fence has free peanuts, so that oughta seal the decision for you.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
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