Killing Me Softly With His Song

I recently found out I had a cavity and needed to get a filling. But, my dentist, Dr. L, is a pro. Had my first cavity in many years three years ago, which he filled with a dexterity and skill that thoroughly justified his inclusion on the Washingtonian's annual list of the best dentists in D.C.

It is because of his skill and cheery demeanor that I tolerate the mindnumbing banality of his offices. The corny "Born to Golf, Forced to Work" placard and similar posters. The picture of his perfect kids with their perfect collie. The easy listening swill that plays when I'm at his offices, which you all know I hate.

But Tuesday, Dr. L went too far. I was in the chair. The drill was whirring. Michael McDonald's "I Keep Forgetting" was playing over the office speaker system. Ok, fine. Then, Dr. L started singing. Ok, not fine. He was horrible. The novocaine was insufficient to numb the pain in my psyche.

I am particularly qualified to make this assessment. Among the few skills I have is this: I do a mean Michael McDonald impression. It is somewhat of a mystery as to how I learned that I have this skill. But, have it I do. In fact, when I was living in New York, this friend of mine and me used to do a terrific version of the Michael McDonald-Patti LaBelle duet "On My Own." My friend did a spot on Patti Labelle impression. Man, that dude could sing.