So, last Friday night, after the football game, I was home, eatin' the peanut brittle.
There is a reason it is not called "peanut soft." I chipped my front dang tooth on the stupid stuff.
For those of you who know me, the dentist is right up there for me, along with vomiting, tarantulas and anthrax. I am just inexplicably afraid of the dentist. And for over 10 years, my dentist has been the trustworthy and talented Dr. Bieber, back in California.
So I had to go to someone new. Someone who works in a small town. I will not go into all the snobby feelings I had about seeing a small-town dentist. I really had no idea I was so much like Eva Gabor in Green Acres.
Today was my dentist appointment. The dentist and his assistants were very nice. When he saw my chip, he said, "Most people come in here with a chip after they eat fatback." Like you are probably doing right now, I said, "Whatthehell's fatback?"
The assistant said, "She's not from here, doctor. She's from California."
People are always saying this, in a tone you would reserve for saying something like, "She has 17 fingers." or "She is Eva Gabor."
Fatback is fried fat, with a thick layer of salt at the bottom. The fat comes from that heart-healthy treat, bacon. Apparently, fatback tastes like hard, fried bacon fat.
There is not a person alive in the entire Los Angeles metro area who would eat this. No one there has eaten bread in seven years. Fatback? You've got to be kidding.
I like how the name of this food is also an adjective for you after you've eaten it.
Anyway, in keeping with the theme of this blog, the point is that the chip was small, and the dentist charged me...NOTHING. Nothing.
How does he keep himself in fatback, at these rates?