They call it temporomandibular/muscle dysfunction.

When you walk into my dentist's office, you are personally greeted by the friendly, color coordinated office staff by name and your favorite non alcoholic beverage. They have already memorized you're personal information, based on a profile you gave during your first encounter. (What kind of music you like to listen to, what you like to drink while you're waiting, what room temperature suits you most comfortably). They are amazing I must admit and unsurpassed by any other Dentist's staff i've ever had the pleasure of drooling on.

I won't say these little extras are free, because i'm sure the cost is burried somewhere in the astronomical bills I pay at each appointment, but never the less they are pleasant and add to the total experience.

The office is modern and equipped with todays most progressive and technologically advanced dental gizmos available. Life size posters of model perfect people smile at you from every wall, their gleaming white teeth and dazzling smiles beckon you forward with a promise of the same.

Due to the dysfunctional nature of my rebellious temporomandibular muscle, I begin each appointment with a one hour surface electromyography session. Electrodes not unlike the ones used by some fitness fanatics are strapped to my jaws and trapezoid muscles. I am then asked if I would like to hear some Garth Brooks or maybe some Yo Yo Ma on a walkman while I allow the pulsating electric shocks to fatique my muscles into submission. I opt instead to watch the 36 inch plasma screen television that hangs overhead... and a warm blankie. There I lay comfortably in an arm chair recliner while my face and shoulders twitch and contort at two second intervals for the following hour.

This electrically induced exercise is designed to beat my clinched jaw muscles into a totally relaxed state at which time data can be gathered and recorded on my chart. Somehow through the twitching, I manage to fall asleep.

The next hour consists of the fitting of my new orthopedic jaw repositioning appliance. It's primary function is to coax the various muscles into a new and improved position, allowing for a harmonious, smoothly functioning chewing system.

The cost of this little puppy is $4500.

At that price I believe it should not only help me to chew harmoniously, but it should stir fry my vegetables, puree my potatoes, and fry up some chicken if you ask me. Unfortunately it does nothing of the sort and behaves more like a wad of chewing gum stuck to my bottom teeth.

Luckily, my speech doesn't seem to be too affected by its presence, other than perhaps a slight slur that sounds awfully similar to me after a few margaritas. They assure me though, that I will get used to it with time, if I promise to wear it 24 hours a day. They also assure me that the red circular rashlike reaction i'm having to the elctrode pad adhesive is only temporary, and that NO, I don't really look like i've just been attacked by a giant octopus.

I'll return every few weeks for the next three months for more shock treatments and orthotic adjustments. Then we start phase II of 'when Suzanna smiles'.

I can hardly wait to see what phase II involves, but i'm pretty sure I overheard the dentist say something about his new Leer Jet payment.

I'd better get to work and start saving now.