Thursday, September 22, 2005

The Tooth Faery Is Really A Mean Old Hag That Eats Cute Bunnies

My friend, Lilleeeee has a slight problem involving the #32's.

For those of you who did not spend 10 minutes on webmd yesterday, #32 would refer to the 32 teeth that we humans no longer have the capability to house in our teeney weeney mouths. So typically, you, the reader, have 28 teeth. Unless you're that douche bag that never got his wisdom teeth pulled and by some MIRACLE FROM THE GODS OF DENTAL THINGS managed to escape the spine twisting horror of having a very angry tooth attempt to push it's way into an area of the mouth that is, quite honestly, not ready for something of that size. For all you men who practice hetero and don't welcome objects in your anal cavity, think of this dental problem in these terms: Bobby Joe looks at your booty and finds that it looks right nice. So he takes a giant orange traffic cone and SHOVES IT RIGHT IN YOUR ASS WITHOUT THE USE OF ASTROGLIDE OR EVEN SPIT. That, my friends, is what an emerging wisdom tooth feels like.

And now Lilleeee has the above-mentioned problem and is fighting tooth and nail to avoid a trip to the dentist. Because it would take up valuable vacation days and we all know that vacation days are not used for anything except ACTUAL VACATIONS where you don't have to do ANYTHING. And though recovering from impacted-wisdom-tooth-extraction-surgery would technically put you in the "doing nothing" category, it would also put you in sub-category "doing nothing because of excessive pain, trauma, or heavy sedation not of your choosing." Which is why Lilleeee is mostly in the correct state of mind to eschew using a precious and hard-earned vacation day to spend it spitting up blood while your mouth is full of cotton and you're lying puffy and unattractive on the couch, sedated to the point of drooling.

Ah, but this morning Lilleeeee woke up to blood on pillow. In my world, blood on pillow clearly indicates a need for dental assistance, stat. I may read about a vampire every now and then but I bo NO MEANS find the thought of swallowing blood a fun activity. And so I think Lilleeeee has perhaps bowed to the Gods of Dental Things and accepted her puffy fate.

Though maybe the thought of left-over pain killers would be a better incentive.

1 comment:

Oswald Croll said...

OK, blood on anything means a one-way ticket to the hospital.

Although this morning I think I had blood on my blanket, oh no... wait... that was just bloody mary mix.

My bad.