Monday, March 02, 2015

Where Have I Been - Life Adventures

I used to be so good about updating this blog. Lately it has been sporadic, at best. Yo, I have had a lot going on. I have a few posts that will go up this week, that have been kind of waiting in the wings, and so why couldn't I get off my lazy, (growing) ass to post these lovely ideas and commentary, you ask?! Fantastic question reader!! Let's get into that.

About two weeks ago, I got a throbbing toothache. So, it wasn't horrible, per se, but it was definitely annoying. I have slightly sensitive teeth so of course my first thought was "hey big girl, you probably should not have had that large spoonful of sugar (ice cream, whatever)." And that is a correct statement... probably should stay away from the snack cabinet. That's right, Lefty and I do not have a snack drawer. Oh no-- we have a snack cabinet... full of sweet and/or salty goodness. There are chips and cupcake mix and chocolate and sour gummy candy and... hey- I see those disapproving looks and I don't give a damn. I am a grown ass woman-- I WILL have snacks. Yes. We need a cabinet because ever since we got married, I have been forced to share (read: buy more so I don't technically HAVE to share) with Lefty. Why am I explaining the need for a snack cabinet? See, I start discussing snacks and get off topic. Where was I? Oh yeah, toothache. It started out as an annoying throb. But then...

Last week I was working. Well, I was kind of working. I was sitting at my desk and thinking of a bajillion other places that I wanted/needed to be and all of a sudden... the throb was back. It was back and that bitch was in full effect. Like, I had to take a Tylenol. I should have prefaced that by saying that I generally don't take medication. For anything. Unless something is falling off, will fall out or is filled with infection. I just don't. I get loopy, and while that is very entertaining for others, I don't really appreciate being that chick that you tweet about. Well... not in that context. I took a Tylenol last Monday though because I was trying to look at my computer but the whole right side of my head felt like it was going to explode. Honestly, who has time for that? It hurt so bad that I called my parents' dentist and made an appointment-- for the following Monday. What?! I went about my day-- and I was a bitch. I'll admit it. But my face was GOING.TO.EXPLODE. For serious.

Came home and I could NOT deal with life. I basically said "fuck responsibility" and went to sleep without feeding any of the animals. I barely took my shoes off. Pretty sure there was a trail of clothing from the garage door to the bed, every light in the house was on and more than likely there was a door or two unlocked. Pretty sure. Oh that Lefty!! He won such a prize with a wife that wimps out about one tooth, gets high off two Tylenol and leaves a trail of clothing/tears to the bedroom. Winner, winner, chicken dinner! That lucky guy came home after a long day at work to a punch drunk wife lying diagonal across the bed (like a BOSS). You're totally jealous. Tuesday, the toothache was so bad I actually drooled at my desk while calling the dentist back to see if there was a cancellation-- or who exactly I had to maim to get into the office earlier. Turns out, if you actually SAY that you have a toothache, they get you in the next day... which was my day off. Exactly how I wanted to spend my day off, let me tell you.

Wednesday morning I wake up and damn if that devil tooth is not throbbing like a baseline at a Black fraternity party. Oh, is that how we were gonna play this? That tooth wasn't even going to PRETEND to behave. Oh, I see. Bastard. My appointment was at 1. Had a banana for breakfast because it was the softest thing that we had to eat in this house; no coffee because the devil tooth and hot temperatures were in a fight. So me- in pain and under caffeinated. This was going to be a fun day. I get in the shower and maybe the hot water reminded the devil tooth of HELL and it wanted to go back because I swear fo' God the tooth tried to come out of my mouth on its own. At least that is what I thought the extra throbbing was for. I was getting dressed, it brought me to my knees. I seriously thought if I was feeling the same kind of pain that Nancy Kerrigan felt after that Tanya Harding incident. If I could do anything except silent cry, I would have screamed out "Why? Why? Whhhyyyy?" Poor Lefty. He came into the bedroom, I was doubled over in pain, half dressed. He put one of his sweatshirts on me, attempted to put socks on me (he is not great at that) and brought me my boots. Then he gathered my simple ass up and drove the 10 minutes to the office with me rocking back and forth in the passenger seat like a crackhead in need of a fix. Y'all, the devil tooth hurt so bad it gave me Forest Whitaker eye. IT GAVE ME FOREST WHITAKER EYE.

I get into the office and within 15 minutes and several prayers to sweet baby Jesus, I had x-rays and Novocaine. When I tell you that I love my parents' dentist. I freaking LOVE that dude. Supposedly the devil tooth came out very easily. Like I care. Once the area was numb, they could have jumped up and down on my face and told me that the tooth danced out of my mouth like the Lucky Charms leprechaun. I would not have cared. They packed my mouth full of gauze so I wouldn't leave a trail of DNA to the pharmacy for my antibiotics and pain meds. Thanks for that!! And I spent the next 3 days being loopy and loud talking one liners to Lefty. Again, poor guy. Lesson learned? A spoonful of sugar might make the medicine go down, but if you aren't careful it will give you a devil tooth and Forest Whitaker eye. Lesson learned, folks. Lesson learned.


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