Not to throw you off or get you too excited, that must be the nitrous talking – it’s not what you think. I went in to the dentist for what started out as a routine cleaning and found out there was this giant ruptured about-to-explode-all-over-my-face-tooth that needed to be extracted immediately.

I, of course, blame that on the crappy food in New Zealand, obviously I was served something that rots otherwise lovely teeth. We’re talking, got a sticker every trip to the dentist for years teeth. Hmpf.

Well, I’m a little lighter now, down one tooth. But then they IMPLANT you with BONE in your MOUTH but there’s still a HOLE and I have to go BACK and get some more FAKE TOOTH or something. Oh wait! I almost forgot to mention the STITCHES. In my face. Yuck.

This is what I think of when I think dentist:


www.garyandmegumi.com

And now you’re telling me I have to go BACK? There will be a total of three days like this one, where I have a mouth full of gauze and can’t talk and have bottles of Vicodin lying around and I’m eating soup and drinking water (not through a straw!). This is not my idea of a good time, folks.