So I�ve got this toothache, see, in my WHOLE FUCKING HEAD. Actually, it�s probably more like four teeth hurting, because I am a white trash airhead who, instead of going to the dentist when a tooth goes bad, simply switches to chewing on a different tooth. And at this point, I�m all out of upper molars that aren�t killing me. A fateful encounter last week with the Mars Bar of Doom, whose soft, nougat-y center was deceptively surrounded by a booby-trap of milk chocolate with a hardness of roughly 115 on the Moh�s scale left my final intact molar throbbing with a painful infection that I suspect has been milling about my sinuses and the bones of my face ever since; and judging by the fever, chills and pain I was experiencing by the time the weekend rolled around, was probably enroute straight into my brain. That bullet I only managed to dogde by the diligent utilization of a heating pad, ibuprofen and a high-pitched whining sound all day Saturday in my desperate efforts not to die.

You think I exaggerate. Not so.

One does not get into such a condition by actually having intimate personal knowledge of a member of the dental profession, and so it was that I was not able to secure an appointment for Saturday. But you bet your ass I called some motherfuckers this morning and begged, wheedled and whined my way into an appointment at 10:30 tomorrow morning. I�m almost looking forward to it. Root canal times four at a likely cost of $500 per tooth, if I�m reading my benefits document correctly? What a bargain!

I am so sick of only being able to eat mushy crap like refried beans and applesauce that I could puke. Of course, that will be all I can AFFORD to eat once I pay for the dental work.

I am fairly proud of myself for not using this episode as an excuse to blow my diet. If ever I could justify diving headfirst into a vat of Jello and Cool-Whip, or filling my nutritional void with various soft squishy baked goods soaked in milk or tea, this would be the perfect excuse. But I�ve been doing pretty damn good sticking to the nutritional, non-carby stuff. I had hoped that the limited diet would bring with it the bonus of a couple of extra pounds lost, but it doesn�t seem to be so. I�ve been bouncing up and down the same five pound range for about three weeks now, much to my supreme irritation.

Then again, the weight thing could be due to some hormonal bullshit, because I STILL haven�t started my period. I know I�ve got about as much chance of being pregnant as an ugly 72-year-old virgin, but that doesn�t stop me from worrying about it. I have a hormonal disorder which causes all kinds of ugly and unpleasant side effects but whose one and only benefit in my case is reduced fertility; and we�re batting about twice a month average on the sex-capades these days and using the mood-dampening rubba each and every time like a fucking religious rite; and I want another kid like I want a festering tumor on my left tit; so if it could possibly happen to anyone, it would not surprise me in the least if it happened to me. Horrify me beyond belief, yes� surprise, no.

Just to make things more interesting, the Evil Childe has managed to remind me yet again exactly WHY it is I am so horrified at the thought of raising another child. She has clogged up her toilet yet AGAIN, because she seems to have some kind of bizarre obsessive-compulsive need to use a wad of toilet paper as big as her head to wipe two drops of piss off her estimated 3 inches of coochie crack, and at nearly 17 years old has not yet mastered the art of the toilet-flush. Again, you THINK I exaggerate�

The Prince�s most diligent efforts yesterday to unplug with plunger, snake and Drano have come to naught, and so YET AGAIN we must call in apartment maintenance, which requires a full cleaning of the apartment (accomplished over the weekend with my face throbbing a death-metal beat all the while) and the incarceration of the cats in our bedroom this week, with Luna Tuna very vocally in heat.

So, yeah, I WAS proud of myself for not breaking the diet, but tonight I caved and had wine and french fries and an Italian strawberry shortcake from Portillos; and I�m about to go finish the wine and take a bath and hit the sheets a little early to give myself a good hard diddle in hopes that the contractions of orgasm might just bring on the fucking glorious red tidings of barrenness already.

Which, while desperately eagerly anticipated, will likely make my heavy-flow first day coincide with the aforementioned dentist visit AND my first evening of illustration class. Four hours worth of class, to be exact. That should be pleasant.

Excedrin Migraine and Kotex Nighttime Long Deodorant Maxi Pads with Ultra Wings are my only hope. And the wine� mustn�t forget the wine. Those goats will be a-roaming tonight.

5 felt the need to share

Previous - Next
Last Five
Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have - 2006-05-08
Live from the dump - 2006-04-09
Kind of like a muzzle for your brain - 2006-03-29
...and then she fell ass-first into my cereal bowl - 2006-03-28
Playing catch-up - 2006-03-27

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