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My Epidemic

I'm smiling. That alone should scare you.


So I had my head in this guy's crotch when...

27.9.06
Up until a few months ago I'd never had a cavity in my life. Honestly, I didn't really know what they were. But then Finals last semester were ridiculous and I was drinking can after can of Mountain Dew just to stay alive! It was horrible. Like, life and death horrible. And then I got my very first cavity. Which was worse. (I blame the schools.) But the cavity was still relatively harmless. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my mouth. Easily forgotten. In fact, I don't really remember alot of the process 'cause I slept through the whole thing. (Again, I blame the schools.)

Fast forward to a couple days ago, when I noticed a tooth in the very back of my mouth was a little tender. And that was how I found myself laying nearly upside-down with my head between some middle-aged man's knees while he told me over and over again, "Gee, you've got the smallest mouth..."

As if that wasn't uncomfortable enough it was 8 fucking AM! Yeah, you heard right. 0 dark 30 for those who don't know my night owl (or bushbaby according to Suzan) schedule. But I digress...

So I've got my head in between this guys knees, (Literally, he kept kneeing my shoulder for God's sake) and my mouth propped open as far as it'll go.

"You really do have a small mouth. Did you know that?"

I gargled something in response. (When translated it went something like this, "Fuck you, Dentist man!") And then my creepy dentist babbled about the weather, I supposed because he couldn't decipher my gargly responses.

"Okay, I'm going to have you look at nurse Mary." Nurse Mary waved at me as if I'd confuse her with the millions of other non-existent nurses jammed into the cubicle. "And I'm going to pull your cheek in the opposite direction. You really have a small mouth."

I glared at him.

"Okey dokey."

And then it began. The longest 25-minutes of my young adult life.

Nurse Mary kept telling me to look at her as THE DENTIST wedged my cheek as far in the opposite direction as he could get it. And there it remained. I felt like the joker. In fact I wondered for approximately 7-minutes whether I would end up having that weird uplifted smile on 1/2 my face after the torture ended. Makeup would never cover it.

Then there was the fact that I was (stop me if you've heard this before) hanging upside-down with my head in my dentist's crotch! I had already developed a sort of early-morning vertigo feeling in the pit of my stomach when he pulled out this miniature gold-plated-tooth-buffer-thing. I'd never had any problems with the tooth buffer before but for some reason today, when the dentist from hell placed it on my back tooth my entire head started to vibrate. It was like I had passed out first at some party and one of my fucked-up-nutjob friends had put a vibrator in my ear. I thought I was going to puke.

And then I started to think...if I did puke on this guy maybe he'd let me go home. Maybe I could live with a hole in my tooth. I mean it wouldn't be that bad. I'd adjust. Chew on only one side of my mouth or something. Puree my entrees. I'd survive. Good plan! But then common sense won out and I decided not to puke on the dentist who had captured my skull between his flabby thighs.

While Dr. Satan (I'm convinced that's his professional wrestling name) continued to jam as many little tools (Ever notice how intimidating those things are as they're coming at your face?) in my mouth as he could fit, he continually muttered under his breath, "So small. So small."

To distract myself I thought, "Okay, just think of England. England. England." But that brought on an entirely new problem completely in itself. I have this crazy memory when it comes to texts, and one of my favorite chick-lit authors is MaryJanice Davidson (Check her out she's hilarious.) who I happened to have been reading the night before. And as I thought of England a quote from one of her books popped into my brain...

"…and so I lay there and, as they say to do, thought of England. Except I was really thinking about his big dick and drooling at what he was going to do to me with it."

I burst out laughing...and then choked on some little hooked tool that Nurse Mary had been trying to kill me with.

Flabby thighs, small mouth and penis references aside...I think I did pretty well today.

But my dentist may have to die.

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Shit That Freaks Me Out: A Personal List

22.9.06
10. Republicans. (Just kidding...but not really.)

9. Hairless cats.

8. Big, hairy spiders.

7. People with freckles. (I secretly think they're all communists.)

6. Mimes.

5. Raw meat.

4. Carnival folk.

3. Snakes or any snake-like creatures.

2. Sauerkraut.

1. Sharks. Seriously, sharks. The teeth. The black, glossy eyes and creepy dorsal fin...Excuse me. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now.

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Tornadoes

18.9.06
I've decided tornadoes are like boys...

They're unreliable. Whenever you think you have them mapped out they switch directions.

They get you worked up with all the noise and tension in the air of a huge show...only to leave you sitting in your basement eating cold pasta.

They barge in, trash your home and then leave.

Many of them take forever to build themselves up to adequate size.

There are only five kinds: 1-sissyboy, 2-sexually ambiguous boy, 3-mildly entertaining and only good for a few minutes of moisture, 4-a blow hard, 5-a real killa.



And these were my thoughts as I sat in the unfinished basement of the police department tonight during a tornadoe warning, eating my cold pasta and listening to high-strung divorcees analyze the change in air pressure outside their windows.

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Conversations Interrupted...

13.9.06
I've realized of late that the conversations I normally partake in over my handy cell phone are often overheard by random passersby. I know. This is obviously something I should have thought about earlier…but I didn't.
The problem with this being that many of the things that I say, when taken out of their conversational context, are kind of disturbing if not flat out alarming.

For example:

"No, I have a penis."

or

"Seriously? He peed on the wall? He's, like, middle-aged for shits sake. That's it...The diaper is going back on!"

or

"Self-defense! Are you kidding me...Look, did she hit him with a hammer or not? Well, then it's obviously homicide. No...I'm bored...Look, just label it as homicide so we can stop talking about this...Thank you."

or

"Goddamn, shut your dirty mouth you fucking Commie!"

or

"So you shot him?"

or

"Hey, while you're back there will you scratch my patch...it's gotten kind of itchy."

or

"He's a lesbian. I know it."

or

"We'll feed him to the pigs and be done with it."

I'm starting to think I should either have these conversations in private or try and lower my normal volume. Either way...those people I pass on the streets have to think I'm out of my fucking mind.

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More Piratey Adventures

1. While I was sitting next to EXTRA-Creepy-Guy in my Sociology class (You remember. The one with the pirate?) I was catching up on some reading for my next class. The text I'd been assigned was the memoirs of a Spanish Conquistador recalling his adventures in the Yucatan.

I was dutifully reading when suddenly EXTRA-Creepy-Guy turns around to me (For about the 5th time this class period. He's got this thing about turning in his seat and staring at me for minutes at a time. Up until now I've opted to just ignore him.) and says in a conversational tone while the entire class is completely silent, "You into torture?"

At this point every single student in the class turned and stared at us. My mouth was hanging open, which I'm sure only furthered my expression of complete horror as my eyes neraly popped out of my head.

"What," I gasped.

"You into torture? You're reading about it aren't you?"

I looked numbly down at the text in my lap. "Not really."

"Well that's what the Conquistadors did. Torture."

"Okay."

"So you into it?"

"No."

"Okay." And then he turned back around and resumed listening to the lecture.

The class had been collectively watching the entire episode play out and were now blinking at me as if waiting for some sort of encore. I had none to give. I blinked back. And eventually the class got back to that thing we were supposed to be doing in the first place...that learning thing or whatever.

2. A little after the Creepy-Guy episode, my pirate was lecturing on something about how we all have split personalities and become different people in different settings. He said, "We act different, speak different, dress different. I mean," he smiled that sexy roguish smile, "I don't dress like this on the weekends."

I distinctly remember being dissapointed. "What?!" My mind screamed, "You don't always dress like a pirate!" It was such a let down.

3. I'm not obsessing, I promise, but while I was wandering the mall between classes and relaying my Sociology adventures to Chris over the phone, I stumbled across a t-shirt that had a female pirate one it.

It said, "Aye, ye can have me booty..." I laughed outloud and immediately bought the shirt and walked out. It was only after I looked at it a little more closely that I realized there was more to the tshirt slogan. The unabridged version is this: "Aye, ye can have me booty....but don't be touchin' me cheese."

I have no idea what it means. And honestly, I don't care. It's got a hot chick pirate with the word booty on it. I'm wearing it to class on Tuesday.

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