Teeth

Today, I'm going to the dentist.

I. Hate. Dentists. 

I hate them as much as I hate church. And shopping for jeans. And car problems. And bitches. And the inability to hit that elusive high G. 

But I have finally accepted defeat. Today, I ate a sandwich. And my broken molar hurt so bad, I almost punched a baby in the face. The only thing that stopped me was the lack of a baby to punch. So, I set up a dentist appointment, and at 2:30 today, some bitch-ass dentist is going to look inside my mouth, exclaim,  "Good God, how long has it been since you've been here!?" and proceed to cause me excruciating pain by ripping out my tooth. Or send me home with an, "I'm sorry. There is nothing we can do. I hope you have a good life insurance policy and are at peace with your Maker."

I'm going to need a stiff drink and a gallon of morphine to get through this. 

Hang on, 
Ness