On an unrelated, or quite possibly more related than any of us could know, note, I saw the movie Inception last night and, my word, I recommend it with my entire heart and all three levels of my subconscious.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Delirium
I just got back from a run that was probably too long and too hot, but worth it in the end when on the sidewalk during my last stretch, I saw a gummy worm that my brain simultaneously told me was both a green and red gummy worm, and also slithering across the cement toward my feet. And for three and a half seconds, I was just as mentally handicapped as any schizophrenic Sunday dinner-guest. Or any member of the cast of Felicity. Either way, it was awesome. And I giggled the rest of the way home.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Pride Sockets
I got my wisdom teeth out last week. In the beginning, the entire experience was even better than the first, which I only recently stopped raving about.
So I'm trying to clear the air publicly to fight off whatever pounding I feel beneath my gums right now. It could be a blood clot. But I think it's the sting of pride.
I blame no one for this but myself,* and I swear on every pudding cup in my fridge I will have more sympathy for the next wisdom tooth patient who shares their "horror story," just as long as I wake up in the morning the champion Jane thought I was on Thursday.
*Except for the "dental hygienist" soliciting her advice at a party I prematurely attended night of my surgery. No, Popsicles aren't fine, and you're bad at your job. I respect you, but I also blame you a little.
- I got the nausea, pain medication, and strict liquid diet that made my sister's well-maintained high school eating disorder look like an Asian hot dog eating contest.
- An ex-lover of mine dropped off a TV, a Netflix account, and one more denial to my offer for marriage. But are you sure you're sure? Either way my entertainment was set, and the amount of Jell-O I planned to put away would have turned Bill Cosby's urine lime-flavored.
So I'm trying to clear the air publicly to fight off whatever pounding I feel beneath my gums right now. It could be a blood clot. But I think it's the sting of pride.
I blame no one for this but myself,* and I swear on every pudding cup in my fridge I will have more sympathy for the next wisdom tooth patient who shares their "horror story," just as long as I wake up in the morning the champion Jane thought I was on Thursday.
*Except for the "dental hygienist" soliciting her advice at a party I prematurely attended night of my surgery. No, Popsicles aren't fine, and you're bad at your job. I respect you, but I also blame you a little.
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