So I go in to get my teeth pulled, and I have been blowing it monstrously out of proportion cause Im a big chicken shit. But seriously, can I do anything with out fucking up ? Nope.
I fill out the forms, no big deal, they make me wait no big deal.
I got a cute nurse/assistant, so things were looking up. Had my x-ray taken, no big deal. Dr is calm and friendly, right on. Im thinking this can’t be that bad.
For my last meal, I picked fried chicken on tortilla chips.
For the method, I selected the gas.
For my last rites, I didn’t have a preist come see me for two reasons, 1. I do not beleive in god. 2. I racked my brain and couldn’t come up with any religion that had hot preistess chicks that put out. So I gave up there.
Last week was a slow on, so I could financially get ready for tomorrow’s exciting events. I really only picked up Newsradio season 5, cause I really needed to finish the set and own the complete series, and damned if my bank account was gonna fuck that up. This week, I’ve got my movies carefully planned for my recovery. Have you figured it out yet ? If you have keep it to yourself and dont spoil it for everyone. Its been hard to fall asleep cause I am a big chicken shit over this whole thing, I really can’t wait for it to be over. You would think someone who has spent over 31 hours willingly get tattooed wouldnt have any problems getting heavily drugged and then have less than an hour of dental work. But no. Im a baby. Plus Ive gotta plan what music Im going to listen to. I know IM gonna be high on the gas. So I cant listen to anything too funny, like the D. I dont want anything I really love to have the memory of this day of pain attached to it, so I cant listen to the Costa. Im thinking pretty heavily about the Zeppelin, mainly cause if I start tripping out during the Battle of Evermore, I might think Im getting my teeth ripped out by the witch king on the Pellenor Fields. That would fucking rock so hard.
First off all, my tattoo itches like a bangkok hooker after the marines just left town. I hate this part of tattooing. It drives me nuts.
This morning, I went to put on my work shoes, which have been sitting in the same place, under my coffee table, untouched since I took them off on friday. However, there was a little present waiting in my left shoe. I noticed that I couldnt fit my foot in, turns out, my cell phone was in there. I didnt think to look in my work shoes. Although, I probably should have, as my wallet was half jammed under the dryer, one shoe was by the front door, and one by the back, my shirt was on top of my bookshelf, my car keys on top of the microwave. Apparently, I came home, and exploded like some kind of drunken grenade, sending my personal effects through the appartment, like shrapnel.
There is an old saying that people go by when it comes to drinking and the order in which things should be done.
It goes as follows:
Liquor before beer = your in the clear
Beer before Liquor = Never been sicker
Well, Im adding a new line to that. It goes as follows:
Sushi before shot before beer before whiskey on the rocks before made up bannana drink before pink elephant levels of well whiskey before coffee before sharies breakfast before whiskey and diet orange soda = You are one dumb fuck and you deserve the pain and suffering that you will clearly endure.
