Everything is wrong with me
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
 
fucking wisdom teeth
We (as in the royal we) may have a serious problem: my wisdom teeth are hurting like a mother fucker.

On Monday, I noticed something wasn't right in my mouth (other than the obvious herpes sores and that chunk of carrot cake stuck in there since '98). Yesterday, the pain got a lil' more intense. Last night, I couldn't sleep because my jaw began to hurt. And this morning when I woke up, my jaw (and penis) were throbbing, although it didn't stop me from having some mozzarella sticks for breakfast.

I've been through this before. In November of 2002, I had two of my wisdom teeth unceremoniously yanked from my jaw. Prior to getting them out, every year or so I'd go through some serious "keep me a awake at night" pain, but, as I fear dentists more than I fear black people, I would suffer through it, and with the help of painkillers I stole from my dad or bought on J-train, it would eventually go away.

But then it became too much, and didn't go away. One day during my suffering, I was sitting at the lunch table and asking co-workers about what dentist they go to, as I needed to see a dentist first before going to the oral surgeon's to get my teeth out. My friend Luq said, "Jay, you've got to go to my dentist. She is really, really smoking. Not only that, every girl that works in the office - receptionists, aides, whatever - are all smoking hot." I figured that if I was going to have to see a dentist and experience some pain, I might as well see some attractive ladies.

Not a good idea.

I got to the office, and Luq was right - it was crawling with beautiful women, all wearing that sexy medical outfit. Not surprisingly, the waiting room was full of Wall Street-type guys, guys who give off that "I spend at least $25,000 a year on the sex trade" vibe.

Soon after I was called into an office and asked to sit in a chair by a gorgeous Persian dental aide. I explained the situation: my whole mouth was killing and I couldn't eat or sleep or get in any fights and my god you are beautiful (well, I don't think I said that part out loud).

She asked me to open up and took that little poker thing and started poking around. This was intensely uncomfortable. Since my teeth were so sensitive, every time she poked that thing into my mouth (get your mind out of the gutter asshole) my body would involuntarily spasm in pain. Before long I was covered in sweat, because I was trying so hard not to let on that the pain was murderous (because she was so, so hot), and looking in my white dress shirt like I had just been in the unsexiest wet t-shirt contest of all time.

She finally (!) pulled away, and gave me one of those "I pity you, you weak, weak man" looks. She said, "Ok Jason, now I'm going to clean your teeth. If you want, I can put a numbing gel on your teeth, so it won't hurt."

Even though in that dentist's chair I was a sweating, slobbering mess of a man, my man instincts kicked in. A hot chick was taking pity on me because I couldn't handle pain. I responded, doing my best Chris Farley in "Tommy Boy", "Do you know where the weight room is?" impression, saying, "No, no. That's fine. Whatever."

And as a result, I don't remember much of the next seven minutes, because I was slipping in and out of consciousness because of the overwhelming pain. I've been beaten up, had bones broken, been hits a by cars, but nothing - nothing - hurt worse than that cleaning brush buzzing in circles around my gums and teeth. When I think of it this day it still hurts, and then I have an orgasm.

When she left, the worst was over. I didn't even mind that the dentist was not an attractive woman, but a middle-aged Jewish guy, because the hot one "had an emergency". I'm guessing that means the Persian dental aide grabbed her in the hallway and say, "Best stay outta there. He's a big one and awful sweaty. Also, I think he's still crying."

And the wisdom teeth removal wasn't that bad either. I had ponied up a couple of extra bucks to be completely knocked out, but since I'm fat and my body for whatever reason doesn't take anesthesia well, I didn't lose consciousness. I was surprised to see what a violent process it was...it was kinda like me trying to pull a hero under from under the body of an obese sleeping hobo. Only the oral surgeon didn't use as much foul language as I usually do when grabbing the sandwich. Guess we were just raised differently.

But anyway, now I'm getting that familiar throbbing, but I promise you I will not go back to that damn dentist or her hot assistants. My hope of hopes is that with just the right combination of vodka, cranberry juice, a few shots of Jagermeister, the tooth pain will go away. Just like the unhappiness. And the loneliness. But I digress...



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