HEY! THAT MAN STOLE MY TEETH!

It turns out that getting your wisdom teeth out is a lot like everybody says it will be: it's no fun, but it's not terrible, and you don't remember a whole lot. They gave me laughing gas, and the whole thing only lasted about fifteen minutes. When I woke up again, I was sitting at our formica kitchen table and my mom was removing a huge handful of bloody gauze from my mouth so i could take a vicodin. Actually, I got one and a half vicodin, which helped conk me out. I haven't had any really weird dreams, but I have constantly felt like I was talking out loud when I didn't mean to.

I've never tried painkillers before (my drug habits are pretty narrow), but I have to say that the effect isn't so much what I had imagined. (Well, I guess I should also keep in mind that I am in a LEGITIMATE AMOUNT OF PAIN, so it's very different from recreational use.) Even so, I don't feel particularly soothed or sedated.

They let me take my teeth home. Those fuckers are HUGE! They look like cartoon teeth that lecture you about proper brushing and walk around on their root stems. I'm thinking about making myself a necklace, because that would really help push me into weird/gross crunchy poet territory. And then I'll get a poncho and talk about auras, and you're gonna love it, I swear!.

You should call me while I'm at home. I have a slight lisp, which I have been told is quite comical.