Friday, April 4, 2003

Yet another traumatic experience.

Night before last, my f-ing front tooth took that opportunity to disintegrate. So there I am, 6pm with no front tooth, and less than a week (that�s two dentist days) before I start a brand new job. Just Gods way of saying, �Hey, asshole, don�t get too happy.� It is one of the reasons I am terrified of winning the lottery. I am convinced the second they pass me that giant check I will be struck by lightning.

But I digress. I call and leave a message for my dentist.


Well, that�s $150 for an emergency visit right off the fucking bat. But what can you do? I can�t show up at a new job looking like something off The Trailer Park Boys. So, now there is nothing left to do but wait and pray that he can take me.

He calls me back the next morning, he can take me at 4pm. Great! I pop an Atavan around 3. The last time I was at the dentist he gave me the rescription and told me not to come back unless I took them. (I am a bit of a coward huge baby when it comes to the dentist) I arrive at the dentist�s office pleasantly medicated and $300 later I have a perfect smile. (ok, so it is tobacco stained, but it�s not gapped toothed)

I just hope that God lets me work long enough to pay off some bills before he torches the place.

UPDATE: But things are looking up.

After my traumatic dental experience, the boy and I went to Fibber's for supper.

The boy had deep fried ice cream for desert.

And I had this, strawberry cheesecake. MMMMMMM!

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