I Was Born Feet First--It Shows in the Way I Think

Here is a fun fact...


If you smoke a bunch of joints, and then take the roaches, and roll them up, you have a "2nd generation" joint.

If you smoke a few of them, and roll up the roaches, you have a "3rd generation" joint.

Now, that is where I was in the game...I had 4 big, fat "3rd generation" joints, and tried to do a "4th generation"...it didn't work. I have been storing the roaches in a pill bottle to let them dry out a little bit, but after about the third toke, it was way too soggy to smoke. Not to mention the gross, little, brown resin stamp that the end became.



And then there was the stench...I reeked.
So I had to just start over, and roll a giant spliff.
I took some pictures of R. frowning, and breathing through her shirt.
It is her " You reek of weed" look.
I will post them tomorrow morning, as I am too tired to stay up.


So, it is kind of like the old "you can't fold a piece of paper in half 8 times" trick for potheads.

I am committed to this type of "research".


Knowledge make the world a better place. Especially at my house.

No Longer Capable of Enslaving the Likes of Humankind

So, I didn't get the tooth pulled after all.

The oral surgeon said that if I have more teeth that need to be pulled, it makes better sense to do them all at once, rather than pay for the anesthesia twice.

Which does make perfect sense to me, too...but...

That means I have to go BACK to the first dentist...and THEN make another appointment with the oral surgeon.

This was after I had wussed out from letting him yank it with just novocaine.
I told him it is not so much the pain, as that tooth has hurt forever..it is the "being aware of what he is doing" factor.

Then I asked him "What would you do if you were me--bearing in mind that i have NO insurance, and a very limited supply o' cash"

That was CLEARLY a situation he was NOT comfy in...I could see it on his face...him, thinking "Me? Poor? um--No. "

But, he then came up with the plan of going back to the first dentist, and seeing what else needs to come out, and then doing it all at once.
Which did also let me save face a little...I almost felt like If I left , and wasn't bleeding, that the Aryan Vanguard of receptionists (they are SERIOUSLY all blond haired, 5'10", severe faced women in their 50's, and there were about 7 of them) would be let down.

So, now I get to look like a dick to the first dentist, because I originally saw him over a month ago, and he told me to get the tooth pulled, AND THEN come back.

The funny thing is...the tooth feels fine now, no pain. It is like it is making it's toothy case to stay.

It is telling me " C'mon man...lemmy stay here...I'll protect this portion of your gums, don't let him take me out man...please man, I won't hurt you no more"

If it was a bicuspid, I might listen..but you can NEVER trust a molar.

As for You, Sir--Your Services Have Been Rendered Useless

Today is the day...

I am getting that bad toof pulled in about 2 hours. I am shitting myself.

I know-I know, it is not that big of a deal...but either is getting on an airplane to most people, and I can barely do that. I also know that this is (mostly) unfounded fear, and it is totally deconstructive. However, my brain doesn't seem to be cooperating.

I went to the grocery store, and bought lots of "soft" foods....(ie: pudding, yogurt, ice cream, pablum) so I guess I am at least prepared...just not ready.


I am still not even sure if this guy is planning to knock me out. I am pretty sure I need him to. I feel like this tooth has already caused me more than enough pain, and I don't think I need to hear it...much less feel how hard he has to pull...Jesus.

I am really not helping myself.

I am going to go chain smoke until it is time to be a big boy.

I can only hope that they appreciate me wearing loose, easy to remove shorts, and not pesky jeans, just in case he is that kind of dentist.