Congratulations on changing your life!

It turns out that laughing gas does actually make me laugh. Just put me under that stuff, and then if the word "Life" pops into my head, you can bet my belly will shake for a while.

While this new person in my life, the dentist, was busy pulling out any teeth I used at one time to chew I was thinking about lyrics to a new song and vaguely thinking "Is he pulling out even more teeth than he said he was?" I didn't care too much to be honest, the only time my thoughts even crossed my location was when he started pulling my lower wisdom tooth. I was kind of proud of that tooth. When I was a teenager and all my friends were getting their wisdom teeth pulled before they even thought of appearing, I was growing mine. I was proud of the fact that they were coming right in without significantly screwing the teeth around them, and extending my chewing range into the stratosphere. Or at least I was proud of the fact that I was letting them come in and didn't really care to see a Dentist to find out about it. I guess that was all bullshit since they systematically started rotting out of my face.

It sucks to have every physical attribute of being Irish and no cultural affiliation. My teeth didn't even rot out from drinking pints of guiness, it was more like cans of RC.

When I was little my teeth were great, so after we moved to Cleveland when I was 12 or 13 visiting the dentist became a backline issue to my dad's alcohol problem and my mom's chronic illnesses - for good reason I guess there. By the time I was 16 or 17 I knew my teeth were sucking already but I always was one to drive the car with bad brakes until it couldn't be driven anymore. When I was 17 I went careening helplessly through some stop signs while The Queers "You're fucked" was playing on my stereo, and now at 21 I was letting peices of one of my teeth fall off and inhaling ibuprophen.

Well anyway, now the crap teeth are if not fixed at least gone. It's the etch-a-sketch solution to my mouth - let's start with a clean slate. Yeah sure I'm exaggerating and no one will ever see the holes in the far back of my mouth, but for 800 dollars and a day full of dizziness and confusion I ought to be able to put on braggadocio. Bring me soup! write me letters! my deathbed awaits!

It turns out that laughing gas does actually make me laugh. Just put me under that stuff, and then if the word "Life" pops into my head, you can bet my belly will shake for a while. While this new person in my life, the dentist, was busy pulling out any teeth I used at one time to chew I was thinking about lyrics to a new song and vaguely thinking "Is he pulling out even more teeth than he said he was?" I didn't care too much to be honest, the only time my thoughts even crossed my location was when he started pulling my lower wisdom tooth. I was kind of proud of that tooth. When I was a teenager and all my friends were getting their wisdom teeth pulled before they even thought of appearing, I was growing mine. I was proud of the fact that they were coming right in without significantly screwing the teeth around them, and extending my chewing range into the stratosphere. Or at least I was proud of the fact that I was letting them come in and didn't really care to see a Dentist to find out about it. I guess that was all bullshit since they systematically started rotting out of my face. It sucks to have every physical attribute of being Irish and no cultural affiliation. My teeth didn't even rot out from drinking pints of guiness, it was more like cans of RC. When I was little my teeth were great, so after we moved to Cleveland when I was 12 or 13 visiting the dentist became a backline issue to my dad's alcohol problem and my mom's chronic illnesses - for good reason I guess there. By the time I was 16 or 17 I knew my teeth were sucking already but I always was one to drive the car with bad brakes until it couldn't be driven anymore. When I was 17 I went careening helplessly through some stop signs while The Queers "You're fucked" was playing on my stereo, and now at 21 I was letting peices of one of my teeth fall off and inhaling ibuprophen. Well anyway, now the crap teeth are if not fixed at least gone. It's the etch-a-sketch solution to my mouth - let's start with a clean slate. Yeah sure I'm exaggerating and no one will ever see the holes in the far back of my mouth, but for 800 dollars and a day full of dizziness and confusion I ought to be able to put on braggadocio. Bring me soup! write me letters! my deathbed awaits!
My AIM changed to gingermissippy for now. ginger@mosquitoinc.org