i was relieved of my left upper wisdom tooth today. the extraction took all of 2 seconds, with me saying "seriously? is that all?" through a wad of gauze. i haven't even taken a painkiller. tops are the way to go, man. when my bottom 2 were removed it was 24 hrs of blurred hell and gerbilled cheeks. my face isn't even swollen now.
curled up on a purple velour chair at the university bookstore to read time magazine- excellent article about 'everyday life in baghdad', accompanied by a horrifying photograph of an iraqi boy in a plastic bag at a morgue. there i was, curled on a purple velour chair... sleeves pushed up, head exposed, nothing more than sunshine and harmless transient urine hitting the picture windows, freedom to amble about, freedom to smoke, to read almost whatever i want, able to live alone and have a job and drive a car and use tampons and have an iud and get a divorce and get an abortion and go to a dentist and have a sanitary, efficient experience... fuck... i could go on ad infinitum, but shan't. nothing is appreciated until it is threatened, really, and this can be applied to everything.
shall cease the stoner epiphanies now, i swear.
placed my first female dog urinary catheter yesterday! in a stray chow with a shattered pelvis! it was a moment of triumph. i was grateful that my boss was there to witness it; i fear she may think of me as a hyperactive, albeit earnest simpleton.
i am drinking hot tea against doctor's orders...
so a while back i wrote some chirpy dreck about 'this REALLY good song, 'i'm feeling good' or something', and have spent the last few months quietly obsessing over who the singer might be. appropriately, my humbling enlightenment came at a fucking barnes and noble... it's michael fucking buble`, whom i know nothing about except that his name is usually in magazines in the same breath as, say, sarah maclachlan... so i always assumed it meant 'music for forty-something divorcees to fuck to.' nevertheless, it's still a pretty good song... egad.
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Just remember, one day you'll be forty and you'll need something to fuck to...
Don't feel bad. I'm listening to the Scorpions (hides head in shame).
"Nostalgia is a seductive liar."
-- George W. Ball
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