Things have been pretty lame recently. Like, super lame. Lame like your game freezing right before you hit a save point, but lamer.
For starters, doing my day [rhymes with knob] is like being stung by a thousand bees all over my body every single day. Every morning I wake up and think, "Is it time for the nightmare scorpions again?" and then I cry for two hours and think about death. I just wanted to clear that up in case my enjoyment levels of my [also rhymes with sob] were in question.
Secondly, one of my wisdom teeth is coming in. But if my mouth is a party, this tooth is like that guy who shows up three hours late with an open bag of Sun Chips and then drinks the last of the vodka before falling asleep someplace weird, like the hall closet. In other words, it's impacted. There is no room for it to come in. The pressure in my other teeth is causing headaches every single day. I'm in paaaain! This is what pain feels like.
But the far worse part of this story is that the wisdom tooth has become sentient and all of its thoughts have turned to murder.
On the subway platform this morning, I was waiting for an elderly woman to get off the train, and the woman standing behind me on the platform looked at me like, "Well, what are you waiting for?" and then shoved past me to get on the train. My tooth said, "KILL HER." But I told it to shut up and go back to putting pressure on my incisors like a good asshole tooth.
I was supposed to have the tooth taken out on Saturday. I made the appointment over a month ago. But when I called the dentist to find out the details earlier this week, they told me they had canceled my appointment. My tooth said, "KILL THEM. KILL THEM ALL."
I know its thoughts because the tooth has grown into my brain and tapped into my cerebral cortex. This is what happens when your dentist makes you wait a month to get your tooth pulled and then postpones your appointment for another month, even though you told him that the tooth is giving you terrible headaches. The tooth turns into a giant dentist-sized asshole. This happens all the time, according to the Internet.
How do I know that I'm hearing my tooth's thoughts and not my own? Because my tooth's favorite movie is The Neverending Story. It hates flip-flops and raspberry jam. It loves Christmas songs and doesn't mind when a place has a drink minimum. These are not my thoughts. I would never think those things. And I never, ever think of murder. Not little old me.
It wasn't me who thought, "SET THEM ON FIRE," when my doctor's office tried to slip me a $45 invoice for a test that came out "inconclusive" because they made a mistake and I had to repeat anyway. "But we performed a service for you," the woman in billing said. "You have to pay for it." My tooth replied, "MURDER."
And it certainly wasn't me thinking, "I KILL YOU AND YOUR FACE," when a cab blasted through an intersection and almost ran me over yesterday.
It was my wisdom tooth.
I've somehow managed to schedule an appointment for next Tuesday to finally have this tooth pulled, but until then, maybe just be really cautious around me. My tooth thinks of nothing but murder. And dogs barking "Jingle Bells."