First of all, I don't know why I wear "black cherrybomb" lip gloss to the dentist. They smear it all over my face like Heath Ledger in Gotham. Perhaps I should take the advice of my abusive internet suitors. Secondly, I only went for a simple checkup, but my dentist was outraged upon finding out that I'd canceled my wisdom teeth removal six months ago.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I don't have the two grand you guys want for it," I replied.

"It looks like it's the anesthetic that's costing so much," he informed me.

"Can't you just use chloroform?"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I have some in my trunk."

This was met with several seconds of extreme silence and furrowed brows. When that concluded, he enlightened me to the fact that the top two could just be yanked out with some numbing, "for free." Well Goddamn. Do it then.

So he shot my gums full of what I assume was heroin, which I have long fantasized about in the depths of my soul-destroying face pain, and ripped them out. I felt nothing. I paid nothing. I asked him to please take out the bottom two in the same manner, but he refused. That will require unconsciousness and surgery. Whatever. I think I'll try it at home.

In my heroin-induced stupor, I heard the hygienist say that she liked my fangs. They give me character. Yes, I do believe that character goes by "Dracula."

I'd planned to continue on to work, but now my cheeks are stuffed with toilet paper and I cannot feel my face from the nose down. I shall then occupy myself with the ginormous Ikea catalog I received yesterday, much to my delight. I love them so.