I still don't feel too dim-witted, but the loss of my wisdom teeth has made me nauseous and unhappy. I can't help but think of that song by the Verve--The Drugs Don't Work. Drat! At least I have the greatest nurse in the world to bring me back to health. Honestly it hasn't been too bad (she may tell a diff story having put up with me). When I woke up from the anaesthesia, I checked for scars in my chest to see if I had my kidneys or other shit boosted, and fortunately everything seems there (and my pants were still on). I resisted the temptation to dig around my mouth, as the hollow craters were my once mighty teeth stood would be a sad reminder of my decision, and I may regret my choice (not as much as I regret putting Being Bobby Brown on the TV--I'm trapped. That was my first dim witted move).
Fortunately I was able to keep the teeth, so I can make something out of them. Shit, in fifty years they may be the only teeth I have left.
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