Fillet of Soul

Holy God, that day sucked. I won't get too far into the blood and guts of it, but for #$@^'s sake I hope tomorrow's at least a tiny bit better -- just waiting for my apartment to cave in and my skin to be infested with boils so I can change my name to Job.

First off, I think I may have what's known as a dry socket, the most repulsive name in medicine this side of "vaginal fistula" -- it's when the clotted blood that seals a tooth socket after an extraction comes off, exposing the surface of bone and screamingly sensitive nerve endings to open air, pissing the whole works off no end. It causes a ceaseless sharp, throbbing pain in the jaw and in the freakin' ear, and generally all around the head area. So that starts and accompanies me through my day.

And I don't know if the shooting pains in my face had anything to do with it, but the day was filled with appaling annoyances, not just the everyday, laugh-offable obnoxiousness that we all deal with. The pains in the asses were exponentially more ass-painful. Janine and I changed our minds about our wedding location, and the guy who owns the place we had in mind -- the guy who said anything we wanted to do for our wedding was JUST GREAT with him -- got real ugly real quick over the phone when I said we'd reconsidered.

And the freakin' ISP, which is always quite reliable, wouldn't connect while I'm trying to hook up to the Cardinals internet broadcast, when all I wanna do is splay myself out on the couch and listen to the game and "make myself well" like Eric Stoltz in the movie Mask right before he freakin' dies!

So pity me, dear people -- at least until tomorrow, when I go back to the dentist and have my GD socket packed with pain killers and gauze. Who does a guy have to have sex with to get some morphine in this town?!

Ah, don't mind me.