D-Day 2: The Reckoning

Today at 1:30. That's when they go back in, past the DMZ, into the forbidden zone of the left side of my mouth. As they said when they rescheduled, "It'll be about 2 hours. I want to spend a lot of time in there."

Not something I'm looking forward to.

Look, my teeth need to be cleaned. There's a bit of work to be done in there.

BUT

You know the last time I went wasn't the most pleasant experience I ever hoped to have. It ranks between getting kicked in the 'nads and falling off a 10-story building and getting my eyelid caught on a nail. So don't inform me that this situation will be worse. Lie to me. Tell me that it'd feel like oral sex forced upon me by a roving gang of supermodels. Say that the only discomfort will be from the 18-year-old naked Polynesian princesses walking on my back while feeding me apricots from platinum trays and describing the porn series they're in with their twin sisters. At least then I'd only be pissed off afterwards, and not before the fact.

And people wonder why I haven't gone in 5 years.


To top it all off, I get to come back to work after (again).