Watched that Hot or Not show on teevee last night.
While the country’s hot n’ half-nekkid spent their hour under bad lighting in the freezing cold on some salvation army looking plywood sound stage desperately seeking validation from a live studio audience full of strangers and a B-celebrity who’s fake perma-tan borders on radioactive, I was snug on my comfortable couch eating spoonful of tollhouse cookie dough straight from the tube.
You know, kind of a conscientious objector/civil disobedience type thing.
Someone’s got to stand up for the rights of carbohydrate eaters, for crying out loud.
In other news, earlier this week while brushing, I felt a bit ‘o tooth crack away from one of my molars. Knowing how much I love root canals, I was of course worried this meant big bucks and lots ‘o pain.
Turns out, I just needed to have the super sized super silver early 80’s filling replaced.
I mean, after a few couple shots of Novocain and a bit of white knucklin’ because I am a baby like that. But good news! Now, instead of that ugly silver look, my tooth has returned to its original all over tooth color.
And to tell you the truth, if the scared-y cat in me wasn't so good at kicking my vanity's ass, I would SO have this done to all of my ugly silver fillings. Because that new fancy dentistry can do that now. And there isn’t even any bloodletting or leeches or phrenology involved.
So, I am happy with my new sexy molar.
Bonus: my new dentist is not afraid to let the Novocain f-l-o-w. I asked for more, I was giving more! That’s good pain management! Who am I kidding? I am too old to pretend I am 2 Tuff for it 2 Matter. I need the drugs.
But most importantly, I hope his views on Novocain reflect a similarly liberal policy on the nitrous oxide. Not that I am looking for a root canal to test out any possible boundaries this guy may have when administering pain killers. I am just saying.
Extra bonus: My new dentist is super-dreamy. Honest to god he looks exactly like a young Bob Dinero. So much in fact, I was worried that, if administered too much of the pain killers, I might be asked to and count backwards from 100 whereby I would sleepily reply in an drugged up but enamored haze, “you talking to me? You talking to me?”
Only not so much in a rhetorical way.
Ok, then. I am off to consume even more carbohydrates, only this time in the super twin power activated form of: a big ass glass of beer!
I am telling you people, the struggle never ends. I am fightin’ the good anti-hot-or-not cause one pint at a time. And mark my words - I am willing to go all of the way on this!
O Happy Weekend!