RIP my left back molar, 1984-or-something - 2007, which was extracted torn out of my head in the most violent, athletic way possible by my dentist this morning. Valuable Lesson: when they say you need a root canal, don't be a scared little pussy and put it off "because it doesn't hurt right now!" Upon my request, the dentist gave me the tooth in an envelope, in 3 pieces, two of which aren't gross. I might make a necklace. I wanted to do a version of the old "Doctor, will I be able to play piano?" joke but with "give good bjs" in place of "play the piano". But I didn't, for obvious reasons (hi future employers!)
But seriously: no fun! And even though I don't think it will be detectable, I really don't appreciate the meth-y, trashy implications of being a person who is missing a tooth.
REMINDER: RITALIN READINGS IS TOMORROW NIGHT!! It's the comedy pick of the week in The Onion. It's going to be a great one.