Goodbye Wisdom, Hello Foolishness

Yesterday, I left school an hour early. I went home and ate everything and anything in sight because for the next few days, I'll be practicing the sacred art of Manorexia. I went to the dentist's office. I was told that I'm only getting one side of my wisdom teeth removed, for now. The top two are coming out relatively straight and he wanted to wait until both have sprouted through the gums before he removes them (apparently, it's easier). So he's only going tackle the bottom two. But he didn't want me to suffer, so he's only removing the left side first and waiting until it's healed to remove the right side.

Normally, when people get their wisdom teeth removed, their dentist will send them to a specialist to get them done. Over there, you'll get put under and in (what seems like) five minutes, you'll be out of the office. But my dentist feels confident that he can do mine in his very own office...without gas. I wasn't put under. He just froze my mouth with local anaesthetics.

My dentist wears some pretty old-school glasses. Usually when I get dental work done, I have a front-row view through his thick glasses--the view of hell. Anyways, he spent a great deal of time cutting through my gums. He kept talking to me too.

"Darn, this blade just isn't sharp anymore. It's a new one too. Gosh, that just goes to show..."
"What a tough sucker. I can't get it out."
"I have to clear out the gums to have a better view first..."

After another five minutes hearing him talking about his blunt blade, he gets through to my gums and all I see his is the suction tube looking mighty bloody. His gloves are bloody, his glasses were Pollock-ed up with saliva and blood. At this point I wanted to not hear what he and his assistant were talking about. So I held up my finger and said, "ayyyy!" (I was trying to say "wait", but with a half frozen mouth and my mouth open, I said "ayyy"). I reached into my pocket and pulled out my iPod. He continued drilling and yanking. Watching him with the pliers, rotating his wrist from side to side trying to rip out my tooth. Disturbing. Through all the drilling and my iPod playing "Septemeber", I heard his assitant say, "I'm going to gag". Very comforting.

He finally got it out. It was a traumatic experience. He used my face as a grip. He stretched the left side of my mouth open trying to yank out my tooth. Now it's all red like I had a bad windburn.

At 7:30pm, safe and sound at home, the anesthetics finally started to wear off and I felt the pain. I took my first T3, and another one at 10:30pm before I went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain. T3s have no affect on me. I thought, "Wow. My mouth really hurts but what a good night of sleep. A few more hours until the start of a new day". I looked at my clock thinking it was 5am, but it was only 1:30am! Why does time pass by so slow? I spent the next 20 minutes in the bathroom rinsing my mouth and trying to throw up. I hate that metallic taste of blood and throughout the night, all I tasted was blood. I also kept having flashes of my dentist yanking at my tooth. Unfortunately, no physical regurgitation -- but I can assure you I puked out a lake in my head.

The next time I woke up was at 10am. And surprinsingly, 80% of the pain disappeared! I still felt a bit sore, but the pain's gone. Now, I'm just left with a really swollen face. I swear, there's a very big chance that I will NOT have the other side of my wisdom teeth taken out unless I'm put under. An awake operation is too traumatizing.

PS - I was determined to take photos during my procedure like the last time I got my cavaities filled. But, I was afraid that during the process, I might actually throw up when I saw the photos. Oh, and Happy Halloween?

I Got Dragged to a Celine Dion Concert...

A concert attendee's evidence of the Celine Dion concert.

I would have wrote about this on the night it happened, but I had midterms to study for -- midterms that I didn't study for because I was at the damn Celine Dion concert!
On Monday night, I got home from school and decided to wind down. I turned off my daily workout DVDs (Carmen Electra's Aerobic Striptease), and devoured the last Halloween-sized Reese's peanut butter cup and went upstairs to my room to start studying for two midterms that I have on Wednesday. I changed, showered and right as I sat down at my desk, I got a call from my mom. She was at work. She tells me that our family-friend had two tickets to the Celine Dion concert (which was happening in two hours!) but couldn't make it. So they gave the tickets to my mom and she wanted me to attend it with her. My mom's a pretty big Celine fan. She's also never been to an English concert and was begging me to go with her. So I agreed...irritatedly.

Eiffel 65, Chumbawamba, and Lou Bega

Maybe if I was seven years old I would have went with a smile on my face. I have to admit, when I was young I'd listen to whatever my sisters were listening to, and Celine Dion's Falling Into You album was definitely one of our household's favorite. "All By Myself" held a special spot in my heart as my sisters would sing it to me (in unison) as they joked about my lack of friends. But after Titanic, and when Celine went hardcore showman at Las Vegas, my musical interests slowly shifted over to greater bands such as, Eiffel 65, Chumbawamba and of course, the best musical legend of all, Lou Bega.

GM Place. Pre-show. Yes, my seats were pretty bad...but why does it matter? I'm not a Celine Dion fan.

I set aside my Statistics textbook and put my street clothes back on. We thought it would be a bad idea to drive down to the concert because it'll probably be really busy. So we took public transit -- something my mom also hasn't done since 1995. Everyone was crammed outside the stadium waiting to get in. Even though it was 5 degrees-celsius outside in the cold, I felt extreme heat coming off these concert goers. Maybe it's cause they're all middle-aged women. The majority of the people were middle-aged women (and their husbands), 30 year old girls (and their sisters), and flamboyant men. I was pretty bitter to be dragged to this hell hole. I actually felt the menopausal energy vibing off these people and melting my already tiny brain.

Celine sounded terrific by the way. There's a reason she gets paid the amount she does. But it doesn't mean I enjoyed the show. So what if I cut a little girl's face with the edge of my Celine Dion poster that I bought at the merchandise stand, or who cares that I knocked over my coffee on the lady sitting in front of me while I was doing "the wave" with Margaret (the 60 year old sitting beside me) or who the heck even cares if I gave my mom a black eye as I was lipsynching and romantically moving along with Celine Dion to "The Power of Love." I did NOT enjoy the show, goddammit!

[pictures courtesy of Chumba, ABC News, Danceria and Boy_Wonder]

The Way I See It

I'm sorry to those of you who are still reading this deadbeat blog. I apologize for not updating it more frequently. I know I always come on here and say things like, "Sorry for not writing in such a long time". But to be honest, there's nothing that has happened (in my life) that would interest you. My life just isn't blogworthy. I live a boring life. Snaggle Tooth Sammie--the 70 year old man who lives down the block and looks through people's windows all day--has a more exciting life than I. My photographer-friend, Donna, is also away. She usually documents our weekly outings. So the next few entries may be lacking in exciting photos of us.

Before Thursday's Geography lab, I went to the men's room to relieve myself of the fifth cup of coffee I had that day. Look what I found. Just so you know, my penis is no joke. I know, it's a bit weird to be taking photos inside a washroom, but the four guys who ran out yelling homophobic slurs didn't seem to have a problem with it...I think.

Along with that expensive $4 coffee you buy at Starbucks, does anyone actually read the "The Way I See It" on the side of their lattes? There are little passages from influential people of our generation written on the side of Starbucks cups. Here's what #141 said:

I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years. And then I realized, you just say, “Hi.” They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And that possibility is worth that one word.

–Augusten Burroughs, Author of "Running with Scissors".

Every Monday and Thursday mornings, there's a sweet gingerly lady who says "good morning" to me. There I am, throwing around cuss words about how cold the weather has become whilst trying to untagle my iPod's earphones and throwing tantrums. The lady blows pass my negativitity and still says "Hello." My initial reaction was how lonely this lady may be. She must be so alone that she has to resort to people at the busstop to speak to someone. But then she did it again the next day. "Good morning! Going to school?" That's all she says. So then I started saying "hello" to her first. I'd arrive at the busstop anticipating to see her.

"Hello! Good morning. How are you?".
"Good good! And yourself? Going to school? Good!".

It's become a game waiting to see her every Monday and Thursday morning. She's just a very nice lady who likes to say "Hello" to her neighbours -- that's all. She doesn't carry on with the conversation, she just ends with a smile and looks away and continues waiting for the bus. She's not there to make friends with people at the busstop. She's just greeting and welcoming everyone to a new morning. And funnily, I almost always lose that morning grouch after exchanging words with her.

It's also funny (and coincidental) because on that same bus every Monday and Thursday, there's a bus driver I see every time as well. He also says "Good morning" followed by a wink. But along with his pride bracelet and rainbow pins he wears everyday, I think his morning greeting is a bit of a double entendre.

Anyways, I'm still studying midterms, so I apologize if i don't write back on your blogs.