You think your day was fucked up?

Well, my day was kind of fucked up too.

So I wake up bright and early today so as I can finally go and see my male, jewish cunt doctor and see the dentist frank reccomended me to about this fucking wisdom tooth. Yay? Okay, maybe not.

Upon arriving at the cunt doctor's office, I sit down and chil, then the receptionist, who I will refer to as Bitch, calls me up. Bitch says, "Pamela?" They had just called up 3 other women by calling their last names, I found this oddly disrespectful, but it didn't bug me, I was gonna get checked out, finally! I mosey my ass up there, and Bitch says, "Pamela, what doctor are you here to see?" I look at the sign in sheet where I wrote "Goldberg," in the collumn that asks for the "Doctor you're here to see," look at her and go, "Um... doctor goldberg." Bitch then says, "Oh, alright," and procedes to ask me for all of my pertinant data. Then, 2 minutes later, Bitch tells me, "Pamela, Doctor Goldberg isn't in today."

Get the fuck outta here, Bitch.

She schedules me an appointment in a month. A fucking month away. That's a whole other cycle, man. I gotta refill my anti-baby sticker perscription.

Okay, so I'm mildly pissed.

I hop on the train and go to south philly to see the dentist about this fucked up ass tooth of mine. I get my teeth cleaned, and read about tooth whitning procedures.

Oooh. Ahh. I want white teeth.

Anyway, they x-ray me (which made me feel funny) and the doctor comes in and looks at my X-rays. He was the nicest old Italian guy you could ever ask for. He was very kind, and nice to me. Even though he was a big huge box of recycled Dentist jokes, and "Don't get married without my permission," statments, he was an awesome guy.

He was really fucking awesome, when he told me I only had 3 wisdom teeth. Apperently that's kind of normal, or something. It struck me as weird, but whatever. Then, he lost some cool points. "Pam," -yay, he called me pam, and not pamela!!- "You have a cavity." Oh, okay, no biggie, I've had fillings before. That's no big deal. I can even go to work after a filling, I don't have to be like, on the phone or anything. Then he jumped over top of me with a chainsaw, grabed my left arm, chopped it off and began to beat me with it.

He said, "All three of your wisdom teeth are going to have to come out, sweetheart."

*sobbing* Noooo! My teeth! They're my teeth! No! I grew them on my own! I like them.... even if they do cause me an extreme amount of pain for extended periods of time, are no assistance in eating, and haven't even grown in yet, I love my teeth, and you can't have 'em!!!

um... okay, actually... "Noooo," I said, in an unintentionally whiny, frightened, on the verge of crying, voice. I was legitametly scared of getting oral surgery, and even more uncomfortable with the idea of having my teeth-- my wisdom teeth... the big motherfuckers-- the teeth that EVERYONE has told me is a bitch to have removed, are coming out.

I was really gonna cry.

He was way nice about it though, and reccomended I see a female oral and maxiforial surgon, named Anna. He said she was really nice too. I'm not usually all for female doctors over the age of 40, but I'm trusting the old guy, he was nice to me, and he called me pretty. I'm sure he calls every broad who walks in there with a toothache pretty, but that's all I needed to smile. It didn't take my mind off of losing teeth, but I felt nice.

I'm going to leave now, and spend some quality time with my teeth while I still can.

Love and adoration

pam