Voices of Reason ... Not One of Them Mine

According to my sources - 4 comments on last nights post - the consensus seems to be leaning towards the opinion that tooth extraction, combined with good drugs is really quite a good thing. And Bren is right too ... There is something oddly attractive about Dr. R, though thank God for me, not in a Sean Connery way, since Sean Connery and I have a history ... I watch his movies and pretend I'm his damsel in distress, and he hasn't a clue that I'm alive. In the end, it works out wonderfully for both of us.

Did I mention that during my shopping adventure over the weekend I bought two new stick to the side of the tank sucky fishes? Since I don't feel like attempting to spell their genus species name correctly, or taking the time to spell check, I'll spell it phonetically for you. Their correct name is Plah-cas-ta-mas. Or as I like to call them Abbott and Costello. I am a bit worried however as I've only seen one of them since I dropped them in the water. Squiggy - the killer goldfish - has a bad habit of pretending he's a piranha. Need I remind you all of what happened the last time I bought thirty dollars worth of fishy friends? Squiggy had breakfast, lunch and dinner if you know what I mean. Perhaps now would be a good time to sit him down with a little Finding Nemo intervention and explain to him that "Fish are friends. Not food."

And I wasn't going to mention this, but I woke up this morning and came to the horrible realization that I had a dream about my ex. (Hold back the screams, hold back the screams, hold back the screams ...) And in the dream, I wanted him to kiss me ... (What the hell is wrong with my subconscious?!?!) If I were allowed to wash my mouth out with soap, I would. But the instructions on my dental appointment card have made it clear that I an not to eat or drink eight hours prior to oral surgery.

Oral surgery ... Doesn't something about that sound dirty? Like something you should be whispering rather than saying out loud? It would be like someone coming up to you and saying in an incredibly sleazy way, "Hey. I've got a little oral surgery planned for later. You interested?"

I believe I've babbled quite enough for one morning. Time to get in the shower, throw on a pair of jeans and a reasonably cute top - perhaps a good idea to stay away from excessive low dip boob action today - and milk the morning for all it's worth until it's time to go.

Blog you later.