Wednesday, February 18, 2009

I am not made of money. Or patience. Or teeth.

Here's a fun little life lesson: If you try to get a prescription for Vicodin refilled via your pharmacy's automated phone system, a nurse from your dentist's office will immediately call you and start yelling, "You've taken how much?! This is not good." Even though they were the ones who gave you the pills in the first place and told you to take one every four hours. And it's not your fault that your oral surgeon (who, incidentally, gave you more pills and told you to take two every four hours) doesn't have the time to pop one measly tooth out of your head until mid March.

Fortunately, the nurse will feel bad about her role in attempting to shackle you with a crippling narcotics addicition, so she'll call the oral surgeon's office, strike some kind of shady, underworld deal, then call you back and be all, "Did they say mid March? They meant tomorrow. We didn't realize you were in so much pain." And even though you'll think, "If you didn't realize I was in so much pain, then why the fuck did you put me on Vicodin?" you'll be relieved because this whole freaking ordeal will soon be over.

Except for the part where none of this is covered by your craptastic dental insurance, so you're going to have to max out the credit cards you just finished paying off. They better let you keep the goddamn tooth as a momento.

12 comments:

Le Cornichon said...

I have a divine 18th century reliquary- sans relic- that you can put the tooth in... "Saint Evn" has a nice ring to it, Saint Dymphna has got dibs on the whole patron of nervous disorders gig, what shall you be the patron saint of?

Evn said...

Oooh, I love reliquaries! Yes, please!

As for my patronage.... hmmm. Apollonia's already got toothaches covered. Perhaps the Radical Faeries could use canonical guidance?

Yewtree said...

Or... move to Britain, where you can still get dental treatment on the National Health (not actually free, mind you, but cheaper than on private insurance).

Hope it all gets fixed quickly and painlessly.

Word verification is "broco" (the Internet really does know you're gay).

broco:
(1) A dentist's chair that bounces around when trying to extract impacted wisdom teeth;
(2) A laconic Southern type who has same-sex love affairs only on mountains.
(3) Spanish slang for what you'll be when you've paid the dentist's bill.

Red Delicious said...

Who's your dentist? And what plan are you on?

Don't answer here - send me an e-mail. I ain't all about airing one's dirty laundry any more than I am about forsaking grammar just for the sake of illiteration. Or am I?

Evn said...

A laconic Southern type who has same-sex love affairs only on mountains.

Heh. Ah wish ah knew how ta quit brocos.

RD, I'll e-mail you the details in the morning. Self-medicating at the moment.

Evn said...

Oh, and PS:

... move to Britain

Last time there was a hurricane, Bo told me to move to Cornwall. I'm sensing an advisory trend.

knottybynature said...

Patron Saint of Radical Faeries who's symbol is the wild bronco.

I will start the bidding for the holy relic at 20 bucks.

Any takers? What raving religious fanatic wouldn't want a authentic relic?

(And it's not that I think a piece of him is worth so little, you've just got to start the eBay auction at some price that's affordable, right?)

Evn said...

I will start the bidding for the holy relic at 20 bucks.

So let me get this straight: you're auctioning off my tooth before it's even pulled.

Beat.

I like how you think. If you find a buyer, I get 10% of the profit.

knottybynature said...

Wow. I was just going to donate all proceeds to button-making. You're at 50!

Evn said...

LOL I was wondering when you were going to notice the 50th. ;)

Buttons are totally happening. (Although I'm being a bad client and changing my mind on the design every five minutes.)

Pax, Chief Priest to the Angel of Snarkness said...

The Holy Wisdom Tooth of the Angel of Snarkness should not be sold lightly! It should be enshrined within a wholly fabulous holy reliquary and brought out of the inner sanctum of the Great Temple (please removed your clothes before venerating) amidst much pomp and circumstance, vaguely reminiscent of a mardigras parade, and clouds on incense and the sacred communion of vicodin and cocktails!!!

Followed, rather of necessity, by some very very relaxed contemplative meditation...

In your service, Dread Lord, I remain,
Pax

Evn said...

Pax, I told them. But did they listen?

Dispatch a smiting party immediately.