Once upon a time I had my tooth pulled. After saying peace out to Molar 4, I was given the consolation prize of some pain killers.
I took some yesterday after the anesthesia wore off and they made me sleepy. So, I resolved to substitute the prescription strength pain killers for some regular Joe ibuprofen.
Side note: I would make a crappy upper class housewife because I can't handle Vicoden. So long, New York socialite life.
Anyway, this morning when my mouth felt like someone spent all night hitting it with a hammer, I did what any smart person would do: I took a Vicoden (I convinced myself it needed a second chance) and then drove to work. All in a day's work, folks.
So now my tummy is aboard the nausea train, my mouth is sore and tastes like iron and I'm hungry but it hurts to eat food. In other words, woe is fucking me.
Thus, here is a link to the "Where The Wild Things Are" trailer because it makes me really happy. And because deep down inside, I know this blog post fits me to a tee.
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