Oh my God. The agony. The pain. THE COMPLETE HORROR! Never, and mean NEVER get your Wisdom Teeth removed. Now I know I’m gonna piss a lot of you Dentists off with this little Rant. But too bad. It just hurt too damn much! 

And I’m no pansy-ass when it comes to pain either. Especially Dental Pain. I mean, there is the weekly pain of watching Will & Grace wondering why the hell NBC thinks this show is funny. But I’m talkin’ REAL pain! My oral history is not good. This happens when your mother raises you on a breakfast of Frosted Flakes™ floating in a healthy bowl of Dr. Pepper. Stupid mom! I KNEW licorice-flavored toothpaste was too good to be true! So my teeth have been rotting out of my mouth for a long time. And ya know what’s weird? My teeth are so messed up, but STILL they look better than most people who live in England. What the hell, it’s like orthodontistry is forbidden as witchcraft over there. 

But back to me. I’ve had 4 root canals, countless cavities filled (I know what you’re thinking, so STOP IT! You damn pre-verts!) and I’ve gone through the worst Dental Pains imaginable. I mean, I’ve had Dentists look in my mouth and refuse me service. Kind of like an auto mechanic who just throws up his hands in defeat. Usually when I go to the Dentist, they take one look in my sewer of a mouth and (if they don’t pass out from the toxic fumes) immediately call their travel agent, “Book that flight to Hawaii. Daddy’s about to get PAID!”

The Dentist found fossils of old dinosaurs that had been trapped in the black tar pits that I call teeth.

So I know pain. I’ve had metal drills ripping out my gums, pliers tearing my teeth from their bloody sockets, and worse—the Dentist making me smell my own breath! But this Wisdom Tooth tish--- DAAAAMN! Thing is, I always thought my ass was too stupid to GET Wisdom Teeth. I figured by not having a fully functioning brain, I’d be spared the agony of Wisdom Teeth. No such luck. Seems as if us dumb people are doubly cursed.

So they put you out for this deal. Stick an IV tube in your arm and you’re out. Now, being from New York City, I’m totally paranoid. I told Mrs. Potato-Head (my loving wife) to stay in the room so that I wouldn’t wake up with my pants unbuttoned. Not that my Dentist would do that. I have no reason to believe he wanted to use a Dental Dam on my Jammy. It’s just that I don’t trust anybody when I’m not awake. That’s why I wore a cup. That’s right, I wore a jock strap to the Dentist. Okay I’m a loser. But if a surgeon can carve his initials in your stomach while all his nurses look on, then an oral surgeon can perform “oral surgery” while I’m unconscious. 

Turns out when I wake up I’m totally delirious. Mrs. P was kind enough to remind me of this. She even provided me with a transcript of how retarded and incoherent I was acting. And believe me, I’m that way when I’m NOT heavily sedated, so you can imagine the grief I caused to everyone in the room. And to make it worse, Mrs. P’s mom was there too.

Hog wakes up in the wheelchair.

Hog: Hi, Mrs. Potato-Head. I love you. (Now you KNOW I’m under the influence of drugs!) I feel weird.

Mrs. P: My mother is here. She wanted to make sure you were okay.

Hog: Hi. Ya know they put me out. I bet back in your day they didn’t give you drugs. They just knocked you over the head with a frying pan and that was it!

Mrs. P: Okay, we’re going home now.

Hog: Yeah, I bet in your mom’s day, they didn’t even give her drugs. They just knocked her over the head with a frying pan and that was it!

Mrs. P: You said that already.

Hog: I love you. I love candy corn too. Why don’t I ever get candy corn, except for Halloween? Did you know I used to dress up as Captain America for Halloween? Do they still make Captain America comic books? I like Spiderman the best. Those costumes were so cheap. I wore blue plastic pants through the Bronx and survived. Isn’t that amazing?

Mrs. P: Um, okay.

Hog: Hi Mom! Did you know they knocked me out for this? I bet in your day they just hit you over the head with a frying pan and that was it!

Geeez, I’m annoyed just thinking about how annoying I WAS! 

I guess in a way, it’s like being trizzed. Ya know, drunk, inebriated, bam-booze-illed, tish-faced, got the beer cheer, drunk as a skunk--- um, anyway, yeah, it’s like being wasted because you have no social restraint. You just say anything you want and act like a fool. Except the bad part is, it’s like being drunk and in bar fight—and you lost. Bad. Because after the drug-induced haze lifted off my dome, my tish was ACHING.

My jaw was so incredibly cramped. I felt like Britney Spears when she originally auditioned for all the record companies. Daaaaaaaamn!  No, I like Britney Spheres. She’s cool. She paid her boobs—uh, dues.

Then after the “procedure” (medical euphemism for torture) I got what they call a “Dry Socket.” I think it’s what Hillary Clinton has. It hurt so bad. It means the nerves are exposed because your surgically-induced wound didn’t heal correctly. So I’ve got these pain-receptors just looking for an excuse to slam a throbbing data packet up my spinal T1 line to my CPU. Holy Geekers. Where did that come from? I just went total Nerd on you. Um, it hurt. Have I said that yet? And it made me all cranky. I was mad at the world for like 3 weeks. I yelled at my beautiful and talented girl. I cursed out my mailman. I bit the dog. I was not a pleasant person to be around. Well, I’m usually not pleasant to be around but that’s in a odorific sort of way. But now I’m better. 

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