Two things for today. Just two.

Women: if you have giant boobs please refrain from wearing those empire waist shirts with a band that cuts across just under your boobs. Because for you, they hit you mid-boob and you look like an idiot. People (me) will stare then laugh. Try your clothes on before you buy them so you don't look like a total fool. Not all styles are made for every body type. On me, they work but I always pass on the hotpants... not a good look for me. Simple really.

I feel better having said that. Second point is that I think I need a different approach. I've separated from my life and have no recollection of, well, pretty much anything. I can't really explain it at the moment, it's just that I feel like I hung a 'be back in 5 minutes' sign on my forehead and that was in 1996. Part of me separates on purpose, I think. The majority though, I don't know, I'm just absent. It is becoming problematic because nothing sticks in my brain.

Who are you people again?....

It's laughable, really

Alright, not so much laughable as, hmmm, let's see. Yeah, well no nice words are coming to mind but then again, nice words have been few and far between in my vocabulary lately.

>> Graphic, icky descriptions to follow! <<

I did enjoy the comments on the previous post but I've been busy working nutty hours (til 3:30am) and moreso, having dental issues so I was always out of time or steam... Anyway. The tooth abcess I thought I had? Well the antibiotics were doing less than a stellar job at kicking it so I had a procedure scheduled for today. The American Dental Association has termed slicing gum tissue, yanking and peeling it from the bone then using a jackhammer in your jawbone a procedure. Bastards. Scraping jawbone to rid scar tissue is like dragging a metal ruler on concrete, only in your head. Repeatedly. Oh, and don't forget about the chunk of gingival tissue (probably already on a barge full of medical waste to be incinerated) that was removed to resection the remaining healthy tissue and protect the tooth in question.

What a way to start your fucking day. Verdict: I have a sizable hole in my jawbone. Not because I have yuck-mouth; far from it. Seems that there are a couple options but they include scar tissue formed from the irritation of a root canal done ~two years ago. Scar tissue attracts bacteria and boom - infection. Another idea is an actual bone defect. Grand. I follow up next week and am fully aware that it may return. My doc seems optimistic, though.

I've turned down pain meds and have been popping ibuprofen like Pez. For the moment, the pain level is quite low. We'll see what happens. I did love the four slugs of novocaine I got in the office; the 5 hours of total numb 'nothingness' was fabulous. I was actually scared for days before I went in as this is just something that makes me queasy. So far, I'm alright and that is so much more than I'd expected. But who knew... holes in your jawbone? What... do I have oral termites?!

One more thing. Matthew Good is coming to Buffalo at the end of August. Between that bit of news and no current excruciating pain, I'm feeling quite good.

I did something I should be proud of yet I still feel like a steaming pile of excrement

Wednesday 6.11.08 is the Matthew Good concert in London, ON. I've planned. I bought a ticket for myself to go by myself. From my house, it is a 5.5 hour drive (non-stop) one way. Yes, he's amazing but this was also a goal show for me. How can I put this? Remember over the past, I don't know, 8 - 10 months I was ready to will life to end in a fiery blaze? The only way I got myself to move on was to use goals. Buffalo was the first, Cleveland the second and this was to be the third.

Did you notice a sort of change in grammatical tense with that last part? Yeaaaah. I can't go. Well, I could, but the fact that I have developed a troubling and insanely disgusting tooth abcess is putting a damper on the whole thing. I'm worrying about fending off endocarditis but I still can't stop trying to think of a way to go. Yes, I know it would be a stupid choice to go considering all that could go wrong, and let's face it, you've known me long enough to know that with me, they'll go wrong and then some. Meh, old hat.

Even saying that, it kills me. Perhaps because I feel like I not only failed in providing myself with a moment of peace because he really just has a way of making me feel more than any one person should then smooths over all the rough spots, but I feel like I've failed at my goal. Like I'm telling myself that by not going that I don't value my sanity as this is what was keeping me going. It's probably the infection talking..... sure. We know it's me but the idea of an easy out is appealing.

So, I contacted the venue and all but begged for them to release my ticket - for free - I didn't even want the money for it. They won't. Unless the person picking up the ticket has a copy of both the front and back of my credit card. Which will be happening right after I get a Paris Hilton tattoo on my fucking forehead. All I could think to do was contact Matt Good and see if he could use whatever method possible to get it to someone who otherwise couldn't make it to the show. I'm sure he gets emails and such all the time like that.

I'm the one trying to fend off an infection of the heart and somehow that pales in comparisson to how I feel about cancelling my trip, failing to keep my promise to myself and then trying to give away a ticket to someone, no strings, and failing at that. Ok, so I know I can't control their policies, I'm not an idiot. I'm being responsible for my health so why do I feel like it's all wrong? Oh yeah, that's right... I'm not used to taking care of myself!

Alright, I've gotta end this one with a bang {snicker}. If you get disgusted easily, or even moderately so, stop now ->

Ok, this fucking tooth abcess tastes like I'm giving an eternal blow job. Twenty. Four. Muthalovin'. Seven. Now that's just wrong.