There's Nothing Like The Smell of Burning Teeth To Start Your Day Off Right

Huzzah! At really freaking early o'clock this morning, I got up, went downtown, and bought myself a good old-fashioned root canal. To tell you the truth, it was way more extremely awesome than I could have ever dreamed in my wildest dreams. I never thought I'd feel this way about dental surgery, but it was honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, ever since that fabulous smoothie I had last Tuesday. From the topical anesthetic to the extensive toothal drilling to the drool still leaking out the corner of my mouth, I truly enjoyed every single magical minute of it. And, in the name of all that is pain-free and tooth-shaped, I give you today's gallery of crapfts, in honor of my new dentist, Owen:


This hot little number should be at the top of any fashonista's spring wish-list. Not only does it express a specific laizzes-faire approach to fashion, but it is uniquely able to proudly display the wearers affinity for excessive neon red plastic tooth accessories. Classy. And Sexy. Clexy.


This, my darlings, is not just any bracelet. It's a Vicodin bracelet. As in, a bracelet made out of play-doh Vicodin. See those oddly misshapen markings stamped into the side of the fake Vicodin? Those, evidently, say "Vicodin". As in, the highly addictive and wildly overused drug Vicodin. Perfect for any individual overly eager to publicly broadcast their unending love of prescription medications, such as Vicodin. And more Vicodin.

Vicodin.


Personally, I find this molar-shaped, hand-carved wooden owl box perfectly charming and totally normal. This cute lil' guy has an expression of his face all like "Whoo". As in, "whoo wouldn't want such an adorable and totally chic molar-shaped, hand-carved wooden owl box?"
Whoo, indeed.

You're Not Going to Believe This

Sorry for the lack of consistent posting the last couple days, all! I've been on official sick-leave, rather unwillingly.

As I wrote the other day, one of my molars had been acting up something awful, and I had gone to several dentists and whatnot to get it fixed, to no avail. Even though I'm on some antibiotics, the pain was getting consecutively worse and worse, and no-one could explain to me why, or what to do about it. Given that I am allergic to pretty much every prescription pain-killer, I was solely relying on Tylenol to get me through the day, but the pain was still unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Today it really reached a pinnacle, and I became certain that I must be doing something very, very wrong. I sat down and seriously considered everything I was doing, everything I was drinking, eating, everything. And then, slowly, it dawned on me: the only variable factor that was consistent across all of my troubles was the last thing I ever would gave guessed. Strangely, it was the Tylenol.

I have always been more of an ibuprofin girl up until the last few days, when I was encouraged to switch to Tylenol to avoid any possible stomach issues. I hadn't even really thought about making the switch at the time, as I guess I just figured they were completely interchangeable. Oh, how wrong I was. After a bit of research, it turns out that one of Tylenol's rarer side effects, which I've never even heard of previously, is "possible severe hypersensitivity reactions". In layman's terms, in like .5% of the population, Tylenol actually magnifies pain horrifically instead of dulling it. I'm not even kidding. Believe me, I'm not laughing. I was stuck in the most evil and sinister loop of pain-needing-pills, pills-causing-pain pergatory that I can imagine.

So I stopped taking the Tylenol immediately, of course, and now I'm almost pain-free. I expect blogging will resume as normal in the next couple of days.

Seriously, though, I can't believe I'm allergic to Tylenol. I mean, that's just all kinds of ridiculous. Come on.

Apparently $220 Can Buy You Blatant Racism, Even In Today's Market

I just found this painting for sale on Etsy.com for $220. Yep, for 220 big ones, this "art" can be yours. But don't just take it from me, let's find out what the painter has to say:
"This great illustration for a tragic play is colorfully disturbing. From beautiful Helen to the piercing swastica and angry serpent, it is truly a feast for the eyes and mind. This is a large piece and is great for any collector."

I wonder, though, "any collector" of what? Swastica paraphernalia? Because I really can't see anyone else wanting this travesty hanging above their dining room table, even if it is "truly a feast for the eyes and mind". And since when was nazi Germany written into the plot-line for the story of the Trojan Horse? Did I just miss that day in 7th grade history class that explained the intrinsic connection between charming ancient Greek mythology and the most savage and extensively bloody mass-genocide of 11 million peoples in known history? And, it seems, snakes? And badly-drawn trees floating mid-air?

Color me befuddled and slightly horrified.

Just What I want When I'm Bleeding From My Vahoohah

This is just to tide you over until I can post something more substantial.

They're maxi pads. Hand-made out of flannel. Because flannel is so famously hypo-allergenic and hand-washable. And absorbent.

If you don't see something funny about that, you don't deserve to be looking at my site.

Pathetic-est. Post. Ever.

Just in case anyone actually reads my writing, and I use the term "writing" loosely, I must apologize for not posting the last couple days. I usually pride myself on updating my site every day, but I must admit to being a touch too ill. If you bear with me, I'll tell the tale.

It all started a long, long, time ago, about last Tuesday. I had a toothache. I can only imagine that it stemmed from a filling I had put in about a year ago, as it was the same tooth, aching a bit. I'm living in England at the moment, which means that I get free health and dental (yea!) if I've signed up previously (boo!). If you can see where this is going, you can probably guess that I hadn't signed up at a dentist office previously.

As it was hurting, but not unbearably, I put off signing up with a dentist, because of course, these things always work themselves out. Skip forward to two days ago, with me writhing in agony on the living room floor, offering ten bucks to the first person with a pair of pliars who would be willing to yank the sucker out. Eventually, I managed to get ahold of some pain killers, and I sucked those down until yesterday.

Waking up yesterday was quite an experience. An agonizing, curse-filled, existence-hating experience. The pain was so bad I went to the ER, where all the nurses looked at me like I was a charming but mildly retarded foreigner. They let me know there was nothing they could do for me, especially as I am allergic to pretty much every form of medication. Yes, that means I can't take penicillin, codeines, codones, narcotics, opiates, or even, ironically, benedryll. So they sent me off with a number for an emergency dentist that was only open after 7 pm, and a good talking-to about the amount of ibuprofin that I've been ingesting daily (on average, about 20 capsules per diem, but let's not tell anyone).

So I get home, take more asperin and ibuprofin, seriously think about stabbing myself in the eyeball just to stop the pain, and them remember that I have some back-up penicillin pills laying around that I could maybe take, at the very least, to help in case I have an infection under my hurty tooth. As I am aware I am allergic to penicillin, I thought I would be safe an only take half a pill. I then proceeded to the emergency dentist later on that evening, who took an x-ray, proscribed me some pills for an oral infection, and sent me on my way without any pain killers, because as I previously stated, I am allergic to all of them.

So let's talk about last night, shall we? I attempted to go to bed, only to be woken up every hour and a half, like clockwork, by an excruciating pain shooting out of my mouth. I felt like the lesser-know "Horrific-Oral-Pain Carebear" trying to Carebear Share! my way out of my own body and into somewhere that simply doesn't hurt. Not finding that possible, I spent today in an awkward position; the half a penicillin I had taken decided that I was still allergic to it, and graciously caused several allergic reactions. Firstly, it made my lips swell untill I looked like Jade Goody (If you don't know who she is, don't bother to look her up). Then, my tongue swelled up, and I developed blisters on the roof of my mouth. Then I got really weak and really sick, and developed an itchy rash all over my arms, and yet, the pain still hasn't gone away.

When I say "pain," I mean "balled up at the bottom of the shower crying" kind of pain. As in, "contemplating home-surgery" kind of pain". Or, like, "I would rather have a stomach ulcer from all of the ibuprofin, thankyouverymuchmrsnurse, than experience the pain that I am currently experiencing" kind of pain.

So here I am, half a bottle of vodka down, finally able to type through the agony. The rash has subsided, my lips are still awfully full, but not quite so scarey-looking, and the roof of my mouth has stopped producing blisters. It's a lovely sight, I can assure you. I assume I'll get seen by a dentist this week, and I'll start posting again as soon as I can see straight.

As always, I would adore any comforting comments.

till tomorrow,
Jula D